“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“She is not someone to trifle with.”
“I’m not trifling, I’m looking for my friend.” Anita touched Hunter’s small diamond stud earring while the women talked. Hunter hugged her a little and Anita grinned.
Ramona asked, “What is your friend’s name?”
“Anna Hoyt.”
“A gringa?”
“Yes, her daughter was taken the day before Anita was. They never located the child.”
Ramona looked at Hunter, nodding, “And you are looking for the child, yes?”
“Right now, I’m looking for the mother. But yes, I’m trying to find out where Kelly was taken.”
“Kelly is her name?”
“She’s about eleven, almost twelve, looks a lot like Anita, actually.”
“You have seen her in person?”
“Only in a photo.”
“Where and when was she taken?”
Hunter told her, then said, “I need to go.”
She handed Anita to Ramona, but not before Anita kissed her and hugged her neck again. As she left, Ramona said, “I have your number, and I will ask around about this Kelly child.”
“Thanks.” Hunter felt it was useless to keep looking for Anna, but she continued down the street anyway, checking every business along the way.
Two blocks down, she found Anna hiding in a narrow alley. She looked no worse for wear. Hunter said, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I outran her and now I’m hiding in case she comes this way.”
Hunter looked up and down the street and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
“I have to find Kelly.”
“I know you do, but let’s first plan a little, okay?”
Anna looked at Hunter with a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes, “You’re going to help?”
“I’ll do some checking.”
“I can live with that. Thank you.”
They reached Hunter’s pickup when La Osa came around a corner in front of them with two accomplices. Hunter recognized the older one, the woman who threw Anita off the bridge, and the woman recognized Hunter.
“Get in,” Hunter said.
Anna hurried to the passenger’s side and slid into the seat as Hunter hopped behind the wheel and started the engine as the three women hurried toward them, with the older woman and La Osa holding pistols. Hunter popped the truck into reverse and put sixty yards of distance between them in seconds, then spun the wheel and steered away as a pistol shot punched a hole through the rear windshield and expended itself by cracking the front windshield into a four-inch spiderweb pattern before the spent round dropped onto the dash. It was a nine-millimeter hollow point.
“Dammit!” Hunter said. She felt so vulnerable without a weapon, but had no choice. She’d taken weapons into Mexico before, but only when the need was dire. To get caught with one, or even ammo, could result in her being sentenced to a decade or more in a Mexican jail, and that was not a pleasant thought. She sped to the corner and turned without slowing, squealing tires in an angling slide, putting a building between them and the three women. She asked, “Who fired, did you see?”
“The big woman.”