“Hunter… I will do everything that I can to help you,” I promised him. “Whatever you need.”
“It makes me happy to hear that, Sarah…” he murmured softly before I heard the satisfying click of the phone snapping shut again. “…Because according to that message, Víboras Verde is moving the girls tonight.”
Chapter 40
I followed behind Hunter as he rushed off on his bike towards the club. He had every intention of sobering up as many of his bikers as he could in order to launch a spontaneous strike against the cartel.
A feeling of dread overcame me.
Hunter seemed fit to ride and my mind was spinning at the prospect of what he was asking me to do… Even if the two of us were fit for whatever was coming, there was no telling what debauchery his club had gotten up to after we left.
Compounding my dread was my ringing phone. After the third missed call, I finally dug it out and almost panicked.
It was Lieutenant Crabbe.
What on Earth is he doing calling at this hour?
My worst fears were realized as I reluctantly, fearfully answered the fourth call.
“Well, if it isn’t my wayward fucking detective,” the Lieutenant’s voice crackled out over my speakerphone. “When I told you to get a lay of the land, I didn’t exactly think that I had to say Stay in motherfucking Tucson.”
“I think I might be onto something,” I answered as carefully as I could. “After our last conversation, I wanted to be certain before I–”
“You think you’re onto something,” he snuffed down the line. “Alright, Detective, let me give you the benefit of the fucking doubt. What do you possibly think you have FOUR FUCKING HOURS away from the city I specifically sent your ungrateful ass?”
“Cartel,” I answered quickly. “There are some other disappearances down here, and I have reason to believe that it’s the same people behind both.”
“You know, the funny thing about GPS trackers is that I know you left Tucson an hour after you rang,” the Lieutenant snarled over the radio waves. “I knew the moment you drove outside of a fifty mile radius of that city…”
What, seriously? What the fuck?
“So, tell me,” Lieutenant Crabbe continued, “Who the fuck exactly did you find to interview to give you this lead of yours?”
I was backed into a corner with no other way out… and I had only one card to play.
“There was a secondary investigation, done by people in the area with vested interest in these girls,” I answered. “A biker club by the name of the Devil’s Dragons.”
“ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME?!” He screamed down the line. “Are you telling me that I have to hold your goddamn hand through the fucking case files?”
“But Lieutenant, I–”
“You listen to me right now. I don’t know how much goddamn clearer it had to be for you to discredit the bullshit spewed by some biker fucks that went vigilante… Our people in Tucson vetted their shit. And that’s what it was! Shit! Grade A, primo horseshit purveyed by the local thugs to put the police on a wild fucking goose chase! They wanted less heat around so they could swap drugs, you stupid, miserable fuck!”
“I think there’s more to it,” I calmly replied. “I’ve met with these people. These aren’t your typical thugs. They’re trying to do something meaningful. They want to give a voice to all these abducted girls–”
A sharp intake of air over the line silenced my words, and I felt my chest seize up.
“This is over that photograph, isn’t it?”
The wind was sapped out of my sails.
“That’s what I fucking thought. I saw how you looked at that guy. You know him, don’t you? How the hell did you get mixed up with a fucking biker gang?”
I was starting to get angry, but I reminded myself of every last grueling step – and every late night patrolling the streets – that had gotten me even this far.
“He’s onto something,” I reiterated. “We think we can find the cheerleaders, or at least get justice for them. If it’s the same people who are behind these other disappearances, then the girls are being sold into sex slavery overseas…”
“Other disappearances?”
“Yessir. There have been over a dozen kidnappings in the greater El Paso area in the last two weeks. If we find the cartel taking these girls, I think they can lead us to the cheerleaders.”
It was a long shot… but I needed his backup on this one. Maybe he could pull resources I couldn’t access, and get us some backup…
“I can smell the stink on that bullshit from over here, Detective,” he glowered down the phone. “If that was really the case, then it would be all over the fucking news and on every damn officer’s desk from LA to goddamned Houston. Forget three cheerleaders – it would be pandemonium! But do you know what I see on my fucking desk right now? ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING!”
“They’re… undocumented, sir.”
“You’re fucking shitting me.”
“No, sir. The cartel we’re tracking is targeting the children of illegal immigrants to the United States. They’re taking them right out of their homes in broad daylight, if the information I have is solid–”
“So, let me get this straight: I send you down to Tucson to follow up on a nationally-known high-publicity case. I ask you to prove your mettle as a fresh detective… I make it very clear what was on the line…”
The pit in my stomach deepened.
“…And you immediately bullshit off four hours away to El Paso, chasing after some wayward kids that aren’t even in the fucking system? Do you have any goddamned proof at all?”
My spirits crumbled into dust.
He wasn’t going to help me.
“Your silence is goddamned deafening, Detective,” Lieutenant Crabbe sneered the title as usual… only with a little more obvious disgust this time. “The case I gave you – your assignment – is four hours away from whatever fuckery you’re chasing at the moment. That’s one hell of a goddamn stretch.”
“But it lines up,” I tried to reason. “If they were heading this way… El Paso is directly on the border. They could have seen an opportunity and come back to reap the locals.”
“I don’t know if they teach you basic fucking geography in the Academy, but you’re out of your jurisdiction and out of your goddamned mind,” he growled. “Your little biker boyfriend has hocked you some goddamn bullshit, and you will not tie up resources in my precinct over fucking hearsay from a goddamn criminal, DO YOU HEAR ME?”
“Yes sir,” I hesitantly replied.
“That’s the first fucking thing you’ve said since picking up the goddamn phone that has been what I’ve wanted to hear,” the Lieutenant scowled. “I’m giving you tonight to get your damn head screwed on straight, and you should fucking thank me for it. Your orders are as follows: get back in your car tomorrow morning and drag your sorry ass back to Tucson. Hit the street. Get results. Abandon this little bullshit crusade of yours or you’ll be riding home in the back seat of a squad car. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
I gritted my teeth, sitting on the cusp of giving the lieutenant a piece of my fucking mind. This could be solid! He wasn’t even giving me the time to fucking follow up on the lead that was sitting right in front of me!
“Yes sir,” I answered.
Without a speck of acknowledgement, the line disconnected on the spot.
For the next few m
oments, I furiously beat my steering wheel with my fists; after a couple of more minutes to simmer in anger, I twisted the keys in the ignition and followed up towards the bar.
I glanced at the clock as I pulled up to the covert headquarters of the Devil’s Dragons MC. It was already half past midnight. Sitting alone in the car, I muttered, “Do we even have a chance tonight?”
With no answer coming from my empty cruiser, I released a heavy sigh and let myself out. My boots crunched against the gravel, bringing me towards the front door – and whatever other surprises lay in wait for the night.
The big one was when I let myself in.
I’d fully expected either a deserted bar, or a crowd of drunken, belligerent bikers. After all, the last time I’d see them they were given a free round on the house, with plenty of alcohol already flowing.
This was no longer the case.
The women who had been clinging to the bikers were nowhere in sight. There wasn’t a drop of alcohol to be seen that wasn’t in a bottle behind the counter.
I spotted eight, maybe nine bikers suiting up. Slapping on bulky bulletproof vests and checking a wide assortment of guns, the Devil’s Dragons MC was clearly ready for war.
Jesus. These guys are impressive, I thought to myself as I briefly studied them. Besides a couple of quick glances up, they were committed to the task.
“If they weren’t expecting you, you’d be staring at the wrong end of a barrel,” I heard Hunter’s voice amble from across the room.
He stepped out from a corridor and strolled my way, firmly clasping a few bikers on the shoulders. All heads glanced up at him in acknowledgement as he passed, offering curt nods or brief smiles.
I could clearly see a bulletproof vest over his tee, just like his men. This spontaneous midnight strike in the desert clearly came with some high stakes, and an expectation of definitive danger.
“What took you so long?” Hunter asked as he stopped in front of me, tilting his head.
“I couldn’t stop ignoring the Lieutenant’s calls,” I shrugged noncommittally. “When he wouldn’t let up, I had to pull over and update him on a few things. Such as explaining why I’m four hours from my specific assignment…”