State Police responding to the scene found a tricked-out black Ford pickup truck with extended cab that had earlier been seen at the Linden Street residence. The truck was seen at a nearby McDonald’s restaurant. The driver of the truck, armed with a revolver, was spotted nearby. He refused to drop his weapon. He was killed in a shootout.”
“Another Mexican national?” he asks.
Rosaria says, “That’s right.”
McCarthy rubs at his large chin. “Hoo boy, the nearest Mexican consulate is going to have their hands full. Besides the fact that Captain Cornwall drives a Jeep Wrangler, and was seen earlier in the next town, is there any specific, credible evidence linking her to these two shootings?”
Rosaria has thought this through, again and again, thinking of what she learned from the third gunman. That the older man kept there was to be turned over to American journalist Tom Cornwall when he arrived.
And instead of journalist Cornwall arriving, apparently his wife did, taking the man and killing two in the process. Rosaria is convinced that’s what happened. As to why…no idea.
But her boss has asked her for specific, credible evidence linking the missing captain to the shootings. And Rosaria can always say later that she didn’t believe a bulked-up gangbanger armed with one big-ass revolver to be credible, which was why she never mentioned meeting him.
Thin ice indeed, but she’s been there before.
“Nothing that I’ve heard from the police,” she says.
“You got a good contact with the Three Rivers police?”
Sergeant Morales’s business card is safely secured in her travel bag. “I do.”
“Good.” He rubs at his massive chin and says, “We have good intelligence that she’s heading east. Alone or with someone, we don’t know. But she’s definitely heading east, most likely on Highway 59, coming from either Three Rivers or Kenedy. That’s why you were ordered to Houston.”
“Where did you get this information from, boss?”
“From a good source.”
She doesn’t like the sound of that.
“Sir…”
“A good source,” he repeats. “That’s all you’re getting. So you’re going to get into a rental car, and start heading west on Fifty-Nine. Once we get better information on where she is, or where she’s going, you’ll be in a position to intercept.”
The din and movement of people around her in this busy terminal gradually fades away until all she can see and hear is the senior warrant officer sitting in front of her. On the table, there’s a crumpled napkin at his elbow and two half-circle rings from where earlier travelers deposited their drinks.
“By myself?” she asks. “With no backup?”
He says, “You can hook up with any local law enforcement if needed. In this state, they’ll trip over themselves trying to help the Army.”
She literally cannot believe what she’s hearing. “Sir…she assaulted a state trooper in Tennessee. She’s a good suspect for a kidnapping and a double homicide. She’s a deserter. And you want me to go after her…by myself?”
He nods. Doesn’t say anything.
“It doesn’t make sense!” she says, her voice rising.
McCarthy’s tired eyes flicker. “It might not make sense to you, Vasquez, but to certain higher-ups and the Army, it makes perfect sense. So do your job.”
Something else comes to her quickly, and she’s nauseated at the realization. “Boss…you could have told me all of this over the phone. By text. Or email. Why did you waste your time coming to Texas?”
McCarthy says, almost in a whisper, “Because it makes sense, that’s why.”
It feels like a passenger ambling by has just hit her between the shoulder blades with a sledgehammer. Higher-ups and the Army have just made a determination this is one horrible case and a potential national embarrassment, and that someone has to be sacrificed to either solve the case or make it go away. And her superior has flown here to tell her, face-to-face, so there’s no paper or email trail, no evidence, nothing save her word against his.
“Yes, sir,” she says quietly. “I’ll do my job.”
McCarthy looks relieved as he stands up. “Good. I’ll be in touch with any additional information that comes my way.”
He walks away, and in a very few seconds, is lost in the moving and shifting lines of travelers passing through this fine airport on this fine day.
Rosaria stands up, starts going in the direction of the Hertz terminal, and she goes three steps and starts weeping, goes three more before she realizes why she’s crying.
She’s just lost her family.
CHAPTER 71
WITH ARCHIE’S disappearance, I try not to panic.
So what do I do?
I panic.
I leap away from the chair in front