The Territory A Novel - By Tricia Fields Page 0,25
stress in his life. Josie was honored that Otto had recommended her to take his place.
Josie heard a chair scoot across the floor and turned to see Otto sitting down at his desk.
“How’s tricks?” he asked. He wore the standard blue and gray police uniform, minus the bulletproof vest that fit over his midsection only when he forced it.
Otto had just logged on for the noon-to-eight-thirty shift. Officer Marta Cruz would come on at four thirty, when Josie’s shift was supposed to end but rarely did. The three worked staggered shifts, but arranged schedules so that once each week they met as a group to discuss current cases and share information. The city police coordinated schedules with the sheriff’s department in an attempt to ensure at least one officer was on duty at all hours, but with vacation schedules, even that was difficult to accomplish.
Josie gave Otto a rundown on the morning. “I talked to the Assessor’s Office. Drench owns the land Winnings’ trailer is on. I’ll go talk to him tomorrow.” She pointed to the opened Gunner’s policy manual that lay in the middle of her desk. “You know how many guns Red had on the inventory he kept?”
“It would appear, too many for his own good.”
“Two hundred sixty-three.”
“I’d think two or three would have been sufficient.”
“Didn’t Hack Bloster make it sound like the whole stash of guns was kept on those hooks in Red’s living room?”
Otto typed in his computer log-in and turned toward Josie, his expression more interested. “That’s the way I took it. But there sure weren’t enough hooks to hold almost three hundred guns.”
“You busy?” Josie picked up her keys.
* * *
Josie left a note on Marta’s desk asking her to set up a meeting with Sergio Pando. Josie valued her personal connection with Sergio, where the intelligence exchange was based upon a friendship instead of on border regulations and politics. The law enforcement and government agencies from the two countries may as well have been from different planets. Information exchange was too often caught up in red tape and bureaucracy, wasting precious time in an investigation. Piedra Labrada had recently undergone a series of brutal assassinations that were attributed to La Bestia, and Josie was certain the assassination at the hospital was linked to them as well. While she hoped the connection between La Bestia and Artemis was only geographic, she feared the violence that had invaded their town would only intensify. She had killed a member of La Bestia at the Trauma Center, wounded another, and then placed him in the Arroyo County Jail. To compound matters, the leader of the rival cartel, Hector Medrano, had been murdered in her Trauma Center. She had no doubt there would be retribution.
* * *
Once the engine in her jeep finally turned over, Josie set the air-conditioning on high in deference to Otto. The bank’s sign read eighty-nine degrees, and it was just past noon. The department uniforms were thick and held heat like insulation, a fact Otto lamented from April through October—although with an average high of 101 degrees in July, everything felt uncomfortable. He walked outside with two cans of Coke and slid into the passenger seat, griping about the heat, his aching knees, and the general decay of society.
Josie drove past the courthouse toward Farm Road 170 to follow the Rio Grande south toward Red’s place, listening to Otto’s running commentary about life. His dim view of the world remained balanced with optimism concerning his wife, Delores, and grown daughter, Mina, who lived in El Paso. After years of working together, Josie and Otto had formed a close friendship, one that had carried them through difficult times both in and out of the office.
Otto opened one of the cans of Coke and handed it to Josie, then pointed out his window to a large group of black buzzards circling what looked to be barren desert.
“Why would any living thing, man or animal, move to a giant blistering sandbox? Fifteen buzzards to one field mouse. Not very good odds,” Otto said.
Josie smiled. “Don’t be such a cynic. Don’t you feel like a winner every night you make it home and realize you pulled it off again?”
“I’m the cynic?”
She pulled the jeep up to Pegasus Winning’s trailer when she saw the Eldorado was parked out front. Josie rolled her window down and heard the air conditioner blowing. She put the jeep in park and jogged up to the trailer and tried the door handle. Otto