Steven Havill - Scavengers

The nearest pocket of population, Asunción, was tucked in a wonderfully shady little canyon some sixteen miles south of the border. Roads from Asunción led still farther south to Janos, east to Juarez, and even west to Agua Prieta. But south of Maria in Posadas County and the stretch of barbed wire that marked the border, the Chihuahuan desert stretched rumpled and desolate, marked only occasionally by a rough lane or two-track.

“Did you contact Mexican authorities?” Estelle asked.

“I did, but there’s a problem.” Jackie turned and nodded toward the saloon, and Paulita Saenz. “She saw a car, but doesn’t know what kind it is-not the year, not even the make. She thinks it was an older model station wagon. And at the distance, she didn’t recognize the two men who were with Eurelio.”

“Could it have been the Madrid brothers?”

“She just couldn’t tell. Apparently she didn’t have on her distance glasses,” Jackie said. “She was busy with the plumbing.” She shrugged. “I talked with a Mexican officer named Bernardo. Luis Bernardo? He’s a corporal in Asunción. Anyway, I told him that we’d be interested in anything he could do for us. I gave him a description of Eurelio.”

“It’s a place to start,” Estelle said. She turned and regarded the saloon.

Had there been a window in the back storage room of the Taberna Azul, Paulita Saenz could have peered out and seen the sun glinting off the barbed wire border fence. But a window would have been an attractive nuisance. The back, southern-facing wall of the saloon was solid, secure adobe from ground to vigas.

The west wall of the taberna once had sported a window with a beautiful, deep sill. The view of the San Cristóbal mountains had been breathtaking when the dawn washed them in rose and purple. Three break-ins through that window had prompted Monroy Saenz to block up the window and plaster it over to match the rest of the wall. On the inside of the patched wall, he’d painted a window with shutters thrown open to reveal a colorful garden beyond, complete with a vineyard and improbably huge purple grapes glistening in latex splendor. It was a cheerful, secure view that never changed, the grapes hanging forever ripe.

Estelle could remember, during a visit to the taberna with her great-uncle when she’d sat quietly, waiting for Reuben to finish his business. She had watched the grapes, trying to imagine the movement of the leaves in the breeze.

The single front window of the saloon, protected by a heavy wrought-iron grill, looked out on the front parking lot, State 61, and across the way, Wally Madrid’s gas station.

The Taberna Azul was a comfortable fortress. It was a place to sit in quiet darkness while the New Mexico sun baked the world outside, or the wind scoured it, or ambitious people blew themselves up trying to make a profit from it.

“She said her son went willingly, though…at least at the beginning,” Estelle said.

“Until the very last, apparently,” Jackie replied. “Then it turned into a tussle.”

Estelle nodded. “Let me talk to her again.”

Paulita Saenz was weeping and trying to hide the fact by wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. She turned back toward the patio as Estelle approached, and the undersheriff heard a loud, heartfelt sigh from Paulita.

“Paulita, it’s one thing if Eurelio just jumped the fence and took off with friends-he probably does that all the time. That’s not what happened this morning?”

The woman wiped her eyes again with her sleeve and shook her head. She turned and tried to meet Estelle’s gaze, but couldn’t. “I saw them go over the fence,” she said. “Their car was parked just beyond, on the Mexican side, on that little cow path there.”

“I understand that. But what did you see, exactly? I really need to know.”

“Eurelio was walking ahead of them, and they were all talking. I could see their hands moving, you know? I guess they must have come across and walked to the back of the house to find my son. I was busy in the taberna . I didn’t hear them. I didn’t see them.”

And maybe it’s just as well that you didn’t , Estelle thought. “And then what happened?”

“I saw them hop the fence. And then they went to the car, and then I could hear their voices. Eurelio opened the passenger door in front and just as he turned to get in, one of the men hit him in the back of the head. I saw him do that.” Paulita’s voice quavered.

“With his fist, or did he have something in his hand?”

“I couldn’t tell for sure.” Paulita held out her right hand, palm spread with her fingers pointing up. She patted the heel of her hand. “It looked like this.” And she punched sharply forward with her hand. “That’s what I think. Eurelio, he turned then, and they struggled. Then he went down inside the car.”

“Did your son fall?”

“I couldn’t tell if he fell, or what,” Paulita said.

“But it looked to you that he’d changed his mind about getting in the car?”

She nodded. “And the one man slammed the door on him. Then one of them got in to drive and the other got in the back.”

“And you never saw any weapons?”

Paulita shook her head.

“Did they ever look back and see you?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“And show me again what direction they went.” Paulita pointed toward the southwest. “Toward Asunción, then?”

“Maybe. Maybe anywhere.”

“It was a four-door sedan?”

“It was one of those huge old station wagons,” Paulita said. “The kind with the roof rack on top.”

“Deputy Taber said that you didn’t see what model it was.”

“Well, I remembered some. That’s what it was. Just about the same color as the dust.”

“Sort of a yellowish tan?”

“That’s right. And big.”

“And a station wagon.”

“That’s right.”

“Did you ever have a chance to see the front of the car?”

“Yes, I saw the front. It was parked sort of angled toward the fence, you know. Yes, I could see the front.”

“Would you recognize the front of it if we showed you a picture?”

“I think I might,” Paulita said. “I remember the hood, you know. It was really long. A big old boat. The front fenders were really sharp. Creased on the top. They looked like cheeks.”

Estelle glanced at Paulita with amusement. The woman had progressed from knowing nothing to a pretty comprehensive description. Jackie Taber approached, and Estelle turned to her. “I’d like you to run Mrs. Saenz up to the office and have her look through the Motor Manuals to identify the car that she’s talking about. It sounds like one of those ‘seventies model Ford wagons-those beasts with the hood about a football field long. See if that’s the one.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But what about my son?” Paulita Saenz said.

“We have the Mexican authorities looking for him,” Estelle said. “We’re limited on what we can do on this end, Paulita. Until we have some word from them.” She saw the look of desolation on the woman’s face. “They don’t have much of a head start.”

“In that country you don’t need much of a head start,” Paulita said.

“We’ll add the vehicle description to what we’ve already told them. If they have an officer in the area, they might be able to do some good.” The words were hollow, and Estelle knew it. With a state policeman for every thousand square miles, capture in Mexico was more often the result of betrayal and ambush rather than simple pursuit.

Paulita’s gaze traveled out to the fence and beyond, into the bleak reaches of the Chihuahuan desert.

“What sort of trouble is he in?” Estelle asked.