Rick Mofina - In Desperation

“Where did you get all this intel?”

“There are a number of longstanding investigations on both sides of the border. When your niece was kidnapped, people in police intel on both sides of the border started connecting dots.”

“Does the FBI know what you’ve told me? They should be told so they can find my niece and get her out before all of this explodes.”

“They’ve been told. In fact, several U.S. federal agents are due at this scene at any moment because of the U.S. link. But Isabel and I wanted you to know the truth, to ensure it stays pure, because of the suspected infiltration of U.S. and Mexican police by cartels.”

“The people who have Tilly have given my sister five days to find Galviera. We’re losing time. Do you know where he is?”

“No.”

“He could be dead somewhere.”

“If that were true,” Cruz said, “we would know. The cartels would want the world to know that death is the price for stealing from them.”

“So he’s likely out there with five million dollars and scared to death.”

“It’s only a matter of time before the cartels find him.”

“You think they know where he is?” Gannon asked.

“The bodies have been here a few days. Salazar and Johnson were probably killed before your niece was taken.”

“That gives you a bit of a timeline then?”

Cruz nodded.

“There’s more. Before they were killed they were tortured. We think they were lured out here and probably tortured for information about Galviera and the money. This was a double execution by a sicario .”

“An assassin?”

“Yes. And we found this.” Cruz glanced at Luna before showing Gannon a crime scene photo copied on his cell phone. The picture showed a small glass that looked like it was used for tomato juice.

“I don’t understand.”

“This is the signature of The Tarantula.”

“The Tarantula?”

“He’s a top assassin. He started professionally killing as a boy. With each high-profile killing he is known to toast La Santa Muerte, the goddess of death, with the blood of his victims.”

Gannon exhaled.

“This was a message killing,” Luna said. “The cartels have a complex structure for message or revenge killings. The cartel first does all the groundwork, setting up everything for the assassin to arrive and carry out the key executions. It’s very ritualistic and disciplined.”

“So this goes beyond getting their money back?”

“Yes. Having The Tarantula involved means cartel bosses want the world to know that everyone connected to this theft of the cartel’s money will die,” Luna said. “If the cartel finds Lyle Galviera first, they will torture him for information on their money, then kill him. And then they will have no use for your niece. Because she can identify them, they’ll kill her, too.”

“Given that they’ve already found and executed these two competing cartel members,” Cruz said, “it won’t be long until the cartel finds Galviera. No matter what happens, Galviera and your niece are marked to be revenge kills.”

Mesa Mirage, Phoenix, Arizona

Hours later, as his jet lifted off from El Paso International Airport, Gannon recalled something the Irish writer Oscar Wilde had said about there being only two tragedies in life.

“One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.”

That pretty much covered it for him. As the wounded brother, there were times in his life that he’d ached to see his sister again, was willing to give anything to find Cora.

Well, he’d found her.

And as the hard-driving reporter, he had been hell-bent on finding a drug cartel assassin to write about; he had begged Isabel Luna to help him.

Well, they’d found one: a blood-drinking death-toasting killer called The Tarantula.

And he’s coming for my niece.

When the plane leveled off somewhere over the Rio Grande, Gannon opened his laptop and clicked to the missing poster of Tilly. Her eyes sparkled as they met his. She looked so much like a younger version of Cora, her face radiating innocence and hope as she implored him.

Help me. Find me. Before it’s too late.

He was her uncle. He was her blood.

Man, after the horror with the eyeballs, and then seeing those headless corpses in that car a short time ago, the thought of a cartel hit man targeting Tilly… Something caught in Gannon’s throat. He turned to the window, looked beyond the clouds and back on the few hours he’d just spent in Mexico.

After they’d left the desert crime scene, he, Castillo and Luna returned to El Heraldo ’s newsroom, where he had called Melody Lyon in New York. Absorbing the grisly details she’d said: “We need to get this story on the wire now, Jack.”

“I’ll write it here, but we have to hold back on some of it.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re way too close to this. I need to protect sources.”

Lyon weighed his point.

“I’ll let you write it the way you think it needs to be written, this time .”

“Okay, but can you get Henrietta in Phoenix to seek FBI comment?”

“Fine, just ship me the story ASAP. And Jack? Are you still there?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you want to stay on this? I can put other people on it if it ever becomes…becomes…”

“Becomes what?”

“If it ever becomes too much for you, Jack.”

“I’m in too deep, Melody.”

She let a moment pass before speaking. “We’re praying they find Tilly safe and bring her home.”

“So am I.”

Turning from the window back to his laptop, Gannon called up the story he’d sent earlier to headquarters and reread it, fighting to distance himself from the fact he was writing about his own family.

The execution murders of two former U.S. law enforcement officers who were found beheaded in the Mexican desert may be tied to the recent kidnapping of an 11-year-old Phoenix girl, according to police sources.

That was how it began, a tight nuts-and-bolts exclusive that provided few details. It did not report the victims’ names or anything on the assassin. Gannon had filed it from Juarez before returning to El Paso for his flight. By now his story should’ve gone around the world on the WPA wire and been posted online everywhere with Castillo’s crime scene photos, the ones suitable for family viewing-police vehicles near the barn.

Luna was writing a similar piece for El Heraldo .

The story beat the Associated Press, Reuters, all of Gannon’s competition. It was a WPA win that should make New York very happy, especially George Wilson, head of all foreign news. It would satisfy Gannon’s employer, whose resources he needed to find his niece.

His niece .

Suddenly he was jolted by another concern.

Should he have alerted Cora that the story was coming, explained what he knew so that she could brace for it? But it would’ve been a risk to call her. He couldn’t ignore suspicions that the task force had been infiltrated by people working for the cartel.

No, he had no other option but to get the story out.

For the rest of the short flight, Gannon considered how the execution in the Mexican desert of two American ex-cops would bring more to bear on Tilly’s case. Now as the landing gear rumbled down, he searched the blurring ground for answers. There had to be something he was overlooking, something he could dig into. He had to do more to find Tilly, and he had to do it fast.

Time was working against them.

The story was getting bigger.

The first thing Gannon noticed as his cab approached Cora’s house was that there were more news people out front, including a few satellite trucks from Los Angeles, Tucson and Las Vegas.