Kierney Scott - Crossing The Line

“Chuck O’Grady. He’s a good guy. He said he would take care of it. But he didn’t need to. They never showed up.”

Bile rose in the back of her throat. That good guy may have gotten Raul’s family killed. Beth looked over again to Jamison. “Pick him up.”

Jamison had already started dialling as he walked into the other room.

“What can you tell me about the shipment? What was the name of the company?”

Raul shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Think, Mr. Garcia. Any detail could help. Take your time. What colour was the truck? Was there any writing on the sides? A picture or something.”

“There weren’t any markings. White, no logo, California plates.”

Beth nodded her encouragement. “Did you get the license plate number?”

“No.” Raul’s voice broke as he started to weep again. “Find them please. Please.”

She was losing him. He needed to focus; she needed to get him back. “It’s OK. What about the driver? What can you tell me about the driver?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” The words came out in a breathless whisper. He was frantic now. He looked like a rabid dog chained to a fence. He rubbed his hands quickly over the chenille-covered arm of the couch. Over and over he rubbed, vigorously pressing his hand into the material. It was going to rip but he wouldn’t notice. Details like that could not reach him now.

Beth shook her head. “OK what about the man who offered you the money? Would you recognize him if you saw him in a photo line-up?”

Raul shrugged his shoulders.

“Was he Mexican?”

Raul nodded.

“Good. How tall was he?”

“I don’t know.” Raul scrubbed at his face. “Can we talk about this when you find them? I can’t think right now. I need my family. Please just find them.” He said more but the words were lost between gasps and tears.

Beth took a deep breath. She needed a description, a name, something to go on. She wasn’t getting anywhere. And she wouldn’t. She had been in the game long enough to know when she hit a brick wall.

Beth looked up when Jamison came back into the room. His brows were knit together; his mouth was a tight white slit.

“Did you find O’Grady?” Beth asked.

Before Jamison could answer, gun shots rang out on the street. Six shots, fired in quick succession followed by the squeal of tires.

Beth slammed her back against the wall, knocking a picture off the wall. “Get down!” she screamed. She drew her gun. “Call it in. We need back up.”

Jamison nodded.

Beth kept her back firmly against the wall as she made her way to the front door. She took a sharp breath before she opened the front door, scared of what she would find.

The two officers were slumped on the concrete steps, surrounded by pool of blood. At least one was still alive because the blood continued to drain from his body, but she could not immediately tell which one.

“Shit!” Beth dropped to her knees. “Call it in!” she screamed again. Shit! So much blood. She couldn’t even see where they had been shot. She rolled the younger officer onto his back. There were two shots to his chest and one in his neck. God he was so young. She didn’t even know his name. She never asked. She held his head in her lap as she checked for a pulse. “Oh God.” He was dead. She didn’t even know his name.

Jamieson knelt beside her. “Ambulance is on its way.”

“Check his pulse.” Beth pointed to the other officer.

Jamison pressed two fingers to the side of his neck. “It’s faint but there’s a pulse.”

Relief washed over her. Beth looked down at the lifeless body below her. “What’s his name?”

“This is Mike Philips and that,” he said pointing to the man in Beth’s lap, “is Tom Higgins. Tom is engaged. Going to get married December 1.”

Was engaged , Beth silently corrected him. He was dead now. He wasn’t getting married. But Mike still had a chance. Please let the ambulance get here.

“Where is O’Grady?” Beth asked.

“Killed, along with his wife and daughter.”

Beth nodded. No surprise there. There was no loyalty in Los Treintas. Even if you accepted their money, there was no guarantee you would be safe. People were expendable. When they were no longer of use, they were killed.

And some were left behind to suffer and serve as a warning. That is what Raul was, a warning for everyone else. He made a mistake by getting in a cartel’s way. Every Border Agent working would know his fate and it would be foremost in their minds when they were checking cargo or processing documents.

Behind her, Raul screamed. It was a guttural sound that reverberated in her core; it was a shriek that sounded more animal than human.

Her head jerked up and that is when she saw it: in a large clear bag, four severed heads.

“Oh God.” Beth sprung up. In an instant she was at Raul’s side, her arms around him for support. He screamed again as his legs bucked and he collapsed down on the worn floorboards of the porch, bringing Beth crashing down with him. She never loosened her hold. There were no words, nothing she could say to begin to numb the pain so she just held him as he screamed.

She closed her eyes. She had no emotions left, but she didn’t need them because she could feel all of his, each drop of pain that fell from him was absorbed by her, became her own. “I will catch the man who did this. I promise. I swear I will make him pay.”

Her words were swallowed by his sobs.

“I promise,” she said again and it was true. These people’s lives meant something. All of them. Beth was going to bring El Escorpion down.

He would pay.

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