“Were the men from Guatemala too?” Josie asked.
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. All these details. They mix up with all the others. I remember I tried to get them to go home. Back to Guatemala. But their families had spent precious money on their trip. They had to make it to the U.S. I remember that. And that’s when I sent them to you. To Josie.”
*
On the way home, Josie kept thinking about how the two women saw the United States as their savior. Josie as their savior. What a disturbing idea, Josie thought. In her experience, there were no saviors on earth, just people trying to get by as best they could.
As Nick drove the SUV up and out of the arroyo, he said, “It’s almost ten and you didn’t get much sleep last night. How soon do you need to get home?”
She shrugged and looked at his profile, smiling into the dark. “What did you have in mind?”
“It would be better in the daylight, but I’ll show you one of my favorite places in Mexico. A fishing hole on the Rio.”
“You go there often?”
“I own some land. I have a fishing cabin on the river. Actually, when you first called me about your old boyfriend being kidnapped, I was headed to the cabin for a weekend. I was surprised how close your house was to my place. And I heard the desperation in your voice.” He glanced over at her. “It didn’t take much convincing to get me to take the case when I heard you were the cop that tangled with the Medranos.”
“At first, taking on the cartel might have been bragging rights. But now? I’m over it. I want to live my life. I want to do my job and not worry about looking over my shoulder twenty-four/seven.”
“Doesn’t work like that,” he said.
She felt her blood pressure spike, and while she regretted the path the conversation was taking, she couldn’t stop herself. “If they want me, then come and get me. Let’s get this over with.”
“You don’t use bravado with these people. They don’t have the same moral code you do. They will one-up you every time. You will never outbrave them.”
“It’s not about that! Don’t you see? I want my life back.”
“You aren’t even talking sense. You know better. Nobody’s dealt a fair hand in life. If you’re born in the slums, you work your ass off to get out. If you’re born into wealth, you work your ass off to make your own name in the world. If you work as a cop, you—” He stopped talking, apparently sensing her growing anger.
She glared at him, and after a moment he laid his hand on her thigh. She instinctively tensed her leg muscles.
“We’re arguing over words right now,” he said. His voice was quiet. “Let’s stop.”
He drove another five minutes along the river and finally pulled down a narrow path lined with cottonwood trees and then stopped abruptly in front of a wooden shack.
He looked over at her and smiled. “This is my mansion. My house in Mexico City? I’d take this little shack over that monster any day.”
She got out of the SUV and he moved around to her side and grabbed her hand. “Let me show you what makes me happy.”
They walked side by side along a dirt path that led to the wooden porch. He unlocked the door and she could smell the earthy wood and stone as they stepped inside. He turned on the lights and she smiled.
“This is you,” she said. Mismatched wool blankets hung from large windows that faced the river. A stone fireplace was located between the windows with a massive split log for a mantel. On top of it was a mantel clock and what appeared to be family photos. The living room was small, with a couch, love seat, and coffee table filling it up, but the ceiling was open to the wood rafters above and gave it a spacious feeling.
“How come you never mentioned this place?” she asked. “It’s a perfect hideaway.”
“Exactly. It’s a hideaway. I’ve had this place almost ten years now and I’ve never brought another person here. This is where I decompress. Not even my brother knows about it.”
“Why did you bring me?” she asked, turning to face him.
“Because this isn’t enough anymore. When I want to relax and get away from the job, I want you with me. You quiet the noise in my head.”
She smiled at his description. She couldn’t quiet the voices in her own head; she couldn’t imagine how she could quiet his.
He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Josie.”
“I love you too,” she whispered. She kissed him, a slow sweet kiss that was uncomplicated and perfect.
He ran his hands down her back and she shivered. He put his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “There’s one more room I need to show you.”
She followed him into the bedroom, where he pushed back the curtains and opened the window. She stood beside him and they listened to the Rio Grande rush by, watching the water glint from the moonlight’s reflection.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.