“Kari let me hide in a cardboard box in the back of her van. It was hot and dark and had no air. I fainted on the way there. After she dragged me out, I threw up on the grass.” She smiled at the memory. “Then I cried, because I finally had made it.”
He smiled back at her, his heart aching.
“Being with you is like that.”
“Like throwing up?”
“No. It’s like arriving to a place I always dreamed about.”
“Except there’s no trapeze.”
“There is a baton.”
He started laughing, surprised by her crude joke, and couldn’t stop. It was either laugh or cry, because he felt the same way about her. She was everything he’d ever wanted and more. She filled all the missing pieces inside him.
They arrived in Mazatlán that evening. He had trouble staying awake during the trip. His head ached and his wound itched. Before they got off the bus, she touched her palm to his cheek, frowning. “Your fever is back.”
That didn’t surprise him. They entered the bus station and he found a place to rest while Maria paid for some American-style fast food. The hot meal and cold drink revived him a little. After they ate, he threw away the trash and approached the pay phone. LaGuardia’s secretary put him through immediately—to someone else.
“Agent Foster? This is Special Agent Ernesto Bell of ICE. We’re happy to hear from you.”
“Is LaGuardia available?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s on a flight at the moment. Are you in need of emergency assistance?”
“I can wait.”
“All right. LaGuardia asked me to act as a liaison between you. I know the details of your assignment, and I have news about the target.”
“What news?”
“There was a carjacking in Playas de Tijuana two days ago. The assailant was shirtless and barefoot, with a bandage around his torso. Both witnesses identified him as Armando Villarreal from a photo lineup. He switched cars in Tijuana, and again in Mexicali.”
Ian rocked back on his heels, stunned. Villarreal was alive, and coming to collect his daughter. “Has he contacted Sarai?”
“We don’t know. Tech hasn’t been able to find any communications between them. We’re trying to hack her cellphone, but we can’t find any social media accounts. The girl is a ghost. She seems to have vanished into thin air.”
“She didn’t get intercepted by immigration?”
“No. They’re still looking for her.”
Ian was surprised that Sarai had been able to evade capture at El Limbo. The ambush had been swift and well executed. Everyone in the valley had been trapped. He’d barely managed to escape with Maria. How had a sheltered Catholic schoolgirl slipped away?
“There’s another complication.”
“What?”
“According to one of my sources in Guadalajara, there are multiple Mexican agencies involved in the search. The story on the ground is that Sarai ran away with an American she met online. He’s the main suspect in the murder of Anita Flores.”
Ian’s hand tightened on the receiver. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I wish.”
“Do they have a description of this American?”
“Six foot, mid-thirties, brown hair. Armed and dangerous.”
That was definitely him. Mid-thirties was a bit of a stretch, but he felt like he’d aged five years in the last five days. Maybe by the end of this job he’d look forty, with wrinkles and gray hair.
“If you get picked up, we can’t guarantee your safety.”
“Well, no shit!”
Bell had the nerve to chuckle at his outburst.
“What are my orders?”
“LaGuardia wants you to lay low. He’ll send someone to escort you to the border as soon as possible, but it might take a day or two.”
Ian didn’t care for that plan. He’d rather keep moving and stay one step ahead of the federales. He promised to call back tomorrow and hung up. Then he returned to Maria’s side, slouching in the seat next to her. Although the bus station was crowded with tourists, he felt exposed. He had to stay alert, or he’d end up in custody.
“What did your boss say?” Maria asked.
“I didn’t talk to him. I talked to another agent.”
“And?”
“He said that Sarai didn’t get caught in El Limbo. She just disappeared.”
Maria sipped her soda through a straw, contemplative. “Maybe she stayed on the train.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. There aren’t many places to hide, but she’s a smart girl, and very small. She can fit in tight spaces.”
He found this idea plausible. Maria was speaking from first-hand experience. She’d stowed away in a cardboard box. He dug a few dollars out of his pocket and gestured toward an information booth. “Buy me a map of Mexico, will you?”
She accepted the money but didn’t rise.
“Please,” he added, scanning the crowd again. She strode across the station and returned with a large, folded map. He spread it out on his lap. He couldn’t find El Limbo, but he knew the general area. “If she did stay on the train, how far could she get?”
Maria traced the edge of the coast with her fingertip. “She could be in Los Mochis by now, or Ciudad Obregón,” she said, touching both spots. Then she moved up a little. “The tracks fork just after Hermosillo, in Benjamín Hill. It’s one of the last stops. Most of the passengers go north to Nogales, the closest border city. Some travel east to Tijuana.”
“So Benjamín Hill is a good place to look for her?”
“Yes.”
He turned around to check the fare boards above the ticket window. There were several departures to Hermosillo tonight. He could sleep on the bus and arrive tomorrow morning. The freight train wasn’t that fast. He had an excellent chance of catching up with it.
She followed his gaze. “You never quit, do you?”
“Nope.”
“You’re not well.”
“I’m well enough to sit on a bus for twelve hours.”
“Does your boss know about your fever?”
Ian shifted in his seat, ignoring her question.
“You are keeping secrets from me.”
“Villarreal is alive. He was spotted in TJ.”