Ian climbed the hill to make sure the cartel members were gone. He could see the cloud of dust from their vehicles on a dirt road leading south. There was a fleet of U.S. customs vehicles coming in from the north. They entered the canyon and parked in the same spaces the cartel members had just vacated.
Before Ian walked down to greet them, he gestured for Maria to stay back with Sarai and her brother. LaGuardia stepped out of the first van, his sunglasses glinting in the late afternoon sun. He was flanked by a man he introduced as Special Agent Ernesto Bell.
“What did I miss?” LaGuardia asked.
“Everything,” Ian replied.
Special Agent Bell and a group of customs officers swarmed the scene while Ian filled LaGuardia in on the basic details. Sarai had to be dragged away from her father’s body. She was put in the back of a van with Hugo, who needed emergency medical treatment.
“How did you know to come here?” Ian asked LaGuardia.
“The federal police in this area are friendly with ICE and CBP. We were working together to hack into Sarai’s phone. They called to tell me that Villarreal had been spotted in Benjamín Hill. As soon as we arrived, they pointed us in this direction.”
Ian nodded his understanding. The federales had probably fed the same information to the cartel members. Those men had been waiting for Villarreal. “I wasn’t sure how much communication was going on between our agency and theirs.”
LaGuardia arched a brow. “Is that why you didn’t disclose your exact location?”
Ian shrugged, looking away. LaGuardia had sent him down here on his own, to sink or swim. Ian had made decisions based on what little intel was available. He’d been injured and without resources. It was a miracle that he’d managed to stay alive, and stay on Sarai’s trail. The operation hadn’t gone by the book, but neither had LaGuardia.
Armando Villarreal Castillo was dead. Now the case was out of their hands. The crime scene would be turned over to Mexican officials, who wouldn’t investigate.
Ian told LaGuardia why he’d stopped in Benjamín Hill and how he’d ended up in the middle of the murder scene. Although he didn’t mention Maria by name, he couldn’t pretend she wasn’t involved. She was standing twenty feet away with Special Agent Bell.
“Miss Santos, I presume?” LaGuardia said.
“Yes.”
“She’s been with you this whole time?”
“Most of it,” he admitted. “At first she was looking for her brother, who was on the train. Then I got sick, and she became a valuable asset.”
“A valuable asset,” LaGuardia repeated, arching a brow.
Ian didn’t think he’d get scolded for endangering Maria, because she wasn’t an American citizen. He was going to get scolded for disobeying direct orders.
“How was she?” LaGuardia asked baldly.
Ian flushed at the question. He stared straight ahead, refusing to answer.
“Maybe I’ll ask her how you were.”
He gave LaGuardia a warning look.
LaGuardia put his hand on Ian’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t be so fucking uptight, Foster. I told you not to touch that girl. I could write you up.”
“Will you?”
“Probably not. Now that I’ve seen her, I understand why you couldn’t resist.”
Ian didn’t like getting a pass because LaGuardia thought Maria was hot, but the last thing he needed was another mark on his record. They watched Maria climb into the backseat of the customs vehicle with Sarai and Hugo. Special Agent Bell approached them with the news that she was going to the hospital in Nogales with her brother.
“Unless you want her detained for questioning,” Bell added.
“No,” LaGuardia said. “She’s free to go.”
Ian let out a slow breath of relief. One of the customs officers brought him some first aid supplies. He used the side mirror from the nearest vehicle to clean up the cut on his eyebrow. It didn’t need stitches. He slapped on a bandage and called it good.
They didn’t stick around to process the scene. After the federales arrived, LaGuardia shook hands with the general and left them to it. He gestured for Ian to sit next to him in the customs van. The driver headed north, away from Benjamín Hill. They would spend the night at a hotel in Nogales and fly back to San Diego in the morning.
“What’s the status on Caitlyn Weiss?” Ian asked LaGuardia.
“No word. Villarreal left Tijuana two days ago. Maybe he dumped her somewhere.”
Ian wondered if Armando Villarreal was capable of killing a woman in cold blood, after making it his mission to avenge his wife’s death. “Did they ever find Carlos Moreno’s body?”
“No.”
That was odd too. Moreno had been inside his house in Salsipuedes just before it blew up. Mexican police had bagged several other bodies at the scene, but not his. Moreno had either been obliterated or he’d disappeared without a trace. They might never know what happened to him. Villarreal certainly wasn’t talking. Neither would anyone else.
This was another mystery that the Tijuana police wouldn’t dare solve.
Ian drifted off on the way to Nogales. When he woke up, it was dark. They were parked outside the Plaza Hotel. He exited the vehicle with LaGuardia, shaking off the remnants of sleep. LaGuardia handed him a zippered bank bag. Ian’s ID and credit cards were inside.
“Keep track of your expenses so we can reimburse you,” LaGuardia said. “You can eat here at the hotel, of course. I booked you a room. But you’re not on the clock, so whatever you do from now until tomorrow morning is your business.”
Ian pocketed his belongings, excitement coursing through his veins. He could take a cab to the hospital and see Maria.
“Speaking of paperwork, are you interested in a permanent position?”
He swallowed his surprise. “You’re making me an offer?”
“If you’re cleared by the DEA investigation, yes. I’d like to have you on my team.”
“Why?”
LaGuardia smiled at the blunt question. “I’m pleased with your performance, Foster. You’ve got good instincts and you can handle yourself in dangerous situations. You’re smart enough to navigate obstacles instead of shooting at everything. Those are admirable qualities.”
“Thank you, sir.”