Chapter 6

The star-speckled night sky lit up the parking lot of the lonely diner, casting an eerie glow over The Cactus Forest just off Route 667. Aaron watched as a dog and its female owner walked around the wrap-around porch and disappeared into the shadows of the diner after locking up. His breath fogged at the driver’s side window; he swiped a hand over the misted glass to continue his observance of the diner through the cleared stripe. What else was there to do while he awaited The Call.

All the lights inside were off, except for a big cherry-cola sign on the back wall, which lit up the coffee station. The pink neon-sign on the window read closed in a curly font. Checking his watch he observed that it was nearly one a.m.

He hadn’t been much, if at all, a partygoer in his younger life, but he knew from studying the other frat-boys back in university, that one a.m. was the crucial time of a party. It separated the hardcore partiers from the rest. The weaker of the bunch collapsed in bed around this time, the rest stayed up until the sun and birdsong broke the next morning.

He sat back in his seat, adjusting his rearview mirror and studied the only road in and out Fiesta Square where he had left Dannie and Makayla. He scrolled though his phone and didn’t like it when he saw there were no messages. He let out a heavy sigh, itching to call Makayla as his last message was sent over an hour ago and it still sat unread in her inbox. An uneasy feeling had irked him since drop-off. Unlocking the phone, he debated placing the call. His impatience had gotten him into trouble before; cost him a mission or two in his career, but he had also learnt over the years that his intuition was usually spot on. His stomach churned at the thought. After all, the last time he had such an overwhelming feeling, which had been about Heather, he’d been sadly right.

The phone went straight to voicemail. “Dammit,” he swore as he turned the key in the ignition. The night Heather had gone missing reeled itself through him once more. Then decided to place a call to his superior. It rang once before Bryce answered.

“Sir, it’s time to make some kind move,” Aaron said quickly.

He heard his captain groan and tell his wife to go back to bed, then heard the ruffle of sheets before Bryce finally said, “What’s the situation?”

“I can’t reach her, Sir.”

He heard a loud sigh, the slam of a door in the background. “I’ll get her location.”

“Sir.”

“Yes, Anderson?”

“We can’t go in.”

Bryce groaned, his impatience finally starting to show. “Explain.”

Bryce was a man of few words. At his age, and all the years as head of The Major Crimes Unit, too many words, meant too many seconds wasted at the cost of lives.

“There’s multiple entry points, with too many lookouts and major crowds. We would be outnumbered at all entry points. We’d need back up. But…”

“Suggestions?” Bryce interrupted.

Aaron had learned never to give Bryce problems without solutions.

“Send me Jarvis and Thompson. And, Sir…”

“Yes, Anderson?”

“I need that location, now!”

“I’m on it.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Aaron heard his supervisor sigh yet again, “Anderson,” Bryce’s tone was stark against the silence of the surrounding desert surrounds. “You should have called it in earlier.”

“Yes, Sir,” Aaron swallowed against the tautness in his throat, his captain had that tone to his voice. One that let him know, if things go bad, it’s totally on him.

The line went dead, and Aaron’s chest tightened. He’d never showed it, but after Heather, his former partner and fiancé had been kidnapped he’d get periods of anxiety so intense it felt as if he couldn’t breathe or think straight. This made him irrational, impatient, and he hated himself for it. But it didn’t stop him putting the car in gear and spinning out of the parking lot—knowing he was going into the field before back-up arrived.

Aaron took the road back to Le Grand Festival Avenue. The town was a large square in the middle of the desert, made up of tiny avenues dotted with bars, a couple of churches, some souvenir shops, a few cafés, and one or two bed and breakfasts.

But also, in the past few years, a number of big houses had been built as wealthy folks moved out of the city. They were nestled in the hills, creating lookout spots across the busy festival square and provided a perfect hiding place in plain sight for elite parties and gambling dens. It was a breeding ground for all kinds of dodgy characters and hosted by rich unsavory characters, who had little regard for the law. A perfect recipe for drugs, money-laundering, prostitution, and human trafficking. And this is where he had hoped to find Heather’s killer.

Aaron wiped the sweat forming on his brows. Until last night, he’d had no idea as to the scope of the operation, but once he’d dropped Makayla off, and inspected the surrounding side streets, he’d started to see the fail in his plan. Of course their team had studied the maps, but they had underestimated how busy and heavily guarded it would be on this night. All he knew was that his Intel had been wrong, and someone was going to pay if anything had happened to the girls.

A call came in. “She’s on the move.” It was Jarvis, their tech expert.

Aaron’s eyes glued to the dark road, as he carefully watched the headlights illuminate the uneven lane “What? Which way?”

“Toward Mexico.”

“What?” he asked incredulity.

The road was bleak and remote. Not a single vehicle had passed him, and it was the only road they could have taken toward the border. He made sure of that.

“I’ve called it in,” Jarvis said. “A drone is already on its way.”

The way Jarvis spoke had led to him gaining the nickname Robocop back at headquarters. For the past two years, he’d been working in the unit with Aaron and Bryce. He was nothing less than mechanical in everything he did. This was a good thing when it came to the kind of work they did. He was reliable and methodical. But try and have a casual evening with the guy and it was like dating a Sunday school teacher saving herself for The One —painfully boring.

“How far from the border, Jarvis? He asked.

“You can’t…”

“Jarvis.” His tone was clipped, but he knew Jarvis would pick up on the urgency.

He heard the scrunching of papers in the background. “Judging by the speed at which she’s traveling…”

“Jarvis, human talk please!” Aaron already knew where Jarvis was heading with his ‘tech-talk’.

Jarvis cleared his throat, as if to dismiss the interruption, “You have ten minutes at most.”

Aaron’s foot flattened the pedal. “Stay on the line, Jarvis. We can’t lose them.”

This is happening again, he thought as his hands clutched desperately at the wheel.

Jarvis informed him, “The drone is on its way but Aaron…” Jarvis added, “We have no one on the other side. Once they get her over the border…”

“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll get them.”

“Them?” Jarvis asked, but didn’t get his answer.

Aaron’s eyes flicked to a hidden panel beneath his steering wheel, where he kept a plastic replica of his Glock, printed by one of his ‘connections’ that owned a 3D printer, a friend that owed him a lifetime of favors - just for moments like these. Hopefully, border patrol only used metal detection scanners in search of weapons. It would be his only workable weapon across the border at this point.