Scratchgravel Road (Josie Gray Mysteries #2)(44)

Josie hesitated. “With the river flooded, the only way across is out by Ellis’s house. There’s a footbridge over the Rio that Border Patrol hasn’t shut down yet.”

“Can you get me there?” Marta asked.

“If Border Patrol catches us you’ll be in some serious trouble, Josie.” Otto was staring at her. He knew where she was headed.

“I’ve already called Sergio,” Marta said. “He’s offered to help any way he can. If I can get across the footbridge I’m sure he’ll drive me to Javier’s house and get us back across the border in the morning. Hopefully the bridge will be open again and we can drive.”

Sergio Pando was a Federales who lived in Piedra Labrada, just across the river. He was also a childhood friend of Marta’s. Josie respected him as a person and as an honest Mexican law-enforcement contact whom they relied on frequently.

“Can’t he just get Teresa and bring her to the footbridge? Or, if you trust him, take her to his home until morning?” Otto asked.

“He would never do that. Javier’s a drunk, but he’s a Curandero. He still commands respect. Sergio would never enter his house and take his daughter.” Marta frowned and shook her head.

“I’ll cross by myself. I won’t take you with me.” Josie stared hard at Marta, who she knew would fight the decision.

“Absolutely not. Teresa’s my daughter. I hate to even drag you into this, but—”

Josie broke in. “I won’t talk about it. The river’s at flood level. What if something happens to you? You think Teresa has problems now? What happens to her with no mother?”

Marta was quiet, her face in anguish.

Josie said, “I’ll meet you out at Ellis’s trailer. I’ll call and let him know what’s going on. If the bridge doesn’t look safe, we call it off.”

*

Josie and Otto came up with a list of items that Otto would work on for the Santiago case in her absence. His first priority was a meeting with Skip Bradford at the coroner’s office to get a positive ID on the body.

Next, she called and talked to Ellis Burns about the strength of the footbridge. He said he had used the bridge four days ago to cross on foot, and it was in good shape, but he didn’t know what the rain might have done to it. He said he would walk down and check it out.

Josie had known Ellis for years and would trust his judgment on the safety of the bridge. Ellis dated a woman who lived in Mexico, about a half mile from the river. He crossed the bridge weekly and the local law enforcement, including Josie, turned a blind eye. Ellis was a Vietnam vet in his sixties who had no intention of moving to Mexico at this point in his life. His girlfriend ran a successful horse ranch in Mexico, and felt the same way: she would not leave her country for America. They used the bridge to conduct an illegal cross-country romance that suited them both just fine.

On the drive home to pack a quick change of clothes, Josie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and held it before dialing Dillon’s number. She dreaded the call. He would give her grief about the trip, she would get angry, he would say something ridiculous like “you can’t go,” and she would hang up wishing she hadn’t told him.

When she finally called, she gave him the basics, and he stuck to her predicted script.

“You can’t do that, Josie. It’s suicide!”

“What happens when you tell me I can’t do something?”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“I’m asking you to be reasonable. There are men in Mexico who would murder you for bragging rights.”

“This isn’t negotiable. Marta can’t go. Otto can’t go.”

“It isn’t your fight. You can’t even carry a weapon across the border for protection!”

“Dillon. I promise you that I will take every precaution. I will be with Sergio as soon as I cross the river. He’ll take me to Teresa and I’ll bring her home. Simple.”

The argument finally ended in an unhappy stalemate. She promised to call him at the first opportunity, and she hung up glad for his concern, but slightly annoyed all the same.

*

Once she had a few things stored in a light backpack she could carry across the bridge, she loaded Chester in her jeep and drove back to Dell’s place. He walked out on his front porch in jeans and a plaid shirt with a cigar dangling from the corner of his lips, and a shotgun broken open over his arm.

Josie got out of her jeep grinning. “What’s up?”

“Cleaning my guns.” He watched Josie open the back door of her jeep, and he patted Chester on the back when he loped onto the porch. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m headed to Mexico for the night. Wondered if you’d keep Chester at your place.”

Chester pawed at the top of an old ammunitions box beside the front door that Dell kept filled with dog treats.

“That doesn’t sound like a very good idea,” he said.

She shrugged. “It’ll be a quick trip.”

“Work-related?”

“Sort of.”

“Not going to fill me in, are you?”

She smiled. “Nope. You’d follow me with your arsenal. We’d both end up in a Mexican prison. And who’d take care of Chester?”