Scratchgravel Road (Josie Gray Mysteries #2)(45)
*
By the time Josie met up with Ellis and Marta at the entrance to the foot crossing it was after three o’clock. There was a light rain, but the forecast showed a break in the activity later that afternoon through midnight.
Ellis wore rugged brown sandals, jean shorts, and a brown T-shirt that perfectly blended with his surroundings. He looked as if he had recently buzzed his own hair with a pair of clippers. He stared down at the bridge and the rushing water about six feet below it. “It’s made it through worse than this,” he said. But Josie couldn’t remember seeing the water any higher than it currently was.
Across the bridge was the expansive Chihuahuan Desert with low-lying mountains, cactus, and scrub brush that was already turning green with the recent rain. The river cut through the east end of a canyon that traveled through Artemis. The opening of the canyon was relatively shallow, with twenty-foot-high walls. The bridge was attached to the sides, on either side of the river, about five feet down from the ledge. The canyon rim was a rocky slope down to the bridge, hiding it from the road, but making the entrance accessible. The crossing was only visible from within the canyon walls so there was no cartel traffic, just an occasional local wanting quick access, usually to family members.
The muddy brown river had reached the banks, flowing fast and dragging debris. Josie knew if she fell in, or the bridge gave out, she would almost surely drown. She hated the water and was not a good swimmer, although the current was flowing so fast that swimming would be a moot point. If the water didn’t kill her, the trees and limbs floating down the river would.
The rope bridge spanned twenty feet, with three-foot-wide wooden slats, and was surprisingly taut across the water. Josie had crossed it easily with Ellis several years ago just to check out what was on the other side. Desert scrub, it turned out, and a cattle road heading south from Piedra Labrada into Ojinaga, Mexico.
Marta had called Sergio back after they had formed a plan and he had agreed to drive Josie into town. Unless the road was severely washed out from flooding, she figured the drive would take about ninety minutes.
Josie wore blue jeans, hiking boots, a long-sleeved navy T-shirt, and carried her Artemis badge and passport in a black backpack. Her hair was in a tight ponytail and she carried the backpack secured tightly to her back. She didn’t carry a weapon of any kind. Federales escort or not, she was still entering the country illegally.
She stepped onto the bridge gingerly and took several steps out. The water was pushing at the metal supports and the bridge dipped under her weight, but felt secure. She walked several feet out and came back to the edge where Marta and Ellis stood, looking on in concern.
“I think it’s fine. I don’t feel comfortable bringing Teresa back across it, though.”
Marta nodded. “Sergio said he would reserve a room at a little motel downtown. It’s safe. You can stay until morning. Sergio said the closing was precautionary. He’s predicting the International Bridge will open again in the morning.”
Josie frowned. The idea of staying overnight in a motel room with Marta’s sixteen-year-old daughter worried her worse than the water. And Josie wasn’t as convinced as Sergio that the bridge would be open again that soon.
“What if we can’t cross in the morning?” she asked.
Marta’s expression froze at the question and Josie regretted it instantly. She reached out and squeezed her shoulder.
“You can’t imagine how much I appreciate you,” Marta said. Her eyes carried worry for her boss, but Josie could see the deeper fear of a mother desperate for her daughter’s safe return. “I don’t know how I will ever repay you for this.”
“Marta, friends don’t require payment. I’m helping you because I care about you and Teresa.”
Marta hugged Josie tightly, tears streaming down her face. She pulled her cross from under her blouse and clutched it in her fist. “I will pray nonstop for your safe return.”
Several minutes later a small dark blue car with the words POLICIA FEDERAL painted in large white letters across its side pulled to a stop across the river and a stocky gray-haired man got out. He was wearing street clothes, a white T-shirt tucked into jeans and running shoes. He waved and the three did likewise. Josie agreed to call Marta as soon as they’d found Teresa and then stepped back onto the bridge.
Two-inch-thick rope handrails ran down either side of the bridge, and Josie had to bend awkwardly to reach them. She wondered if Ellis had helped construct the bridge—if so, he had seriously miscalculated the design. Her five-foot-seven-inch frame felt off balance on the narrow boards.
About three feet in, she stopped and stood still, focusing on the slats under her feet, not the churning brown water below her. Once she steadied herself, and accustomed her eyes to the rushing water under the bridge, she gained some confidence. She took slow six-inch steps, rubbing the skin off her palms as she slid her hands down the rope rails.
By the middle of the bridge, the feeling that it was ready to flip, dropping her into the churning water below, was almost unbearable. Not daring to let go of the railing, she forced her muscles to relax slightly and took smaller steps, carefully sliding each foot across the slippery wet slats. She kept her focus on the wood so she wouldn’t trip. After a five-minute walk that seemed to take hours, she made it onto the other side to the applause of Sergio, who’d just allowed her access into his country illegally, now smiling as if Josie were the prodigal daughter come home to stay.