Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(52)
After just a few minutes of silence she heard small branches snap, the sounds of people walking in the distance, and then the laugh of what seemed like several men. Her head turned toward the direction of the sounds, down by the river. As she listened, she wondered if the stolen car ring was still hard at work, possibly still buying from Wally Follet. Marta picked up her stool and backed into the undergrowth.
She listened to the noises for almost twenty minutes and saw a flashlight turn on for some time, and then eventually go off, confirming that the men were across the river in Mexico. The voices settled into quiet conversation and she felt certain they were either waiting for Wally to show up, or they were watching the junkyard, the same as she was doing.
She needed to get closer to them, but it was too dangerous to go alone; she’d have to get backup. She stood to put away the seat and head back down the road to the Rio Camp and Kayak.
Just as she stepped away from the tree line she noticed movement. A figure dressed in black walked slowly down the trailer steps, barely moving. Marta stood perfectly still, her vantage point offering a clear view without leaving her exposed. She was fairly certain the tall thin person in black was Hector, based on Josie’s description of him, but Marta had never actually met him. With the sky somewhat overcast it was difficult to follow his movement. She saw him run quietly across the yard to the center aisle, but then she lost him. She wondered if Hec was meeting up with his father and the men down by the river. Marta hunkered down with her phone and texted Josie. Wait for further. Men by the river. Hec is outside. Don’t send cars. Stay quiet until I know more.
The only way Marta could move toward the back of the yard without making noise was to leave the underbrush, leaving her exposed to other unknown dangers. The rows of cars ran perpendicular to the river. She walked along the outer edge of the line of cars closest to her until she reached the end of the row. She edged up the next row of cars, then down again, searching for the figure that she thought to be Hec. She stood still for a long time, searching the dark for the black-clad slim figure. Then she heard the light creak of metal and saw a pale face. He was in the next row over from her, at the end closest to the river, bent down, inside the empty frame of what appeared to be an old station wagon. He was squatting, watching the men watch him.
FIFTEEN
At three o’clock that morning Josie left Chester sleeping on the floor of Dell’s house and walked home to find the security crew running wires above the ceiling in her hallway. Drywall was in piles on the floor, doors off their hinges, but she was thankful for all of it. She said hello and excused herself to take a shower and get ready for work. By four she was on the road to El Paso to meet with Julian Beckwith. She had begrudgingly agreed to conduct the interview at eight in the morning, which would hopefully put her back in Artemis by one that afternoon so she could work on Hector.
Sometime before midnight, Josie had received a text from Marta stating that there was movement by the river. After several texts over a tense hour, Marta had deduced that two men were sitting beside a pickup on the Mexican side of the Rio, apparently watching the salvage yard. She had gotten down next to the bank of the river, within thirty feet of them, and could hear them talking quietly, speaking Spanish. Marta said it appeared the men had been there before; they seemed relaxed and were paying little attention to their surroundings.
At some point, someone had left the salvage yard trailer and snuck outside to watch the men. Marta was certain that it had been Hector. She had been expecting to see Wally Follet show up, but she knew Wally, and she said she would have recognized him. He was still nowhere to be found. Josie told Marta to hold off doing anything that night, to stake out again the following night but to try and find a way to capture conversation between the men, hopefully via a recorder. Josie thought the distance across the water might be too great to pick up any clear conversation, but it was worth the effort.
The list of questions had grown considerably overnight: Why were the men watching Hector? And why was Hector watching them? What was Wally’s role? And, most importantly, was any of it connected to Dillon’s disappearance and Christina’s death? Dillon was Wally’s accountant. Was the indictment, Wally’s disappearance, the odd behavior down by the river, the kidnapping, the murder, all of it coincidental? Josie had a hard time believing that.
The long, quiet drive to El Paso at least gave her the chance to think. When a breakthrough in a troubling case happened, it was usually upon waking, as sleep generally settled her thoughts. The problem was she hadn’t slept well since Dillon’s disappearance.
*
Josie drove the I-10 west and arrived in El Paso at seven thirty along with another thousand cars. She glanced at drivers in suits and dresses, women with hair fixed and makeup carefully applied, and she wondered how many of those grim-faced people were happy pushing their way through the day, trying to impress, to get noticed, to get ahead. For some reason she could never explain, the city always depressed the hell out of her.
She took the Downtown El Paso exit, fought the traffic to the Wells Fargo Plaza, and pulled into the parking garage across the street. After several laps up the ramp she finally found an empty spot and parked. She called in her location to Lou, then checked the safety on her Beretta and her ankle backup. Taking one last swig of cold coffee, she grabbed her steno pad and got out of the car, locking it behind her.
Beckwith’s office was located in the twenty-one-story Wells Fargo building, the tallest in El Paso. After calling up at the security desk, Josie rode the elevator to Beckwith’s floor with two older men in suits. The doors opened into a spacious reception area with a marquee that directed her down a short hallway to an office with BECKWITH INDUSTRIES painted in gold across its large glass entry door. Behind a curved ebony desk sat a young woman receptionist in a light-pink business suit. She greeted Josie with a smile, and then tried not to stare at her badge and the name plate on her uniform.