Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(70)

Hec thanked him and set the suitcase on the bed. He looked around the room, seeming lost. Manny patted him on the back and left.

“This will end, Hec,” Otto assured him. “I can’t give you a time or date, but you’ll get your life back.”

Hec looked at the floor and scuffed at the carpet with his toe. “I don’t know what my life might be like anymore. I don’t know what’ll happen with the business. My dad told me we’d sell the yard this year and move somewhere different. We were going to start over again.”

Otto wondered how much Hec knew about the missing money, a question that had been nagging him since Hec had spilled the story after dinner. They assumed he was a nice kid who’d been duped by his father, but at eighteen he was an adult, mature enough to potentially have been involved. He could serve time just like his dad. Otto sat down on the wooden chair in front of the writing desk and studied Hec, sizing up the kid’s ability to take another conversation. Hec sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked thin and scared and Otto felt a pang of sorrow for the mess Hec was in, but the details were critical.

“I’d like to finish talking about the Medranos and their involvement with your dad if you’re up to it.”

He nodded. “I didn’t mean to keep information. I just didn’t know what to do. They said they’d kill my dad.”

Otto shook his head. “Chief Gray isn’t angry with you, Hec. She understands the terrible place you’re in. She’s angry that the cartel is using both you and her to get what they want. None of this is your fault, just like it’s not hers.”

Hec stared at his blue jeans, rubbing at the seams with his thumbs.

“Something doesn’t make sense to me, Hec. What happens when the money goes to Mexico? The Mexicans have laws in place for depositing cash too. How is it any different there than here?”

“There’s a guy they call the transporter, who we ship the money to in Mexico. Then guys called runners deposit the money into a bunch of different banks. I guess he has a bunch of accounts set up. I don’t know what happens to the money after that. I’ve just listened to my dad on the phone with him.”

Otto assumed the money was then wired overseas to a safe account. At that point the money would have been laundered and would be ready to come back to the cartel clean and untraceable, ready for new business.

“Do you know how much your dad makes on a shipment?”

“The transporter pays my dad five thousand for every one million in small bills that he stashes inside the cars and ships to Mexico. He then pays the runners, gets his cut, and the rest goes back to the Medranos.” He looked at Otto for quite a while, and appeared to be deciding whether to offer more information.

“Help us understand this, Hec. We need you,” Otto prodded him.

“Dad thought he was keeping it a secret from me. He tried to keep me out of it, but I’m not stupid. I knew he was shipping something in those cars, even at the beginning. Then he started shipping more often, every two weeks. I kept telling him that he needed to stop. We needed to sell out and leave before he got caught.” Hec looked at Otto, incredulous at his dad’s stupidity. “Then he started shipping stolen cars! Why would he do that? He made ten to fifteen thousand dollars every two weeks. We weren’t even spending the money. I don’t even know what the money went toward, but it’s like he thought it wasn’t enough.”

Otto said, “Then the feds showed up asking questions. They thought your dad was selling drugs but they couldn’t prove it. Instead, they got him on the stolen cars.”

Hec nodded.

“But the feds don’t realize the bigger scam. That your dad is shipping cash for the Medranos.”

“Dad got a call from two different car dealers in Texas, telling him that the feds were asking questions about the stolen cars. I told him then, just stop. We don’t need that much money. Our business was fine the way it was. Then, he heard they were going to indict him and he freaked out.”

“So, when your dad heard about the indictment, he took a load that was intended for shipment and left town?”

“He took nine million dollars in cash. It’s stuffed into three suitcases. I begged him not to do it. He didn’t care. He tried to get me to come with him, but I said no. I didn’t want that money. But now things have gotten so screwed up.”

“Has he contacted you?”

Hec shook his head, no, but Otto could tell that he was lying. The kid’s face was like a road map. He couldn’t lie to save his life. Probably why his dad hadn’t told him anything when he left.

“That’s all I know. I don’t know if he’s coming back. I don’t know where the money is. I just know that everyone wants my dad dead.”





TWENTY-ONE


At 7:00 A.M., Josie stopped by the office to check in with Brian Moore, the night dispatcher. She informed him she was headed to Marfa to meet with Jimmy Dare, a Border Patrol agent and longtime friend. At the corner gas station she grabbed a black coffee and filled up for the fifty-mile drive through desert country. She had left early to take the back roads, following River Road north out of Artemis to Ruidosa, a ghost town along the Rio Grande, and then turning right onto Pinto Canyon Road. This was one of her favorite drives in all of West Texas; it was scenic and isolated.