Whitewater (Rachel Hatch #6)(41)

“But what I remember most about her were the drawings. The walls of her room that she shared with her parents were covered in the little girl's artwork. Each picture was of a single flower. Her artistic ability was not that of a girl her age or even one twice it. She glowed."

"Glowed?"

"Sometimes I forget myself. My father's words slip out of me sometimes. Glowed was a term he used to describe a person whose inner beauty shone so brightly it cast an aura around them. My father claimed to be able to see. And until that day, I thought it was just one of the oddities I'd come to expect from him. But on that day, I saw it. I felt it. If nothing else, I understood what my father's word meant.

“Was that little girl adorable? Sure, but what child isn't. Was her artwork amazing? Absolutely. Maybe it was the fact she was standing there amongst those soldiers in all their gear, with their rifles and armor, while the girl wore nothing but a long nightshirt that went past her knees. Maybe in contrast to all the darkness around her she became the light.

“I know what you're thinking. Did she really glow? I'll say to you what I've said to the countless others with whom I've shared this story over the years. Her name was Maria and she glowed brighter than any to come before or after."

"What happened to Maria?"

"Upon the initial sweep of the house, it appeared as though the husband wasn't home. As the team was assembling to do a secondary, more detailed search, the drug dealer emerged from a trap door in the floor, not unlike the one at Ernesto's house. He fired his gun wildly as he came up.

“I remember the sound of it passing by my ears. That strange zip and pop is something I had never heard before, and to be quite honest, something I never hope to hear again. Arturo Sanchez, standing next to me, fired three rounds, killing the man instantly.

“The wife, upon seeing her dead husband, left her daughter's side and launched herself from the couch. To say she was enraged doesn't do justice the viciousness with which she attacked. Make no mistake about it, she was intent on killing the men responsible.

“Sanchez was already moving to intercept the attack. He told me afterward, years later when we reconnected, that he intended to shove her back to the couch. That was before she grabbed the pistol from her dead husband's hand."

“In a tragic chain of events, Sanchez discharged his weapon, only firing one round. It killed her instantly. The mother and widow collapsed on top of her dead husband. The sounds of her death still haunt me. The sight of their young daughter Maria painted in both her parents' blood.

“In the shock and aftermath that followed, the blood covered Maria disappeared from the soldiers tasked with keeping an eye on her. And I've been looking for her ever since."

"Any luck?"

"Sadly, no. I do see her in the faces of the girls I help, like Letty. Hoping one day I will learn that little Maria is alive and well, and that her beautiful flowers continue to cover the walls of wherever she is now. Most of all, I pray with all my heart that she glows."

"Think of all the good you're doing in the process."

"Take heed of your own words, Daphne. Young Letty has a new chance at life thanks to you." He looked down at the fluttering arm of the speedometer as if willing the car to go faster. "Now let's see if we can do the same for Angela Rothman."

With only a few hours of darkness ahead of them, Hatch hoped that at the new day's end, Angela would be safe, and Hatch's promise to the young girl would have been kept.

A sign rose in the distance. The twenty-foot, bright orange of the Solarus Juice Company's walrus painted on the sign above the factory beckoned them forward.





Twenty-Six





Miguel pulled the Nissan to a stop in a lot across from a high chain-link fence. Topped with spiraled razor wire, it stretched around the 8,000-square-foot warehouse. On top of the building sat the twenty-foot lighted billboard depicting the orange sunglass-wearing walrus, holding a cup of orange juice and wearing a satisfied smile.

The lights and activity around the warehouse stood out around its dark surroundings. From an outsider's perspective, it looked to be nothing out of the ordinary. Most of the employees wore powder blue coveralls and hard plastic helmets painted white.

"What's the plan?" Ayala ducked down in his seat, shutting the car and headlights off.

Hatch took a similar position and cranked her seat back, enabling her a clear line of sight with minimal exposure. She looked over the cracked desert of sun-bleached leather in Ayala's old Sentra. She scanned their surroundings, waiting for an opportunity to arise, and a plan to form.

Workers moved about the concrete campus surrounding the building. Hatch watched the men come and go using a pedestrian gate alongside the main truck entrance. It was located fifty feet in front of where they were parked. A dirt path had been worn through the weed-laden patches of grass, leading from the parking lot where they sat to the gate. A gray rectangular keycard fob access panel was attached to a cylindrical metal pole. No physical security was present at the pedestrian entrance. There was a gate guard positioned in a guard shack on the other side of the truck entrance, but he was not inspecting employees who entered the facility, just the trucks passing through. Hatch watched several employees come and go from it, using their badges, all of which were attached to lanyards on the lapel of their pockets.