Border Line, page 10
The rape trees were places where coyotes marked their territories but also where they had bragging rights. The trees, on the American side of the border, were symbols of the prowess of the coyote. Coyotes hung evidence of their rapes on the tree—underwear, used condoms, bloody clothing from their victims. The rape trees were a sign of a coyote’s prowess…Good God.
Rosalie’s words came back: It had underwear hanging on it. And little plastic things that looked like pieces of skin.
One rancher interviewed in the article lived forty-five miles north of the border and said he had a tree on his property. The rancher refused to allow the tree to be photographed, claiming that the cartel—which cartel wasn’t specified--would recognize it and retaliate against him. Maintaining secrecy was expected and, apparently, enforced.
Rosalie was convinced that Carmela was going back to the rape tree to retrieve her money. If I was ever to have a chance of reuniting Rosalie with her family, I needed to find Carmela and learn where Rosalie was from. Then I could fly to Guatemala and speak to her abuela and see if there were family members in the U.S. that might be able to take her. I couldn’t keep her forever. She needed to go home.
When I went back down into the loft, I looked at the time. Too late to call Darling. I’d call her in the morning and see if she could watch Rosalie. I couldn’t ask James to do it. He had a meeting with the sergeant in the morning. He couldn’t very well bring a little girl along.
I wished my friend Thanh-Thanh still lived in the building. But she and her new husband had moved to Hong Kong for some exciting high-tech job she’d been offered. From her pictures, she was really coming into her own as a powerful business woman. I was proud, but missed her company. She’d always cared for Django when I was away, too. That dog loved her. I think he pouted for three weeks when she first moved and would run to her apartment door, sniffing and wagging his tail. Poor baby didn’t understand she was gone.
Darling could keep Rosalie safe while I was gone.
I booked my flight for mid-morning. I’d get off in San Diego, rent a car, and go try to find the tree.
If I was lucky, I’d see the billboard from the 5 Freeway right away. If I was really lucky, the billboard wouldn’t have been changed since Rosalie saw it. And if I was really, really lucky I’d find Carmela somewhere near the tree or find some clue as to her whereabouts.
I pushed down thoughts that reminded me I was never lucky.
I crawled into bed to try to sleep for a few hours until dawn but tossed and turned all night imagining the coyote’s leering face watching Rosalie.
20
Darling was unavailable.
“I’d love to help you, baby girl, but George and I are going to be watching Tyson all weekend in Berkeley for Thea’s daughter—they’re going up to Reno. Girl needs a getaway.”
“Oh, lucky you,” I said. “Have fun. Give him a smooch for me, will you?”
“George?”
“No. I mean yes. But the baby. Both.”
We laughed.
“Will do.”
I dialed Dante in Calistoga.
“Hey.”
“You got room for a seven-year-old kid this weekend?”
“What?
I explained.
“Darn. I’m headed to D.C. I’m testifying Monday morning before the House. I’ve got meetings both days of the weekend.
I closed my eyes in frustration after I hung up. When I looked up James was watching me.
Rosalie was still sleeping, an arm looped around Django.
“I can’t find someone to watch Rosalie while I’m in San Diego. I’m not sure what to do.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“But you can’t miss that meeting.”
Just then Rosalie woke, popping up and rubbing her eyes. She must have heard something. “You’re leaving, Gia?”
I explained I was going to go look for Carmela and Miguel.
“I can come.”
While we spoke, James was in the corner on his phone. He hung up and wheeled the chair closer.
“My mother.”
“What about your mother?” The witch.
“Rosalie can stay with her. I’ll take her up after breakfast and then come back down for my meeting.”
“What?”
He ignored me and turned to Rosalie. “Would you like to visit Mrs. Hunt and Snuffles this weekend?”
“Yes!” Her enthusiasm made me frown.
But I didn’t have a choice. I dug into a drawer and activated one of my burner phones. I punched in my phone number and handed the phone to Rosalie who held it as if it were glass.
“My number is on there under Gia. You need anything you call me. Okay?”
“I’ll put my number in there too,” James said.
Once again, I’d discounted him.
“You call either one of us,” I said. “But I’m sure you won’t need to. You’ll be safe and in good hands.”
“I’ll go get my backpack,” she said.
“Good idea,” I said.
I packed a small bag for myself. I was flying so I wouldn’t be able to bring any weapons. A definite disadvantage. That made me nervous. While I was in the closet, I saw a small carryon suitcase. I wheeled it over to Rosalie who was standing before the dresser drawer where I’d put her clothes.
“You know I never use this suitcase,” I said. “Would you like it? You can pack your clothes to bring to Mrs. Hunt’s.”
She didn’t answer but nodded her head so hard her braids thumped on her shoulders.
“Great.” I knelt down. “Listen I have to go now. Have a great time.”
I looked into her eyes. She looked as if she were about to cry. “You’re going to have a lot of fun.”
I squeezed her hand and then stood. I wasn’t sure what had come over me, but I didn’t want to leave.
Keeping my voice low, I said to James, “I’m pretty sure we’re under surveillance. I don’t know if they want you, me, or her, but they want one of us. I’m even worried about how we’re going to leave this building without being followed. There might be someone in the building across the street watching us. I just don’t know. I know I seem paranoid, James, but I have a feeling.”
He smiled at me. “Gia?”
“What?” I was slightly annoyed at the smile.
“You are not being paranoid.” He placed his fingers on my neck gently.
I reached up. “Oh no. Is there a mark?”
He nodded. “Only I would know what it was. But you’re not being paranoid. You’re being smart and careful. I’ve got a plan to get all three of us out of here safely.”
Turning away, he grabbed his phone and made a call. When he hung up, he turned to me. “Here’s the deal. You’re going to take the elevator down to the garage but then use your key to get into the regular garage. Philando will be waiting. You can hide in the back of his sedan. and he’ll take you to Darling’s salon. You can find someone to take you to the airport from there.”
I reached for my phone. “Good idea. I’ll call Tony.” I paused. “But what about you guys?”
“Almost the same drill. Except his wife, Denise, is going to take me and Rosalie to the rental car agency. I’ll rent a car for the next few days.”
“You are so smart!” I leaned in and kissed him. When I tried to pull back, he reached out and drew me close.
“Be careful, Gia.” He whispered the words in my ear. “Promise me you won’t do anything reckless.”
I turned to leave without answering.
I couldn’t promise that.
My flight was delayed. A storm on the east coast had led to several canceled flights. They kept changing the time for my flight until it ended up being a red eye. At eleven. Fine. I’d brought a book. I propped my Adidas up on my carry-on suitcase and dug into The False Prophet, a nonfiction book about two fucked-up Mormon boys who went on a killing spree in the name of God.
I was yawning by the time we were allowed to board. It was ridiculous. The flight took less than two hours. I realized I could’ve driven to San Diego faster. And would have had my weapons with me. Not ideal to look for a rape tree owned by the cartel without a gun, but I’d have to manage.
On the plane, I searched for more information on rape trees and border crossings in San Diego. It made me sick.
At the airport, no vehicles with four-wheel drive capability were available, so I rented a small, nondescript gray sedan.
I quickly realized looking for the tree in the middle of night, in the dark, was stupid. I pulled over in a residential neighborhood outside San Diego, leaned my seat back, and draped my leather biker jacket over me like a blanket.
I woke at dawn, shivering and with a crick in my neck. After stopping for gas station coffee and a quick tooth brushing in the bathroom, I headed on Interstate 5 Freeway toward Tijuana.
I drove past National City and Chula Vista, but once I saw signs for San Ysidro I started paying more attention. At the I-5 and 905 junction, my map showed I was within four miles of the border crossing.
I passed four billboards advertising McDonald’s and was grateful that this hadn’t been the billboard Rosalie had told me about. There were also billboards for Home Depot, Best Buy, even Hummer. But nothing for San Diego’s Water Works. As I passed billboards targeting driver’s heading north, I’d slow and look at them in my rearview mirror.
Until I saw the “Welcome to San Ysidro” sign. Just past it was the billboard, advertising cool water and laughter on a blazing hot day—Water Works Fun Park.
The billboard faced north. I took the next exit and got back on the 5 heading back the way I came. I pulled over at the first patch of dusty shoulder as soon as I spotted the billboard, figuring I’d start covering ground there and work my way toward the sign. Beyond the shoulder, the terrain dipped down steeply, about a ten-foot-high incline to the desert below. The area was thickly dotted with brush.
I sat in my car, keeping my eyes on the road in both directions, hoping for a lull where I could get out and disappear into the brush on the side of the road before someone spotted me.
It took about ten minutes for me to get my break. As the last car dipped below the horizon and a car behind me was still a speck in the distance, I hopped out.
I scampered down the hill, sliding a bit in my sneakers and reaching out to grab limbs to keep myself from tumbling. At the bottom, I could just catch a hint of my car, a shiny glint of metal shining through between two bushes. At first I wondered if I could get lost, but I figured if I stayed within a few football fields of the freeway noise, I could use it as a beacon.
A small part of me worried my rental would be towed, but then I remembered seeing abandoned or broken down cars further up the freeway with big writing on the windshields where police had dated them. I was sure it would be a day or two before they towed a broken-down car.
The sun was hot overhead even though it was still morning. A few lizards darted around my feet as I made my way into the desert. I wondered if there were rattlesnakes and wished I had my gun.
As soon as I was several feet into the brush, I regretted not grabbing my water bottle out of my car. But I’d just downed an entire bottle from the gas station, so I figured I’d be okay for a while. Even though it was hot, an occasional cool breeze on my face lifted my hair ever so slightly.
The area was surprisingly hilly and bumpy. It was strewn with bushes as tall as me and a few boulders that were even taller. I’d thought the bushes would be low making it easier to spot a tree or two, but I’d been wrong.
I saw some birds swoop down about twenty-five yards to my right. I decided to follow them. I never did see where they went, but my path led me to a dry riverbed. I was in a low part. It dipped down a hill so steep I couldn’t see what was above it. I was about to step across the riverbed and scale the hill when I heard a vehicle approaching. It was coming from the higher end of the riverbed. I’d just stepped into a small clearing that was probably a pool of water during the rainy season. I quickly searched the area around me. There was no place to go. I could lie flat on the ground and hope the brush was high enough to hide me. I was about to dart to the side of the riverbed when the truck appeared over the hill and lumbered down the steep incline.
The SUV had lights on top, a green stripe down its side, and green lettering that said “Border Patrol.” A seal on the door made it official. Border Patrol had found me.
I froze, debating whether to run, when I saw it was a lone woman behind the wheel. She lifted a hand out of the window in a lazy wave, and I stepped to one side as she pulled to a stop beside me.
I’d see what she had to say. I didn’t have a weapon, and besides, I was doing nothing wrong. I hadn’t even seen any “No Trespassing” signs. The woman rolled down her window, and a blast of cool air swept out.
21
“Can I help you?” It was a rhetorical question. She wanted to let me know I wasn’t supposed to be there. Her voice was neither hostile nor friendly.
A tendril of brown hair had escaped a loose ponytail. Her eyes were concealed behind dark sunglasses. Her full lips were slightly chapped. A smudge of sunscreen near her hairline hadn’t been rubbed in all the way.
Her demeanor was casual, relaxed.
She was on patrol alone. That told me she wasn’t afraid, that she could handle any troublemakers, and she was trusted to be out here on her own.
Something told me just to be straight up with her.
“Maybe,” I said. I saw one eyebrow arch above her sunglasses. She shifted slightly. But it wasn’t a move for her gun, which was on the console beside her.
“How’s that?” She had a slight Texan accent.
“I’m looking for a woman—a migrant woman—who lost her kid. There’s a chance she might be somewhere around here. I’m hoping to speak to her. Her first name is Carmela.”
The woman turned her head and looked straight ahead out her windshield. I waited.
Finally, she turned back toward me.
“You got that kid?”
I didn’t answer.
“You heard about that boy who died? In the camp?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “You want to be a hero and save these kids. Believe it or not, that’s what I want too. I’ve saved kids before. So have my colleagues. We’re utterly sick about that boy. Sick. You hear me? You only know one side of it. They only tell you the one side.”
She paused and sucked in a big breath of air. I waited her out. She turned and faced the windshield again as she spoke.
“Okay maybe there’s some scumbags who don’t feel that way. Maybe some people I work with. I don’t know. They wouldn’t let me know they feel that way. They know better. There might be some who think a kid dying will keep people from coming. It won’t.
“My job is to bring those kids to the camp to get help. Some—if we didn’t scoop them out of this desert and take them in, they’d surely die. I didn’t pick up that boy and his sister, but I know who did. And that guy? He’s a dad. He has a little boy that age. He’s out on disability because he’s just so sick about that boy dying. He thought he was helping those kids. He thought he was doing the right thing.”
Sweat dripped down my brow as I listened. I stood stock still, not even bothering to wipe it away. Her words were sincere. She really thought she was doing good. And maybe in her own way, she was. I didn’t know.
The silence grew between us. She turned to look at me. Perspiration had formed on her upper lip.
I nodded to acknowledge her words. Her shoulders visibly relaxed.
“I just want to get this girl back to her family,” I said. “The woman, who said she was her mother, told me that the girl would die if you guys took her. I don’t know why she thought that. Maybe she was being paranoid. But I do know the girl is afraid. And I think it’s my job to find her family and reunite them. If that’s possible.”
“Why are you looking out here?” She gestured around in front of her truck.
“If I tell you why,” I said. “You’re probably going to look for her too, aren’t you?”
She shrugged.
“Or maybe you already saw her?”
“Could be.”
I described Carmela as best as I could remember.
“Sounds like every woman I come across down here.”
I nodded. Then I remembered. Carmela had a slight hare lip. I told the woman this, adding, “She would’ve only been down here in the last day or two.”
“Stand by.” She opened up a laptop on the passenger seat. I saw her flipping through photos and then she turned to me.
“My crew didn’t pick up anyone like that the past four days. I’ve reviewed reports for the past three days. No woman with a harelip. They note things like that—distinguishable traits, tattoos, scars….”
“Thanks.” But then I decided to push my luck.
“The girl has a brother. His name is Miguel. He’s twelve. Would’ve just been brought in the past few days as well.”
Without a word, she turned and typed more.
After a few seconds, she said, “Yes. He was here.”
Her lips moved as she read, and even with the sunglasses on, I saw her grimace.
“He was taken to the hospital.”
“What?”
“He came in with bruises, a broken arm, ribs. And maybe worse.”
“Worse?”
The woman pursed her lips and blew out a big puff of air.
“Says here he was sexually assaulted. Patrol found him on the side of the freeway on the edge of death.”
My blood began to boil. I’d fucking kill the coyote if I ever saw him again.
She noticed my reaction.
“You know who did this to him?”
“I do. And he’s after the girl.”
“Who is?”
“He calls himself El Coyote Loco.”
The woman nodded. “I’ve heard of him.”
She shut her laptop. “What were you going to do, just walk around until you saw this Carmela woman? People get lost easy out here and die.”
