Border Crossings: A Catherine James Thriller (6 page)

In a posh office in Dallas, a receptionist sat at a large oak desk answering the phone.  “Hello, and thank you for calling the Law office of Catherine James, how may I direct your call?”

“Hi, is Catherine in?”

“May I tell her who’s calling?”

“Jim Woodall.”

“Just a moment, sir.”

She transferred the call to a phone sitting atop another larger oak desk where Catherine James sat peering over papers, her black hair pulled neatly back and her blue eyes moving quickly over the pages.  She’d just settled a large lawsuit based on an oil pipeline leak and subsequent environmental damage, garnering her client a more than fair deal by having the supplier of the sealant kick in half the damages via their insurance carrier.  She was now putting the finishing touches on the release.

Behind her two posters adorned the wall, one of Mukhtar Mai and one of Neda Agha-Soltan, as well as a Rice University bachelor’s degree, a Doctor of Jurisprudence degree from the University of Texas, and an enormous and intricately detailed world map.  When her secretary told her who was on the phone she picked it up with a pleasant voice.  “Jim?”

“Hi, Catherine.”

“It’s good to hear from you.  How are you?”  It was a nice surprise to hear from Jim.  She hadn’t talked to him in almost a year.  The annual Christmas card was their usual means of communication these days, though she had sent Jim’s daughter a graduation card the year before.

He answered in a tired and strained voice.  “Catherine, I have a problem.  A big problem.”  She could hear his voice shaking.  “Have you heard the news?”

“What news?”  Catherine had been working on her deal for a while now and while the news about what had happened in Cancun had been airing all day on the television, she’d been so focused on the task at hand that she’d paid no attention.

“Taylor’s been kidnapped.”

Catherine’s tone instantly changed.  “What!?  When!?”  She grabbed her pen and a legal pad from her desk drawer as Jim talked.  “Wait, wait,” she said, trying to get her mind around what he was saying, “Tell me everything from the beginning.”

Forty minutes later she burst out of her office door.  “Get me a flight to Cancun,” she told her secretary.  “First one you can . . . doesn’t matter what time.  I’m going home to pack now.”

“Now?” her secretary asked, baffled.  “But you have an early meeting . . . “

“Cancel it.”

Bewildered but ever efficient, her secretary immediately started dialing, “Is everything okay?”

“Not by a long shot,” Catherine said.  “But I’ll have to explain later.”

She briskly walked into another office where a young man was busy browsing the internet, doing his best to appear busy while doing so.  When she entered, he was halfway through the entertainment section of CNN and looked up, alarmed, to see his boss standing before him.  “Teddy, I need you to finish the settlement docs,” she told him.

Flabbergasted, the young man looked at her in disbelief.  “Me?  Um, sure, yeah.”  He eyed her for a moment wondering if she was about to say
Gotcha!
w
ith a big grin, but she looked anything but joking at the moment.  “Yeah, Catherine, you bet.  That’d be great!  I’ll get right on it.”  As one of three associates, he’d never been asked to finalize anything . . . Catherine always saw the big cases through by herself.  She handed him the folder, hoping he was up to the task.  He was bright eyed and willing enough, which wasn’t entirely comforting.  “Jennifer can fill you in on any points you’re missing, but I have to go out of town on an emergency.  I really need you to be on top of this, Teddy.  It’s important.”

“I got it, no problem,” he said, holding the folder as though he’d just been handed his first driver’s license.

Before she left she told her secretary, Jennifer, who was on hold with an online travel agent, “Call me on my cell when you get the confirmation.”  Then she whispered, “And make sure Teddy doesn’t screw up.”

Julio and Juan scrambled over the wall of the cemetery, two wiry young boys, one with big ears who moved clumsily and with eyes darting warily on the lookout for police, the other more sharp-eyed and sure moving like an agile tomcat.  Juan, the clumsier of the two, lost his grip while climbing down and let out “
Chinga
!” before hitting the ground with a thud.

“Shhh,” demanded Julio.  “You’re going to get us caught.”  Juan held his hand up apologetically.  “Hurry up.”

They walked through the monuments, tombs, and headstones, heading to a place they’d been before.  It was a large, ornate tomb, with three walls and a roof, but open on one side.  It made an excellent shelter where the two homeless boys could sleep.

“I don’t know why we have to sleep in the cemetery,” complained Juan.  “The dead don’t like it.  It’s bad to sleep where they sleep.  What if they curse us for it?”

“Don’t be so superstitious,” said Julio.  “As long as we’re respectful, they won’t bother us.”  Juan didn’t look convinced.  “Besides, it’s safer here at night than in the street.”

“Ghosts walk here at night,” said Juan.

“They do not,” said Julio.  “They sleep.  They don’t care if we’re here.”  The homeless problem in Mexico had been worsening, and it was Julio who discovered it was easier to find a safe place to sleep in the cemetery rather than try to fight for a bed in a shelter or crouch down in an alley.  “Besides, we don’t have to worry about being beat up here,” he told Juan.  It was true.  The older homeless boys or adults rarely tried to sleep in the cemetery.

As they walked Juan suddenly stopped.  “What was that?”

Julio stopped and listened for a moment, “What?” he asked.

“I heard something.”

Julio stood quiet and listened, but he didn’t hear anything.  “It’s nothing, a dog or something.”

“Are you sure?  What if they have someone watching at night?”

“Nobody’s watching.  How many times have we slept here?  And have we ever seen anyone?  No.  Nobody stays here at night.”  Julio went through this with Juan every time they slept at the cemetery.  “Just follow me and don’t worry so much.”

Julio kept walking and Juan cautiously followed, but then he suddenly ducked.  “What are you doing?” asked Julio.

“I saw someone!” he said in a whisper.

“You did not.  There’s nobody here.  We’re almost there, so come on.”

“No, I did, I swear.  I think it was a ghost.  I told you they walk here at night!”

“There are no ghosts,” said Julio.  But in truth he was a little frightened.  He’d often seen shadows in the night that scared him, and if he walked the streets alone, he probably wouldn’t stay here.  It was easier for him to put on a brave face for Juan, because Juan’s cowardice always made him feel so much braver.  And it was never safe on the streets alone.  While the cemetery was normally empty, Julio had long learned that around any corner there might always be thugs who were more than ready to beat him up for whatever he might have in his pocket.  Even if he had nothing in his pocket, they still might beat him up, possibly worse for having nothing to offer.  The streets were a dangerous place, and those who were smaller or not in a gang always had to be on the lookout.  Julio trusted no one, save maybe Juan.  He knew they were just two little fish in a sea full of sharks.

“Someone was walking down there, I saw them move,” said Juan.  “If it’s not a ghost, then it’s someone else, but I saw them.”

“You always think you see something.  Remember when you thought you saw the
Chupacabra
?” scorned Julio.  It turned out to be just the ugliest dog they’d ever seen.  Nonetheless, he ducked his head and proceeded quietly.  “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Juan reluctantly followed the other as they sn
eaked low around the headstones and tombs.  As they moved, they suddenly heard voices.

“Aren’t you done yet?” said one in a hurried whisper from beyond the end of the row of stones just behind the tomb to their left, far too close for comfort.

“Do you want to get down here and dig?” asked another voice.

“I already had my turn,” said the other.

“Why are we burying her here, anyway,” asked the digger.  “We should have just driven out to the desert or left her for the crocodiles somewhere.”

“We hide her here because this is where we were told to put her.  They don’t want her found and nobody’s going to check the cemeteries,” said the other.  “It was a bad idea to get her in the first place.  I don’t know why your boss wouldn’t listen.  Did you see what happened?  It’s everywhere already.  One day and the entire fucking world is looking for her.  Looking for me!”

“You can’t tell him anything when he’s like that,” said the other.  “Once he makes his mind up, that’s it with him.  He doesn’t think of anything else.”

“What’s his problem, anyway?  Is he fucking crazy?”

“I don’t know.  He just gets like that.  He gets in one of his moods and won’t listen to anyone.  But don’t tell anyone I said so.  He’d kill us both just for talking about it.”

“There wasn’t any reason for this shit.  You have no idea how much trouble he’s brought us.  No idea.  He’s going to get us all killed, the stupid son of a bitch.”

“What are they doing?” asked Juan.

“Shhh,” said Julio.  “Grave robbers, maybe,” said Julio, although he already knew by the conversation they probably weren’t.  They snuck a little closer and stayed behind a tomb out of sight.  In the soft light they saw two men with shovels.  One had his shirt draped over a headstone nearby, but had khaki slacks and what appeared to be some kind of dress shoes on.  Around his neck a gold chain glinted in the moonlight.  The other was equally well dressed.  The boys heard a Clunk!  And the man digging said, “Finally!”  He threw his shovel out of the hole and began brushing the dirt away.  Then he opened up the casket.

The other man looked inside.  “Huh,” he said.  “Still fresh.”

“He was just buried,” said the digger.

“You want some company,
señor
?” asked the other jokingly.  “We have a very pretty girl for you.”  He let out a laugh.

“She was,” said the one with the gold medallion dangling from his neck.  “And stop laughing.  This shit isn’t funny.”  He climbed out of the hole and Julio and Juan watched as the two men walked a couple feet back behind a monument.  When next they appeared, they were carrying a body, one holding the ankles the other grabbing the wrists.  The boys were close enough that they could see she didn’t have any clothes on.  Also, she didn’t look Mexican.  She had blond hair and her skin, while tan, didn’t look Hispanic.  The men dropped the body by the re-opened grave and the one with the chain got back in the hole.  When the body hit the ground, its face turned towards the boys.  It was partially obscured by the hair, but the boys could just see the unmistakable mouth, nose, and closed eyes that appeared unnaturally swollen.

Juan made a noise of surprise and shifted his body as if he was going to run, but Julio quickly grabbed him and shook his head,
No
.  He held his finger up to his mouth in a silencing gesture.

The man with the gold chain looked up as though he may have heard Juan.

“Hey!” said the other.  “Come on, already.  Let’s get this over with.”

“Shut up,” the digger responded angrily.  “I’m not in the mood for any shit.  That’s my picture all over the news.  It’s me they’re all looking for, not you.”

“Well, you’re the one that shot the other girl.  Nobody told you to do that.  You could have just found someone else instead of taking this one in front of her hotel.  That’s what got all the news people running stories about it.”

He stared at the other man murderously, the steely glint of his eyes matching the metallic shine off his gold chain.  “The other one shouldn’t have got
ten in the way.”  He paused a second longer to look around again, but hearing nothing then bent down and grabbed the body by the arms and dragged it to the hole.  Then each took an end and maneuvered the body until it disappeared into the embrace of the grave’s current occupant.  A few seconds later the boys could hear a shutting noise as the casket closed again.  Then the men in the grave climbed out and both proceeded to start shoveling the dirt back.

Julio and Juan sat quietly while the two men worked, too frightened to move lest they be heard.  After a while the job was done.  One of the men stretched his back and then sat down on a nearby headstone.  The other, however, the one with the golden medallion about his neck, meticulously packed the dirt, poking and prodding as though unsatisfied with its appearance.

“What are you doing?” asked the one sitting.

“It has to look right.  What if this man’s family comes to visit and notices someone’s been digging?  They might call the police, and the police may check the grave.  We can’t have any mistakes.  Otherwise
, it’ll be us that are buried next.  You said it yourself.  Your boss is a crazy asshole.  Hell, we’re all dead men either way if we get caught.  If your boss doesn’t do it, the cops will.”  There was a slight pause, and then the man sitting stood up and began to help.  After a few minutes the one in gold said, “There, that’s good enough.  I’ve had enough of this.  Let’s go.”  The two men walked off, leaving the boys dazed in the darkness.

“Who do you think they were?” asked Juan.

“I don’t know,” said Julio.

“Were they grave robbers?”

“No,” said Julio.  “They were here to bury that body.”

Juan seemed to think about this.  “Do you think they murdered her?”

“Yes,” said Julio.

Juan sat on his butt and leaned against the tomb they’d been hiding behind.  “Should we tell the police?”

Julio looked at him.  “No.  We can’t tell anyone,” he told Juan sternly.

“But they murdered someone,”
Juan said.

“Did you see their clothes?” asked Julio.  “They’re gangsters.  If they knew we saw them, they’d kill us, too.  We can’t tell anyone what we just saw.  Understand?”  Juan nodded his head, but it didn’t seem to Julio that Juan understood how precarious their situation was.  “I’m serious,” warned Julio.  “If we tell the police, then they’ll come get the body and those gangsters will know someone saw them. They’ll come looking for us and if they find us, they’ll kill us and hide our bodies just like that woman.”  Juan’s eyes got big and Julio knew he understood now.  “So we were never here and we didn’t see anything, right?”  Juan nodded.  “Say it,” Julio told him.

“We were never here and we didn’t see anything.”

“That’s right.  Now let’s get out of here.  They might come back again.”