The only up-side so far was that there seemed to be just one person besides themselves in the vehicle, and even though they were cuffed, that gave them a chance.
Sounds of traffic and the steady thrum of the wheels over smooth blacktop told Lock that they were still in the city. They picked up speed. After five more minutes they seemed to hit traffic because the driver stood on the brakes so hard that both he and Ty slid down the bench seats towards the cab. The bottle of water was at his feet but there was no way of getting to it.
They set off again. Occasionally a truck would pass them or another car but the traffic seemed to thin. The wagon kept moving at a steady speed. The air changed and grew fresher. The stench of the city fell away and so did the heat.
The minutes passed. Looking at Ty, he sensed that his partner was starting to suffer the effects of dehydration. His chin had fallen on to his chest, his eyes were sunken and his shoulders were slumped.
‘Ty, stay with me, okay?’
His head snapped up. ‘I’m good.’
‘Listen, they’re gonna have to stop at some point, and if either of us gets a chance we’re going to have to take it.’
‘Gonna be tough with these cuffs on but I hear you.’
They had been cuffed behind their backs, their feet and heads were all they had at their disposal. Sometimes cuffs could be popped open by banging them hard against a solid surface but Lock had already tried slamming them into the side of the wagon with no result.
The vehicle must have hit a rut in the road because it bumped violently and he almost fell off the bench. Another rut, and this time he had to stick out a foot to brace himself in place.
They were on a dirt track or off road entirely. The wagon bounced and juddered along for what he estimated was five or six hundred yards. Then it stopped and the engine was switched off. The driver’s door opened and someone got out, then slammed it shut.
Silence.
Lock began to shift towards the rear door, shuffling along the bench on his ass. Ty did the same. When the door opened, they wanted to be as close to it as possible. Even with their hands cuffed behind their backs, two on one gave them a shot.
The rear door was unlocked and thrown open. Sunlight flooded in, blinding them both. Having been in the dark for so long, and now unable to shield his eyes, the best Lock could do was squint. He could make out the outline of the driver, who was around five foot eight inches tall and of average build, but that was about it. He couldn’t see their face.
Whoever it was removed the padlock from the second door, threw back the bolts and flung it open. Then, perhaps anticipating the prisoners’ plan, they took half a dozen steps back, their right hand resting on the butt of their service weapon, which rode high in its holster.
‘Get out!’
It was a woman’s voice.
Ty went first, toeing the cage door open, shuffling forward and jumping out of the wagon on to bare desert. Lock followed him. The woman backed up a little further, making sure to keep a proper distance.
Gradually Lock’s eyes adjusted to the low blazing sunset. There were juniper trees, desert and tumbleweed and that was pretty much it. No buildings in sight. No vehicles. No other people. It was the perfect spot to kill someone.
‘Turn around,’ said the woman, unholstering her service weapon.
There was too much distance for either of them to rush her. She would shoot them before they got within striking distance, and even if she didn’t, all she had to do was move back. Maybe this was it, he thought, doing as she had asked.
Executed in the desert. Two more bodies for the coyotes.
‘Kneel down.’
Lock glanced across at Ty.
‘You got a plan? I’d sure like to hear it,’ he said.
‘No talking. Now get on your knees.’
As being killed went, you wouldn’t know too much about a single shot to the back of the head. There was only one problem, as far as Lock was concerned. He’d come here for a reason.
He turned and faced the woman. His eyes had adjusted to the glare and this time he could pick out her features. She was the woman he had seen in the shopping mall.
‘Turn back around,’ she said.
‘You’re a cop?’ he asked her.
She didn’t answer.
‘Was this how they got Brady?’ Lock went on.
She took a step back. Her body language didn’t suggest she was hesitant as much as irritated. ‘I’m not going to shoot you, I’m going to take the cuffs off, and I’m not going to do that unless you’re kneeling. And, for the record, I had nothing to do with what happened to Joe Brady. If he’d listened to me he’d still be alive.’
‘Is that so?’ Lock said.
Still clutching her weapon in her right hand, her left hand fell to her hip. ‘Okay, then, don’t turn around. I’ll just leave you two out here in the desert.’
‘Maybe we should do what she’s asked,’ said Ty.
Lock stood beside Ty and rubbed at his wrists as the woman threw them each a bottle of water. When they had finished slaking their thirst, Lock said, ‘Now what?’
She nodded to a dip in the terrain. ‘You walk. It’s about two miles to the border. Border Patrol will pick you up near the fence. Two miles should give you time to come up with a story about why you’re breaking back into your own country.’
‘And if we don’t want to leave?’
‘Then it’s about fifty miles back into town and the next cop who picks you up might just turn you over to the cartel. Or throw you into jail for bringing firearms into the country. Your choice.’
‘I’m liking the first option,’ offered Ty.
‘You should listen to your friend,’ the female cop said. She bent down and picked up two plastic bags. She threw one to each man. ‘Your cell phones and wallets. Your weapons are illegal.’
They stooped and gathered their belongings.
Lock scraped at the ground with the toe of his boot. He looked up at her. She had big brown eyes and long, unruly black hair tied into a ponytail. She was carrying a little extra weight around the hips, but so was he. There was an intensity about her that he admired. But something didn’t square.
‘I came here for Charlie Mendez. Why are you protecting him?’ Lock asked.
She holstered her weapon. Judging by her expression, Lock’s question demonstrated such a degree of naivety that she no longer considered him a credible threat to her safety. But her hand stayed on the butt just in case.
‘You Americans. You’re so arrogant.’
‘You’ve done it now,’ Ty said, under his breath.
‘You know how many young women’s funerals I’ve been to this year?’
Lock shrugged.
‘Dozens. All of them young women taken off the streets on the way back from the maquiladoras. Raped. Tortured. Mutilated. Their breasts cut off. Left out in the open. On display. And for what? For pleasure. And yet you stand there, Mr Tough Guy Bounty Hunter, and you tell me I’m protecting a rapist?’
‘Then let me go get him.’
‘Go home, Mr Lock. Take your friend and go home before you end up like Brady. Which was what was going to happen to you if I hadn’t offered to bring you out here. Sooner or later Mendez will be caught, but right now, someone like you only makes my job more difficult. We have enough crazy men out for revenge around here. We don’t need any more.’
Lock considered his options. It didn’t take long. He wasn’t going to try to overpower her. They couldn’t walk back into town. The only real option was to do as she said, then come back and try again.
‘Okay,’ he said eventually. ‘We’ll go. But will you do me one favour?’
‘What?’
Lock switched on his cell phone and pulled up the picture he had of Mendez’s bodyguard. ‘Mendez is supposed to have picked up an American girl in a bar. I’m concerned for her safety. Could you at least look into it? I can tell you where he was last seen.’
He stepped forward and angled the cell-phone screen towards her. ‘He was with this man,’ he said, showing her the picture of the bodyguard.