The Body Market: A Leine Basso Thriller (10 page)

H
ypervigilant, she crossed
the street to her car, scanning for immediate threats. A second SUV with blacked out windows was parked on the other side of the street, presumably belonging to the dead gunmen. There was no sign of anyone, including Willy Flint.

Leine climbed into her vehicle, started the engine, and calmly pulled away from the curb. There hadn’t been any sirens yet, but that didn’t mean the local police weren’t on their way. She didn’t know the neighborhood but assumed gunfire wasn’t an everyday occurrence. She hooked a left onto another shade-lined street and continued to wind her way back to the rental agency.

Several blocks later she pulled to the curb, parked, and took off the bloody hospital gown. The bullet wound was seeping blood, staining the gauze crimson. Ignoring it for the time being, she slipped on the doctor’s shirt. Although short-sleeved, it was large enough to cover the bandages. She checked her face in the rearview mirror and used a clean scrap of hospital gown to wipe away the obvious blood spatters.

When she was satisfied with her appearance, she pulled away from the curb and drove toward A-1 Rentals. Her good arm felt like a lead weight. Her body screaming for rest, she fought the longing to lie down.

She had to find a grocery store where she could buy juice and cookies. The sugar would help her fight the dearth of energy that accompanied significant blood loss.
Where the fuck is an Oxxo when you need one?
The ubiquitous convenience stores could usually be found on every street corner throughout Mexico. But now? Not one in sight.

She drove down one promising street after another but still couldn’t find a store. Beyond frustrated, she forced herself to head toward the rental agency before she passed out. Once she was there, she could call a taxi to take her to the border.

She turned right onto a main arterial street. On the opposite side was a small market advertising fresh fruit, soda, and cigarettes. Leine pulled in next to the curb and shifted into park. She got out and took several deep breaths as she made her way into the store. The cold blast of the air conditioner took her by surprise. She hadn’t noticed how warm her skin was. She’d have to take the antibiotics soon.

“
Galletas
,” she said to the woman behind the counter. Her voice sounded weaker than she’d intended.

The clerk’s eyebrows shot up as she pointed to a rack behind Leine. Leine turned, grabbed the first package of cookies she saw and ripped it open, shoving the contents into her mouth. Noticing the look on the clerk’s face, Leine fished a handful of money from her pocket and threw it onto the counter.

“
Jugo
,” she said, her mouth full of cookie. The clerk pointed at the back of the store to an older, glass-front cold case. Forcing herself to walk in a straight line, Leine made it to the case and wrenched the door open. She selected two bottles of orange juice and returned to the counter. The clerk rang up her purchases, all the while politely ignoring Leine’s obvious distress. Grateful she didn’t have to engage, Leine paid and left.

Once inside her vehicle, she popped open the juice and drank as much of it as she could. Then she ate another cookie and washed it down with more juice. When she felt some of her strength return, she brought out her phone and glanced at the screen. Lou had called twice and left a message. She’d have to call him later. There was someone else she needed to talk to. Leine hit speed dial for Agent Herrera.

“I just made your job harder,” Leine said when he answered.

“What do you mean?” His voice assumed a wary tone.

“There’s more to Josh and Elise’s disappearance than we thought
.
I found the car at the bottom of a ravine with a dead body in the trunk. I think it’s Josh.” She took out the bottle of antibiotics and twisted the cap off.

“Jesus. How’d you know where to look?”

“Willy Flint.” Leine popped two of the pills into her mouth and followed them with a swig of juice.

“And he would know, how?”

“Apparently he was the one who drove it off the cliff.” She grabbed the plastic care package from Ramirez, fished around until she found the bandages. Then she put the phone on speaker and placed it on the console. “He was playing me against the people who hired him to do it, to see who’d pay more; but I’ll get to that in a minute.”

“Go on.”

Leine carefully removed the saturated bandages and tossed them on top of the bag. She ripped open several sterile pads and laid them out in front of her on the dash. “Someone—probably Willy—tipped off Ignacio and his sidekick, although Willy’s involvement didn’t occur to me at the time.”

She tore off a length of surgical tape with her teeth and placed it on the dash, sticky side up. Using half of the sterile pads to cover the entry wound and half for the exit wound, she looped the gauze several times around her arm and secured the dressing with the tape.

“They knew where I was and came by to teach me a lesson. They’re no longer a problem, but Ignacio got lucky and shot me in the arm. I had to find a doctor in town and instead of calling you, I contacted Willy.”

“You what?”

Leine stopped what she was doing. “I took him with me, assuming I’d be able to keep an eye on him. I was wrong.”

There was a pause. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, although two more of Otero’s thugs tried to kill me while I was at the doctor’s. They’ve been taken care of,” she added. She rolled up the gauze and put everything away in the plastic sack, which she stuffed into her bag.

“Fuck, Leine. Anything else I should know?”

“Be careful. They’re going to be pissed off and might take it out on you since you were with me at Vista del Mar. Although, I’m not sure Ignacio had time to tell anyone about your involvement.”

“Who did you see?”

“Doctor Ramirez.” She gave Herrera the address.

“Jesus. Ramirez is on Otero’s payroll. You should’ve come to me.”

“Yeah. I know.” She should have gone alone to the housing development in the first place.

“Where are you calling from? I hope you got the hell across the border.”

Leine glanced out the window at the rundown neighborhood. A child’s rusty bicycle lay on its side in the front yard of the house next to the market. Though painted a cheery yellow, the house’s façade was crumbling. The other homes on the street weren’t much newer. An emaciated chicken strutted past, trailing a half-dozen baby chicks behind it.

“Don’t worry. I’m headed to the rental agency right now.”

“You’re probably already too late. Ramirez will have reported the murders to Otero’s people.”

“And?”

“And Otero’s got a couple of cousins who work the border. If Willy’s on the payroll too, you can be damned sure he already notified them. The only thing working in your favor is that Flint’s known to be unreliable. Way it sounds, you’ll be lucky to get out of town alive.”

“I doubt that will be a problem, but you’re right. I should go.”

“What rental agency are you using?”

“A-1.”

“I’ll meet you there in twenty.”

“Really, Agent Herrera, you don’t need to—”

“Yeah, I do. You’ve been shot. You’ll be delayed at the border, if nothing else. The wait time is normally two to three hours, which would give Otero’s people plenty of time to find you. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to Santa’s—” Herrera paused. “What are you to him, anyway?”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Leine replied, bristling. Whether annoyed by his question or the implied assumption that she couldn’t take care of herself, she wasn’t sure. But soon her common sense kicked in, and she realized she’d have a better chance with Herrera’s help—the person she should have contacted as soon as things went south. “You’re under no obligation, even to Santa. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, and you’ve handled things so well up to now.” Herrera sighed. “I’m sorry. Let me rephrase that. Allow me to ensure your safe trip back for the sake of my old friend.”

Give the guy a break, Leine. Take him up on the offer. You need to go home. You’re in no condition to argue.

“Thank you. I’ll see you there. And again, I’m sorry to have involved you.”

“Makes it exciting,” he muttered and disconnected.

Leine pulled away from the curb and called Lou. This time he answered.

“I’m on my way back,” Leine said. “I’ll be home soon, hopefully.”

“Any luck?”

“I think I found Josh.” She told him about the Porsche and the body. And the jagged wounds on his back. “I’ll email the pictures.”

Lou whistled. “Any sign of Elise?”

“No. But I have her phone.”

“Have you notified anybody?”

“I’d be willing to bet the locals know by now. As for Gunderson and Nabokov, not yet.” She didn’t tell him about stirring up Otero’s boys or her injury. Best not to worry him.

Yet.

“How’d the bait work out?”

“Great. Thanks.” Leine was planning to throw the nine millimeter in the trash behind the rental place after she’d wiped it for fingerprints.

“Did you need it?”

“It was good to have.”

Lou didn’t press her. She said she’d talk to him when she got home and ended the call.

When she arrived at the rental place she walked behind the building and, after wiping the gun, tossed it into the garbage container. A bag containing the bloody clothes and bandages followed.

Once inside, Leine slipped into the restroom to get a better look at herself and noticed dried blood on her pant leg. The stain looked more like barbeque sauce than blood, but she cleaned it as best as she could. The heat of the day would dry the damp spot before long. She reached into her pocket, took out the blister pack of painkillers Ramirez had given her, and swallowed two.

She ran a brush through her hair and washed her face and hands, but only a hot shower and time would remove the dead-body stench. Leine couldn’t tell if she still reeked or if it was just an olfactory memory of the bloated corpse. The woman at the counter either didn’t notice or tactfully ignored it and checked her out with a smile. Ten minutes later, Leine was standing in front of the building wearing aviator sunglasses and a ball cap, waiting for Herrera.

While she waited, Leine considered her options. She had a light jacket with her so the bandages wouldn’t be obvious, especially since the wound didn’t affect her dominant arm. If Doctor Ramirez’s description of her matched Willy Flint’s, and Otero’s people knew about the bullet wound, crossing the border would be tricky. Hopefully, Herrera had something else in mind.

Minutes later, Herrera’s dark blue pickup pulled up next to the curb. Leine got in and closed the door as he maneuvered into traffic. He glanced at her left arm, which was now cradled in a makeshift sling.

“Right handed?” he asked. Leine nodded. “Lucky.”

Leine reached into her pants pocket and slid out her phone and the paper with Willy Flint’s map. Handing it to him, she said, “Directions to the ravine along with Willy’s number. The body’s pretty far gone. I took a couple of shots with my phone. Willy had the kid’s watch—Josh’s name was etched on the back.” Leine found the photos on her phone and held them up so he could see. Herrera glanced at them.

“Take a look at his torso.”

“They got his kidneys?”

“Looks like it. Probably more than that.”

“Then where’s the girl?”

Leine shook her head as she put her phone away. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

“So can I correctly assume that Ignacio and the driver are no longer with us?”

“Yes.”

“Can I also infer the other gunmen who came after you at Ramirez’s have joined them?”

She nodded.

“Is there anyone else I should be aware of?”

“I think that’s sufficient, don’t you?”

Herrera snorted. “Yeah, that’s sufficient. Christ.” He shook his head and gave her a sidelong glance. “Maybe I should put you in for a stipend. You took care of some major douchebags.”

Leine looked at him in surprise. “But you’ll have to deal with the fallout.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s worth it to be rid of all those assholes.”

“The two gunmen who came after me at Ramirez’s spoke Spanish with an Eastern European accent.”

Herrera lifted his chin. “More evidence that we’re dealing with somebody other than the homeboys.”

“Or in addition to,” Leine suggested.

Herrera whistled. “Organ trafficking, Russian mobsters, and Otero? Man, that’s a bad combination.”

Leine was thinking the same thing.

Herrera took a different route to the border—one that was invitation-only judging by the excessive security. He showed his badge to border guards at three separate checkpoints. They waved him through each time.

“Well, that was efficient,” Leine said.

Herrera shrugged. “Perks of the job.”

They crossed into the US and drove in silence to the overnight lot near the border where Leine had parked her car. The meds she’d taken earlier were having an effect, and the pain in her arm had devolved to a steady throb. She could tell Herrera wanted to say something but decided not to.