Page 541 of Devil’s Disciples

“Oscar Arturo Valdez Rosarita.”

He nodded. “I’ll see to it that he has everything he needs. That he’s comfortable.”

I pounded my fist down onto the table. “He doesn’t need a fucking cup of coffee and a warm blanket, detective. He needs to be with his fucking family. You motherfuckers took him from the god forsaken grocery store. He went to get a pound of fucking coffee and you pricks arrested him. I need him out of here. Do you understand me!?”

I realized that I was standing, and that he was, too.

With a cautious hand, he reached toward me, steadied my shoulder and let out a sigh. “Look. I’m truly sorry. I really am. This isn’t at all what I want, and certainly not what I think our resources should be spent on, but those decisions aren’t made in my office. Believe me.”

I pressed the heels of my palms against my temples. “You got an Ol’ Lady?”

“I do.”

“How would you feel if one day they took her and put her in Mexico?” I asked. “Told her she couldn’t leave? If she did, they’d throw her in prison? If any time you wanted to see her or be with her you had to go to Mexico?”

“I wouldn’t like it.”

“Wouldn’t like it, or you’d do whatever you could to fix it?”

“I’d try to fix it.”

“Well, imagine you’re me. Or I’m you. Or however you want to look at it.” I lowered my hands. “Now. Find out a way to help me out. I know your resources are limited, or whatever. But do what you can, will you?”

“At minimum I’ll make sure we keep him here as long as we can,” he said. “That he doesn’t get shipped back immediately.”

“Before you put him on a bus, you call me. Agreed?”

He nodded. “Agreed.”

I extended my hand.

He shook it. “You have my word.”

In the past, I wouldn’t have taken a cop’s word as being anything but idle chatter.

This time?

I believed what he told me.

I had to. He was my only hope.

201

Carma

There were no words to describe the pain I felt. After all that I’d been through in my life, I’d never experienced heartache as pronounced as I was feeling. Coupled with the fear of our imminent return to Mexico, the totality of what loomed over my family was crippling.

“I’m staying,” Sam said. “I’m not going back there.”

“Samuel!” my mother snapped, “We’re a family. We will remain together as a family.”

“I’m not doing it.” He stood from his seat at the table. “No way.”

“Sooner or later, they’ll capture you,” my mother insisted. “They’re on the warpath. It’s not the way it used to be.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

I pushed myself away from the table and stood. “Sam. This isn’t easy for any of us. I don’t like it any more than you do, but we can’t let this pull us apart. We need to stick—”