Page 34 of Bad Rio

He didn’t have time for that.

“Tell me about your home life,” Rio demanded.

“I—I did. I work, go home, go jogging, watch TV. Sometimes I go out with friends.”

“What else?”

“My life isn’t exciting,” she replied. “I don’t do illegal drugs. I don’t break laws. My one hobby is frogs. I have an aquarium filled with them.”

“Frogs,” he said curtly, as though they could be the culprits in the whole scenario.

She frowned. “I hope my roommate is feeding them.”

“Roommate? I didn’t know you had one.”

“She’s a flight attendant. Almost never there. But when she is, she’s good about throwing the frogs some frozen bloodworms or fish flakes.” She bit her lip. “I hope they’re okay.”

Rio gazed at her thoughtfully. “Of all the things you’ve told me, your work still sticks out. Maybe something is going on at your father’s warehouse.”

“It’s hard to believe ... but I need to get in there, look around.” A new urgency appeared to seize her. “I need to see for myself what’s going on.”

“Right, but not during daylight hours. When we get across the border, nobody can know you’re back in the States.”

“But my dad, my brothers will be—”

He was already shaking his head. “Do you want to get to the bottom of this or not?”

“Yes, of course. But I’m not a detective. I don’t know how—”

“I’ll help you. I do know how.”

She stared at him. “Why?” she whispered. “You owe me nothing. Even after...” She gestured awkwardly at the bed. “Why would you help me?”

He gazed at her coolly. “Don’t forget, those assholes shot at me, too. Twice. I don’t like that. I’ll get you back home, Becca, that’s my job. But along the way, we’ll also find out why your life is hanging in the balance.”

She felt her throat close, both in fear and in gratitude. Of one thing she was certain, her resolve hardened. She must get into the shipping department of the plant. If something was amiss, she’d discover it. If not, they would be able to dismiss any nefarious activity, or anything going awry in her father’s warehouse. Alarmed now, she felt a desperate need to uncover the truth.

“One thing’s for sure,” he told her, “you’re safer across the border in the United States. By late tonight we’ll be in Nuevo Laredo. Tomorrow, we’ll cross into the U.S.”

“We don’t have passports. How will we do that?” She spread her hands wide.

He winked. “Leave that to me.”

****

At dusk, Rio announcedit was time to go and Becca bundled up as best she could. She put on her blouse, Rio’s t-shirt, and the sweatshirt over that. On her head, she pulled the cap low. Taking the large zip top baggie which had held the grapes, she placed inside slices of salami, crackers, the remaining granola bars, and two water bottles. She didn’t imagine they’d be flying first class and served filet mignon and champagne.

He pulled on a sweatshirt, then drew the strap of his oilskin pouch over his shoulder. They were ready.

After a good hour on the Vespa, Rio turned down a dirt lane and motored along until they found a short airstrip. A single engine plane sat parked on the side.

“It’s a Cessna 206,” he told her. “With high wings ideal for landing on dirt roads, it’s also modified so it can take off from short strips like this one.” He gestured at the makeshift runway.

Becca gazed at the plane curiously. “What’s that metal plate attached to the front?”

“It’s another modification hung under the nose. It protects the engine from gravel.”

The pilot, a Mexican national with a dark mustache, merely grunted a hello. Rio introduced him as Julio. Julio turned to Rio, and in Spanish he said, “You won’t want to go to Nuevo Laredo. Some of the city’s police force across the border in Laredo, Texas have been arrested for passing information about military movements to the drug cartels. People are in the streets protesting.”

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