Page 62 of Guess Again
“What a wonderful justice system we have,” Pete said. “Where a cop killer can manage to wield such power from inside a prison cell.”
Mark looked at Ethan.
“Any movement on figuring out how Francis knows anything about my daughter or Portia Vail?”
Ethan shook his head. “Nothing so far. Pete’s been keeping an eye on Eugenia Morgan.”
“Not much there,” Pete said. “She purchased a gun this week but hasn’t gone near the warehouse that Francis sent Ethan to. If the woman has anything to do with feeding Francis information, we can’t figure out what it is. And Eugenia Morgan has been a dead end when it comes to linking her to Portia Vail in any meaningful way.”
The room went silent for a moment as they all allowed the weight of the situation to sink in.
“What’s our play here, gentlemen?” Ethan asked.
“I’ll formally put the transfer through,” Mark said. He looked at Ethan. “I’ll need you in Boscobel Monday morning to speak with Francis before the transfer and get the information he’s dangling in front of us.”
Ethan nodded.Come on Christian. Work your magic.
CHAPTER 60
Hachita, New Mexico Saturday, August 2, 2025
ANTELOPEWELLS, NEWMEXICO WAS THE LEAST TRAFFICKED PORTof entry along the U.S.-Mexico border. Forty-five miles north of Antelope Wells was Hachita, New Mexico—the last smudge of civilization before the United States banked up against Mexico. Hachita was a twenty-four hour drive from Nekoosa. The route down took her through five states—Iowa and Missouri first, before she drove diagonal across the entire state of Kansas. She stayed at a cheap hotel in Dodge City Friday night.
Up early on Saturday morning, the second leg of her journey took her across the panhandle of Oklahoma and the northwest tip of Texas before she entered New Mexico, where she drove for hours without stopping. The schedule Francis had her on left no room for unnecessary stops, which was why she wore an adult diaper for the hours-long voyage.
She pulled into the dusty town of Hachita at 4:30 p.m. on Saturday afternoon, and her timing could not have been better. She found the post office, parked in front of the small building, and waited. She watched a postal worker emerge just before 5:00 p.m. and walk to the mailbox at the end of the parking lot. The man keyed the box and removed the tray inside that had caught the envelopes dropped into the slot throughout the day. She watched the man place a new, empty tray inside the box before walking back into the post office.
She lifted the packet from the passenger seat. The tan manila envelope had kept her company for the long drive from Wisconsin. It was addressed to Eugenia Morgan and had arrived in Nekoosa earlier in the week. It carried Francis’s familiar cursive, and her insides stirred when she looked at his handwriting. Francis had been strict with his orders on how she should handle the envelope, and she followed his instructions to a tee.
Before touching the package, she slipped her hands into latex gloves. She unclasped the gold metal clip that kept the envelope closed and tore through the adhesive seal. She looked inside and saw a single, unsealed, white envelope. She pinched the corner with her thumb and index finger and drew it out of the larger manila packet.
The name on the envelope was again written in Francis’s immaculate cursive.
Special Agent Ethan Hall
There was a letter inside, but she didn’t bother to read it. Francis had not instructed her to do so. She reached into her purse and found the key to the storage unit she had rented, which she dropped into the envelope before sealing it closed using a damp cloth, not her own saliva. She climbed from her car and hurried into the post office. The mail carrier was sorting packages behind the counter when she approached.
“Hi there,” she said.
The man turned, clearly shocked by the tall, beautiful woman with jet-black hair and burning brown eyes.
“Hi,” he said. “We’re just about to close.”
“Oh, good. I made it just in time.”
Still wearing the latex gloves, she held up the envelope. “I need to mail this, but I’d like it to go out in a few days from now. Is that possible?”
The man bobbed his head back and forth. “I can put a delay on it. When did you want it postmarked?”
“Thursday. You can do that?”
“Sure,” the man said, reaching for the envelope. “I can do that.”
If he noticed her latex gloves, he never showed it. He placed the envelope on the scale and checked the postage.
“You’ve got plenty of stamps on it, so you’re good to go. Is that all you needed?”
“That’s it. I appreciate your help.”
