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Tuesday, May 31
Pecos, Texas
Freda took Kim’s phone and squinted at the faces. “Was she pregnant? The woman? There was a couple who came in about a week or so ago. She looked like she was about to deliver on the spot. She wasn’t feeling well. He seemed jumpy, like he was worried about something. Could’ve been these two.”
“Did they say anything about where they’d come from or where they were going?” Kim asked.
Freda shook her head and handed the phone to Kim. “They stayed about half an hour. He ate the chicken and rice and beans. She didn’t eat anything. Then they left.”
“Were they driving? Alone?”
“Probably. But I didn’t see where they went after they stepped outside. We don’t have any windows in here,” Freda said.
“How’d they pay the bill?” Flint asked.
“Most folks pay with cash,” Freda said. “US money only. We don’t take pesos anymore.”
Kim cocked her head. “You said he was jumpy. What made you think so?”
“That’s why I remember the couple. She went straight to the restroom, as if she was sick. He sat facing the door. His leg bounced the whole time he was at the table. Sat over there,” Freda tilted her head toward a table in the darkest corner. “That table’s a little unsteady. I had to warn him that it might collapse if he kept bouncing it around like that.”
“Did they speak English?” Flint wanted to know.
“Not to me. Not between themselves. But sure. Most folks do,” Freda said with a shrug as she turned to deal with the other tables.
Mac pushed his chair back. “I need to get going, too. Can I help you folks with anything else?”
“If you don’t mind,” Kim nodded, as she swiped through the photos on her phone until she found what she was looking for. “Is this the man you were talking about earlier? The big guy?”
She handed him the phone again. He put his glasses back on to look at the photo of Reacher. It was an old photo. His army headshot taken more than fifteen years ago. She’d cropped out the uniform so the photo showed only his face.
Mac worked the toothpick and frowned at the photo for a bit. “Hard to say. I guess it could be him. The guy was older. More worn out, kinda. Possibly could have been him.”
“Thanks,” Kim said, retrieving the phone and swiping through the photos until she found the one she wanted. “One more, if you would be so kind. Do you know this fellow?”
“Yeah,” Mac said, nodding, and then returning the phone. “I’ve seen him around recently. Border patrol, isn’t he? Weber, I think he said his name was.”
“National Guard. But yeah. Helping out at the border,” Kim replied, accepting the phone and clicking the screen off. “Where’d you see him?”
“Right here. He’s been in the cantina a few times. This is about the only decent place to eat in town, to be honest,” Mac replied, removing the readers and folding them again. He slipped the glasses into his shirt pocket. “I think he works days. Which means he’ll be getting off soon. Might even come in for an early supper. This place has the best air conditioning of all the eating places, too. Most folks come in just for that.”
Kim and Flint thanked him for the help as he got up to leave.
“Glad to do it,” he said, waving on his way out.
Flint fell onto his food like a hungry wolf. Kim watched Mac’s broad back as he walked into the blazing sunshine on the other side of the heavy front door. She picked up her phone, found Martin Weber’s cell number and texted him to meet them at the cantina after work.
“Copy that,” he texted back. Kim smiled.
“How’d you get his personal cell number?” Flint asked. “From your sister?”
“Not a chance,” Kim replied swiftly.
Asking Sunny for Weber’s details would imply way more than Kim wanted her to know. Plenty of time to tell Sunny about the meeting afterward. Assuming it went well.
“You can eat and think at the same time, you know,” Flint said after he’d swallowed a big forkful of the taco salad.
Kim nodded. Mac had been right about the food. It was uniformly great. The guacamole was some of the best she had ever eaten, and the salsa was hot enough to set her mouth on fire. Exactly the way she liked it.
Between mouthfuls, Flint said, “So what does the National Guard do here, anyway? I mean, Weber’s not a trained border agent, right?”
“I’m not sure exactly what his job is. The Guard fills in at the border crossing if needed,” Kim replied. “But it’s mostly providing infrastructure, operational and aerial support, information and detection support for the trained law enforcement officers.”
“Makes sense. The law on these border crossings is complicated and it seems to change frequently. It’s gotta be hard to keep up, even for the full timers,” Flint said. “How long has Weber been deployed down here?”
“Almost six months, according to my sister.” Kim licked the cheese from her fingers and wiped them with the napkin. A big gulp of water helped with the fire in her mouth. “They’re shorthanded. So he’s been out in the field more than originally planned.”
“Where does he live? I mean, there’s no military base close by, is there?” Flint asked.
“Government contracted housing. He’d be in a hotel except there aren’t any beds available at the local places. So he’s sharing a rental house with three other guardsmen,” Kim said. She glanced at the big clock on the wall above the door. “It’s after three o’clock. He’ll be here shortly.”
Flint had finished his food. He wiped his hands and tossed the crumpled napkin into his plate. “Elana said she and Javier came through the Presidio border crossing. Freda says they were here in the cantina, so we’ve confirmed that they came across somehow. Mac says Reacher was here, too. How do you think all this fits together?”
Kim shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure it does. But I suspect Elana Fernandez might be the thread we can pull to unravel the situation. She knows a lot more than she’s told us.”
“For sure.”
The front door of the cantina opened allowing a bright rectangle of blinding sunlight to enter the cool, comfortable darkness inside. A group of six men, backlit shadows, strolled inside and closed the door behind them.
After the light was extinguished, Kim saw nothing but spots for a moment. She blinked a few times to clear her vision.
The men had moved deeper into the cantina and pulled a couple of tables together in the back. They settled down and Freda took their orders, which was when Weber left the group to join Kim and Flint.
“Kim Otto?” he said, extending his hand to shake. When she nodded, he said, “I’d have known you anywhere. You look exactly like Sunny. I’m Martin Weber.”
Given her conflicted feelings for her sister, Kim simply nodded toward her companion.
“This is Michael Flint.”
“Martin Weber,” he said to Flint as he pulled out a chair and sat between them. “Sorry. I must smell like an old goat. It’s been another long, hot day patrolling out in the field. No chance to shower before we came over here.”
“Why were you out in the field?” Flint asked. “Thought you guys were mostly here for support functions?”
Freda came by with a tall glass of water and handed it to Weber on her way to his buddies. He thanked her for it and downed it in one long gulp.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been as thirsty in my life before I came to Presidio,” Weber said. “Freda will be bringing my food soon. Why was I out in the field? Just luck of the draw. They’re shorthanded here. We all go where we’re sent, you know?”
Flint nodded, as if the answer satisfied his curiosity. Maybe it did.
“How can I help?”