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Monday, May 30
Presidio, Texas
On her way to the SUV, Kim scanned the immediate vicinity for threats, as she routinely did everywhere. No one wandered the streets. Perhaps there were lurkers in the shadows, seeking respite from the blazing sun. If so, they were blocked from view.
She noticed dark clouds to the west. Maybe Presidio would get a break in the weather. The place could use some rain.
Kim climbed into the SUV and flipped the air conditioning up to full blast. She was well positioned to see anyone who came through the front door of the cantina.
She used her cell phone to text Weber. I need to talk to you alone. Black SUV parked out front.
After a bit, he replied. Copy that.
The cantina door opened, and Weber emerged from the dark interior. He cleared the door and reached into his shirt pocket for sunglasses.
As he slipped them onto his face, a deafening noise that could only be two gunshots rang out nearby.
The shots went wide of Weber and hit a few feet from the cantina’s heavy door.
Stucco splinters flew off slashing Weber’s bare left arm. Blood trailed down to his hand, even as he dropped low. He ran to the driver’s side of the SUV and crouched behind the engine block.
The shooter moved from the concealing shadows to fire off two more rounds, missing the moving target completely.
Kim drew her weapon, got off a couple of defensive shots, and slid to the ground next to Weber. “Are you armed?”
“Usually, but not at the moment,” he said, shaking his head. “This SUV armored?”
“Didn’t think we’d need it. Stay behind the engine block and you should be okay,” Kim replied, peering in the direction of the gunshots.
Observations rushed through her head, in no particular order.
For some reason, the shooter didn’t fire again. Maybe he needed to reload.
No one came outside from the cantina. Why?
The gunshots were loud enough to be heard. That damned jukebox.
“He’s tucked away between the cantina and the building next door. What’s behind there?”
“A gravel parking lot. Trash dumpsters. No residential housing,” Weber replied.
“So he’s probably got a vehicle ready for a quick escape. He’ll try again,” Kim said as she inched forward, preparing to rush the shooter.
Assuming he was still there.
Weber grabbed her arm. “Get yourself hurt on my account and your sister will never forgive me.”
She grinned. “Are you kidding? Sunny would give you a medal. We’re not exactly close.”
“Let’s not test your opinion, okay?” he said seriously.
“He knows you’re unarmed because you didn’t shoot back or try to come after him. He’ll try again,” she explained rapidly. “Stay down until I signal. Flint will show up in a moment. We’ve got it under control.”
“Copy that,” he said.
Kim said nothing more as she dashed from her position behind the SUV. Flint emerged from the cantina at the same time.
The shooter tried to hit her and missed.
She didn’t shoot back. If he knew Weber wasn’t armed, maybe he thought she was unarmed, too.
Kim flattened her back against the cantina wall and, weapon ready, inched toward the shooter’s position at the corner of the building.
She was almost there when Weber stood up and yelled, “Look out!”
The shooter had inched closer to the opening and extended his weapon.
He shot directly at Weber. This time, he got lucky. Weber went down.
Flint shot twice to draw the man’s fire.
The shooter stepped out to put Flint down.
Kim fired three rounds in response. All three hit the target. The shooter fell to the ground.
The gunfire brought two of Weber’s companions running through the cantina’s front door, weapons drawn.
Three more of Weber’s group must have run out the back door. They came around between the buildings, running full out, weapons ready.
A moment ago, Kim had been defending alone. Now the shooter was encircled by men with guns.
But they were too late. The shooter was already dead.
“What’s your name?” Kim said to one of Weber’s guys, willing the adrenaline surging through her system to slow.
“Ralph. Oscar Ralph,” he replied.
“You know this guy?” Kim asked him when Flint rolled the body over onto its back.
“Pablo Gomez. CBP Officer. Meaning he’s one of the full-time border guards here.”
Kim snapped a few photos of his face and quickly collected fingerprints on her phone app. She sent them to her secure server and returned her phone to her pocket.
“Any idea why he’s shooting at Weber?” Kim asked.
“They’d had a few exchanges lately. Weber reported him a couple of weeks ago. Gomez didn’t appreciate it. They had words,” Ralph said.
“Pretty extreme to shoot the guy for something as minor as a workplace dispute.”
“Maybe he just wanted Weber out of the way. If he’d been wounded, he’d be sent home.”
“I see,” Kim nodded. “When was Gomez suspended?”
“Yesterday.”
“He lives here in Presidio, right? Any family?” she asked.
“He rents a room from one of the widows in town.” Ralph shrugged. “As far as I know, his wife and kids and the rest of his family lives in Ojinaga.”
Kim took a deep breath, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a business card. She handed it to Ralph. “Okay. Follow whatever your protocols are now related to death of an officer. Call me if you need statements or anything like that.”
Ralph examined the card. “FBI? Guess we’re on the same team here. We can find you if we need to.”
He didn’t ask for her weapon and she didn’t offer it.
Kim holstered her pistol and returned to the SUV with Flint.
Weber was seated on the dirt holding his left arm. One of Weber’s men was kneeling near him when Kim approached.
“The bullet just grazed my arm,” he said to Kim.
Flint added, “He’s okay. He’ll need some first aid. Maybe a few stitches. Might miss a couple of days work.”
“Okay.”
“What about the other guy?”
“Ralph says his name is Pablo Gomez,” Kim replied.
Weber’s eyebrows arched and his nostrils flared. “Are you kidding me? That crazy bastard. What the hell is he doing shooting at me?”
“Unfortunately, we can’t ask him. He’s dead.” Kim replied.
“Help me up, will you? I want to see him,” Weber said, struggling to his feet while holding his left arm with his right hand. He did it more gracefully than Kim would have.
“We can’t get stuck here. You can file the reports and answer questions about what happened,” Kim said to Weber while handing the key fob to Flint. She gave Weber her card. “Call me if you need anything from me. I’ll report to my boss.”
“We need to get going.” Flint glanced at the dark clouds, climbed into the SUV, and started the air conditioning again.
Weber’s colleagues had moved over to deal with Gomez. Weber stood kicking the dirt, looking down. “I’m sorry I got you into this. Gomez was mad as the devil when I reported his conduct. He got a two-day suspension. I thought that was the end of it.”
“What did he do, exactly?”
Weber shook his head. “What I saw was a few times when he didn’t check the paperwork as closely as he should have. He was territorial about it and cussed me out when I objected. It wasn’t all the time. Just now and then.”
“Why didn’t he do the job properly?”
Weber shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s been on the border for years. He knows what to do. I mean, if we can keep one undocumented person out, that’s one less we need to rescue. Gomez didn’t see it my way.”
“How’d the matter come to a head, then?” Kim said.
“A van full of Mexican citizens were coming through the other night. Construction workers, headed north. I asked for the paperwork and the one in the passenger seat handed it to me. While I was going through the documents, Gomez came over with a flat out lie and took the job away from me.”
“What did he say?”