SHE STAYED A DAY IN ZACATECAS. SHE WAS SITTING IN A CAFÉ having an espresso when shots rang out in the street. They were loud and close enough, through the open-air front of the shop. Single reports, pistols. A few people whimpered in the café, and the waitress ducked behind the pastry counter. Minutes later, Luz placed pesos on the counter and left. In the street there was no sign of violence at all. A motorbike fumed through the intersection.