CHAPTER 5

IT HAD BEEN A LONG NIGHT and a new day was dawning. Rivera had stayed awake as much as he could with his wide-eyed hostage. He wanted to make sure Jake didn’t freak out or become a pain to watch. He knew what might happen if he did. This was about controlling the situation, making sure it was peaceful.

But that wasn’t an easy task in this environment. Dirty concrete floor. A leaky roof. Hay strewn about the floor. A rusted frame for a single bed. And a black and white TV with an antennae. The walls looked like they might fall down with any significant attempt to knock them over. It was enough to put anyone on edge. But despite the surroundings, Rivera did his best with what he did have: conversation. He brought up numerous topics he thought might bring Jake out of his shocked state: video games, football, school, future dreams. Nothing worked all that well. Jake muttered one- or two-word answers, if anything. Rivera knew the boy was an emotional mess and Morales was about to make it worse.

Rivera didn’t want to tie Jake’s feet together; they looked about the same size as his son Juan’s feet. He didn’t want to tie Jake’s hands together either. But he tied them both. This kid wasn’t going anywhere, but Rivera knew it was best to heed instruction. Mr. Hernandez’s compound was no place for compassion. Not even a moment of kindness could inch through the door. Mr. Hernandez was always watching.

“When am I going to see my mom and dad again?” Jake finally asked.

“Hopefully soon,” Rivera said.

Rivera finished tying the last knot and swung Jake’s feet onto the bed so his prisoner could relax a bit. Jake’s initial terror had worn off and he felt comfortable with Rivera. Then Morales entered the room, storming in with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a Glock 19 in the other. He sneered at Jake before crashing on top of a wooden folding chair near Jake’s bed. It was far too early to be drinking, but Morales’ love affair with alcohol was nothing he tried to hide. Rivera worried something bad could happen to Jake if he left him alone with Morales. But it was time for a shift change, another directive from Mr. Hernandez that could not be usurped. However, Rivera felt obliged to give Morales a fair warning about his behavior.

“What are you doing?” Rivera said in a hushed voice. “It’s not a good idea to be drinking like this, especially in front of the kid.”

Morales bristled at the rebuke.

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Morales roared. “If I want to smack this little kid around, I will.”

And with his bold statement, Morales backhanded Jake, catching him just below his right cheekbone. Jake’s entire body lurched toward the wall and only stopped when Jake’s head smacked it hard. He started crying as a wave of terror washed over his face. Rivera thought Jake was begging him to stay with his eyes. But those sad eyes reminded Rivera that he had his own family waiting for him at home—and he didn’t need to waste any more time here.

“Go easy on the kid,” Rivera said. As he left the room and walked down the hall, Rivera heard another sound of a head slapping up against the wooden wall. He cringed … and hoped Jake would still be alive when he returned later that evening.