LAWSON’S FRUSTRATION WAS ONLY HEIGHTENED A FEW DAYS LATER WHEN he learned in an intel briefing that Ramiro Villarreal had died in an accident. There were few details, but he was sure Miguel was behind it. He searched on his computer for any news reports about the accident. He didn’t expect he’d find much. The Zetas had established total censorship over the media in Nuevo Laredo, killing reporters and leaving their decapitated bodies in the street with crudely lettered signs warning that the same would befall anyone who dared report on anything not sanctioned by the drug lord.
After searching for a few minutes, Lawson found a short bulletin in an online news outlet from Nuevo Laredo. The article didn’t mention Villarreal by name, but because of the date, March 11, and the location of the accident on a road that led to Monterrey on the outskirts of Nuevo Laredo, he knew it must be him. He sent the link in an email to Perez and asked if she’d take a second look, since the article was in Spanish.
Lawson walked over to her cubicle and Perez was already scrutinizing the story on her computer.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It says he was burned alive in his car. It was a one-vehicle accident.” Perez raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, just imagine?” Lawson said with sarcasm.
Perez clicked on the photos that accompanied the article. The intensity of the fire had incinerated the interior of the Volkswagen sedan and it was nothing more than a gray husk.
“Jesus,” Lawson said. “So Miguel made sure it was reported as a traffic accident.”
Perez nodded. “Looks like it.”
After he was done going through the photos with Perez, Lawson phoned Graham to see if he’d heard about the accident. Graham sounded rattled by the news of Villarreal’s death and said he’d call his friend Chevo Huitron to see if he knew anything more. Villarreal had left one of his horses at Chevo’s stable, and the horse trainer had been trying to reach him for weeks to collect the money he was owed.
Chevo answered after a couple of rings. He didn’t sound surprised when Graham brought up Villarreal’s death. “You didn’t hear?” Chevo barked into the phone. Villarreal’s charred remains had been found inside a smoldering car on the outskirts of Nuevo Laredo. The newspapers had reported it as a car accident, but Chevo said he had his doubts.
Graham relayed the news to Lawson. All that was left of Villarreal was a pile of ashes. Knowing what they did about Miguel and his appetite for violence, the whole setup couldn’t have looked anything but suspicious. Lawson imagined the DEA would be angry now that they’d lost their valuable informant. He would soon find out just how angry.