11

Veranda bolted upright in her bed as a siren blared. Covered in perspiration, her heart pounded as she snatched her cell phone from the night stand and switched off the alarm. She had chosen a wailing police siren as her wakeup sound. It usually didn’t bother her, but the noise had interrupted a nightmare. A wolf chased her through dark woods, its slavering jaws stretched wide as it prepared to strike. As the dream faded, she noticed a message icon blinking on her phone. She released a ragged breath and tapped the screen to access the voicemail message her mother had left two hours earlier.

“Mi’ja.” Lorena sounded anxious. “I need to talk to you. There are things you should know. Please come see me soon.”

Veranda, still groggy from her fitful sleep, shook her head to clear it. She would barely have enough time to shower and get dressed before Sam arrived to pick her up. Her mother would have to wait.

In a daze, she shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Stepping under the hot water, she tried to figure out what was on her mother’s mind. Veranda remembered when she’d first mentioned she wanted to become a police officer thirteen years ago to follow in her father’s footsteps. She had not been told much about her father, but knew he had been a federal law enforcement officer in Mexico, and that her aunts and uncles described him as a very brave man.

Veranda could still see the color drain from her mother’s face when she told her she had applied for the Phoenix Police Department. Lorena begged her to reconsider, then sat her down to tell her the story of how her father died.

Before Veranda was born, Ernesto and Lorena Hidalgo lived in a modest home in a small town on the outskirts of Mexico City. Lorena’s five younger siblings moved in with them when their parents died from a virulent flu epidemic. Ernesto, a detective with the Federal Judicial Police, investigated several brutal slayings committed by the newly formed Villalobos cartel. On the verge of indicting El Lobo, Ernesto was murdered and his office destroyed by fire. Ernesto’s co-worker called Lorena to warn her that Hector Villalobos was coming for her. Lorena, pregnant with Veranda, awakened her younger brothers and sisters and the group fled across the border, where they were granted asylum and ultimately became US citizens. Lorena reverted to her maiden name, Cruz, to make it harder for El Lobo to track her.

If her mother thought this knowledge would deter Veranda, she had been dead wrong. It only honed Veranda’s desire for justice to a fine point aimed directly at the cartel that murdered her father in cold blood. She became determined to finish what Ernesto had started.

Once hired by the PPD, Veranda concealed her family’s history with El Lobo, certain the Department would see a conflict of interest and not allow her to pursue the cartel’s drug trafficking business. For the same reason, she kept quiet about how she really met Flaco. It would all probably come out someday, especially if Sergeant Diaz proved to be as persistent as he seemed.

Thoughts of the PSB sergeant’s questions earlier that day caused Veranda’s mind to return to her current situation. Sam would arrive soon. She turned the water off and toweled down her wet skin. She stepped out of the shower, pulled a satin bathrobe from its hook and wrapped it around her damp body.

Something caught her eye and her gazed flicked to the foggy bathroom mirror. A torrent of shock cascaded through her body as she focused on one thought: Get your gun. As usual, she had left it on the nightstand with her cell phone while she slept. Since she lived alone, she didn’t secure the weapon.

She dropped her towel and inched toward her bedroom. Water dripped from her wet hair. She snatched her Glock from the nightstand and checked to be sure the magazine was still in place. Crouching down, she crept back into the bathroom. The fog had dissipated. A stylized logo was emblazoned in bright red lipstick across the mirror over the sink. The same image she had seen stamped on kilos of heroin. A wolf’s head.

Someone from the cartel was in her house.