chapter sixteen
Jack arrived home and checked on Mikey, who was asleep in his crib. He then stuck his head in his own bedroom.
“You’re home,” murmured Natasha, awakened by the door opening.
“Home, but not done. I’ve got a couple hours of notes to do. How is Mikey?”
“He’s okay. I think he’s better.”
Jack took off his gun and put it on his dresser. He would have talked some more, but Natasha’s breathing told him she had gone back to sleep. He went to the den and made notes about what he had learned.
Tomorrow morning he would call CC and meet with her and Wilson, but first there was something else he wanted to check.
Jack had heard for years about the hundreds of women who were disappearing or being found murdered around Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. He turned on his computer to search the Web.
It didn’t take long to find a mass of material relating to the missing women. There had been hundreds. In a few instances there had been arrests, with a few bus drivers being implicated, but for the most part it was a war zone.
Armed cartel members kidnapped women in broad daylight without fear of repercussion. A few were unceremoniously dumped back on the street a day or two later, but many others were murdered and found in shallow graves or laying in drainage ditches outside the city. One woman was found with one breast cut off with a knife and the other bitten off.
Jack sighed and turned the computer off and went to bed. As he lay there, he thought about Slater and his admission that he told the Mexicans where Lily Rae was. He knew there was nothing he could legally do to Slater over what he had been told and the frustration burned inside him.
He did not want to think about what had happened to a naive young girl from Canada by the name of Lily Rae. He did not want to think about it … but he did.
It was a long night.
Probably should have killed the bastard …
Slater’s night was worse. He went home and saw his girlfriend sitting on the sofa watching a movie.
“Where the fuck were you?” she yelled. “You couldn’t even bother to call me?”
“I was busy. I forgot to phone you.”
“You were too busy to take a minute and call me? What was her name?”
“I wasn’t with a girl.”
“Yeah, I just bet you … fuck! Look at you! I can believe you weren’t with a girl. Maybe a pig. You got dirt all over you. What were you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You were doing something. God, you stink, too. What was it?”
“I met some guy. We did a lot of talking.”
“How did you get so dirty?”
“I fell in a hole. We were walking and I fell in.”
“So you were stoned.”
“No, it just happened.”
“Well it sure as hell is too late to go to dinner now. Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Your voice sounds weird.”
“What do you mean?”
“Monotone. You remind me of my grade eight history teacher.”
“I’m tired.”
“Me too. But I’m also fuckin’ hungry.”
“How about I make you an omelette?”
“Yeah, okay … but shower first. You really reek of B-O.”
Later, Slater went to the kitchen in his bathrobe and opened a carton of eggs.
“So who was this guy you spent all night talking to?” his girlfriend asked.
“Just somebody I met. It’s business. I can’t talk about it,” replied Slater.
“That’s what you always say when you don’t want to explain what you’ve been up to. Hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I really get the feeling you’re shovelling me a load of crap.”
Apparently Slater did mind. A hysterical cry emitted from his mouth and he repeatedly grabbed at the eggs with both hands, squeezing and crushing them as the broken bits of eggshell and yolk ran through his fingers.