Cait gripped the binoculars so hard they bobbled. There was Julius, slumped in a chair, head drooping, arms tied behind him.
One of the drinkers from the kitchen loomed over him. The man swayed, clutched the chair back with one hand, and jabbed the barrel of a handgun against Julius’ head. Then he let go of the chair and slapped Julius hard, again and again. The prisoner’s head whipped back and forth. His tormentor reversed the gun and smashed its butt against Julius’ ear.
Cait heart was about to burst out of her chest. “He’s going to kill him.”
“Let me see.” Lita snatched the glasses from Cait. “God, we’ve got to do something.”
Cait groped for her cell. “I’m calling 911.” The possibilities flashed before her. Julius might be shot if his abductors knew police were at the front gate. Or he could be hit during a firefight.
Cait watched the gunman yell and punch Julius. Finally the man left. The room went dark.
She sprung to her feet. While Julius was alone, she had to act fast. His room had French doors opening to the back porch. She switched her view to the kitchen, where one of the thugs swigged from a tequila bottle. His partner—who had beaten Julius—returned and grabbed another beer.
“I’m getting him out. Those guys are going to drink themselves silly and pass out. They must be low on the totem pole, stuck with guarding the prisoner.”
“Call the damn cops.” Lita was fuming.
“That might backfire. Julius could be killed when the police show up.” Cait swept her gaze to neighboring properties, homes secluded on big lots, so far apart that gunshots might not be heard, especially on a winter night with everyone inside by their fireplaces.
“You can’t go down there. That’s crazy.” Lita grabbed at Cait’s leg.
“I’m getting him out. Call 911 if something goes wrong.” Cait filled her pockets with a few things from her pack, then inched her way down past rocks and cactus.
Outside the backyard wall, she paused. A pounding base beat thudded from inside the house, interspersed with screams and the sounds of gunfire. Cait clambered onto a boulder and looked over the masonry. A violent action film played on a huge TV screen in the great room; two heads were visible over the back of a couch. She prayed there were only two violent drunks in the house.
Grabbing hold of the concrete block, she hoisted herself over the wall and dropped down by a large jojoba bush. Alert to any movement, she stooped and ran toward Julius’ room, on the opposite side of the house from the kitchen and living room.
Muscles taut and senses heightened, Cait tried the French doors. Locked. She peered inside, saw a dark shape in the middle of the room.
Shouts from the living room stopped her in her tracks. If the house alarm was turned on, she was done for. She could only hope the guards were as careless as they seemed.
Get on with it. Her hands shook as she fished a screwdriver from a pocket and jabbed it at a glass panel by the handle of the patio door. The glass cracked but didn’t break. Desperate, she kicked at it. The panel broke. She jumped back, expecting the shriek of an alarm.
Instead, she heard wild laughter and video sound effects. She pushed in glass remnants with her toe of her shoe, then reached in and turned the deadbolt.
As she pressed the door lever and entered, she heard rough, irregular breathing.
“Julius.” She whispered, knowing he was as frightened as she was. “It’s Cait. I’m getting you out.”
She couldn’t see his face in the dimness as she crept toward him, alert for the sound of anyone coming.
His face and upper body were wet. The room smelled of vomit and urine and a coppery odor. Blood. She pushed back her fear. Felt for his wrists, bound with plastic cables behind the back of the chair. With scissors from her jacket pocket, she sawed at the plastic. The ties finally gave way.
His hands hung limply at his sides as she attacked the zip ties binding his ankles together.
“Julius. Let’s go.” She tugged at his shoulder and he bent forward at the waist, unable to sit up.
Panic nipped at her. A guard could return any minute.
Julius was too beat up, maybe drugged, to escape under his own power.
“Come on.” She tried to lift him out of the chair. He slid off and fell onto his side. He lay there gasping for too long. She was elated when he managed to roll onto his knees and scoot toward the open door.
“Keep going. Go, go.” Her shushed encouragement propelled him outside. There his strength gave way and he collapsed onto the walkway.
Julius finally spoke. “Can’t move. They’ve been giving me stuff.”
“We have to get to that back wall. Keep moving.” Cait had no idea how he was going to get himself over a six-foot-high barrier.
Back on hands and knees, he crawled after her. She ran ahead and lugged a heavy patio table toward the wall, worried about the scraping noise it made. If Julius could get onto the table, she could boost him up and over the wall.
They made it to the jojoba tree. Cait jammed the table against the wall. She stooped and wrapped her arms around his waist, helping him onto the tabletop.
Her back pinched and spasmed. The table rocked as he got onto it and almost fell off. He rose to his feet, grabbed at the top of the wall and hung there, trembling and breathless.
“Hurry, get up,” she mumbled. She crawled onto the table and squatted. “Step on me. Damn it, go.”
A bellow issued from the empty bedroom. Julius put a foot on her shoulder and tried to hoist himself up. Cait looked back as the outside lights flicked on and a man started toward them.
***
A usually cautious driver, Arthur broke the I-10 speed limit on the way back. Estrella fumed and fumbled with his smart phone. “I’m no good with these darn things. I’ll call that ranger on our landline at home. They caught the jaguar. They’ll kill him.” She looked deflated, energy siphoned away.
The couple batted what-ifs back and forth. Could Gary and Aida from the art gallery have actually heard a bear or bobcat in the cage? If it was a jaguar, who was behind its capture? Where the Westers involved?
As soon as Arthur pulled into their carport, he phoned Chris Zapata to babble about what they’d heard.
“He’s coming over,” Arthur said after hanging up. “After work.”
“Why not sooner? You’d think a rare jaguar is more important than shepherding tourists around or collecting entrance fees.” Estrella huffed her way into the house.
“We don’t know for sure it was a jaguar,” Arthur said.
“What else could it have been? It was no mountain lion. They don’t roar.” She flopped onto the couch. “What can a ranger do? Nothing. Something irreplaceable has been destroyed.”
“Look, we’re both rooting for that jaguar. Don’t give up so easily. Maybe helicopters can be tracked. After all, the government has all kinds of high-tech surveillance watching the border areas for illegal crossers and smugglers. Maybe they can figure out where that copter went.”
Arthur filled two shot glasses with mescal from a tiny Arizona distillery near Patagonia, south of Tucson. “Someone wanted that cat alive. They must have paid a lot to have it caught and transported by helicopter. There’s got to be a way to find out where it went.”
“I don’t know. It feels hopeless.” Estrella sipped the agave liquor. It burned her throat but calmed her jangling nerves.
“I wish I had a better answer.” Arthur sat beside her and put a hand on hers.
Later that evening, the doorbell rang. Arthur answered the door and returned to the living room with Chris Zapata, who took a chair across from Estrella. “I came as soon as I could. Grandmother, I hear you’ve had quite a day. I’m glad you’re back safely.”
The older woman studied him. The young Zuni had initially struck her as a by-the-book type bound by protocol and adverse to quick action. Now she thought she had misjudged him. After all, he had a job to do. And here he was, showing respect and concern.
“It tears at my heart. I worry the jaguar will be killed.” Estrella looked at her hands.
“The more I think about it, I doubt it. It sounds like someone went to a great deal of trouble to bring it out alive. They probably caught it by shooting it with tranquilizers. Maybe they had to re-dart it because the drug wore off in the helicopter. A jaguar is very powerful. I’m surprised it didn’t bust out of the crate. That was the roaring your artist friends heard. There are people who illegally keep wild animals. They want their own personal zoo of exotic species. Of course, there are private hunting ranches . . .” Chris stopped when he saw the hurt in Estrella’s eyes.
She leaned forward. “We’ve got to do something. There must be ways to find out who took it.”
“I work with a biologist who knows about the black market in exotic animals. He’ll put feelers out about who might have the money to finance a jaguar capture. And who might want one. Of course, there’s no guarantee we’ll find out anything.” Chris dipped his head, avoiding Estrella’s look.
“How’s your sister?” she asked.
“I don’t know if she told you about her fiancé’s brother.” Chris told the couple about Julius’ disappearance, a ransom demand the family had received, and that Cait and Jack had last seen him in Tucson. “She’s been trying to locate a woman who was friends with Julius.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll pray for him.” Estrella crossed herself. “This gang who kidnapped him, are they from around here?”
“They might have local connections, but they originated in Albuquerque. Their leader calls himself El Tigre.”
Estrella turned to a painting of a spotted cat on a far wall of the living room. “Tigres nortenos is what they call jaguars in the northern border areas of Mexico. It’s interesting the gangster calls himself that. But maybe not. This El Tigre character fancies himself intimidating and deadly.”
“Detective Gallegos has been trying to put this guy behind bars,” Chris said.
“His work is dangerous,” Estrella said.
“Unfortunately.” He mentioned the bomb in Jack’s apartment and the murder of his partner. “Jack’s not back to work yet, so he and Cait came to visit me. Julius’ kidnapping occurred in the past few days.”
“Terrible,” Estrella shot a glance at her husband.
“Is there anything we can do?” Arthur had been silent up to now. “Why would Julius be kidnapped?”
“This gang leader is vengeful. He targeted cops investigating him, and their family members too.” Chris’ expression turned grim.
“Then you and Cait are in danger,” Arthur said.
“It’s possible. That’s why Jack wants her away from Albuquerque for a while.”
“I can’t emphasize this enough. If there’s anything we can do for you or your family, just say the word. If you or Cait and Jack need a place to stay, mi casa es su casa.” Arthur made a sweeping gesture.
“Thank you,” Chris said. “If you hear from Cait, let me know. She didn’t return my calls this evening and I’m getting a little worried.”