36: A Novel by Dirk Patton

soft.  It was the first time I had heard her sing, and for a minute I stood in awe, just listening to her.  Her voice was beautiful.  She saw me watching her in the bathroom mirror and gave me a smile that whisked away all the cobwebs in my brain.
    By four, we were in her car and pulling out of the apartment complex’s parking lot.  We stopped for gas at a small station just down the street.  The night clerk was secure behind a thick sheet of bullet proof glass and I pushed cash through a sliding metal drawer, paying before pumping.  Collecting my change, we hit the road.
    We made one quick stop in Tucson to top off the tank and get coffee.  The time passed quickly.  We talked the whole way, each of us learning things about the other that had never come up between the sheets.  The more I learned, the more I liked this strong, beautiful woman.
    It took us slightly more than four hours to reach Nogales.  Monica stopped in a small parking lot a hundred yards from the border crossing.  I reached down between my feet and picked up the small duffel I’d brought along.  Passing it over, I took her hand and looked into her eyes.
    “There’s a pistol and shotgun in the bag, and a thousand dollars in cash,” I said.  “The shotgun is illegal, so don’t get caught with it.  If you do, play dumb and blame it on me.”
    “Where are you coming back across?”
    “There’s a canyon about twenty miles to the east that cuts across the border.  It’s in the middle of nowhere.  I used to go hunting in the area.  No roads.  Probably there.  I’ll call you when I’m back, maybe sooner if this shitty phone works in Mexico.  What are you going to do while you’re waiting?”
    “Going to check into a motel so I don’t get noticed just hanging around.  Be careful, and come back to me.”
    Monica wrapped her arms around my neck and held me tight as our lips met.  The kiss lasted a long time, and definitely wasn’t the kind of kiss you share with someone who was just your fuck buddy.  Heart lightened at the thoughts of things to come with her, I stepped out of the car and headed for the line queued up to get into Mexico.
     

8
     
    It wasn’t visiting hours at the prison, but that didn’t deter me.  Five, crisp twenty dollar bills disappeared into the guard sergeant’s pudgy hand so deftly it was as if they’d never existed.  He barked some orders in Spanish, and after a thorough search I was escorted to a small room with a couple of tables and chairs.
    The furniture in the visiting room was bolted to the raw concrete floor.  I took a seat and looked around when the iron door I’d come through banged closed behind me.  On the opposite wall was another, identical door.  A window, without any glass, looked out onto a courtyard that was mostly dirt with a few struggling weeds.  It was covered with heavy, iron bars set into the wall’s masonry, and provided the only illumination in the room.
    Overhead, a squeaking ceiling fan turned lazily, stirring the hot, dusty air.  Movement caught my eye and I looked at the window in time to see a rat poke its whiskered nose through the bars and test the air.  It was the biggest fucking rat I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some big ones hanging around the open sewers in parts of Iraq.
     Nearly an hour later, the door to my front clanged open and a heavily mustachioed guard poked his head in and looked around.  There was nothing to see other than me and the rat, which was nosing along the far wall.  He withdrew, and a moment later my little brother was roughly shoved into the room. 
    “Cinco,” the guard shouted, staring at me.
    I nodded that I understood I had only bought five minutes of time with Tim.  A hundred bucks doesn’t go as far as it used to.
    I stood as Tim walked over.  He looked like hell.  No, hell would have looked better than he did.  He had been beaten.  That much was obvious.  Two black eyes.  A nose so swollen it had to have been