successful outcome, when my phone signaled a voice mail from Jennifer, the intermittent cell service working on the top floor of the hotel. All my humor left when I listened to it. The Taskforce had located Jennifer’s brother’s phone.
In Mexico.
12
J ennifer pulled into the parking lot, wondering if she should put on surgical gloves before going inside. The place was called the Traveler’s Inn, but it looked more like the Motel That Stayed in Business Because of Seedy People. Just off of I-10, on the northern outskirts of El Paso, it looked like it sold rooms by the hour. An L-shaped building, it was a one-story dilapidated structure, with a neon sign that she was sure no longer worked. There was a smattering of cars in the lot facing the motel, most rusted, with dents and dings. A family was loading a pickup, three small kids and a mother and father, all of Hispanic heritage. The sight gave her a little hope. They didn’t look like criminals. More like people who simply needed a cheap place to stay. She sat in the car for a moment, wondering what Jack had been doing here.
She’d flown into Dallas the day before, the jet lag tearing her down but the anxiety about her brother’s fate driving her forward. Her mother was waiting for her outside of baggage claim, and there was no mistaking the relationship. They had always looked like sisters, and the similarities still lingered, although her mother now colored her hair to keep it the same dirty blond it had always been. The one difference was the eyes. Her mother’s were chestnut brown to Jennifer’s gray. The single genetic vestige within her from her deadbeat father. Many men had told her they were beautiful, but in truth she didn’t think so. The color reminded her of betrayal and loss. She would have traded them for her mother’s eyes without hesitation. Make the familial similarities with the person who had raised her complete. Get rid of the genetic flaw given by the person who had deserted them.
Her mother had smiled upon seeing her, and Jennifer saw the wrinkles. Lines where there had been none before. It dawned on her that her mother was getting old. Right before her eyes. She wondered how much was the strain of Jack’s disappearance and how much was the march of time.
They hugged and Jennifer said, “Anything new since I left Germany?”
“No. I’ve got a meeting set up with Andy Cochrane. He’s Jack’s editor at the paper and knew what Jack was working on. He’s the one Jack was calling when he misdialed you. Andy wouldn’t talk on the phone.”
“What about the police? Has anyone alerted them?”
“Andy did as soon as I called him about your voice mail. They won’t do anything for forty-eight hours.”
“Even when his damn phone doesn’t get answered? And Andy tells them what he was working on?”
Her mother grimaced and said, “Even then. We’re on our own, but we’ve been there before.”
“Where’s Scott?”
“He’s still overseas. He wanted to come home and I told him to stay.”
Jennifer’s eyes narrowed and her mother said, “Jenn, he’s a tour guide. He can’t do anything here. He’ll want to start raising hell just to raise hell, but it won’t help.”
Jennifer knew she was right, as she had been all of their lives. Her other brother had been a hellion as a child—much like Jennifer herself—but unlike her, he’d never managed to focus on a set path. He ran off at the next big thing every few months and was now conducting guided tours in the mountains of Croatia for college students. He made no money, but he enjoyed it. Even so, she would have liked to have him here. If anyone could handle Mexico, it would be Scott. He’d traveled all over the world, living out of a backpack and facing down countless obstacles. Because of it, he had an antenna for this sort of thing.
Then again, he’s no match for Pike.
Who was a half a world away.
They’d gone to the newspaper office and met Andy, a balding,
In Mexico.
12
J ennifer pulled into the parking lot, wondering if she should put on surgical gloves before going inside. The place was called the Traveler’s Inn, but it looked more like the Motel That Stayed in Business Because of Seedy People. Just off of I-10, on the northern outskirts of El Paso, it looked like it sold rooms by the hour. An L-shaped building, it was a one-story dilapidated structure, with a neon sign that she was sure no longer worked. There was a smattering of cars in the lot facing the motel, most rusted, with dents and dings. A family was loading a pickup, three small kids and a mother and father, all of Hispanic heritage. The sight gave her a little hope. They didn’t look like criminals. More like people who simply needed a cheap place to stay. She sat in the car for a moment, wondering what Jack had been doing here.
She’d flown into Dallas the day before, the jet lag tearing her down but the anxiety about her brother’s fate driving her forward. Her mother was waiting for her outside of baggage claim, and there was no mistaking the relationship. They had always looked like sisters, and the similarities still lingered, although her mother now colored her hair to keep it the same dirty blond it had always been. The one difference was the eyes. Her mother’s were chestnut brown to Jennifer’s gray. The single genetic vestige within her from her deadbeat father. Many men had told her they were beautiful, but in truth she didn’t think so. The color reminded her of betrayal and loss. She would have traded them for her mother’s eyes without hesitation. Make the familial similarities with the person who had raised her complete. Get rid of the genetic flaw given by the person who had deserted them.
Her mother had smiled upon seeing her, and Jennifer saw the wrinkles. Lines where there had been none before. It dawned on her that her mother was getting old. Right before her eyes. She wondered how much was the strain of Jack’s disappearance and how much was the march of time.
They hugged and Jennifer said, “Anything new since I left Germany?”
“No. I’ve got a meeting set up with Andy Cochrane. He’s Jack’s editor at the paper and knew what Jack was working on. He’s the one Jack was calling when he misdialed you. Andy wouldn’t talk on the phone.”
“What about the police? Has anyone alerted them?”
“Andy did as soon as I called him about your voice mail. They won’t do anything for forty-eight hours.”
“Even when his damn phone doesn’t get answered? And Andy tells them what he was working on?”
Her mother grimaced and said, “Even then. We’re on our own, but we’ve been there before.”
“Where’s Scott?”
“He’s still overseas. He wanted to come home and I told him to stay.”
Jennifer’s eyes narrowed and her mother said, “Jenn, he’s a tour guide. He can’t do anything here. He’ll want to start raising hell just to raise hell, but it won’t help.”
Jennifer knew she was right, as she had been all of their lives. Her other brother had been a hellion as a child—much like Jennifer herself—but unlike her, he’d never managed to focus on a set path. He ran off at the next big thing every few months and was now conducting guided tours in the mountains of Croatia for college students. He made no money, but he enjoyed it. Even so, she would have liked to have him here. If anyone could handle Mexico, it would be Scott. He’d traveled all over the world, living out of a backpack and facing down countless obstacles. Because of it, he had an antenna for this sort of thing.
Then again, he’s no match for Pike.
Who was a half a world away.
They’d gone to the newspaper office and met Andy, a balding,
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