Final Fix by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

Author:Carolyn Ridder Aspenson [Ridder Aspenson, Carolyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-18T16:00:00+00:00

22

We met Garcia at a Doubletree in Roswell. It was a risky move, but we had him followed by an on-duty officer in an undercover vehicle to make sure no one was onto him. If they were, they were too good to be noticed.

Bishop and I each drove in department issued undercover vehicles, driving different routes, and arriving at different times. Better safe than sorry, Bishop had said. Just like my mother used to say when I was five.

The hotel room felt surprisingly spacious considering it was a Doubletree. Soft golden lights emanated from the lamps scattered strategically around the room, casting a warm glow on the wooden furniture and cream-colored walls. A small kitchenette with a microwave, stovetop, and refrigerator occupied one corner, while a large bed dominated the center of the room, dressed in crisp white sheets.

“Not bad,” I said. “Hamby definitely rolls out the red carpet for our undercover contracts.”

Garcia laughed. “I’m blessed.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and flipped through a local magazine absentmindedly while Bishop lounged on a plush armchair, engrossed in a thick file. He occasionally glanced up, his piercing eyes narrowing as he analyzed the information. Garcia stood at the sink washing the remnants of his dinner off the plates.

“So,” I began, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room. “You make any contacts?”

Tony wiped his hands on a dish towel and turned to face us, his dark hair still damp from his shower. “Getting there,” he replied, his voice tinged with a touch of exhaustion. “I did what I was supposed to do, watched and learned, but I didn’t just walk up to a guy and ask if he was part of the cartel. It’s going to take some time.”

I raised an eyebrow, setting the magazine aside. “We don’t have a lot of time. Did anyone look like cartel?”

He tossed the dish towel onto the small counter and turned toward me. “I look like cartel. To the average person, any Hispanic person looks like cartel if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”

Had I hit a nerve? “You know what I mean.”

A smile crept across his face. “Just giving you a hard time. Cartel members are a lot like sociopaths in the sense that they look like normal people, but don’t worry. If there’s one working there, I’ll find him.”

“You might have to move up the ladder quicker than we thought,” Bishop said.

“Why?” Garcia asked. He began unpacking the rest of his bag, placing his socks in the top drawer of the small dresser first. “You got a better option?”

“Not exactly,” Bishop said.

Garcia placed his t-shirts in a drawer, closed it, then leaned his butt against it to face us. Smirking, he said, “Do tell.”

“We had a bomb go off at another ranch. Convenient timing as we were there.”

Garcia looked at me with concern covering his face. “You okay?”

“We’re good,” I said. “Bishop’s last few hairs were singed almost off. We’ve started a charity jar for hair plugs.” I tried hard not to laugh but failed.

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