Sonora Crossing by Darrell James

Author:Darrell James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: medium-boiled, mystery, fiction, novel, Del Shannon, Sonora, drug, drug cartel, Tucson, prophecy
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2012-07-15T16:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

“How are you doing?” Del asked through the crack in the stone.

The men had come and gone. Liana was on the far side of her cell, crouched in the narrow space between the wall and her cot, her knees hugged to her chest, her face buried between them.

The assault had taken it out of her, and Del wondered how much more the woman could endure.

“Liana?” Del urged.

It took a moment for Liana to respond. But then she lifted her face toward the sound of Del’s voice and shook her head—not good.

“I’m sorry, Liana! God! I wish there was something I could do.”

“There is nothing you can do,” Liana said. “There is nothing anyone can do. I tell myself, get used to it.”

“It’s not something you should ever have to get used to,” Del said. “I know things are bleak. But your husband is out there fighting for you. So is your son.”

“They don’t even know I’m alive. And besides … why would Tomás want me now? Why would any man? I am soiled goods.”

“Your husband loves you, Liana. There will come an end to this someday, I promise.”

Liana buried her face again, the conversation over.

Del turned away from the crack in the wall.

“Del …?”

Liana’s voice pulled her back to the opening.

“Yes?”

“No matter what,” Liana said, “You are my sister, yes? ¡Mi hermana por siempre! Don’t forget, okay? Forever!”

“Okay,” Del said, feeling touched by the offer of sisterhood. She had no sister of her own and few, if any, real female friends—as Randall had not so subtly pointed out. There had been Louise. But she had been older—a mentor, more like a mother figure. This idea of sisterhood was something of a first for her. It brought rise to an unfamiliar stirring of emotion.

Del moved away from the crack in the wall and returned to a seat on her cot.

Mata appeared at the small window in her cell door, his broad, oily pocked face filling the opening. He remained, watching and salivating. She had the impression he was touching himself, lusting for the chance to repeat his performance with her. His eyes were red and watery with drunken anticipation. If he had not made his move as yet, Del understood, it was only because Santos had forbidden it—for now. But there would come a time when lust would overpower his sense of duty, and she would have to deal with this animal mano a mano.

Del glared back, holding the man with her eyes. After a moment he relented with a sneer and lumbered off down the corridor.

Del lay back and draped a forearm over her eyes. Her head was pounding. Her stomach was growling. Food! she thought. That was another pleasure Santos would withhold in order to break her down. Consider it a test of survival, she told herself—a way of thinking of it. Otherwise she was just another victim, as Liana had said.

Lying there, trying to ignore the empty pit in her stomach, she thought of home and of Randall, of warm showers and cold beer.

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