Questioning

I arrived at the empty lot and parked next to the other SUV.

The others were gathered around a San José police cruiser and I walked over to join them.

Two officers were there, one old and weathered, the other so young he looked like he was fresh out of the academy and I wondered if they paired him with the veteran because he was a rookie. Additionally, Badger and Maria stood back observing a man sitting halfway into the back seat of the cruiser.

When they heard me, they turned my way and I asked, “How’d you catch this guy?”

“We located him an hour ago and began following him at a distance. Unfortunately, he managed to recognize that we were tailing him and decided to do something about it,” Badger said.

“The little shit pulled a pistol and shot at Agent Goodrich before turning and fleeing. Though we gave chase, it was these two from local police who caught him. After a brief explanation, they’ve agreed to let us question him,” Maria continued.

“Who is he?”

“He says his name is Juan Herrera, but he doesn’t have ID,” Badger supplied.

“Have you guys gotten anything else from him yet?”

“Very little,” said Maria, obviously angry.

“Does he speak English?”

“A little, but I can translate,” Maria offered, thankfully. “Since you’re here, we’ll continue questioning him.”

The man just sat in the back seat, staring at the ground, refusing to answer the questions that Maria was launching at him in a rapid barrage. Despite what she had said, it was Badger who was translating for me, though he admitted his Spanish wasn’t as good as that of Maria or David.

Which was how it went for a while and the early evening shadows began to lengthen.

Eventually, Maria forced him to look up at her and snarl, presumably at some form of insult. As he did, I let out a start. I recognized the little shit as one of the men in Miguel’s photograph with Mira and her friends. The recognition made my blood shift from a low simmer to boiling hot in a second.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, given the benefit of hindsight, Juan’s gaze locked on me. Then, before I could express my anger with him, he cocked his head to the side, smiled at me, and said, “Eres Alex Douglas, qué sorpresa conocerte.”

Maria snarled, “¿Cómo la conoces, hijo de cerdo leproso?”

Juan just threw back his head and laughed.

Maria grabbed his hair and pulled his head around to face her. “¿Cómo la conoces?”

“La conozco porque es un engendro de Satanás, al igual que su hermana. Si hubiéramos sabido que ella nos iba a encontrar, no habríamos llamado al sabueso. Sin embargo, ahora que tiene su olor, la capturará y aún obtendremos nuestra parte.”

“What did he say?” I queried.

“I think that he insulted you, said that he knew you because of your sister, and said that they are tracking you with dogs. Honestly, I’m not exactly sure on that translation,” Badger responded.

“¿La estás rastreando, específicamente?” Maria demanded.

“Por supuesto. Puede que no sea la perra rica, pero vale su peso en oro para el comprador adecuado.”

“He says that you’re worth a lot of money, even if you aren’t the rich bitch,” Badger translated.

“¿Por qué? ¿Por qué ella es tan valiosa?”

“Porque ella ha sido elegida por Satanás y eso la hace especial.”

“Fucking superstitious moron. If it were up to me, you’d be seleccionado por Satanás para un calentador de verga.”

“Um, I’m not translating that,” Badger noted, but he did translate the response from Juan, “Once the dog catches her, I’ll be able to afford the best lawyer in La Paz.”

At which point, Juan sat and smiled at me creepily, but refused to answer any more questions.