On the way back to headquarters, Deocampo took us on a detour, stopped the car downtown on Avenue 16 de Septiembre.

“Why are we stopped here?” I asked.

He pointed at a large three-story building. “See that?”

I looked at the building.

“The first two floors are a whorehouse.”

“Thank you, but I’m good.”

“On the third floor is the cartel, their offices.”

“Like a drug cartel?”

“Exactly, a drug cartel.” He put a cigarette in his mouth but did not light it. “That’s what we deal with down here. The cartel has offices. You have a war on drugs, and we get shot. It is a mess. In Ciudad Juárez women are hunted. It didn’t used to be like this. Maybe one day it will not be like this again.”

“I’m sorry.”

Deocampo shrugged. “Go home. You cannot save anybody. I cannot save anybody. Go home to your family.”

a pocketknife, a tarp, a map, a compass, a shovel, a canteen, a poncho, a trail, a mission

Camaïeu

I drove home to my daughter.

I had been away from home for a couple of weeks, but the strangeness of the house upon my return caused me to feel as if I had been gone for years. Like a coward sidling back onto a battlefield, I found all that I expected but cast in unfamiliar light, with unfamiliar and strange shadows. When I saw Meg’s face, I wondered if she would ever again speak to me, but she did, her compassion, her love allowing her to understand that the grief I was experiencing was no less deep and intense than hers, that we each had to cope in our own way. My leaving, however, had cheated her out of an opportunity to run away as I had, to hide from the world that had been given to us.

She put to me a reasonable-enough question. “Where were you?”

“I told you, I was in New Mexico.”

“What were you doing?”

I answered truthfully. “I don’t know.”

She nodded.

“Is Sarah asleep?”

“Yes. She went down easily.”

“Has she asked for me?”

“No.” That simple answer crushed me, but a yes would have been equally as devastating.

“Seizures?”

“A couple every day. There was a pretty severe one two days ago. Otherwise they’ve been mild. Spacing out.” Meg began to cry.

I sat with her on the sofa, held her. We softened to each other in a way that we had not for some time.