“This thing is perfect,” I say, sitting behind the wheel. The door is unlocked and there are two men in a car a block away watching us. They must’ve been the ones who dropped it off.

“Where is it?” Dorothy asks.

I shrug.

“I thought you would know.”

“I don’t.” She shakes her head.

A part of me is tempted to look for it, but another part just wants to drive and get this over with.

“They wouldn’t have left it somewhere that is easy to find, would they?” Dorothy asks.

“Not if they don’t want it confiscated. The dogs will also be making their way around.”

Dorothy’s eyes get big and I realize that I’ve said enough.

“Typically with marijuana they hide it with coffee. I’m not sure what they do with meth but they want it to arrive there safely. They aren’t setting us up.”

My voice is confident, but on the inside I’m full of doubt.

There is a warrant out for my arrest.

What if this is just a big ruse?

No, Big Dipper wouldn’t do that.

Why would he want to lose one hundred pounds of meth in the process when he could just call the Feds and report on me directly?

Or what if that’s a lie, too?

It’s rush hour and, according to Google Maps, it’s going to take at least two hours to cross the border at this pace.

Everyone is crawling.

The sun is beating down on us and the air conditioning in this thing leaves much to be desired.

Suddenly, I’m not at all charmed by all of this rig’s imperfections.

“I had better AC on the bus on the way here,” I say.

Dorothy looks out in the distance, barely registering what I’m saying.

I try the radio but none of the upbeat Mexican music appeals to me so I turn it off.

“So, how did you get into this line of work?” I ask after we come to a complete stop once again.

She slowly turns to me, brushing her hair out of her face.

Our eyes meet briefly but then she looks away.

I want to ask her if she’s okay but I don’t want to give her the opportunity to tell me that she doesn’t want to do this again.

“My husband,” she finally says. “He’s really sick. Cancer.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stage three. Liver. There are some options for treatment but they aren't great. And they’re really expensive.”

Traffic speeds up a bit and we enjoy a steady pace of about ten miles an hour but only for a few minutes.

“There are some experimental treatments available at private clinics. There are no guarantees but I want him to fight. He has been fighting but things don’t look good.”

“So, why are you doing this?” I ask.