“Sir?”

“This way,” he says, walking to a food court, where he takes a chair and gestures her to sit down.

She takes the chair and says, “Is this where you’re going to tell me why I’m in Houston?”

“You want coffee or something?” he asks. His usually tanned and fit face looks pale and anxious, and as always, he’s wearing a dark-gray suit that doesn’t fit him well. Senior Warrant Officer McCarthy is tall and loose-limbed, and Rosaria doubts that even the best tailor from Hong Kong or London could ever make a suit fit him.

She says, “No, I don’t want coffee. I want to know what the hell is going on.”

“You first, Vasquez,” he says. “What’s the latest on the Three Rivers shootings?”

Rosaria really doesn’t need her notebook but pulls it out for appearance’s sake. “Shooting broke out at a rental residence on Linden Street. Two Mexican nationals killed. A person—male or female, not sure—was seen fleeing the residence, dragging an older gentleman along. That person’s identity is also unknown. A black Jeep Wrangler was seen leaving the area shortly thereafter. No confirmation of how many people were inside. And the license plate wasn’t noted, either.”

“Forensics?”

“Too soon,” she says. “It’s a small but professional department, but even a big-town department would have a challenge handling three shootings in one afternoon.”

“Three? Who was the third one?”

She turns over a page. “Approximately thirty minutes after the first shootings, Texas State Police responding to the scene found a tricked-out black Ford pickup truck with extended cab that had earlier been seen at the Linden Street residence. The truck was seen at a nearby McDonald’s restaurant. The driver of the truck, armed with a revolver, was spotted nearby. He refused to drop his weapon. He was killed in a shootout.”

“Another Mexican national?” he asks.

Rosaria says, “That’s right.”

McCarthy rubs at his large chin. “Hoo boy, the nearest Mexican consulate is going to have their hands full. Besides the fact that Captain Cornwall drives a Jeep Wrangler, and was seen earlier in the next town, is there any specific, credible evidence linking her to these two shootings?”

Rosaria has thought this through, again and again, thinking of what she learned from the third gunman. That the older man kept there was to be turned over to American journalist Tom Cornwall when he arrived.

And instead of journalist Cornwall arriving, apparently his wife did, taking the man and killing two in the process. Rosaria is convinced that’s what happened. As to why…no idea.

But her boss has asked her for specific, credible evidence linking the missing captain to the shootings. And Rosaria can always say later that she didn’t believe a bulked-up gangbanger armed with one big-ass revolver to be credible, which was why she never mentioned meeting him.

Thin ice indeed, but she’s been there before.

“Nothing that I’ve heard from the police,” she says.

“You got a good contact with the Three Rivers police?”