Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“I’ll take a look today, draft something for you,” Garrison said. The division’s field agents and intel shop would already be canvassing their human and signal intelligence—HUMINT and SIGINT—to find their own answers. That meant talking to all their informants, and it wasn’t lost on Garrison that the last time he’d been personally involved with cartel border violence, specifically in Ojinaga, it had all gone to hell with the disappearance and ultimate murder of the informant Rodolfo “Rudy” Reynosa, and the subsequent attack on Darin and Morgan.
Ojinaga was right across the river from Murfee, Texas.
Garrison ignored the mostly empty box he’d been sorting through and sat heavily in his new chair. He turned it to face Chesney. “Speaking of drafts, did you have a chance to read what I pulled together about that drug suppression unit operating in Terrell? The Tejas unit?”
Chesney nodded, smoothing out his tie. It looked as expensive as the suit. “I did, but I failed to see your point.”
Garrison spread his hands on his desk. It still surprised him that his wedding band was no longer there, as if he were noticing it again for the first time. He wasn’t. “Terrell County sheriff Chuy Machado set up the Tejas unit two years ago. It’s made up mostly of deputies from his own department, a couple from neighboring Val Verde and Crockett, and a cop or two from Sanderson. Chuy’s own son, Johnnie, leads the unit. Their seizure and arrest numbers are impressive.”
“They’re doing good work,” Chesney agreed, still fixated on his tie.
“Don, no one is doing work that good. Not a handful of cops way out there in the middle of nowhere.”
Chesney finally let his tie go. “Are you implying they’re not good enough cops? I checked, and several of them have been through our very own narcotics training classes, right here in the division. Whatever they’re doing is exactly what your agents taught them, with equipment we paid for.”
“No, what I’m suggesting is maybe a few of them are, in fact, bad cops. Straight-up corrupt. The numbers don’t add up. Nothing about that unit adds up, and I think . . .”
Chesney held up a hand, stopping him. “Joe, you’ve been on this border a long time. We all know your history. I get it, this interest, obsession, you have with corrupt law enforcement. You lived through it, and at some point in time, we will deal with something like it again. We always do. I’m just not sure that time is now.”
You lived through it.