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?
“EDDY IS GOING TO BE A DEAD END,” Danny said. “He told us what he knows, which isn’t a whole lot. For about the last six months he’s been renting out his trailer down in the canyon as kind of a way station for drug mules crossing the river there. They give him a heads-up on these Motorola radios, and he makes sure the way is clear when they cross. The dope is stored at his place until other men come and get it and drive it out of the Big Bend. He knows nicknames . . . Gato, Flaco, Chaca . . . stuff like that, but that’s about it. His initial contact was a man named Apache. Eddy says he calls himself that because he works for some Mexican Indians or something, whatever that means. He’s the guy who approached Eddy, got him all set up. They met once, maybe twice, right at the beginning, but pretty much everything since then has been done direct with the mules, and never the same group twice. They mostly use those radios we found because Apache doesn’t believe they can be intercepted like cell phones.”
“Can they?” Chris asked. He wasn’t sure one way or the other. It was a question for Garrison, if he wanted to ask him.
Danny shrugged. “Not really my specialty. Apache told Eddy they were encrypted. We used encrypted radio comms in the military all the time, so if that’s the same thing, then he’s probably right.”
“What was Eddy’s cut?”
“Fifteen hundred dollars a trip. Or they gave him half-pound quantities of meth. Eddy said at first it was mainly marijuana bales, but then it was meth or coke or heroin.”
“How often?”
“Cada dos semanas,” Amé said, finally stepping into the conversation.
“Probably whatever she said.” Danny shrugged.
“Every two weeks?” Chris said, too loud. He’d given his grand speech to Garrison about not focusing on drug smuggling in the Big Bend, and he wasn’t naive about what that meant, but still . . . every two weeks? No wonder Garrison had questions about what the hell Chris and his deputies were doing.
“Yeah,” Danny said, “Take-Out’s been busy. But the most recent run last week didn’t go, no one reached out to him. Now we know why.”
“The men in the river,” Chris said.
“We showed him the pictures. He doesn’t recognize them,” Amé added. “But he didn’t always meet the same men. He swears he never saw anyone as young as the boy. I don’t know that I believe him . . .”