21
NACHO
It’s been a week since Justin, Charlie, Bram, and I went to the property next door. Charlie explained he and Erik work with a team in Wimberley—Erik’s cousin Anders is on this team, apparently—and they have people who were able to tap into the property’s Wi-Fi and security cams. Unfortunately, they later discovered that the cameras around the insta-building aren’t attached to a power source, and only one of the house cams has a partial view of the fenced-in area. Wimberley remotely adjusted the camera a little, but the angle still isn’t great.
Another perk of working with Wimberley is that they upgraded all our comms equipment, including providing sleek, powerful body cameras for everyone. Erik is grumbling about nosy geek squads and corporate overreach, but Bram seems relieved. He’s not thrilled I’m on this operation, but he feels better knowing he’ll be able to see what’s happening around me.
Wimberley also ran the weird code Bram took pictures of. Best they can tell, the numbers and letters refer to at least three dozen different people and their ovulation cycles. Nothing good comes from these assholes having that kind of information, but we didn’t have enough to go on until two nights ago when our one useful security camera on the main house picked up a couple of panel vans entering the fenced-in area.
Charlie included me in the meeting with Erik, Bram, and Levy when he told us the Wimberley crew took out the main trafficking organization responsible for all of this and badly crippled it. I took from that meeting that several enterprising offshoots are scrambling for their piece of the pie. Since Charlie’s neighbor is one of the scattered pieces Wimberley is going after, we had to wait to coordinate with them and the logs Charlie found.
During this time, we discover what makes Charlie lose his chill: sitting on his hands while the enemy is literally next door. The upshot? The barn is pristine, and there’s new shrubbery along the path between the houses and the barn.
According to the intelligence, this is the best night to go in because Joanna and her team are doing an overnight in Laredo on the Texas-Mexico border, where members of the Wimberley crew will be there to greet them.
So I wait in the shadows with Anders and his buddy, Hopper, while Erik and Charlie secure the building and Bram and Levy wait in the Wild Heart Ranch truck just outside the gate.
I’ve been to a few more of the Sunday dinners now and heard more than saw that Anders is a little…how should I say?Not quite sane. Seeing it up front and personal, though?Yikes.
Then add in Hopper, who is even less sane?Double yikes.
As I sit in the weeds in the dark, flanked by Killer Number One and Killer Number Two, I’m starting to wonder if maybe you gotta be a little bit nuts to make this your life’s purpose.
“House is clear,” Erik’s voice comes over the line. He and Charlie went in first and verified everyone was gone, save for one very unfortunate low-level grunt who’s been handcuffed to something sturdy. They also set it up so we could switch from body to exterior cams on the app Wimberley had us download on our phones.
Here’s hoping they don’t judge my porn choices.
Charlie’s voice is the next to come over the comms. “The little boy isn’t here,” he says, his voice heavy with regret.
“We’ll track him down,” Anders says in a weirdly soothing tone.
“And if they hurt him, we’ll make them pay,” Hopper adds, equally gentle in his delivery.
Honestly, it’s off-putting. Worse, earlier, as we were getting into position, Hopper casually mentioned that he’s asked to be included on these missions because hurting traffickers makes him feel all warm and bubbly inside.
“Like a bottle of champagne left out in the sun,” he said, bouncing on his toes and delightedly clapping his hands.
“But…there’s only the one guy,” I point out. “The guard. And he’s already been captured.”
Hopper shrugs. “Good enough.”
So…yeah. Sucks to be that guy.
Charlie and Erik make their way over to the tall fence surrounding the insta-building, slipping through the subtle cut in the chain-link fence I left on our last visit. Their fancy new body cams are set to night vision and everything looks alien and green but crisp as fuck.
They methodically make their way around the building, checking each door, verifying all are locked. More importantly, the sounds of people on the other side of those doors come through loud and clear on the brand-new comms.
While that makes my gut churn, Hopper seems a little less bouncy, which I find fascinating. Obviously, I should leave well enough alone, but…I gotta know what it’s like in his head.
“You seem pretty focused.”
He grins broadly. “When it’s go time, my head gets real quiet.” He stares off a bit, rubbing his thumb against the pads of his fingers. “It’s like that first skate on freshly resurfaced ice at Rockefeller. Fast and quiet.”
I’ve never been ice skating, and I’ve never been to New York City. But I still understand exactly what he means, and it sends a shiver up my spine. First, warm bubbles. Then, blades on ice. Got it.
I could start a podcast.
I set aside the fact I’m squeezed between two serial killers and refocus on the phone in Anders’ hand. We watch as Erik produces a set of picks and makes quick work of the simple lock. It takes a moment for us to understand the scene, but then Charlie and Erik switch the cameras to full-light mode. The room they enter is set up like a baby ward, and young women in various stages of pregnancy and postpartum fill the space.
