Mack slipped into the vehicle and locked the door. He had to figure out their next move so he could maximize the time that was already slipping away today. “There are security cameras on the corner store. We need to get that video.”
Addy looked at him. “What do you think the odds of that are?”
“Not good, but if we find an illegal immigrant working, we can probably convince them to talk in trade for not reporting them.” He looked out the windows. “Once the bouncer takes a hike.”
But the guy didn’t leave. Instead, he stood staring at them from the sidewalk, then suddenly marched over to Addy’s door.
“Show him your credentials,” Mack said. “If he’s here illegally, he’ll be out of here in a flash.”
She pulled out her ID. The large man with leathery skin took one look and bolted down the sidewalk.
“I hate scaring people like that.” She shoved her creds in her pocket. “Sure, he shouldn’t be in the country, but he could be a legit kind of guy just trying to eke out a living.”
“Yeah,” Mack said, wishing he could have such a rosy outlook, but his time in fugitive apprehension for the Marshals made him cautious. “Or he could be running guns or drugs or otherwise involved with a gang.”
She met his gaze. “Are we like this? I’m the optimist, you’re the realist?”
“Pretty much.” His phone chimed. “It’s a follow-up on the border crossings. A nearby cable is owned by the government.”
“This really could be the place we’re looking for.”
Mack nodded but kept his enthusiasm in check since they didn’t yet have the guns. “Let’s go get that video.”
He climbed out, and Addy met him at the hood. Together, they entered the tattoo shop. A long counter ran the full length of the store. The top was made of broken Mexican tiles. The irregular-shaped shards reminded him of how he’d literally smashed his life with Addy, walking out with little more thana one-hour conversation. A one-sided one at that. Before he’d talked to her, he’d already made up his mind so that nothing she said would have swayed him.
A guy who couldn’t be more than sixteen stood behind the counter, a phone to his ear. He had inky-black hair buzzed short with equally dark fuzz above his lip. He also had a raging case of acne and a greasy forehead.
As Mack waited for the kid to finish his call, Mack looked at the neon-blue paint coating the door and window frames. And at the blazing orange sign in the window that announcedLittle Baja Tattoos.
Once the kid said good-bye and lowered his phone, Addy stepped right up to the counter. Mack joined her and noted the three-ring binders lying open, each one displaying tattoo pictures. She introduced herself and held out her ID.
The teen’s brown eyes widened. He took a step back and looked like he wanted to flee.
“I’m not here on immigration matters.” She gave him a smile that would make Mack do most anything. “If that’s worrying you, forget about it. I just want to talk to someone about your security-camera footage.”
“I—” He flashed a look at an open door on the far wall.
“Is there a manager here I can talk to?”
“Um ... well.”
“I meant it when I said I don’t care about your immigration status or anyone else’s.”
He glanced at the door again and fled toward it. He moved at the speed of the many fleeing lizards Mack had seen since arriving here and closed the door behind him.
Mack was antsy and wanted to move things along. He faced Addy. “Want to go after him?”
“I do, but I think it’s just going to spook them more.” She sighed. “Let’s give him a chance to send whoever’s back there out to us.”
Mack didn’t want to wait, not at this point in the investigation. Yet he knew she was right. Despite the urge to act, he planted his feet. He glanced around the place and spotted three tattoo stations with black reclining chairs and tattoo paraphernalia littering some shelves. The spaces, divided by half walls, were organized and clean. Looked like a legit shop, but that didn’t mean anything.
A woman who seemed old enough to be the boy’s mother poked her head out of the door.
“Hi,” Addy said and introduced herself, while Mack would’ve been firing questions at her by now. “I’m not here on immigration matters. I just want to ask about your security camera out front. Do you keep the footage?”
The woman stepped into the room but hung near the door. Mack noticed her neck tattoo, an outline of black flowers leading to a large rose below her chin. “It doesn’t work, but my uncle leaves it up for security.”
“How long has it been out of commission?” Addy asked.
