had a wife and twin boys at home. It was all she could do to keep from screaming his name, but her voice would never carry.
Josie quickly summed up the gunfire and officer location. “You find a way to get through to someone. Let them know Marín’s walking into an ambush.”
She hung up and found Marín in her cell phone contacts. She had to warn him. The sedans were almost certainly carrying gunmen, cartel members who would not hesitate to shoot a police officer.
Marín didn’t answer, his phone probably silenced. At the corner of the bar, he and the shorter officer stopped and leaned their backs against the side of the building. She could barely see their outline in the shadows. Her stomach clenched as she watched the passenger-side doors of both sedans open and four men exit, each holding automatic weapons. They hunkered low behind the cover of the cars and faced the Tigre.
Josie watched Marín walk cautiously around the front of the building, now in full view of the gunmen crouching behind the sedans. The gunman closest to Marín slowly raised his head above the rear of the sedan and brought his gun up, aiming toward the cop, who was now pressed against the front of the nightclub, his gaze on the front door. Josie heard the shots first, then watched as Marín’s body jerked, hit the wall of the nightclub, and slid down the cement wall, where bullets continued to riddle his body. She screamed and grabbed the deck railing to keep from falling to her knees. The second officer remained around the corner of the building, edging around to open fire on the sedan. The four gunmen disappeared into the cars within seconds, and the sedans rolled off, heading away from the Rio into a darkened residential neighborhood, where Josie lost sight of them. She watched the other officer crouch over Marín, who now slumped against the building, his legs splayed out on the sidewalk.
Her ears buzzed in the sudden silence. Stunned, she watched the other officer lean his head down to Marín’s chest and check his neck for a pulse. Three cars exited the alley behind the nightclub, making their escape before reinforcements could ever arrive.
* * *
Josie repeatedly dialed the Piedra Police Department until finally reaching a dispatcher through sheer luck. She reported an officer down, and within minutes the ambulance arrived. Josie watched as Marín’s lifeless body was loaded into the ambulance. They were treating him like he had a chance, but she had little hope.
She leaned her rifle against the deck railing and forced her breathing to return to normal. She rubbed at the knots in her neck and felt the tension pulling the muscles in her back and shoulders. Thirty-three years old, and she wondered if the dark circles under her eyes would ever fade.
She unbuttoned her uniform shirt and lifted the bulletproof vest and her T-shirt away from her chest, sighing in relief as the air touched her skin. She unclipped her shoulder-length brown hair and finger-combed it back into place. It was four o’clock in the morning. Her body felt numb; her thoughts flatlined.
Josie pushed open the rickety wooden door into the boxy room at the center of the watchtower’s platform and found the water bottle in her backpack. She drained the contents and searched her cell phone for Sergio Pando’s phone number. A single father who obsessed over his teenage daughter’s safety, he was her closest contact on the Mexican police force. His wife had been killed, a bystander to a car bomb explosion when Benita was just a baby. It had nearly destroyed him.
Josie finally made contact with him. “What’s happening over there?”
“Josie, it is insanity. We’ve lost all control. Benita? She’s in the cellar, scared out of her mind.” Sergio’s English was excellent, but his accent was thick, slowing his speech.
“Is she home by herself?” Josie asked.
He sighed heavily and took a moment to respond. “You know where I am? Posted on the International Bridge. As if anyone in their right mind would want into this city right now.”
“The gunfire has let up.” Josie realized how inadequate it sounded. How do you talk to a man whose city is dying?
“For how long?” Sergio’s voice was bitter and tired. “All those government soldiers going to save the villages? Where are they? The Federales are so outmanned, we can’t keep up. It’s a joke.”
“I requested Border Patrol and DPS all night. It’s no good. Dispatch has been nonstop.”