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“Could be longer than that, considering he was well into his methodology when I realized it was happening.” Ramon tucked his hands in his jeans pockets as they walked. “He was getting clever, and I have almost believed each one was random. Except for the letter on their backs.”
“And you were certain it wasn’t some kind of cartel hitman?”
Ramon shook his head. “No one would’ve bothered to kill these people. They didn’t mean anything to any of the cartels, so far as a discernible pattern. And it happens up and down this side of the country, probably into the US as well.”
So they hadn’t been targeted hits. But that didn’t mean the person killed had never mattered to someone. People were dead—and that meant the person responsible should be stopped.
Ramon continued, “I had a couple of the case files opened and sent to my office before my career was ruined. But whoever got them wanted me to focus on the cartel and my assignment. I was written up as a turn coat, and they probably just passed them to someone who put them in a drawer. Otherwise, it wouldn’t still be happening. I’ll give you dates and names as much as I can remember so you can dig them all up.”
Literally, or figuratively, she wasn’t sure. But the sentiment was the same. “I’ll do that.”
Ramon sighed. “You’ll have all the time in the world to work on it once we find Javi and you go back to your life in America.”
“I guess I will.” But she’d heard something in his tone. “Are you regretting your choice to stay here instead of going back and fighting for your career?”
“Hardly.” Ramon climbed the steps to what looked like a back door to the church. He clicked down the latch and pushed the door open.
“I’m surprised they don’t keep that door locked.”
Ramon led her down a dark and quiet hallway, to the door at the end. He knocked softly.
“Come in.”
It was after midnight, but the priest, a fit-looking man in his seventies, looked as awake as he had in the afternoon when she saw him last.
“What can I do for the two of you?”
Ramon settled onto a couch that didn’t look sturdy enough to hold anyone’s body weight.
Kenna opted to wander the room, looking at the bookshelves and the hand carved statues.
“Have you seen Kart in the last six hours?” Ramon asked.
The priest frowned. “What’s going on?”
“He took Javi from Navarro’s ranch.”
The priest muttered something under his breath, maybe a prayer. “I will say mass for the boy’s safe return.”
Kenna turned to them. “So Kart hasn’t been by, looking for something?”
The priest shook his head.
Ramon sat forward on the couch and set his elbows on his knees. “He hasn’t asked you for safe passage across the border?” He clasped his hands together. “We think he might be making a run for it.”
“I haven’t seen him.” The priest frowned. “And I doubt he would come here looking for a sympathetic ear. He doesn’t strike me as the type, and that’s not usually what he comes here for.”
“What about the doctor?”
Kenna glanced between the two men. She’d have asked what Kart usually came to the priest for, but Ramon either knew or didn’t care.
“Perhaps you should ask him,” the priest said. “I do not wish to be involved in this business.”
“You don’t need to worry about Navarro retaliating.” Ramon shrugged one shoulder. “He won’t even know you were involved.”
“Navarro isn’t the one I am concerned about.” The priest glanced at Kenna.
She blinked. “What threat do I pose to you?”
