Above The Law

CHAPTER 22

ISODORA WORE A WHITE COTTON SHIFT, HER OWN CLOTHES. She held Paquita tight, rocking her back and forth as she stood on the tarmac waiting in the long line of Mexicans boarding the unmarked gray plane. When she saw Casey, her face lit up and she angled her little girl's face so Casey could see her.

"She's beautiful," Casey said.

"Thank you so much, Miss Casey," Isodora said.

"I feel like I didn't do anything," Casey said.

"I have her. That's all I need."

"What will you do in Monterrey? Do you have family there?"

"No, but Maria gave me some money," Isodora said. "I'll find something. I heard a man talking about a new soap factory outside the city. Maybe I can get work."

"Who'll watch Paquita?"

A worried look crossed Isodora's face and she shook her head, signaling that she hadn't thought that far.

"I want you to sign this for me, Isodora," Casey said, handing her the fax and a pen. "I'm not giving up. When you get to a place, I want you to call me. Call collect."

Casey took the signed release back and handed Isodora a card that she examined, then tucked into the small bag hanging from her shoulder.

"You won't forget?" Casey said.

"Will you?" Isodora asked.

One of the ICE agents yelled something and they turned to see the tail of the line disappearing up the metal steps.

"No," Casey said, and watched her go.

Despite her law clinic's steady downward spiral in property value and the embarrassing condition of her car, Casey had been able to hang on to the one luxury that mattered. When she first came to Dallas, she'd purchased a condo out in Las Colinas, across from the Omni Hotel. Beyond the grass and the tree-lined sidewalks, two long buildings with brick storefronts snuggled up to the canal that ran between them. Brick pavers and wrought-iron balconies jutting from the expensive condos above gave Casey the feeling of Venice the moment she saw the place.

The refuge of the six-story buildings blocked out the sound of the passing freeway and allowed the songs of mockingbirds, blue jays, and house finches and the occasional complaint of a mallard down on the water to float in through the curtains, waking Casey just before sunrise. She had purchased the spacious two-bedroom unit with cash, opting out of a mortgage so she'd always have a place to call her own.

Because of the fine hotel just across the wide boulevard, the small, almost secret neighborhood had more good and different restaurants than it deserved, including a Japanese steak house, a fine Italian restaurant with black-tie waiters, a small sports bar, a French bistro on the canal, and a Lone Star Texas chili joint, as well as the unusually good food at the Omni.

By the time she returned from the airport through the rush-hour traffic, Casey was ready for the chili joint and a couple of cold bottles of Budweiser. She showered, put on a V-neck T-shirt and jeans, and headed out the back door. Hers was one of the few units to have a small private stairway leading out onto the canal. As she left, she gave the door to her condo a half-hearted shove closed. She followed the brick sidewalk under a walking bridge, then rounded a corner, entering a wide alleyway that led to the restaurant.

Noise from the chili joint washed over her. The place was jammed, but the hostess recognized her and led her to a corner table not too far from the open doors where luckier diners sat out on the patio under red and white umbrellas. On the opposite side of the room, a long-haired blond cowboy with a drooping mustache strummed away on an acoustic guitar. When he looked up and noticed Casey, he crooned "Tequila Sunrise" without taking his deep blue eyes off of her. She couldn't help smiling, but it was to herself, not him. She dialed Jose, hoping to catch him and invite him for a drink, but got no answer.

When the chair across from her scraped along the plank floor, she looked up to see the cowboy singer before turning back to her steak.

"I like your music," she said, "but you don't want my husband to walk in here right now. He's the jealous type."

"Just trying to be friendly," the cowboy said, nodding at her empty beer bottle. "Can I buy you another?"

"I'm serious. He's a cop."

"No harm meant," the cowboy singer said, raising his hands in surrender and getting up.

"None taken," she said.

After a thick mug of coffee and a brownie with ice cream that she shouldn't have had, Casey tried Jose one last time before paying the bill and heading for the door. The sounds from the restaurant had died down, and when she rounded the corner Casey could hear the steady plunk of water dripping from some unknown source into the still water of the canal. Clouds of bugs flickered under the street lamps and the dark pockets between lights along with the dripping water made Casey shiver and pick up her pace.

When she got to her door, she realized that not only hadn't she closed it tight, but she hadn't left a single light on inside. She halted on the stoop and eased the door open, peering into the blackness, straining to see the stairway she knew to be there.

That's when someone reached out from the dark entryway and grabbed her arm.