Down Among the Dead Men

71

He stopped at a nearby taqueria before heading back to the hotel. All they’d had to eat and drink on the drive down were chips and sodas and coffee, and he hoped that some real food might help put a little color back in Beth’s face.

She had looked pretty pale when he left, and he wondered if bringing her down here had been not just a bad idea but also a colossally stupid one.

Detective Pasternak had told him that she’d had trouble staying in the here and now, and while she’d seemed fine at the rehabilitation clinic and during the drive, that headache she’d complained about worried Vargas.

Was he being irresponsible?

Should he have ignored her request and gone straight to Ciudad de Almas as he’d originally intended?

Had he let his desire for a story or-worse-his attraction to her cloud his judgment?

It was too late, he supposed, to be asking such questions. He had always been a man who relied on his instincts, and sometimes he got it wrong.

Best to just leave it at that.

But if she did become a problem, what would he do? What should he do? Take her back?

Pulling into the hotel parking lot, he grabbed the sack of taquitos and burros from the passenger seat and headed up the steps to their rooms on the second floor. Letting himself into his own room, he went to the adjoining door and gently rapped on it, not wanting to startle her.

There was no answer.

He tried again. Waited.

Still nothing.

He knew he should let her sleep, but he was concerned about her. He’d been gone almost two hours.

“Beth?”

Again, no answer.

Slipping his key into the slot, he opened the door a crack and peeked inside.

The bed was empty. His netbook lying atop it.

“Beth?”

He pushed the door wide, saw no sign of her. The bathroom was open, but he checked in there anyway and found it empty.

Moving to the nightstand, he picked up the phone and dialed the front desk.

When the clerk answered, Vargas said, “Have you gotten any calls from this room?”

“Senor?”

“This is my friend’s room. She’s not here and I’m worried about her and I’m wondering if she may have called you, had some kind of problem.”

“No, senor, I’ve been here all afternoon and no calls. Would you like me to send security?”

“No,” Vargas said. “I’ve got it.”

Thanking the man, he hung up, then left the bag of taquitos and burros on the nightstand and headed out the door.

Five minutes later he was on Avenida Lopez Mateos, the heart of downtown Playa Azul.