Seeking Tierra Santa by Michael M. Pacheco (read me like a book txt) 📖

manpower to catch and process them all."
Landon had read about the thousands of illegal immigrants who risked life and limb to come to America. "Where do they all go after they cross the border? I mean, if we catch them, they go to jail and we deport them. I know that much, but if we don't catch them, they'll get roasted in the desert heat."
As if on cue, heat waves began to dance in front of them and for endless miles on the flat Texas highway.
"Safe houses," said Bingo. "That's where they go."
Just then, the radio crackled. "Bingo, this is Skip at Alpha-1. Do you copy? Over."
"Go ahead, Skip. I read ya."
"Looks like we got a double homicide at Casita Blanca near Fabens. Can you check that out for us? We heard on the radio Sheriff Aguila is already headed in that direction, and by the way, be careful. Sounds like it may be gang related."
"I'm on it, boss."
Landon couldn't restrain his curiosity. "What's Casita Blanca?"
Bingo shook his head. "It's a not-so-safe house."

Chapter 2

The road sign read, "Fabens 10 miles." Bingo pulled onto the right shoulder and stopped the truck immediately after passing the metal marker. He studied the landscape as if searching for something.
"What is it?" asked Ricki. She followed his line of sight and saw nothing but dry dirt and rocks.

"I kinda remember a trail here somewhere. It'll save us a few minutes. There!" He cranked the steering wheel to the right and stepped on the accelerator. The pickup bounced across a shallow ditch and shot into the desert, kicking up a swirling cloud of dust behind it.
After about three miles, the path led around a gentle bend, revealing signs of vegetation in the form of mesquites and cactus. The first thing Landon saw was a short Mexican man with graying hair. He was wearing jeans and a guayabera. Standing very close to him was a nervous-looking, stocky woman. They occupied a shady spot next to the door of a two-story, whitewashed adobe home. A hundred-foot-long barn extended from the back of the house into an area covered by honey mesquite brush and sycamore trees.
Bingo pointed with his chin as he eased the truck within a few feet of the fence gate. "That's Doña Maria and Don Emilio. They're good people, but it's an open secret that they harbor illegal aliens. The guy standing next to them with a water bottle in his hand, that's Don Emilio's twenty-year-old brother, Chato. Not sure about the two little ones, probably grandkids."
Two petite, young girls with swollen eyes hung tightly to Doña Maria's faded red skirt. A light cloud of dust followed the truck as Ricki and the men prepared to climb out.
Bingo tilted his head away from Landon and Ricki as he set the gearshift into the park position. He spoke with a serious tone. "Check your weapons, and stay in my sight line."
Both rookies nodded. Landon touched the sidearm on his belt. He'd never shot at another human being and wondered if today would be his first time.
"Okay, let's go," said Bingo as he opened the truck door and let in the searing heat. He started toward the Mexican family. "Hola, Don Emilio, Doña Maria. Are you folks all right?"
"Si, señor. We are okay. But the two muchachos inside, not so much," answered Don Emilio.
"Is there anyone else inside?"
"No, señor." answered Don Emilio. "The other men, they have five of them in two cars. They do their business and disappear, real fast. But first, they take their backpacks."
"Why would they want their backpacks?" asked Landon.
"Are you serious?" asked Ricki with a tone that reminded him of his mother when she'd say, "You silly willy." "They were bringing in drugs. The real question is, why would they kill their own couriers?"
Chato had avoided eye contact, but now he raised his head and looked at Ricki. "It was Slaves that did this, and you'll never find them."
"Slaves? What are you talking about? Whose slaves?" asked Ricki. She crossed her arms under her breasts.
Chato appeared to be formulating his response and scrutinizing Ricki's figure at the same time. For reasons not fully crystallized in his mind, Landon felt a mild pang of jealousy.
Bingo studied Chato but directed his answer toward Ricki and Landon. "Slave is an acronym for South Los Angeles Vatos, S-L-A-V, drug runners and gangbangers out of south LA"
Ricki broke into a hearty laugh.
"What the heck is so funny?" asked Landon, with Bingo looking on.
"Bato is not spelled with a V. It's spelled with a B," she answered.
"Well, no one said you need a brain to be a gangster," said Bingo. He looked at Chato. "How do you know they were Slaves? Did they have tattoos or wear some kind of gang colors?"
"No. It's what they did to these guys. Do you want to see them?" Without waiting for an answer, he waved them in. "Come in, I'll show you."
Bingo looked at the older couple. Because their house faced south, with the angle of the sun's rays, it afforded them a modicum of shade. "You can wait out here, if you prefer."
Don Emilio let out a sigh. "Thank you, señor. We'll stay aqui afuera."
Landon and Ricki saw Bingo undo the Velcro fastener that held his pistol in its holster. They did the same and drew their weapons.
"I'll go left. Ricki, right side," ordered Bingo. "Landon, you follow Chato."
Landon waited until each of his colleagues had disappeared around the outside walls of Casita Blanca and then said to Chato, "I'll go first."
"Whatever," said Chato lazily.
The front room was a large, square-shaped enclosure with high ceilings. Landon noticed one window on each of the left and right walls, but they were located at the second-story level. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he felt a large drop in temperature, a welcome respite from the increasing heat outside. Most of the light filtered in from the front door and another doorway opposite the entrance. The smell of burnt food hung heavy in the air.
"What's that smell?" asked Landon.
"Oh, that," said Chato. "That's corn tortillas. Well, it was corn tortillas. It's just charcoal now. Follow me." He led Landon in a straight line through the room to a hallway that split to the left and right.
Landon was right behind him as Chato pivoted and turned to the room on the right. Landon stole a glance to the left. He had both hands on his weapon but kept it pointed toward the ceiling. He saw a rectangular wooden table with matching chairs around it. Four plates were set neatly as if ready for brunch or a late breakfast. The smoky haze was thicker in that room.
The bedroom on the right was decorated modestly with a picture of the Virgin of Guadalupe and a miniature shrine to Jesus on the dresser. Landon swept his gun left and then right. He crouched and glanced underneath the beds and then checked around the furniture, not sure what he was looking for.
"All clear!" he yelled, startling Chato.
The room was as neat and quiet as a funeral parlor. There was a trace of gunpowder in the air. The scents from Don Emilio's chicken coop and pigpen wafted in through the open door that led to the back of the house.
In between the double bed and the bunk bed lay the forms of two bodies, each covered with a bloodstained bedsheet.
"You sure you wanna see this?" asked Chato.
Landon was about to speak when Bingo appeared and interjected, "No, not really, but I think we have to."
Ricki appeared from behind Bingo. She stepped around him and caught sight of the covered bodies. "Oh, dear God." She cupped her left hand and covered her mouth as if she had just blasphemed the deceased.
Landon remembered the last dead body he had seen at home and how much the sight had taken out of him. The victim had been a twelve-year-old boy caught in the crossfire of rival gangs in his hometown. He didn't know whether he could face another dead body without vomiting.
Chato went to the bodies on the floor and peeled back the bloodied sheet without hesitation. He seemed to do it with no regard for the dead and as if he had done this before. "Emilio covered them up. He said it was out of respect for the dead."
Landon felt a tightness in his stomach. He noticed Ricki had turned her head away.
A light breeze stirred around the bodies as Bingo edged nearer to the face of the uncovered body. He leaned closer. The ashen, lifeless color of the corpse's face and the burns on its arms seemed to shock him. Landon saw a barely noticeable twitch on Bingo's forehead. He was mildly surprised because a legendary man like Bingo surely would have seen corpses before in other shootings. Maybe, thought Landon, death is horrible no matter how many times you see it. This was just a young boy, and Chato's assessment proved to be accurate.
"They were Slaves," said Bingo. "You see the letter S carved into his forehead?"
Both Ricki and Landon nodded. Landon felt the hair rise along the back of his neck.
"There's a bullet hole right in the middle of it," said Bingo. "This was not a gunfight. This was an execution."
"Yeah, I coulda told you that," said Chato. "First, they snort cocaine; then they go loco. Then they torture these guys and kill them. Just like that."
Bingo shook his head. "You were right, Ricki. Who would kill their own mules? But then again, big shots usually don't value or take care of the young men who bring drugs into the U. S. It's rare that they use them over and over again." He scanned the dead bodies, not like a law enforcement officer but more like a doctor or shaman. "There's something strange in this room, an evil presence. I can feel it."
Sweat broke out on his forehead as he squatted down and reached for the small eagle claw that hung around his neck. He whispered something close to the ear of the deceased, as if directing his words to him.
Landon assumed it was an Indian prayer, especially when Bingo kissed the pendant. He looked briefly at Ricki as if to ask, "What did he say?"
Ricki merely shrugged.
"Wanna see the other one?" asked Chato eagerly, as he let the sheet fall back on the boy's face.
Bingo straightened up tall. He glanced again at the second covered body and then at his rookie agents. They both raised their eyebrows, surprised by Chato's enthusiasm.
"Same thing, right?" asked Ricki. She seemed anxious to move on.
"Yeah, except this guy tried to move when they shot him, so he took it in the eye. But you're right. Same result."
"It's okay," said Bingo, waving off the suggestion to view more carnage. "We don't have to see him."
Landon studied Chato as he spoke to Ricki. He noticed what appeared to be needle marks on the inside of Chato's left arm. "Were you in the room when all this went down?"
"No way, ese, but I heard one of them yell, 'Don't move, pendejo! I don't want to shoot you twice.'"
Just then, the sound of wailing sirens caught everyone's attention.
"That's probably Sheriff Aguila's boys," said Bingo.
"Is this within our jurisdiction or theirs?" asked Ricki.
"We're going to make it