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Finn had a feeling that, deep down, Luisa didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Someone’s got to catch the bad guys, right?” she asked.

“That’s the plan. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work out that way. Sometimes the good guys end up getting caught in the middle.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened today?” Finn asked the question reluctantly because she wasn’t sure she was ready—or willing—to hear the answer.

“Not if I can help it.”

Finn felt Luisa slide toward the gloomy mood she’d been in at the beginning of the call and tried to pull her back.

“Then tell me something else.”

“Something like what?”

“Tell me about the first time you kissed a girl.”

“It was last Saturday in Dallas.”

“Right,” Finn said sarcastically. “The way you kissed me, you’ve obviously had lots of practice. Who gave you your first lesson?”

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the term ‘kissing cousins.’ My cousin, Gabriela, taught me everything I know. When I came out to her years later, she joked I was her first recruit.”

“She’s a lesbian, too?”

“Yes, but her parents haven’t been as accepting as mine. She and I talk all the time, but she hasn’t spoken to her parents in several years. When she came out to them, they said they wished she was dead. If they could see some of the images I saw today, I think they would change their minds.”

Finn didn’t ask Luisa what horrors she had witnessed today. She could imagine all sorts of terrible things, but she was willing to bet reality was exponentially worse.

“What about you?” Luisa asked. “Who gave you your first kiss?”

“Nancy Everhart, one of my classmates. I was in the third grade. We all brought cards to school for Valentine’s Day, and we took turns handing them out. When it was her turn, Nancy handed out kisses instead. And not the kind that come in a foil wrapper. She ended up giving me two. One during class and one after.”

“Overachiever.”

“No, it was quality control. I had to make sure I liked it as much the second time as I did the first.”

“Did you?”

“It didn’t take me long to become a convert. Let’s put it that way.”

Nancy had provided one of the few bright spots during that dark time in her life. Finn still remembered the feel of Nancy’s lips on hers. Soft. Gentle. Filled with promise. She had always thought it was the sweetest kiss she had ever received. Until she was kissed by Luisa Moreno.

“Now you have five hundred willing practice partners,” Luisa said.

“More like seventy-five. The rest are spoken for.”

“Have you met anyone you’ve wanted to practice with?”

Was that a hint of jealousy she heard in Luisa’s voice? She liked the sound of it.

“Here? I haven’t been looking. I think you spoiled me.”

“I would apologize, but if I did, it would be less than genuine.”

Finn stared at the moon shining full and bright outside her window, feeling close to Luisa despite the many miles between them.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Luisa asked, her voice low and almost dreamlike.

“Tomorrow’s a bit of a down day, but I’m going to Chichén Itzá on Thursday. Have you ever been?”

“Once. When I was in high school. My history teacher took me and the rest of the class on a field trip.”

“What did you think of it?”

“Now, I think it’s an amazing architectural achievement. Back then, I was too immature to appreciate it. My friends and I called it Chicken Pizza. We were just happy to be out of school for the day. We didn’t care about the history lesson involved.”

“I’ll try to pay closer attention to the tour guide than you did.”

“It won’t take much effort on your part, believe me.”

Finn liked Luisa’s self-deprecating sense of humor. She liked everything else about her, too. All this talk of the past had her feeling like a teenager hiding under the covers talking on the phone with her first crush. God, she could get used to this.

“Do you plan on working late tomorrow, too?” she asked.

Luisa’s answering laugh sounded equally amused and exhausted.

“No, but I didn’t plan on working late today, either.”

“Then why don’t you call me instead? If you’re up to it, that is.”

“I will. And I promise not to wait until midnight to do it. By the way, thanks for being so concerned about me today. You didn’t sound stalkerish at all. Is that another word you picked up on the road? It’s not even a word at all, is it?”

“It is now.” Finn giggled. Luisa quickly joined in. “I hope you have a better day tomorrow.”

“I hope so, too.”

“Are we going to do this, Luisa, or are we just having fun?”

“I don’t know,” Luisa said after a moment’s pause. “Let’s just play it by ear. Good night,
mariposa
.”

“Good night, super cop.” Finn ended the call, then spoke into the sudden silence. “And make sure to catch the bad guys before they catch you.”

Luisa locked her apartment door and politely but firmly refused Mrs. Villalobos’s offer of a cup of coffee. There was no way she was going to be late for work two days in a row. Especially after the harsh treatment she had received last night. She clenched her teeth at the memory of the fake rat someone had placed on her computer monitor and wondered what her so-called “colleagues” would have in store for her today. Would they use live animals instead of rubber ones, or would they escalate to slashing her tires or smashing her windshield? No wonder Director Chavez was reluctant to put her on the street. With things the way they were now, she might end up getting gunned down by the people who were supposed to be on her side, not the ones she was trying to catch.

If none of Director Chavez’s people were dirty, they should have welcomed her into their ranks instead of attempting to exclude her from them. She needed to find a way to win them over. Fast. Solving the mystery of Carlos Ramos’s disappearance could go a long way toward currying their favor.

“Are you sure you don’t have time for one cup?” Mrs. Villalobos asked. “I’ll make sure not to give you the one with the tequila in it today.”

“I can’t this morning.”

Luisa’s heart melted when Mrs. Villalobos’s face fell. The woman was obviously lonely and probably desperate for company. Just like she was. As much as she liked talking on the phone with Finn every night, the long-distance exchanges weren’t nearly as satisfying as they could be if they took place face-to-face. For her, a conversation wasn’t complete unless she could look the other person in the eye or lay her hand on them and feel the warmth of their skin. She preferred doing it with a lover, but it was almost as much fun to do it with a friend. Almost.

“Perhaps I can come see you this weekend when I have more time to talk,” she said. “We can split a bag of
churros
while we get to know each other better.”

Mrs. Villalobos’s expression brightened. “It will be nice to have a little girl talk with someone other than myself for a change. Are you free Saturday night as well?”

“What happens then?” Luisa asked warily.

“I have a surprise for you.” Based on the twinkle in Mrs. Villalobos’s eyes, Luisa had a pretty good idea what the surprise might be. Mrs. Villalobos didn’t disappoint her. “I spoke with Javier last night and he’s coming to see me this weekend. If you don’t have any plans for Saturday night, why don’t you join us for dinner? As skinny as you are, you could use more than a bag of
churros
.” She pinched Luisa’s side like she was trying to find the perfect cut of meat at the local butcher shop. “You need a home-cooked meal or two. Do you like
tamales
?”

Luisa’s first instinct was to decline Mrs. Villalobos’s invitation because she didn’t want to deal with the resulting awkwardness when she revealed the reason why any relationship she might have with Javier would never be anything other than platonic, but she had never been able to resist a big plate of
tamales
smothered in salsa and Oaxaca cheese. “Pork or beef?”

“Both,” Mrs. Villalobos said with a wink. “And if I have time, I might bake a
tres leches
cake for dessert.”

Luisa could feel her mouth watering already. “It’s a date.”

“Excellent. I’ll call Javier right now. He’ll be so pleased to hear you’re joining us. I texted him your picture last night. He thinks you’re cute.”

Luisa resisted asking how Mrs. Villalobos had gotten her picture or obtained the technological know-how to text it to her grandson. The explanation could not only eat into her drive time but also result in an arrest. She didn’t want to start her day by handcuffing an eighty-year-old woman and dragging her in for invasion of privacy. She longed for the days when snooping on your neighbor meant peeking at them through the blinds or listening to their arguments through the walls, not snapping unauthorized pictures with a smartphone.

“I’ll see you this weekend, Mrs. Villalobos.”

“Have a good day, dear. And be careful. Mexico City is a dangerous place. Even for people carrying guns.”

“Especially them.”

She had lost track of the scores of state, local, and federal authority figures that had been murdered by narcos’ hired thugs over the years simply for doing their jobs. Now she might be the next addition to the steadily growing list. The thought frightened her, but inspired her, too. If the narcos wanted her dead, that meant she was getting closer to rooting them out. It remained to be seen who would accomplish their goal first—her or them.

In the parking garage, she performed a quick security sweep of her car to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with overnight. Some might call her overly cautious. Some might call her paranoid. They could call her anything they wanted as long as her actions kept her and her loved ones safe.

Once she was satisfied she hadn’t become a hit man’s target, she drove to the Federal Police Building and let herself inside. After she passed through the security checkpoints, she nodded at Maribel Rodriguez, the receptionist who had given her such a hard time yesterday, and took the elevator upstairs. She expected her reception to be a cool one, so she wasn’t surprised by the hostile silence that fell over the room the instant she walked in.

She let out a cheery “Good morning” and sat at her desk when what she really wanted to do was stand on top of it and remind them that the bad guys were supposed to be outside, not in this room. But she couldn’t do that with complete confidence until she discovered how many, if any, of her peers were on the cartels’ payrolls. As far as she knew, the bad guys could be sitting right next to her.

Picking up where she had left off the night before, she booted up her computer and began poring through Carlos Ramos’s case files. Ramos’s notes were both prolific and thorough. As she read through them, she could see their author devolve from an idealistic rookie determined to eliminate crime to a jaded veteran officer frustrated by his inability to accomplish his goals. She was tempted to skip to the end of the last file to see what he was thinking right before he disappeared, but she forced herself to read the notes in chronological order so she would be able to make an educated guess about his whereabouts—and an informed decision regarding the conclusions he had drawn about the three main cartels running roughshod over Mexico.

At one time, the Sinaloa cartel, based primarily in Culiacán, was widely considered the world’s most powerful money laundering, drug trafficking, and organized crime syndicate. The group had a presence in seventeen Mexican states, twelve American states, and nine Latin American countries, as well as parts of Europe, Asia, and West Africa, allowing them to ship marijuana, opium, heroin, and methamphetamines around the world.

Until the Jaguars came along, the Sinaloas’ only real rivals appeared to be Los Zetas. The Zs were bigger than the Sinaloa cartel in terms of geographic presence—assassinating, kidnapping, and extorting their way to the top of the food chain from their base of operations across the border from Laredo, Texas. They were the violent criminal syndicate US officials once considered the most dangerous, sophisticated, and technologically advanced cartel operating in Mexico. They were well armed and their tactics were brutal. They preferred to torture, behead, and indiscriminately slaughter their enemies, using violence instead of bribery to get what they wanted. They had set up covert camps to train new recruits, which included current and former federal, state, and local police officers from both sides of the border, and their reach was so vast they had been able to entice former US soldiers to traffic drugs, smuggle weapons, or act as hit men on their behalf.

Until they were both overrun by the Jaguars, the Sinaloas and the Zs had fought for supremacy for years, leaving a swath of violence in their wake. Luisa examined the gory evidence of their rise to power. She sifted through glossy photos of mass graves filled with victims both culpable and innocent. Rival gang members who had stood in the cartels’ way and ordinary citizens who had dared to resist their growing influence.

She couldn’t reconcile herself with the wondrous beauty of her country and the horrible violence that threatened to tear it apart. In Guerrero, the state south of where she now sat, tourists were drawn to the glitz and glamour of Acapulco, while farmers and villagers in the countryside were forced to take up arms and form their own ad hoc police forces in order to combat the cartels that operated openly despite the presence of the military.

The troops, like her former commanding officer, had been paid handsomely to let the cartels do as they pleased. They even warned their benefactors when opposing forces were closing in, allowing the flood of cash and illegal drugs to continue unabated.

Luisa and her friends had grown up cowering in fear from tales about the Sinaloas and the Zs, but—although heinous—the cartels’ exploits paled in comparison to the Jaguars’. She referred to Ramos’s case notes to bolster what she already knew.

The Jaguars seemed to have eyes everywhere. They were suspected of placing lookouts at airports and bus stations and along main roads so they could keep tabs on people entering and leaving the country. Their main base of operations was along the Gulf of Mexico, a former Los Zetas stronghold, but they had quickly moved south and west, usurping other cartels’ territory along the way. They were active in several states north of the border, but they had not managed to invade Europe or Asia. Yet. With the amount of money they were raking in by focusing on local markets, they obviously felt no need to expand.