Border Crossings: A Catherine James Thriller by Michael L. Weems Page A

well.  The two men looked at one another.  “What happened?” she asked them.
    “We had to shoot someone, Mama . . . a police officer.”
    The woman put her hands to her cheeks and gasped.  Then, without warning, she rose up on her tiptoes, her slippers remaining flat but her heels suddenly popping out of them, and she smacked Jose hard on his head, “ Idiota !”
    “You killed him?” asked the man with the bolero.
    “You shut up,” spat the old woman at him, turning back to Jose.  “How could you be so stupid?”
    “We had to, Mama.  He pulled us over and smelled the marijuana,” Jose whined as a child might as he rubbed his head.
    “And why were you pulled over?” asked the woman.  “Were you speeding?”
    “No, Mama.”
    She looked at the two men disapprovingly.  “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
    “We had the fake plates,” said the other man.  “And he didn’t have time to run the driver’s license.”
    “Did you get the video?” asked the woman.
    The men looked confused.  “What video?”
    She smacked him on the head again, “They have cameras, you idiot.  They keep the video in the trunk.  You didn’t get it?”
    “No,” he admitted.
    She mumbled curses at them before saying, “Well, at least you didn’t get caught.  You’ll have to get rid of this thing, though,” she gestured towards the Suburban where Yesenia and Silvia were just getting out.
    “It’s fine.  I can just paint it.  I don’t want to get rid of it.”
    She scowled at him.  “Fine, paint it, then.  But make sure it looks different.  It can’t look anything like it does now.  Put different wheels on it, change everything.”
    As Yesenia and Silvia got out the two large dogs sniffed around their legs and both girls huddled together.  The dogs looked as big as they were.
    Jose looked towards them and told the woman, “They saw.”
    The old woman looked at the girls and walked over, “Oh, they did, eh?”  She gestured to the Suburban and told the man who had accompanied her, “unload it.”  Then she looked to the girls.  “I’ll have a talk with them.”  She walked up to Yesenia and poked her in the ribs with her index finger, “And which one are you?”  She kept on poking her like a schoolyard bully pushing a smaller child around.  Yesenia was so unnerved she couldn’t find her voice.  “Well?  Out with it!  What’s your name?” asked the woman.  One of the dogs had his nose in her crotch and Yesenia remained speechless.
    Silvia spoke up instead, “Yesenia.  Her name is Yesenia.”
    The old woman wheeled around and smacked Silvia on the head like she had done Jose, “Was I talking to you?”  Silvia cowered and remained silent as the woman turned back to Yesenia.  “Now, then, I’m talking to you, girl.  What’s your name?”
    “Yesenia,” she finally managed.
    “Yesenia Flores, yes?” said the woman.
    “Yes, ma’am.”  The dog was still pressing itself against her and Yesenia stood tense in fear that it would attack.
    The woman scolded the dog, “ Oye, Chico .  Hah!  Go on, now!”  She waved her arms at him and the dog ran off with the other one underneath one of the mobile homes, still wagging his tail as though he’d enjoyed angering the old woman.
    Yesenia relaxed a little , but then the old woman grabbed her by the chin.  “Well, I know all about you, Yesenia Flores, including your sister in Mexico City.”  She let go and turned to Silvia, “And you!  I know all about you, too.”  She stared at both the girls menacingly, “So did you see these men shoot anyone?”  Silvia looked at Yesenia in confusion, but she caught on as Yesenia shook her head, no.  “What’s that?” asked the woman.  “Speak up!”
    “We didn’t see anything,” said Yesenia.
    “I was asleep,” said Silvia honestly.  “I didn’t see anything.”
    “Ah, well, that’s good for you, isn’t it?  You just remember that.”  She circled around the girls, sizing