How do you survive being shot and left for dead in the Chihuahuan Desert? By being found by a beautiful wildlife photographer willing to risk her life to save yours.
A bitter ex-cop fights for his life after he runs to the sound of gunfire on the Ri...
Oops! Bu görüntü içerik kurallarımıza uymuyor. Yayımlamaya devam etmek için görüntüyü kaldırmayı ya da başka bir görüntü yüklemeyi deneyin.
Mendocino met Hector Aldonado's attorney at the Café El Capitan in Marfa the following week. He'd devoured everything in the case file he got from the district clerk's office and all the newspaper articles. He understood the basics of the crime, the investigation, and the court pleadings. But he was itching for a peek at Lisa Albright's files. She was in Marfa, meeting with new court-appointed clients, and would have lunch with him.
In the café on the Presidio County Courthouse square, a large portrait of the owner hung in the entrance lobby. The man, wearing a Mexican sombrero and charro suit, leaned against the adobe building, his arms crossed. He stood smiling in front of the big window with Café El Capitan printed in gold block letters. The signature in the bottom right corner of the portrait was T. Tomlin. Busy girl.
The cafe was crowded with an eclectic array of customers. Professionals in business suits, sheriff's deputies, dirty cowhands, trendy, artsy types, grimy oilfield workers. One group of women clucked around a big round table. They looked like they came from church.
Half the lunch crowd and all the service staff wore face masks. Lots of them had their noses poked out above the mask. Why bother? How can you enjoy food wearing a face mask? So far, Mendocino had resisted wearing one and nobody had forced the issue.
The dining room was lined with oversized booths. High-back red leather-looking seats. No one sitting in any booth could see into the next. Not one was empty. Tables with red-checkered tablecloths filled the center of the room. Large, tinted plate-glass windows provided plenty of ambient light from two sides. A comfortable space and not too loud.
"I'll wait for a booth." He told the waitress. "I'm meeting someone."
He recognized Lisa immediately from the description she'd given. A short woman with medium-length blonde hair. A blunt cut, she called it, wearing a gray suit with a black blouse and black heels. She didn't offer it as part of her self-description, but she walked with her body bent forward as if she was in a hurry to get somewhere fast.
"You came out here from Dallas?" She removed her face mask as she was seated.
"Yes. I came here from Dallas. I'm sure you know why."
"You were cleared of wrongdoing in the Dana Miller case, so it doesn't explain you quitting your job."
He grimaced. "Wanted something different. How about you? That's not a Texas accent."
"Boston." She smiled.
They ordered iced tea and waited. "I'm paying off student loans," Lisa said. "This job was open when I graduated. I couldn't afford to be choosy."
They visited a while before she asked to see his resume. He handed it to her from a manilla folder. She took several minutes to review it. "Nice." She smiled. "We're in serious need of a good investigator. I made some calls. Your supervisor said their loss would be our gain."
