“Before you go, there’s someone who wants to say hello.” That was Tom.
A slight hesitation from Natalie. Joaquin wouldn’t have noticed it if Julian and Marc hadn’t pointed it out.
That’s why they’re the cops, and you’re the photographer, amigo.
And then a man’s voice whispering. “Only if it’s really quick.”
“Is that really you,chula?” Joaquin heard the emotion in his own voice, the rush of relief he’d felt at the sound of her voice so overwhelming he’d found it almost impossible to speak.
Then Natalie’s voice, her surprise and relief every bit as strong as his. “I thought . . . I thought you were dead!”
“Thanks to you, I’m still here.”
And then a faint whisper. “Time to go.”
“Good-bye! I—”
Then the line went dead.
Twice Julian replayed it, adjusting the computer, making the whispered words even clearer. “The accent’s American. My guess is he’s standing right beside her.”
Marc nodded. “Whoever he is, he’s calling the shots. That’s for damned sure.”
Joaquin didn’t like it. “Is she his prisoner?”
Julian leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, a frown on his face. “Anything is possible, but unless that secret message turns out to be some kind of ransom demand, I don’t think so. She called him ‘another tourist’ and said they were traveling together, which could be their way of telling us they’re on the same side. And he’s not threatening her. He lets the call go to speaker phone, and when Tom tries to bring you into the call, this guy’s response is ‘Only if it’s really quick.’ Seems to me he’s being understanding, trying to accommodate her.”
“That’s my take on it, too.” Marc took a slug of coffee.
“Somehow this guy helped her escape—how we don’t know—and now they’re on the run. Do you think he’s an operative?”
“No idea. The key is in that message.” Julian sat upright, pushed a few buttons on the computer, and popped out a CD. “She called so we’d know she was alive. Helether call so she could deliver that message.”
Joaquin didn’t understand. “Why would they call us? If she escaped, why not call the U.S. consulate or the State Department or the police? Why is she hanging out with this loser?”
Marc met his gaze. “Thislosermay have saved her life.”
“There are lots of reasons they might be lying low rather than contacting the authorities.” Julian powered down the computer. “The cartels have infiltrated law enforcement and government at all levels in Mexico, and it’s hard to trust—”
The door opened, and Kat appeared, her long dark hair tied in a knot on the back of her head, a look of excitement on her face, a notebook and pen in her hand. “It’s Navajo code talk.”
“Have you deciphered it?” Marc pulled out a chair for her.
Kat shut the door behind her, shaking her head. “Only partly. It’s more complicated than that. I used a code-talker dictionary, but it still makes no sense.”
Julian cleared a space on the table. “Show us what you’ve got.”
She sat and looked at her notes. “Here’s the first part: ‘Escape from ant leg tooth apple ram.’ ”
Joaquin shook his head. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Well, ‘escape from’ is clear enough, but the rest of it . . .” Julian shrugged. “Do the words have any significance in code talk beyond their literal meaning?”
“Yes, but that didn’t make any sense either.” There was an apologetic tone in Kat’s voice, as if she felt she’d failed them, her pretty face lined with stress and fatigue.
It was almost one in the morning, and she had a baby at home.
Joaquin reached out, gave her hand a squeeze. “Hey, it’s okay.”