The Territory: A Novel by Tricia Fields

cursing yet another result of budget cuts on both sides of the border. Marta had logged on at the department at 4:30 P.M., as Josie logged off for the night. Department-issued vehicles were not allowed out of county, and definitely not across the border. Josie had to conduct business in Mexico off duty and in her personal car. Marta was on the clock, but traveling in uniform would draw unwanted attention. Josie had driven home, traded the jeep for her nondescript ten-year-old Ford Escort, and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She picked up Marta, who had changed out of her police uniform and into a pretty blue skirt and white lacy blouse. Josie held her tongue but smiled.
    Marta left Mexico ten years ago after divorcing an abusive husband. She traveled through all the proper channels to get her green card and a job as the night custodian at the jail. Hard work and diligence had paid off as she worked her way up through the ranks to police officer. She had confided in Josie that she felt ashamed for leaving her country and working in America, but her daughter’s safety kept her from moving back to Piedra Labrada.
    On several occasions over the past few years, Josie and Marta had met Sergio at his home, a small adobe in a barrio just south of a bend in the Rio. The stone walls were over a foot thick, with window wells that held flower boxes bursting with red geraniums. His only child, a shy teenaged girl, waved and smiled from the backyard but did not come to the front porch where they met her father. Sergio stood on the top step and smiled, threw his arms open to Marta, and wrapped her in his embrace.
    Sergio and Marta had been childhood sweethearts. Marta had surprised everyone when she married a local troublemaker, and Sergio married his wife soon after. After his wife was murdered and Marta divorced her abusive husband, Sergio came calling again. Marta had resisted his advances for many years now, but she never explained her reasoning to Josie.
    Josie and Marta sat on plastic chairs at a round table covered with a bright orange tablecloth and set with mismatched plates and cups. Sergio, lit up like a man tending to royalty, brought out platters of roast pork tacos and beans and a pitcher of iced tea with lemons.
    Marta smiled up at Sergio. “You cook beans to melt a woman’s heart.”
    “Ah, if only that were so; you’d have married me years ago.”
    Marta patted the empty seat beside her, and Sergio sat and poured drinks from the pitcher. After a delicious dinner and pleasant conversation, Josie felt she had to apologize in advance for ruining the evening with ugly police business.
    Sergio frowned at Josie. “No apologies. What happened to you nearly killed me. I hear it on the radio and had to call on your safety.” He paused and looked at Marta with concern. “La Bestia is responsible for the Medrano murder. Most certainly. We struggle every day. Once they infiltrate your town, they are like rats. They will multiply, getting into every corner. They will devour your city.” He paused and pointed a finger at Josie. “You want to start a booming business in Mexico? Open a funeraria. ”
    Josie looked to Marta. “Funeral parlor,” Marta said.
    “I heard yesterday they expect Lorenzo Marín to make a full recovery,” Josie said. “Is that what you hear?”
    Sergio frowned deeply and nodded. “Unbelievable. He took three shots, one a centimeter from his heart. He talked to his wife yesterday, but he’ll be in the hospital for another week or two. Then therapy.”
    “I can’t believe the difference a few short years has made here. I almost don’t recognize it.” Marta gestured to Sergio. “We grew up running the streets at all hours. Our parents didn’t give a thought to our safety.”
    Sergio turned to Josie. “When’s the last time you drove around Piedra Labrada? More than just a trip to the restaurants downtown?”
    “Probably six months or more. The crossing’s too much of a hassle,” Josie