Cry No More Read Online Free PDF

green, they’d had in the SUV, and the two bottles of water; she securely stowed everything while he slid behind the wheel.
    The truck was so old there weren’t any seat belts; if the traffic police stopped them, they would almost certainly have to pay a fine. As Benito had promised, however, the engine turned over at the first turn of the key. Brian maneuvered through Juarez’s busy streets, then stopped in front of a
farmacia
, a drugstore. Milla waited in the truck while he went inside, where he met their contact, a woman they knew only as Chela. She was very distinguished-looking, neatly dressed, and looked to be in her late forties. She gave Brian a Sanborn’s shopping bag; he passed her some money so slickly that no one knew the transaction had taken place; then he was back in the truck and they were on their way to Guadalupe.
    Darkness had fallen by then, and he fiddled with the knob for the headlights until they came on. Driving in Mexico at night wasn’t recommended, for anyone. Not only was that when most highway robberies occurred, but the heat retained in the pavement drew livestock to the highways. Hitting a horse or a cow was never good, for either animal or vehicle. There were also potholes and other hazards, which were more difficult to see at night. To make driving even more adventurous, Mexicans sometimes deliberately drove at night without their own lights, the better to see oncoming cars on hills and curves and avoid them, which was okay unless two cars traveling in opposite directions
both
had their headlights off. Then it became more like a game of blind chicken.
    Brian loved driving in Mexico. He was still young enough, only twenty-five, that he enjoyed pitting his night vision and reflexes against whatever waited for him on the road. He was steady as a rock and didn’t know the meaning of the word “panic,” so Milla gladly left the driving to him, while she held on with a death grip and prayed.
    It was almost ten o’clock when they finally reached Guadalupe, perilously close to the time for the meeting. It was a small village of maybe four hundred people, with a single main street that was closely lined with shops, the inevitable cantina, and a variety of other buildings. Here and there hitching posts still stood in position. The road had deteriorated to mostly dirt and gravel, though there were patches of pavement.
    They drove down the main street, verifying that there was indeed just one church; behind it was a cemetery, closely dotted with crosses and tombstones. Milla wasn’t able to see much during the drive-by; she couldn’t tell if there was an alley between the church and the cemetery, though she assumed there had to be room enough for a car to drive.
    “No place to park,” Brian muttered, and she turned her attention back to the street. He was right; while there was physical space for parking, there wasn’t anywhere that wouldn’t attract the attention of men who didn’t like being spied on.
    “We’ll have to go back to the cantina,” she said. Several cars and trucks had been parked there, providing camouflage for their truck. Brian nodded and continued past the church, keeping his speed slow and steady. He took the next right, down a narrow lane. When it intersected, he took the right turn, then worked his way back to the cantina.
    He parked the truck between a 1978 Chevrolet Monte Carlo and an original-style Volkswagen Beetle. They waited and watched, looking for people on the street. Noise poured from the cantina, but a dog nosing curiously around doorways provided the only movement they could see. They each took a pistol and night-vision scope. Before Brian opened the door, Milla automatically reached up to turn off the dome light, only to discover it had been removed.
    They slid from the truck and quickly blended into the shadows. The dog looked their way and gave an inquisitive bark, waited a moment to see if they responded, then returned to its search-and-eat