away.
He strode past agents carrying boxes of paperwork and computer equipment out of the house.
When he reached the top of the stairs, the woman was still yelling at Trace, rattling off her anger in
Spanish.
Trace put his hands up in a “slow down” gesture. “Mrs. Salcido, we have a warrant.” Trace spoke
in fluent Spanish. “As I explained, we need to find out what happened to your husband.”
“Why are you taking my husband’s belongings?” Her Spanish was rapid, almost hard to keep
up with. “You are destroying my home.”
She started to go into the house, but Trace stepped in her way. He continued speaking in
Spanish. “You cannot go in. You must wait out here.” He gestured to Jennie Ortega, a young DHS
agent. “This is Agent Ortega. She will stay with you, Mrs. Salcido.”
54
***
Mrs. Salcido swung around to face Jennie and started in on her. Jennie was tough and never
put up with anyone’s B.S. She, too, spoke in Spanish. “If you do not calm down, I will put you in the
back of one of our vehicles and you wil wait there.”
At that point Mrs. Salcido burst into tears and dropped onto the porch swing.
“I’ve got this.” Jennie spoke to Trace as she switched to English and gestured to the front door.
“Go do your thing.”
Trace gave Jennie a nod. “Thanks.” He and Dylan walked into the house.
Dylan wasn’t surprised that Mrs. Salcido was upset. Agents were going through the house,
leaving no stone unturned. He walked with Trace through the house, passing agents who were busy
combing the place. “Hopefully we’ll find some answers here.”
“What we’re finding are more questions.” Trace led Dylan to a closet, its door ajar. An open safe
was in one corner on the floor. “The safe wasn’t locked, and inside we found a slip of paper and
approximately ten thousand in one hundred dollar bills. Presumably for Mrs. Salcido. According to
her, she never messed with the safe and didn’t think to look to see if it was unlocked.”
“Ten thousand. That’s some stash for an accountant to leave behind.” Dylan looked from the
safe to Trace. “What did the note say?”
“Lo siento.” Trace shook his head. “That’s it.”
“Who is he saying ‘I’m sorry’ to?” Dylan stared at the safe again before answering his own
question. “Likely to his wife.”
“Probably.” Trace looked around them. “Ten grand and a house. Guess he figured that was
enough to take care of Mrs. Salcido.”
Trace and Dylan walked out of the office and to the living room as Dylan added, “If he
intentionally left on his own and wasn’t forced.”
“That’s the mil ion dol ar question.” Trace reached the front door and looked out, Dylan following.
Through the front windshield of the truck, Belle could be seen staring at her e-reader.
Trace nodded toward the truck. “You brought company.”
Dylan started down the porch stairs while Trace remained on the top step. “If you’ve got
everything under control, I have someplace to be.”
“I can handle it.” Trace made a gesture with his hand. “Take care of what you need to.”
Dylan turned back to the truck and headed across the street. Belle glanced up as he opened
the truck door, climbed in, and shut it behind him.
He looked at her. “Good book?”
“It’s twisted but compel ing.” She shrugged. “And it’s better than facing what’s going on now. I
don’t like our real life mystery.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Dylan threw the truck into gear.
She tilted her head to the side. “Did you find anything that could help shed light on Nate’s death?”
55
***
“Not yet.” He shook his head as he backed up the truck. “But I’m hopeful we’l find something.”
“I hope so, too.” She turned to glance out the window, clearly lost in her thoughts.
The drive to where Leon lived outside of Sierra Vista was a good half hour from Bisbee. Belle
continued to stare out the window as he drove, as
He strode past agents carrying boxes of paperwork and computer equipment out of the house.
When he reached the top of the stairs, the woman was still yelling at Trace, rattling off her anger in
Spanish.
Trace put his hands up in a “slow down” gesture. “Mrs. Salcido, we have a warrant.” Trace spoke
in fluent Spanish. “As I explained, we need to find out what happened to your husband.”
“Why are you taking my husband’s belongings?” Her Spanish was rapid, almost hard to keep
up with. “You are destroying my home.”
She started to go into the house, but Trace stepped in her way. He continued speaking in
Spanish. “You cannot go in. You must wait out here.” He gestured to Jennie Ortega, a young DHS
agent. “This is Agent Ortega. She will stay with you, Mrs. Salcido.”
54
***
Mrs. Salcido swung around to face Jennie and started in on her. Jennie was tough and never
put up with anyone’s B.S. She, too, spoke in Spanish. “If you do not calm down, I will put you in the
back of one of our vehicles and you wil wait there.”
At that point Mrs. Salcido burst into tears and dropped onto the porch swing.
“I’ve got this.” Jennie spoke to Trace as she switched to English and gestured to the front door.
“Go do your thing.”
Trace gave Jennie a nod. “Thanks.” He and Dylan walked into the house.
Dylan wasn’t surprised that Mrs. Salcido was upset. Agents were going through the house,
leaving no stone unturned. He walked with Trace through the house, passing agents who were busy
combing the place. “Hopefully we’ll find some answers here.”
“What we’re finding are more questions.” Trace led Dylan to a closet, its door ajar. An open safe
was in one corner on the floor. “The safe wasn’t locked, and inside we found a slip of paper and
approximately ten thousand in one hundred dollar bills. Presumably for Mrs. Salcido. According to
her, she never messed with the safe and didn’t think to look to see if it was unlocked.”
“Ten thousand. That’s some stash for an accountant to leave behind.” Dylan looked from the
safe to Trace. “What did the note say?”
“Lo siento.” Trace shook his head. “That’s it.”
“Who is he saying ‘I’m sorry’ to?” Dylan stared at the safe again before answering his own
question. “Likely to his wife.”
“Probably.” Trace looked around them. “Ten grand and a house. Guess he figured that was
enough to take care of Mrs. Salcido.”
Trace and Dylan walked out of the office and to the living room as Dylan added, “If he
intentionally left on his own and wasn’t forced.”
“That’s the mil ion dol ar question.” Trace reached the front door and looked out, Dylan following.
Through the front windshield of the truck, Belle could be seen staring at her e-reader.
Trace nodded toward the truck. “You brought company.”
Dylan started down the porch stairs while Trace remained on the top step. “If you’ve got
everything under control, I have someplace to be.”
“I can handle it.” Trace made a gesture with his hand. “Take care of what you need to.”
Dylan turned back to the truck and headed across the street. Belle glanced up as he opened
the truck door, climbed in, and shut it behind him.
He looked at her. “Good book?”
“It’s twisted but compel ing.” She shrugged. “And it’s better than facing what’s going on now. I
don’t like our real life mystery.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Dylan threw the truck into gear.
She tilted her head to the side. “Did you find anything that could help shed light on Nate’s death?”
55
***
“Not yet.” He shook his head as he backed up the truck. “But I’m hopeful we’l find something.”
“I hope so, too.” She turned to glance out the window, clearly lost in her thoughts.
The drive to where Leon lived outside of Sierra Vista was a good half hour from Bisbee. Belle
continued to stare out the window as he drove, as
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