THE FIRST LEG OF THE flight took me to Albuquerque again for a quick drop off and pick up. I turned my phone on at the earliest possible time to see if I had received a reply from Ernesto. I did not. I examined closely the new passengers that we picked up for the stretch to El Paso. I debated again if I should cut my losses, get off here in New Mexico and catch a flight back home. But I just sat there in my seat.
When we reached ten thousand feet the recollection of Elisa grabbing my wrist suddenly came back to me. In many ways that was the beginning of this dark and twisted journey. It had woken me up out of a deep and peaceful sleep. One that I have not had since. Then, another thought hit me. It was Art, sitting behind us on that flight and listening to our every word. Now, in the back
