THREEThe desert sun crept over the horizon like a cat stalking its prey. It erased the morning shadows from the side of the turquoise adobe house as faint slivers of steam rose from the ground, erasing the last vestiges of last nights welcome rain from the thirst-quenched landscape, brushing quickly across it until all that remained was the familiar cracked, dry earth.
Shards of light shone through the streaked window and washed across the kitchen table. Ingrid Delgado stood over her husband Trick and topped off his cup of morning coffee. Wearing a simple pale gray two-piece suit with a white blouse, she was dressed for work. Her summer-white high-heeled shoes clicked across the terra cotta tiled floor as she returned the coffee pot to its place on the burner, then clicked again as she re
