Free Tenderloin (Abby Kane FBI Thriller) by Ty Hutchinson Page A

was an FBI agent who also shot her attacker dead. That’s not a detail that’s easily overlooked, right? I appreciated the concern, but I certainly didn’t need any coddling.
    Cabrera broke the awkward silence by slapping his friend on the back. “David is with JUNGLA. It stands for anti-narcotics jungle company. His unit is integral in conducting raids on the drug factories located deep in the jungle.”
    “A special unit for the jungle, huh? I never would have thought, but it makes perfect sense.”
    “Everyone is surprised when they hear about it.” Gómez pointed to the lobby exit. “My truck is right outside. Let’s get moving.”
    When he said his truck, I expected an SUV. What we got instead was an old Toyota pick-up truck. That meant one thing: an Abby sandwich.
    There I was, forced to sit on the middle hump because of my tiny frame. To make matters worse, the ride was bumpy, and the two slabs of muscle on either side of me created an oven-like effect that later had me peeling my leg off of Cabrera’s.
    Later, we pulled over onto the side of the road. “This is where we found the body,” Gómez said, pointing to an irrigation ditch alongside the highway. I spun around, surveying the area. There were a few fields with crops, but most of it looked like ranch land as far as the eye could see.
    “What on earth would bring Agent Riggs out here?” I asked as we exited the vehicle.
    “Gómez turned his head toward me. “What brought him out here is what you can’t see.”
    What? I shook my head and raised my shoulders at him.
    He pointed down the highway toward a hill that obscured the view into the distance. “There’s a rest stop not too far away. It has a gas station, a couple of shops and places to eat, a tiny bar, and a place to rent rooms by the hour or day. It’s the last sign of the civilized world before the road takes you into the jungle.”
    Cabrera chimed in. “We think someone asked him to meet them there because of its location.”
    “So the thought is premeditation?” I asked.
    “Look, a big part of how we get our information is through informants. Some are normal citizens who saw something strange, but most are either current or ex-employees of the drug lords who have grudges against their bosses. Sometimes the drug lords’ enemies come to us with information. Any one of them could have a reason for killing Riggs.”
    I let my eyes sweep across the area where Gómez said the body had lain. Nothing popped out. I walked the area, knelt, and scanned the ground but saw nothing. “I take it no irrigation has run through here since Riggs’s death.”
    Gómez shook his head. “This is an abandoned farm, but any evidence of him being here has probably been washed away by recent rains. Come on. We’ll head to the rest stop. Maybe it will help.”
    I assumed my snug-as-a-bug position as we drove for another ten minutes. Seconds after we crested the tiny hill, the rest stop came into sight. It really was the last stop of civilization. Behind it, I could see the rain forest. It stood tall like a green wall separating two worlds.
    We spent another hour walking around the area and talking to employees at the various businesses. Not much came of it. They told us what we already knew: Agent Riggs was here. He’d had dinner at the small restaurant and then headed over to the bar where he was seen having drinks, shooting pool—essentially, relaxing. We exited the bar and stood under an awning and out of the sun’s grasp.
    I turned to Cabrera. “In the report, it stated that Riggs had a room reservation at the hotel in Mitú. Why?”
    “It was his first trip. I told Riggs to spend the night, get to know the town,” Cabrera said.
    Gómez also confirmed that he had met with Riggs a little before three but wasn’t sure about his plans. “After I finished with Riggs, I went about my way and he his.”
    I shifted my weight and rested my hands on my hips. “Captain Gómez—”
    “Please, call me