Free Blood Sweep by Steven F. Havill

a message through to you. I gather you were expecting them to call.”
    â€œThat’s great. What’s up?”
    â€œDean Baylor’s secretary, Lucy Delfino, called to tell you that both Francisco and Mateo are in Mazatlán, Mexico. They left yesterday with two members of the faculty, and will return Sunday. End message.”
    Estelle stood silently, phone pressed hard to her ear, hoping that Ernie would add something else. The young man didn’t, but said, “That’s it.” When Estelle didn’t respond, the dispatcher gently nudged her. “You still there?”
    There was no point in asking Ernie to repeat the message, or to suddenly recall a vital detail that he had overlooked.
    â€œThanks, Ernie.”
    â€œYou’re welcome. By the way, the med-evac is fifty-five minutes out.”
    â€œThanks.” Estelle disconnected and immediately redialed Leister. Her fingers flashed on the tiny keys, but her mind was deep in Mexico. Mazatlán…the fabled city with snow-white beaches, impressive and colorful historical district, and nestled in an area with one of the worst reputations for cartel violence in Mexico.
    â€œDean Baylor’s office. How may I direct your call?”
    Estelle kept any pleasant deference out of her tone. “Ms. Delfino, this is Undersheriff Guzman again. Dispatch informs me that the two boys and two faculty members flew to Mazatlán for several days. They’ll be back Sunday. Is that correct?”
    â€œThat’s correct, ma’am.”
    â€œMay I speak with Dean Baylor, please.”
    There was just the faintest hesitation before Lucy Delfino said, “Ma’am, Dean Baylor accompanied the boys on the trip this time. He and Dr. Lucian Belloit.”
    â€œThis time?”
    â€œWell, I mean this trip. We take part in a fund-raising concert in Mazatlán every year. The Angela Peralta Conservatory is one of our sister schools. Just a beautiful, beautiful place.”
    â€œHave you heard from them today?”
    â€œIn fact, Dr. Baylor calls here twice a day, Sheriff. Angela Peralta’s concert of greeting was last night, and a great success, he said. The two boys play tonight, and then on Saturday night, we have the combined concert as a finale.”
    â€œSounds wonderful. I wish I had known about it.”
    â€œAh, that’s our fault, and I apologize. If you look at the schedule on the back page of the July newsletter, you’ll see the concert series with Angela Peralta listed, but we neglected the follow-up contacts with parents—all the details. I’m not sure what happened, but it won’t happen again, rest assured. Your son didn’t inform you either, then?”
    â€œNo, he didn’t.” A fourteen-year-old isn’t in charge of travel arrangements and details, Estelle almost added, but Leister clearly knew that. And parents were in charge of finding these things out, no matter what. That was the baseline.
    â€œIs there a number I might use now to contact Dean Baylor directly?”
    â€œYou mean right now? In Mexico?”
    â€œYes.”
    The secretary hesitated. “Would it be adequate if I have Dr. Baylor call you at this number? Or Francisco, if he’s handy?”
    Or even if he isn’t, Estelle thought. “If he will do so in the next ten minutes. I’m about to catch a flight, and I can’t guarantee how good the reception will be once we’re airborne. If you can’t reach them, I’ll need his contact number so that I might try later.”
    â€œI understand. Either he or I will be right back to you, ma’am.”
    â€œThank you.” Estelle disconnected and let out a long breath. She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. “The boys are in Mexico,” she said to Addy. “A three-day concert series in Mazatlán.”

Chapter Eight
    While she waited, Estelle first rummaged through the file of Leister material that