Littlefield, Arizona showed up late for work.
Cecile knew more men would be sent to kill her.
They would drift in on the same poisoned wind that blew through Littlefield, Arizona and they would show up soon. The time between attacks was collapsing.
At first, she thought they would come to capture her. They would haul her off to a nearby room. Miguel Gutierrez would stand over her while she typed on a keyboard and moved the money she had stolen from the cartel back to them.
They wanted her alive. She wanted them dead.
A poisoned wind blew through town like the devil’s dry cough.
