🪓𝒞ℴ𝓃𝓃ℯ𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝓂ℴ𝒷 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓉ℯ𝓁

🪓𝒟ℰ𝒜

𝑨𝒍𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒆- 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝑴𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒄𝒐-𝑼𝑺𝑨
07:00 𝑨𝒎
𝒕𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒚 14 𝒋𝒖𝒍𝒚 2009

The streets of Albuquerque are illuminated by the sun. Its intense heat gradually seeps through the gaps in the closed shutters and curtains with an unseen touch. A gentle breeze caresses the white drapes of the small Hispanic one-bedroom home. The sleeping woman stirs and opens her lovely green eyes. It was approximately 9 a.m., and the bedroom was already uncomfortably warm, as is typical of a hot day in New Mexico. She blinks hesitantly, trying to remember why she awoke. It wasn't just the temperature... The doorbell rings repeatedly, and someone knocks persistently on her door.
With a heavy heart, she rises from her bed, which entices her to stay. Since the passing of her beloved spouse, the light of her life, she has found solace in the confines of her bed. Days turn into nights as she lies there, slumbering, anticipating the day when she will be reunited with her true love in the afterlife.
The woman was indeed older, but not significantly so. She was merely 45 years of age. Her hair was long and of a dark brown hue, devoid of even a single gray strand. Her deep-set emerald eyes exhibited hardly any wrinkles, and her heart-shaped lips retained their natural red color. In this context, anticipating her demise due to old age would be akin to waiting for snowfall, an exercise in futility and a waste of precious time.
As she approaches the front door, her curiosity grows. The intensity of the hammering startles her. "I'll be right there!" she calls out in a slightly hoarse voice. She takes a quick look around her one-story condominium. She had not been expecting guests and had not had the chance to tidy up. The soft sand-colored walls are spotless, and the cold terracotta tile floor gleams. She hastily wraps a beige robe around her slender figure and quickly scratches her throat. With a slightly trembling hand, she opens the door. The bright sunlight reflects off the numerous photo frames adorning the house, causing her to squint momentarily. Two men are standing in front of her door. Their formal attire leads her to believe they are officials, and the insignias around their necks confirm her suspicion. The slightly overweight man on her left initiates the conversation. "Ms. Esposito" he asks politely.
She nods nervously, feeling a knot of anxiety forming in her stomach. She glances at the overweight, bald man in front of her. The man on her right offers a reassuring smile. "My name is Officer Gomez, and this is Officer Schrader," he says. "We are with the DEA. May we come in for a brief moment?" She nods again, this time to the Mexican officer and his colleague.
As she opens the door, a wry smile forms on his lips. "Coffee?" she politely asks. She starts making a strong pot without waiting for a response, sensing she'll need it. The officers take their seats at the round kitchen table. They wait until she sits down and places three cups of coffee on the table before speaking. "Miss Esposito," Schrader begins, but she interrupts. "Please, call me Esmeralda." Schrader nods. "I'm Hank, and this is Steve," he says, gesturing to Steve, who nods. "We're here on behalf of your daughter." "You do have a daughter named Savannah Esposito, correct?" Esmeralda nods, her heart sinking within her.
"Please, Hank," she requests, her voice thick with an accent. "Please do not inform me that something has transpired with my young daughter," she says. Hank exhales deeply. He gives Steve a brief glance and nods. Steve swallows and looks Esmeralda in the eyes. "We wish to be completely honest with you. We have no knowledge of the situation." "Not yet," Hank corrects. Gomez takes a slow sip of his coffee. "Oh my goodness," he exclaims. "This coffee is exceptional!" Esmeralda chuckles. Hank gives him a disapproving look. Steve turns to face Hank. "Pardon me, but this is the finest coffee I have ever tasted." "It is a secret family recipe," she explains. Hank takes a sip of the coffee. Steve was absolutely correct. He had stated that it was the most incredible coffee he had ever had! However, he must maintain his professionalism!
"As I mentioned," he adds, looking at Steve. "We are yet to confirm the details." However, we believe she may have witnessed a homicide. Your daughter, as you are aware, is employed at the roadside diner Pinky's." Esmeralda lets out a long sigh. "Alas, unfortunately," she sighs deeply. Hank chuckles gently. "You are not pleased with that?" "My daughter is quite intelligent." She has an excellent academic record. She is capable of achieving great things." Steve laughs. "That is exactly what I say about my child. She works at a burger joint. I am glad she wants to maintain a job, but what is it with children? They never seem to realize their own worth."
With a smile, Esmeralda agrees. Hank clears his throat. Steve glances down as he recognizes his partner's quiet signal. For a brief moment, he overlooked the limited time available. In this instance, it was a race against the clock. "Well, according to the information we have, the owner's name is Antony Pinkman." He disregarded Esmerelda's quiet sigh and continued without waiting for confirmation. "This morning at eight-thirty AM, we discovered his body not too far from his diner." Esmerelda, who was gasping, placed her palm in front of her mouth. Her eyes were filled with tears. She appeared to be momentarily frozen. She then closed her eyes. "May he find peace in the hereafter," she responded, opening her eyes again. ""Mr. Pinkman was a remarkable individual." I find it difficult to comprehend the current state of affairs in our community. It used to be a tranquil and picturesque village." Gomez nods, a sudden wave of melancholy washing over him. "Regrettably, we are currently embroiled in a conflict. A war against drugs and all its associated consequences." "A war that we are determined to emerge victorious from," Hank adds, his gaze unwavering as he looks at Gomez. Steve finishes his cup and nods in agreement. "You can always rely on that," he assures. "However, please pardon my inquiry, but isn't the DEA primarily responsible for handling drug-related cases?" Esmeralda inquires cautiously. "Indeed, ma'am," Gomez responds, glancing at Hank. He gestures for his superior to continue. Hank sighs and rolls his eyes. "Well, the reason we're involved is simple. We found a particular kind of narcotic in the victim's pockets." "But please excuse me, my daughter does not engage in drug use." "We understand," Gomez confirms. "I mean, we don't truly know, but we believe you," he says. Hank sighs and takes a sip of his coffee. It was sometimes best for everyone if Steve simply remained silent. Unfortunately, that is seldom the case. "We are here on behalf of your daughter because we discovered a shoulder bag. Not far from the deceased. A smartphone registered under your daughter's name was lying on the ground, next to the shoulder bag." Esmerelda bursts into tears. She exhales. Panic courses through her veins. "Oh my God," she says softly. She takes a deep breath while placing her hands in front of her nose and mouth. Sniffling, she blinks open her eyes again. "This cannot be happening. You know, after my husband passed away... She. My son and she. They are the only ones I have left. As much as I cherish my son, I hold a profound admiration for Savannah. I must emphasize that she is the apple of my eye. She bears a striking resemblance to my husband, sharing his calm demeanor and even his captivating eyes. Savannah is an exceptional young woman, embodying kindness and compassion. During the cold winter months, she selflessly opens her backdoor to provide shelter for stray dogs. Additionally, she extends a helping hand to those in need, offering her apartment as a place of rest and hygiene for homeless individuals. Excuse me, but I believe there may be a misunderstanding. I would never presume to tell you how to do your job, and I apologize if my words came across that way. It's not my intention to criticize or belittle your efforts.. She is my Corazon, my darling Corazon." ""I sincerely apologize for any distress I may have caused you, madam," Hank responds. He gently takes her hand in his, offering comfort. "Please know that none of us believe she was involved in the drugs directly. Neither in the murder itself. No, we believe that she is a witness to this horrific crime," he replies. "Savannah was in the wrong place, at the wrong time," Hank laments. Esmerelda sobs softly. She understands what this implies. Of what may have happened to her child. "I'm sorry for the terrible news. But we truly need you to join us. We need you in the station to identify the body," Esmeralda shivers. "No way, no how. There is no one to be identified. "At least not your daughter," Hank responds promptly. "No, I apologize for my error," Steve says. "We would like you to identify the bag that we discovered," he stated. Esmeralda nods in agreement. "I will prepare swiftly," she says. "One additional inquiry," Hank adds, opening his notebook. "Do you by any chance know an individual named Hayden?" Hank inquires. "Of course I do, this is my son," Esmeralda replies politely. Hank nods in agreement. "A contact named Hayden gave four missed calls and six text messages. Do you happen to know what the young lady's code is?" Esmeralda nods. "Hayden and Savannah are best friends. I believe her code is 48, seventeen." Hanks quickly jots down the code. "Do you happen to know where she resides? Inside the bag, we discovered a set of keys." "You would like to search her apartment?" Hank nods. "Perhaps we can find something useful. Or we could obtain an item that carries her scent. For the dogs." Esmeralda nods, uncertain. "She dwells in the residence known as the whispering sands. Unit 108, 12720 Central Ave SE." Hank promptly jots down the address and nods. "Here are some waffles, please feel free to partake in some coffee while I get dressed." Hank acknowledges with a nod. "That is very kind of you," he says as he glances at her. He looks across to Gomez, who is already enjoying a wafer"Excuse me," he politely asks when Esmeralda leaves the room. "These are delicious, Hank; please have one. Also, we missed breakfast because of you." "I apologize for my haste. Do I need to remind you that a young girl's life is at stake?!" Steve sighs and shakes his head. Hank accepts the wafer with a sigh. He looks at Gomez, amazed by its flavor. Gomez nods in agreement. When Hank noticed Esmeralda, he swiftly finished his waffle. He stood up and opened the front door. "Do not be concerned, we will provide you with transportation," Hank reassured her. Esmeralda expressed her gratitude. "Shouldn't we lock the door?" Steve inquired. "Of course," Esmeralda responded with a sigh. Her mind was in a state of disarray, causing her to overlook crucial details. "Good morning," she greeted her neighbor. Esmeralda hurriedly waved and entered Hank's black SUV.
She enters the police station, appreciating the air conditioning. Like a person on death row, she walks between the two officers. Posters of wanted individuals adorn the light-colored walls. "Mama" Hayden greets her and embraces her warmly. "Oh, Hayden," Esmeralda gasps. She buries her head in his luxurious Versace blouse. "Everything will be alright," he whispers. Hank gestures toward the interrogation room. "Whenever you are ready," he says. Esmeralda nods at Hayden. He takes her hand and walks into the room. "I apologize for the camera, but it is a formality," Hank says when Esmeralda directs her green eyes at the large camera. Hank looks to the young man next to Esmeralda. His well-groomed dark hair complements his olive-colored skin. His strong physique is adorned in high-quality clothing. A gold Rolex adorns his wrist, and a white gold pendant adorns his neck. It is evident that this young man is affluent, although his attire appears somewhat excessive for his age. He appears to be approximately twenty-five years old, perhaps a bit older. Gomez politely asks Hank if he would like something to drink, offering root beer, water, or coffee. Hayden declines in a commanding tone. Gomez sighs and takes the evidence bag. Esmeralda, shivering, gently holds Hayden's hand. Hayden's brown eyes are drawn to the colorful braided key ring on the black bag, featuring a dreamcatcher and an eagle. "Dio abbi pietà," Esmeralda is extremely frightened. "I suppose this is her bag," Hank responds with a deep sigh. Hayden nods. "Of course, this belongs to her. We crafted that keychain together when she was six." Hank grunts. "I offer my sincere apologies. However, not all hope is lost. Her body has not been discovered. That is a positive aspect." "Yes, indeed," Gomez responds. "We shall make this our utmost priority." "That is a solemn promise," Hank says. "We will declare this an urgent missing person case." I require some information for it. "Do you have a photograph of her?" Hank inquires. Hayden takes out his phone from his pocket. He browses through his images until he finds one that clearly shows her. He hands Hank his phone. "She is a beautiful young lady," Hank comments, his attention drawn to his new smartphone rather than the photo. "I require some basic information. Height, weight, hair length, and, most importantly, when was the last time you saw her? Or had a conversation with her. And, of course, the million-dollar question: what was she wearing?" "I am not aware of that," Esmerelda sobs. "I just want to know what transpired," she expresses. "To be honest, we are not certain about what occurred. There are numerous possibilities." Steve Gomez lets out a long sigh.