The late afternoon sun beamed on the Tijuana city arch, reflecting rays of white and gold laser ribbons all throughout the Zona Rosa. The streets were filled with vendors and ordinary people exchanging goods and pleasantries. Taxi cabs were everywhere, and the city traffic moved in spurts of speed and stops. Shops were closing, and citizens were hurrying to get to their ordinary lives in the barrios and suburbs. But for Francesca the events that occurred earlier were neither ordinary nor pleasant.
Murder.
Neither her Native Wolf Spirit nor Catholicism offered refuge from the serious crimes she was accused of.
When Francesca didn't respond to the female officer commands in Spanish the officers assumed English was all that she understood. Officer Ortiz slowed the cruiser down as they encountered traffic congestion. Officer Laurentia turned her head and spoke to Francesca through the protective cage.
Miss Da Rimini, Habla Espanol? "
No, she replied timidly.