A/N: Sorry the update took so long, but I was in Florida and then I came back and had writer's block. Hopefully my next update won't take so long!
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"Am I too lost to be saved?" Evanescence, "Tourniquet"
Guitan, Avarro, and Associates, attorneys-at-law
"I can't believe we're back here already," said Woody as he and Jordan stepped over the yellow police tape into the remains of the law firm. "We barely made it out alive last time."
"Hopefully no one took the computers," Jordan said.
"Hopefully no one thinks we're dumb enough to actually come back here," Woody replied.
"What- are you scared?" she taunted as she pushed open the heavy door to the stairs.
He gave her a sarcastic look and said nothing.
The second floor hallway was deserted minus a few stray shell casings. Jordan shook the handle of the door to Avarro's office. "It's locked."
"Okay; time to go," said Woody. Jordan grabbed him by his collar.
"You're a cop; bust the door down."
He muttered something under his breath. Then, he slammed his body against the door. It sprang open and he fell hard to the floor. "Ouch," he said, rubbing his wrist.
"Someone left the computer on," Jordan remarked.
"I don't think that's a good sign."
Every single file had been erased from the dead lawyer's computer. Woody slammed his fist on the desk. "What now?"
Jordan held up a hand. "Do that again."
"Huh?"
"Just do it!"
They heard a rattling noise come from inside the desk. "There's something in there," Jordan said.
"It's locked."
"Is there a key around here somewhere?" Instead of looking for one, she fired her pistol twice, blowing the drawer open.
"Well, that's one way to do it," Woody commented.
Inside the drawer were a blank legal pad, a manila folder, and a floppy disk. The folder was full of newspaper clippings. Jordan read one from USA Today. "'Extradition of Hotel Executive to the US Denied.' It says here that Elvira Mendoza, executive vice- president of Delfina Grande Resorts Ltd was the main suspect as the leader of an illegal arms dealing ring, and for the attempted murder of New York City police detective Elliot Stabler. She fled the country right before the indictment, and the Mexican government refused to extradite her." She flipped through the folder. "It looks like our late Senor Avarro was a little obsessed with her."
"Or the Black Dragons are setting us up again," Woody said darkly.
"I wonder what's on the disk."
"I wonder if there's a store nearby. My clothes blew up, remember?"
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Calle Gorda Internet Café
Mexico City, Mexico
"God I hope this works," Jordan muttered as she inserted the floppy disk into a computer.
On it were several files labeled in Spanish. She double- clicked on one titled 'Informacion Personal'. She snickered under her breath at one labeled 'Senorita Conchita's bordello'.
"Bingo," she said suddenly. Elvira Mendoza's address and phone numbers were in a file all their own. Jordan printed the information, ejected the disk, and went outside to wait for Woody.
Woody hurried over, two large shopping bags in his hands. "Thanks for the cash," he said, then frowned. "Uh, Jordan? Where are you getting all of this money from?"
"My dad left me a large amount of money, and I have no clue where he got it from."
"So that's it?" Woody asked. "That's Elvira Mendoza's personal information?"
"Yep. Easy, I know."
"Too easy. Do you think-"
"They're setting us up again?" Jordan half- smiled. "There is no doubt in my mind that they are."
"Great. So where exactly are we going to find her?"
"The presidential suite of Isla Delphina resort in Acapulco."
"It's about time we get a vacation," Woody muttered.
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Highway 32
En Route to Acapulco, Mexico
Jordan pushed her sunglasses up on the bridge of her nose. She watched Woody pump gas into their rented Ford Focus as she leaned against it and sighed. God was she tired! She hadn't had a good night sleep since, well, the night before the morgue shooting. It seemed so long ago. But then again, everything was moving so fast…
Woody handed the gas station owner the money for the gas, making sure he stayed clear of the practically ancient video camera. As he put the change back into his wallet, he heard a click behind him. "Why is everyone trying to kill me?" he shouted, without realizing that he'd spoken out loud.
He spun around and shot the man three times in the chest. The impact threw him off his feet. His wife ran out from a back room, screaming. "Why you kill him?" she shrieked in broken English. "He no hurt you. He shoot snake."
Sure enough, a rattlesnake slithered over to Woody from the outside. "What did I do?" he whispered. The woman continued sobbing. "SHUT UP!" Woody screamed, tears pouring down his face. He shot the snake over and over again, until the only thing left of it was a small dark stain. "I'm sorry!" he yelled. "God damn it, I'm sorry!"
He ran out the door, where he was violently sick. "Woody?" Jordan asked in concern.
The people in the morgue were innocent like that man, too. Am I turning into one of them?
Woody slid into the passenger seat, unable to stop shaking. "I killed an innocent man in there," he whispered. "I killed him."
"Woody, it's not-"
"No, Jordan. It is my fault." He leaned forward and rested his head on the dashboard. "And you know what the worst part is? I'm never going to be caught. That man and his wife will never get justice. No one cares about a poor, dead gas station owner, especially not here." He looked up. "What are we doing here, Jordan? Aren't we just as bad as the Dragons themselves?"
"No Woody," Jordan said firmly. "We're the ones fighting for justice."
I wish I was as sure as you, Woody thought. He stared out the window; every cloud in the endless sky was the body of the dead man, the sun was his blood, and the highway, he was sure, led straight to hell.
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A/N: I promise that the next update will NOT take so long. Oh, and look out for a plot twist!