Mexico asking about dope shipments and dead bodies, everyone will lie to us. We just gotta filter through a big pile of shit to find the truth.”
“So, was anything the old man said worth anything?” Seven asked.
“Sure, everything he said had some nugget of reality to it. Was there dope flowing through the warehouse? Yes, without a doubt. He had some details that made sense, but they were seasoned with a whole lot of bullshit. It could have been an organized cartel program, but it was probably a handful of employees with a side hustle and the old man was probably knee-deep in it. We’ll hit up the next guy tomorrow and have little better understanding about it.”
Seven, Goat, and Joey feasted on authentic Mexican tacos from a food truck in the motel parking lot. Seven was amazed at the stomach capacity of the young Mexican boy. He lost count of how many the boy consumed after five. They dined at a picnic table in the motel courtyard. The southern sun was hot. Joey and Seven battled the heat and humidity with Mexican beer as Goat continued his assault on the taco truck.
“You think this is stupid?” Seven asked as he emptied another beer.
“What are you talking about?” Joey said.
“All of this, my father, this trip, everything. Do you think I should have just buried him, accepted him for what he was, what he did, and moved on?”
“You wanna know what I think, Seven? I think you either do this now or it haunts you for the rest of your life. It’s a lot to hit you, especially right after your grandfather’s death, but it’s something you really need to know, where you came from. Good or bad, it’s something you need to know. And besides, it’s an adventure. In the last few months, you’ve discovered that you are the descendant of a mentally deranged serial killer and two-bit drug smuggler. You’ve stolen evidence from a major