So, Patterson and Delia drive over the border and into Mexico. "How do you know we can trust Rafael?" Patterson asks. "I mean, he's a corrupt cop." Delia pays attention to the road and reminds her partner that "a lot of Mexican cops are corrupt. A lot of them are DEA informants." Patterson asks how she came across this particular one, and Delia explains that she did a favor for Rafael once -- made a felony drug charge against his sister go away -- and now he's returning the favor. "Just keep your eyes open and don't speak," she tells him. I wish he'd done that on Dawson's Creek.
Delia and Patterson enter a divey Mexican bar, where Rafael embraces her with his usual skeevy enthusiasm. He pushes them into a booth and pours them each a glass of whiskey. "Let's have a little toast while we wait. Come on, drink up," he says. Delia looks at the bartender's cigarette, and then the ice in her glass of whiskey. Something, clearly, has set off her hink-o-meter. Rafael implores them to drink up. Patterson is guzzling his booze, but Delia wants to see him outside. She gets up. "What's wrong?" Rafael asks. "I want to talk to him," Delia says calmly. Rafael offers to go outside with them. "No," Delia says, and nods at Patterson. And then the bartender shoots Patterson in the chest. Patterson falls out of the chair and to the floor, dead. Whoo, gunplay! I'm so excited. I haven't recapped a show with gunplay in months! I forgot how much I like the violence! And then the bartender turns his gun on Delia. I can't believe she went in without her service weapon (although, now that I think about it, that must have been what Rafael was feeling for when he hugged her), a wire, or backup. Rafael makes Delia lie down and cuffs her, as he yells at the bartender to get their bags. He asks Delia why she had to make it so complicated. "You should have had that drink, that's all," he whines at her. "Why are you doing this?" Delia asks from the floor. Rafael hauls her to her feet and walks her out to the car, telling her to shut up. He swears he's not going to kill her. He's just taking her to El Paso. He opens the trunk of her car. "Don't look for me, because you won't find me," he says, before telling her to get into the car. Across the street, a band of interested mariachis watch. Are there really a lot of mariachis wandering around Mexico? I wish I had a band of mariachis following me around, now that I think about it. And someone with a platter of nachos. And some margaritas. I could use a margarita right now, actually. Blended. With salt. A big one. Huh. Where was I? Ah, yes. The bartender comes running outside, waving badge. "This is not a real one! This is from the sheriff's dept!" he yells, throwing it on the ground. "Where is la place, Delia?" Rafael asks, waving his gun in her face. He needs Patterson's DEA badge. "Just kill her already!" the bartender yells. Rafael turns to him and shouts that the badge must be in the car. "Is Miguel behind this?" Delia asks plaintively, and the bartender turns and shoots her right in the gut. She falls into the trunk with a groan. Rafael and the bartender start bickering, and Rafael impulsively plugs him in the chest, kicking his body for good measure. He walks over to the car, where Delia is calling for him. "Please," she groans. He looks at her, almost tenderly, touches her face, and folds her into the trunk.