Mendez is driving Frye out to those isolated coordinates in the failing light, which is making her a little nervous. Frye reminds her to think of the story. "Two reporters lured to their death?" Mendez asks. "Hopefully one of us lives," Frye points out. "The other one can write the story. I smell a Pulitzer." Especially if the story is written by a dead reporter, as he just postulated. He starts making a little conversation and learns she went to UT-Austin. "Boyfriend?" he asks. "You want to get to know me now?" "Not really," he cackles. But that doesn't necessarily mean he's not curious about whether there's a boyfriend. He tells her to stop, because the GPS is saying to turn right, off the road. After a quick reminder shot of Cooper's car somewhere behind them on the same road, we cut to Frye and Mendez approaching the coordinates on foot, by which time it's full dark. Suddenly the skull of that calaca that Cassandra and her friends found earlier pops up in their flashlight beams, startling the hell out of them both. Frye plays his light around the surrounding ground, and finds a whole lot of empty water jugs and dead Mexicans there. But at least they aren't thirsty any more.
A bit later, the police are on the scene, including Cross, Ruiz, and Wade. Either Frye and Mendez called them right away, or Cooper caught up with them and saw what was what. Not that it matters. "Aw, hell," Wade chokes out. Ruiz explains how the fence forces unauthorized visitors to this part of the desert, where the crossing is more dangerous. "Nine bodies," Cross observes, as though that means something to anyone but we the viewers. As for the tenth, Cassandra, we see that she's managed to reach the shoulder of a roadside elsewhere, though she's in such a desperate state that she's flat on her belly. Still, she manages to flag down a car. But judging by the way the driver gets out and stands over her, visible only from the knees down, this may not be good news for her. Too bad none of her friends survived so she could have someone to tell what happens next. Back at the scene of the poisoning, Cross has just tipped up one of the empty water jugs and found another bead inside. "It's him," Ruiz realizes. And apparently the killer wants to be known as the Beady Border Butcher or something, because he's clearly asking for it.
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter, or just e-mail him at M.Giant[at]gmail.com.