Charlotte stands in her white silk nightgown on the driveway and watches Ruiz drive away, late in the evening. If things continue between them, she might want to tell him about that tunnel after all, just to help keep things discreet. About to go back inside, she hears a noise coming from the stables and goes to investigate, barefoot and calling Cesar's name. Inside, in the dark, there's something hanging, and heavy, and…dripping. It's Karl's horse Rio, hanging by its hindquarters from the ceiling, dead as hell. Goodbye, handsome.
Want more? Early in the morning, a gloved hand folds out the viewfinder display on a digital video camera, which shows an out-of-focus/ woman -- presumably Maria -- flat on her back, spread-eagled in the dirt, duct tape covering her mouth. Cut to Cross, who has the digital edition of the El Paso Times up on her computer screen at her work desk. Not a big sleeper, Cross. Her screen is showing that same image, under the headline, "Bridge Butcher's Latest Victim." What did I say last week about the killer's inevitable nickname? Actually, I said "Beady Border Butcher," but the beads could well be something that the cops are keeping out of the papers to rule out false confessions. At least until Cross tells Frye about them. For now, she calls Wade and gets him out of his wife's bed, telling him, "We found Maria." She tells him to go to the Times website, which he does, and soon finds himself watching real-time video of Maria on a live feed. Cross asks what the killer's going to do. "I think he's going to let the desert take her," Wade says, "Right before our eyes." I'll give Wade this: he wakes up a lot faster than I do.
And then, as in the beginning of the episode, we're back under the baking sun. But this time, we're looking at Maria duct-taped to rebar stakes driven into the ground. She struggles weakly, her only apparent witness the video camera that's looking down on her from its tripod. Well, that and the baking sun I may have mentioned before. She is having an absolutely terrible week.
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.