Editor’s Note: Please click here for Part 1, here for Part 2, and here for Part 3.

“You weren’t kidding about those protein bars!”

Claudia laughed when she said this, but I could tell she really wasn’t amused. It had been a bad night of no sleep, lies, and unspeakably awful farts.

Once the policías left, she tried to seduce me to avoid answering my questions. Every time I asked a question, an item of clothing magically appeared on the floor. I was way ahead of her in my state of undress and it took her awhile to catch up. Eventually, she was down to her bra and panties and I had barely gotten on a first name basis with her.

As I asked her, in the fifth different way, how she ended up at my hotel chased by Mexicali’s finest, the protein bars kicked in. Magically, the moment was lost. I believe the words, “please make it stop, I’ll talk” were spoken.

About three hours, two showers (separate, regretfully), and one gigantic bag of Sabritones later, she finally admitted that she had been following me since Palm Springs. That wasn’t the worst part. She had eavesdropped on my brunch with Rölf while eating…. avocado toast.

Any desire to sleep with her was gone after she revealed that. A man has to have standards.

It turned out she was a “friend” of Lara. How friendly was still to be determined. She didn’t talk much about that. However, she was convinced that Lara was murdered and wanted to bring the killers to justice, whatever that meant. I’m always suspicious when people say that.

She said she blew a red light and the cops tried to pull her over and she panicked and ran to my room. I didn’t really buy it, but it was as much as I could get out of her before she went to sleep in the bathroom tub.

I had tried to close my eyes and get a little rest but that’s pretty difficult when you’re almost naked in a hotel room with someone you don’t trust. Instead, my mind raced trying to figure what parts of her story were true. I also needed to figure out what to do with her.

I’m an asshole, but I’m not the kind of asshole that would leave someone to deal with Mexicali PD by themselves.

I also had to be in Salton City that night and I had to cross the border. I had no idea if she had a passport as she had locked the door and took her shit with her into the bathroom.

She wasn’t stupid.

Luckily, she made the decision for me.

“Look, you’ve been really nice, but I’ve got to get back. The cops are gone and they left my car alone.”

With a tracking device, I figured.

“You don’t think they’ll be looking for you at the crossing?”

“Who said I’m crossing into Calexico?”, she smiled.

She was really taking risks now but I had my own things to worry about, so I silently thanked her for giving me a way out and wished her luck.

I checked out, got in my car, and made my way to the border. It was still early, so it was slightly cool. If I could cross quickly, I’d be able to relax a little and maybe catch up on the sleep I lost thanks to Claudia.

Even at 6:35, the vendors were out there. I was very tempted to get the Batman action figure, but I shook my finger no hoping the guy with the leopard-skin blankets had gotten up early. I even held out hope that he had found a spot at the very front but very quickly harsh reality and the US Customs and Border Protection officer shattered my leopard-skinned dreams.

“What were you doing in México, sir?”

Wasting my time? Turning off a potentially questionable hookup with my bad gas? Lying to Mexicali police?

“Just went to visit for the day and decided to stay overnight as it was getting late and I was tired.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d told the truth and someone thought I was lying.

“Bringing back anything with you?”

I brightened up at the thought that at least I wasn’t bringing a STD back with me.

“Just this water and some snacks.”

He must have felt sorry for me. Either that or the machine had determined I wasn’t hiding any illegals or contraband in any secret compartments. With a half-hearted “Welcome back to the United States”, he waved me through.

I got a motel room in Brawley, stopped at Denny’s for a personalized Slam, and got some much-needed sleep. It was 5 PM when I woke up. There was no rush hour to speak of in Brawley and the 30 odd miles would fly by, so I figured I’d eat in town before heading northwest. It might be another long night and I needed real food to keep me going. No more protein bars on this trip.

The BBQ Bacon Buford hit the spot and, fueled up, I left the Imperial Valley for Salton City. I arrived at 8:45. There were no cars around.

I tried the door and this time it gave way, revealing a dimly-lit dive bar. This was a legitimate dive bar as there was not a hipster nor a fedora nor a trilby in sight. Just an old man behind the bar looking at me in a way that told me I wasn’t welcome.

“Hi! May I have a Bud please?”

It was what the tap showed and I figured it was the easiest thing for him to pour.

“Are you lost?”

“No, sir. I am meeting someone here. This is the address they gave me.”

He gave me a look of pity, poured a shot of whiskey, and gave it to me.

“On the house. You’re gonna need it.”

I raised it front of me to say thanks and brought it to my mouth. As I was about to down the shot, I heard the door open and shut.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”