"We're so concerned about ISIS ten thousand miles away," Cat said, "but we're completely unconcerned about Mexican cartels only a hundred and fifty feet away across the Rio Grande."

"The cartels haven't tried to blow up a football stadium filled with a hundred thousand Americans," Scott said.

"True. But they've killed a hundred thousand Mexicans in the last ten years, just on the other side of the river. And they send sicarios north to kill in America. We had a case in an affluent Dallas suburb three years ago, man and his wife sitting in their car outside a Victoria's Secret. White SUV pulls up, masked man gets out, walks to the car, and shoots the man nine times in the head-victim had been a lawyer for the Gulf Cartel, tried to hide out in suburban America. Shooter gets back in the SUV and disappears. We nabbed them just last month, trying to come back into the U.S. in Matamoros. Father and son, Mexican cops, coming up for another hit. We have an entire task force chasing sicarios."

"I didn't know."

"No one does. Point is, the cartels have killed more, beheaded more, and terrorized more people than ISIS. We give Syrians fleeing ISIS terror refuge in America-why not my parents? They fled terror, too. But we say they're 'illegal aliens' instead of 'political refugees.' Look at them. They're not alien at all."

"They don't look like aliens to me," Pajamae said from the burro.

"That was a scary movie," Boo said.

"You saw Alien?" Scott asked.

Pajamae nodded; she could not lie.

"We claim the Fifth," Boo said.

"Are my parents guilty?" Cat asked.

"Of what?"

"Entering the country illegally."

"We are innocent," Diego said. "We were running for our lives."

"They've waited thirty-two years for justice," Cat said.

"Catalina had to be born in America to be an American," Diego said, "so we made our way to San Antonio. There she was born. I was trained in carpentry, so I began working with homebuilders. Eventually, I started my own business renovating homes. We moved here three years ago when Catalina was assigned to the task force. I am now seventy-two, so I have retired except for my daughter's house. And I build shrines in other houses."

"Is there a demand for that?"

"Oh, yes. I could work full time building shrines."

"You've got a niche market."

"Yes, and I get paid in cash so I don't have to pay taxes."

"Uh, Dad ..." Cat gave her father a look. "He's a federal judge."

"Oh, so he is." Diego turned to Scott with a half smile: "I was just kidding."

"I'm not the IRS either."

"I am glad your kidnappers did not kill you."

"Me, too."

"So my daughter, she now protects you?"

"Yes."

"She is a very good shot with her guns."

"Guns?" Scott turned to Cat. "How many guns do you have?"

She shrugged. "A few."

"Is that more or less than ten?"

"Do bazookas count?"

"Is this a date?" Boo asked.

Cat sat with the girls on the back patio.

"What?"

"Us coming over? Are you and A. Scott on a date?"

"Well ..." She thought of their tryst in the car. "Maybe ... no, it's not a date."

"Then ask him on a date."

"Isn't the man supposed to ask the woman?"

"If you wait for him to ask you out, we'll be out of college before we have a mother."

"You want a mother?"

"We do. Or at least a big sister. We think you'd be a good one. Either one."

Pajamae nodded.

"You do?"

Boo reached to the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a cell phone.

"We could text."

"Okay."

She held the phone out to Cat. "You put your number in our phone, and we'll put our number in your phone."

Cat took the phone and typed.

"But no sexting," Boo said. "Save that for A. Scott."

"Is that Baby Jesus?" Pajamae asked.

She was pointing at a statue of the Virgin Mary holding Baby Jesus.

"It is."

"I've never seen that in someone's backyard."

"You've never been to Mexico."

Lunch consisted of chilies rellenos, enchiladas, tacos, chalupas, guacamole, refried beans, flautas, tortillas, flan, and churros. Food crowded the table, and they crowded around the table. Cat stuck a long churro in her mouth and gave Scott a brown-eyed look across the table.

"So, Judge Fenney-"

Diego waved a churro at him.

"Scott."

"So, Judge Scott, have you heard about the president's executive order granting amnesty to illegal Mexicans?"

Scott glanced from Diego to Sofia to Cat to Diego.

"I have."

"And now Texas has sued him to stop the amnesty."

"Yes, they have."

"We are praying the president wins. If he wins, we win."

"I light six candles each day," Sofia said.

"Do you know the judge who will decide?" Diego said.

"Dad, he can't talk about that." Cat turned to him. "Sorry, Scott, their lives hang in the balance with that case, so they're living and dying it."

"Oh. I am sorry, Judge Scott," Diego said.

"Diego, Sofia ... Cat ... do you watch the Sunday morning political talk shows?"

"No. We go to church."

"A smart choice. Do you read the newspapers?"

"We stopped taking the paper. I read the sports online."

"Why do you ask, Scott?" Cat asked.

He again studied their faces. Everyone in Dallas knew that he was the presiding judge in the terrorist case; perhaps everyone didn't know that he was also the presiding judge in the immigration case.

"Because I know the judge on the case."

"Is he a fair judge?" Diego asked.

"I hope so."

"Who is he?" Cat asked.

"Me."

"Scott, I'm sorry," Cat said. "I didn't know. If I did, I wouldn't have let my dad go on and on."

They had said goodbye to her parents. Cat had walked them out to the car.

"You didn't know."

"Is Consuelo here illegally, too?"

"She was. She got a green card."

"How?"

"I don't know. I think Judge Buford had something to do with it."

"He was the judge before you, the one that died?"

Scott nodded. "I think he went to bat for her."

"Lucky her." She sighed. "My folks don't have a federal judge batting for them."

The moment suddenly felt awkward.

"Cat, is the case going to be an issue between us?"

"No, of course not, Scott. That's your job. I would never hold your job against you."

"Good."

"I mean, if I had to shoot your dad because he was a bad guy, you wouldn't hold that against me, would you?"

"Maybe I'll be another Clarice Starling when I grow up," Boo said. "Or another Cat Pea."