Anointed (Vanished Book 3)

by Michael Arches

  “Just part of the job. Every day, it’s my responsibility to put myself at risk on behalf of the public. And, of course, members of the public have civic responsibilities, too.”

  Forget the warm-up, here comes the first pitch, a curveball.

  “At this very moment,” he said, “We desperately need your help to stop the scourge of illegal drugs in this great state. You have invaluable information about the horrific cartel that kidnapped you. We’re particularly interested in locking up Carlotta Santiago, a demon in human form. Of course, after you testify against her, we will protect you and your mom completely.”

  “I doubt that,” Viola fired back. “You can’t even keep me safe in jail. Carlotta basically runs the place, not the deputies. There are at least a dozen Santiago women waiting for the order to shiv me. And how can you hide me when they already know what’s happening in your office?”

  He fired back, “Ridiculous. Our secrets stay secret.”

  Viola told him what Juanita had said.

  “She simply guessed the truth.”

  Back and forth, they sparred. He couldn’t convince Viola to testify, and she couldn’t convince him to let her go. He threatened to lock her up for months, but she knew Carlotta had already made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m done talking. I want a lawyer.”

  Riddle glared at her, all pretense of being buddies gone. “I hope you can afford a good one. Under the law, we only have to provide counsel for indigents when we charge them with a felony. You’re being held for contempt of court for refusing to testify before the grand jury. Not a felony, so no free land shark.”

  Her last strategy had failed. She couldn’t afford a lawyer. Couldn’t even get a loan to hire one—not with a hundred grand worth of student loans hanging over her head.

  Riddle strode out of the room and slammed the door. Viola waited for the deputies to show up and escort her back to the jail on the eastern side of town.

  She sat alone for God only knew how long. If he expected the silent treatment would break her down, he was nuts. She was her own best friend.

  Eventually, she wondered whether anyone was even paying attention. To find out, she yelled, “Okay, I’ll tell you everything that Carlotta did to me.”

  Nothing. They’d all taken off and forgotten about her. It was funny until she realized she might wither away for days or weeks. Eventually, one of these fools would need the interrogation room again, and her corpse would greet them, and Riddle would say, Oh, I thought the marshals had picked her up and took her back to jail. What a pity.

  -o-o-o-

  Jackson Memorial Hospital, Boulder

  Beau returned from a quick breakfast in the cafeteria. His face was pale, and he wasn’t the kind of guy who rattled easily.

  A chill ran through Athena. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just got an email from the boss about Roger. He’s fighting for his life at Denver General.”

  Athena gasped. “What the hell happened?”

  “All they know is somebody beat the shit out of him. Three marshals surprised his attacker when they showed up at Roger’s house for poker night. Before Roger passed out, he said, ‘Tell Carol Winter the Viper is after her. I didn’t talk.’”

  Guilt flooded through her as someone else suffered on her behalf. “How seriously is Roger hurt?”

  “Pretty bad. I called his long-time secretary. She says the assassin beat the crap out of Roger’s face. And the bastard chopped off two fingers on his left hand.”

  Christ, not again. “I owe him my life, over and over. Did the marshals catch the hitman, what was his name?”

  “The Viper. Unfortunately, the son of a bitch got away before the marshals had realized what was going on inside the house.”

  “Any word on Roger’s condition now?”

  Beau shook his head. “He’s in surgery. They do know from the crime scene that’s he lost a lot of blood. It’s touch and go.”

  Athena couldn’t hold back her tears. “I’ve lost count of all the people who’ve been hurt or killed trying to protect me.”

  Beau shook his head. “Don’t think about it like that. We’re all doing our jobs. The justice system would break down if law enforcement didn’t do everything possible to protect witnesses. Roger knows that better than anybody.”

  Her boyfriend sounded so sure, but Athena knew that Roger had gone well beyond the call of duty for her. “I’ll never be able to repay him for his sacrifices.”

  “Listen, we can talk more about that later. Right now, we’ve got to get the hell out of here. If the Viper has any brains, he’s tracking new births. Who knows how long it will take him to hear about a nameless baby here?”

  Athena glanced at the tiny, swaddled newborn lying in the bed next to her. Fear cut through her like a razor-sharp knife. “Let’s get going.”

  She hoped DOJ would wipe out the cartel, and she didn’t care anymore how they did it. This was total war. But her priority had to be saving Leo, Beau, and herself.

  Athena pushed the nurses’ call button and ask them to find her doctor ASAP. It turned out, she was making her rounds at a nearby hospital and promised to drop by as soon as she could. Athena asked her to hurry.

  -o-o-o-

  When the OB/GYN arrived, Athena told her about the attack against a marshal while trying to find her. The doctor didn’t try to talk Athena out of leaving, but it still took a good half-hour to collect everything she and Beau would need to take care of a newborn. The minutes dragged, and panic froze within her. Athena could barely catch her breath.

  At last, the three of them made it to the hospital’s entrance. Beau helped Leo settle safely into his new car seat. Then, her boyfriend helped Athena into the front passenger seat. One of the nurses gave her a cane so she could walk later without toppling over. Before Beau tore out, he tossed their latest burn phones in the trash.

  When the hospital vanished in the rear mirror, Athena was finally able to take a deep breath. No hitman would be able to find them because nobody connected to them knew where in the world they were going.

  Chapter 21

  Casa Santiago, near Louviers

  After spending time with Jasmine, Carlotta felt twenty years younger. Actually, she’d never felt as good with any other woman. A pang of fear seized Carlotta as she thought about the men at the compound and how they would treat a young innocent. Jasmine needed to be protected at all costs, inside the compound and elsewhere.

  Carlotta ordered Emilio to her office. While he wasn’t the brightest man she’d ever met, he’d always performed his work thoroughly.

  “Jasmine seems too naïve and innocent to take care of herself. That is why, starting now, you will watch over her.”

  He froze for a second before saying, “As you wish, Señora.”

  She pulled a nine-millimeter Glock and a holster out of a drawer and set it in front of the man. “Thread this holster on your belt. Keep it with you at all times.”

  He did, but it took him a moment to figure out how.

  That did not bode well. “I assumed you were familiar with guns. Am I wrong?”

  He blushed. “Señora, my father is a mechanic. As far as I know, he’s never owned a gun. I have been trained as a gardener and landscaper, not as a soldier. But,” he seemed to force the smile, “I have fired a .22 many times at rodents.”

  Fuck! Unfortunately, the cartel was stretched incredibly thin over her three major drug distribution channels and dozens of money-laundering businesses. Pablo simply couldn’t spare any experienced guards to protect Jasmine. Instead, she used a walkie-talkie to summon Hector.

  When he arrived, she said, “You will take Emilio and Jasmine to the firing range. Show them both how to shoot a pistol. Don’t stop training them until you’re sure they can hit a man in the chest at twenty meters.”

  Hector looked Emilio up and down. “Could take a while.”

  She had no time for sarcas
m from the hired help. “Then I suggest you get moving. ¡Arriba, arriba!”

  The two men saluted and bolted.

  One more headache managed. Carlotta turned her attention to her next problem and called Tito to her office. When he arrived, he described his most recent communications with Juanita thanks to her smuggled-in cellphone.

  So, Viola was holding up her end of the deal. She’d often been a pain in the ass, but she was reliable. The fucking Feds would get nothing from her. “Remind Juanita that she needs to treat Viola with the greatest courtesy. With any luck, our dear Santa Muerte will be released soon.”

  To turn that fond hope into reality, she contacted the cartel’s inside man at Main Justice in Washington. She explained to him what’d happened then said, “The longer prosecutors keep Viola locked up, the greater the chance that they will break her.”

  “I will do everything possible to free her,” the man said. “This US Attorney Riddle has major political ambitions. I will remind him that locking up an innocent woman, particularly a white victim of a serious crime, could create considerable blowback against the department and him. That would be most unfortunate for all concerned.”

  -o-o-o-

  Byron Rogers United States Courthouse, Denver

  Viola was sure they’d forgotten all about her. She hadn’t minded the peace and quiet, but now she really needed to use the restroom.

  The door remained locked. If worse came to worse, she’d throw a metal chair through the mirrored glass and exit through the observation room. But that was likely to annoy the powers that be even more than she already had. She glowered at the mirror. “If you don’t get me out of here, I’m going to drop my pants and pee on the floor.”

  As she began to unbutton her pants, a frowning, gray-haired woman in a blue pants suit strode in. Before the cop could speak a word, Viola said, “I really, really, have to go to the bathroom!”

  The woman frowned. “Make it quick. You’re due in court in ten minutes, and your lawyer wants to talk to you first.”

  All Viola could imagine was that Gloria must’ve sold some of her few possessions to scrape together enough money. Viola would have to repay her, even though she doubted she had a job anymore. The prim and proper old men running her accounting firm had to be horrified by the whole Santa Muerte thing. But too bad for them. Becoming Santa Muerte was the most exciting experience that’d ever happened to her.

  Viola went to the ladies’ room then found herself standing outside the courtroom. A towering black guy in a flawless charcoal gray suit and white silk shirt approached her. He looked like Lebron James, including the same smile.

  “Hello,” he said in a deep, booming voice. “I’m Alexander Lamont. I’ve been hired by Cici Brodie to represent you in this travesty against our justice system.”

  When she heard his voice, she remembered. “Were you on Stephen Colbert’s show a week or two ago? You helped that rapper beat some drug charge.”

  He laughed. “Guilty as charged. Me, not him. I’m sorry we don’t have much time to get to know each other, but I assume you’d like to get out of jail without being forced to testify against the vindictive Santiago drug lords. Do I have that part right?”

  There was no way in hell Viola or her mom could afford this guy. Not even for a day. “Listen I really appreciate your willingness to help, and damn, I need it, but I’m dead broke. And I’ve probably lost my job.”

  “Don’t let financial considerations worry you none. Cici’s picking up the whole tab. Now, we’ve got to get inside the courtroom. Don’t want to piss the judge off more than we already have.”

  As they walked in, a woman sitting at a desk near the judge’s bench said, “All rise. The Honorable Judge Walker Hoover presiding.”

  After a few preliminary comments to the attorneys, the chubby, bald judge said, “I believe a witness in these proceedings, Viola Hawkins, has been subpoenaed to appear before the grand jury. The US Attorney’s office tells me she refuses to answer his questions. Do I have that right, Mr. Lamont?”

  Alexander stood, towering over everybody. “That’s the gist of it, Your Honor. And we just filed a writ of habeas corpus seeking the immediate release of Viola Hawkins on three grounds. First, she invokes her right against self-incrimination. Second, she is being persecuted for her religious beliefs, and third, the government has shown itself shockingly incapable of protecting witnesses from the drug cartels. By forcing my client to testify, the US Attorney is in fact signing her death warrant.”

  Those comments produced a flurry of responses from Riddle. Worse, the judge nodded his head each time the US Attorney spoke.

  Then, Alexander said, “Your Honor, my client is particularly concerned about the recent news reports concerning a notorious cartel assassin, La Víbora, otherwise known as the Viper, who almost tortured a senior US Marshal to death at his home in Lakewood last night.”

  Viola’s level of fear skyrocketed when she heard the name of the hitman she’d met recently. She tugged on her lawyer’s sleeve and whispered in his ear, telling him about her relationship to La Víbora.

  Alexander frowned and relayed her comments to the court. Not that Judge Hoover or Riddle seemed to care.

  Back and forth, the lawyers argued before the judge. On the plus side, Alexander handled himself extremely well. She had no idea why Cici Brodie cared about her, but she and Alexander were angels of mercy.

  Finally, the judge said, “I’ve heard enough. Viola Hawkins is hereby ordered to testify in front of the grand jury forthwith. Unless she complies, she will remain in the custody of the Denver County Sheriff’s Department until the term of the grand jury expires in four months. We are adjourned.”

  As soon as he left the bench, Alexander leaned down and said, “You and I really need to have a long talk. I’ll arrange for that right away.”

  Viola nodded. She’d only known him for about ninety minutes, but for the first time in her life, she felt like somebody powerful was on her side, and he seemed to understand how the cartel world worked. Whether he could spring her from jail was another question entirely.

  -o-o-o-

  Interstate 70 at Georgetown

  Beau and Athena took the roundabout route to their new ranch in South Park. Every so often, Beau exited Interstate 70 as they were heading west and drove around some small town while he kept his eyes focused on his mirrors. Nobody seemed to be following them.

  In Silverthorne, they stopped at an outlet mall to pick up new burn phones. Athena used a nearby coffee shop Wi-Fi from the car to check on Cici. She’d promised to cause a big ruckus in downtown Denver at noon.

  At least one Denver TV station was carrying the rally live. A local reporter estimated the crowd at three thousand strong. Athena watched the live video stream as Cici stood in an amphitheater at Civic Center Park. She wore a bright yellow pantsuit with the top partially unbuttoned to reveal her generous cleavage.

  She frowned as she yelled, “I’m disappointed, people! Rise up! We can’t let some old pointy-headed fart of a judge steal one of our own off the streets and lock us up. Viola has done absolutely nothing wrong!”

  “She sounds pretty pissed,” Beau said with a grin.

  Athena snapped back, “You wouldn’t think it was so damned funny if you were in Viola’s shoes. Material witness warrants should only be used in the most extreme circumstances, and no judge has the right to put a witness’s life in danger.”

  That wiped the smirk off his face. “Okay, sorry. Do you think Cici can change his mind?”

  “She’d need a bigger crowd. Judge Hoover is a hard-nosed law-and-order guy, a legendary hard ass. A few whiners aren’t going to affect him much.”

  Athena kept watching while Cici whipped the small crowd into a frenzy. To wrap up, she ordered all of them to go find ten people and come back at five p.m. She told them everybody needed to be prepared for a march on the courthouse, and they might have to sleep on the streets until Santa Muerte wa
s released.

  It seemed like a lot to ask, but Athena couldn’t help admire Cici’s energy. Hopefully, she could turn out a bigger crowd at five. If not, Viola was probably going to spend a long time in jail with more than a few cartel members. Eventually, Carlotta might decide that the wisest outcome would be to shut Viola up permanently.

  -o-o-o-

  Casa Santiago, near Louviers

  Carlotta’s frustrations grew. She’d seen Viola’s ability to sway the Hispanic community’s heart and soul, and the jefa needed some of that power at her disposal to convince the recalcitrant assholes in the other cartels to cooperate with their new overlord. And she simply didn’t have enough Santiagos to put one at every new business they’d won in the battle.

  Pablo, Tito, and Isabella sat in front of Carlotta’s desk. The jefa had summoned them to talk about options.

  “What if we disguise Heidi as Santa Muerte?” she asked.

  Viola had suggested that idea already, and Carlotta had shot it down back then, but the rare queasiness in her stomach made her doubt her decision. But as soon as she saw the open mouths and blank stares facing her, she realized she’d been right the first time.

  “How would that even be possible?” Isabella asked. “Everybody knows the real Niña Blanca is in jail with Juanita.”

  Pablo nodded. “They see Viola as a holy spirit. If you listen to her for even a minute, you know she cares about you. The people can recognize her voice, and Heidi doesn’t sound anything like her. Plus, Heidi comes across as only caring about herself.”

  Hearing those words from her nephew caught Carlotta by surprise, but his comments rang true. Heidi only acted nice because Carlotta showered her with gifts and affection. And Heidi hadn’t returned to the casa since she’d fired her assistant manager. What was really keeping her away?

  The jefa pointed at Tito. “What do you say?”

  “Her voice is the biggest problem. With enough makeup, you could make Heidi look like Viola, but Heidi’s voice would betray her within seconds.”

  “Maybe we could stick Heidi up on the stage and play the soundtrack from Viola’s last mass. Heidi could lip-synch.”