by Kelly Irvin
“I’m saying I’ll take you—all of you—to Laredo with me. My aunt and uncle live there. They have a nice, big house with several extra bedrooms. It has an excellent security system in a gated community. You’ll stay with them.”
The screen door opened again. This time Ava and Cullen spilled out. Each carried a big cookie—they looked like their aunt’s creation.
“That’s a good idea. The kids would love a road trip.” Marty followed behind them. He eased the door shut while Ava climbed onto Natalie’s lap and Cullen flopped into the rocker next to Deacon’s chair. Marty’s tone was carefully neutral. It said don’t scare the kids. “You could use a vacation, right, kids?”
“I want to go to Disney World.” Cullen spoke through a mouthful of cookie. “Or to the beach.”
“We need more time to plan for that.” Natalie summoned a smile for her children. “This is a spur-of-the-moment road trip. To Laredo.”
“Because of the bad men?” Ava snuggled against her mother’s chest. “I didn’t like them. They were mean.”
“Yes, they were.” Natalie stroked the girl’s hair. “But God protected us, and He’ll keep protecting us.”
“I’ll take care of the house and the animals. When those beasts come back, I’ll be here.” The determination in Marty’s voice matched the angry glitter in his jasper eyes. “Count on that, kiddo.”
“Then it’s settled.” Clearing his throat, Deacon disentangled himself from Cullen and stood. “You’ll be safe with Aunt Piper and Uncle George. And they’re fun.” Deacon edged toward the steps. Time to make arrangements. To balance this new twist of responsibility with his job. “They have a swimming pool in their backyard. And parrots that talk. And they like to play Twister.”
“I like pools. I never met a parrot.” The uncertain look disappeared from Ava’s face, replaced with a shiny glow of anticipation. Kids were easy. He should have some. Ava slid from her mother’s lap. “Cullen, we’re going to Laredo. Let’s get our suitcases. Maybe we can see Abuelo and Abuelita!”
“¿Abuelo? I thought your parents—”
“Eli’s parents. My parents never come here. The kids haven’t seen them in years. My husband’s parents are in Italy so . . . We always thought Gabby and Eli would get married. They got attached to his parents, and we’ve stayed in touch.”
She wheeled her chair toward Marty and touched his arm. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll call my brothers in Austin.” Marty fingered the smartphone in his big hand. “All three are veterans, two were Army Rangers. They’ll come down to stay. We’ll be ready.”
A military contingent. Deacon grinned. If he decided to return to the Benoit house, Camouflage Man would get his own surprise. “I’ve got a few things to wrap up here, then I’ll come for you. Don’t go anywhere.”
The sound of Natalie laughing—a bedraggled, halfhearted laugh, but still a laugh—followed him down the steps to his SUV. Her words echoed around him. “Where would we go? We’ll be right here, waiting for you.”
The visual forced Deacon to slow for a second. What was he getting himself into? Taking a woman in a wheelchair and two children to Laredo and involving his aunt and uncle in something dangerous? All for what? Up to this point in twenty-nine years of life the most he’d ever been responsible for was feeding the fish in his aquarium.
For the first time, standing on the sidelines wasn’t enough.
Chapter 13
Gabriella eyed the numbers on the house. At eight o’clock on a Friday night quiet reigned in this neighborhood with its medium-sized, less-than-affluent houses. The cars parked in the driveways were fancier than the houses. Most of them had ornate bars on the windows and keep-out, watchdog signs on chain-link fences. Landscaping was sparse, mostly rubber trees and lantana and bougainvillea vines bursting with purple-and-hot-pink flowers. Alberto Garza’s family lived on a west-side Laredo street that was surprisingly somewhere in the middle in a town that had always been starkly divided between haves and have-nots.
She spotted the house number. Her stomach flip-flopped. The Garzas already received the news. They’d had some time to digest it. Had they passed the denial and gone straight to the anger stage? Time to find out, whether she liked it or not. They might know something that would help her find Jake. “They’re probably eating supper right now.” She hazarded a glance at Eli. He looked as happy to be here as she was. “Maybe we should do this tomorrow. They’ve had a terrible day.”
“We should get it over with.” Eli glanced at his watch. “Tomorrow isn’t going to be any better for them, and we’ll have all night to think about it.”
“Right.”
Wherever the Garzas were in the grieving process, they weren’t going through it alone. Vehicles jammed the broad half-circle cement drive in front of the pale-pink one-story stucco house. A lone white Mercedes led the pack of a dozen dark-colored SUVs and pickup trucks.
Eli parked behind a long line of cars on the street. He opened Gabriella’s door for her. “Are you ready for this?”
She smoothed her sleeveless blouse—already damp with perspiration—and patted her limp hair. If San Antonio was hot, it was nothing compared to Laredo. Her hands were shaking. “Yep.”
A wiry, young guy dressed in black jeans and a black undershirt answered the door. His gaze traveled from Gabriella to Eli. “Who are you?” Thanks to a fat silver stud embedded in his tongue, he sounded as if he had a speech impediment.
Eli waved his badge and made the introductions. “We’re very sorry to bother you at a time like this, but we really need to speak with Alberto’s parents.”
“They already talked to some policemen. We’re making plans for my brother’s funeral—for when they release his body to us. They can’t even tell us when that will be. Leave us alone.” The teenager’s hand went to his face. The tears tattooed across his knuckles matched the ones he tried to hide on his cheeks. “My only brother is dead. My parents lost a son. We don’t want to talk to you. Can’t you understand that, ese?”
“We’re very sorry for your loss.” Eli’s tone was soft, respectful. “We hate to intrude, but we’re trying to find the people who did this to your brother.”
Gabriella stepped over the threshold into the teenager’s space. “Your brother came to me.” She spoke to him the way she spoke to crime victims on the stand. With the greatest of empathy. “I spoke with him before he died.”
The teen’s eyes reddened. His jaw worked. “You’re . . . the one. The police said . . . you found him?”
“He found me.”
The boy’s response was lost in a shuffle of feet. A man who clutched a housecoat over a paunch of a belly with one hand and a glass in the other ambled into the foyer. “Diego, who is this?”
“Papi, it’s the lady who found Beto.”
“He found me.” That fact needed to be clear. She hadn’t asked for this. She hadn’t gone looking for it. “He came to me.”
“Let them in, Diego.” Mr. Garza raised a stubby hand and waved them forward. “Come.”
His gait was so unsteady, Diego had to guide him forward down a long tile hallway into a sitting room packed with at least two dozen people in all shapes and sizes. All red-eyed, tissues in hand, all staring at Gabriella and Eli. Mr. Garza jerked his bald head. “Leave us, por favor.”
The room cleared. Except for two women on a stiff brocade sofa. The older one, a lovely woman with silver-streaked black hair swept back in an elegant bun, sat ramrod straight, hands clasped in her lap. The younger woman continued to sob quietly into a tissue. Diego went to her while Mr. Garza patted the other woman’s shoulder. “Mamá, it’s the lady con la policia de San Antonio.”
“They have come to tell us what happened to Beto?” Her enormous brown eyes, dark with mascara and eyeliner, peered up at Gabriella. They were clear and piercing. “You found my Alberto?”
“He found me.”
“Oh, you were there when he died?” The younger woman’s sobs increased in volume.
“Did he say anything about me? I’m his girlfriend, Kristina Briones. Did he mention me?”
“I’m so sorry.” The need to be truthful walked the tightrope of compassion. “He only spoke a few words. He was very injured.”
Diego’s arm encircled the girl. She collapsed on his shoulder.
“Why did he come to you?” Mrs. Garza’s voice was dry and crackling like dead leaves underfoot in the fall. “Who are you?”
Gabriella sank onto the love seat across from the women. For some reason Mrs. Garza seemed in control of the room and the situation. Mr. Garza stood guard, his hand on her shoulder, but Mrs. Garza clearly would do the talking. “I’m no one in particular. I own a restaurant in San Antonio. It’s possible your son knew my brother.”
“Who is your brother?”
Gabriella explained. Her face anxious for the first time, Mrs. Garza plucked at the lace on her black floor-length skirt. She peeked up at her husband, then back at Gabriella. “Alberto was premedicine at the university. How would he know an ATF agent?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.” Eli spoke for the first time. “Mr. and Mrs. Garza, a college education is very expensive these days. Medical school, astronomical. Please take no offense, but how was he paying for it?”
“He was a good student. He received a scholarship, some grants. It wasn’t enough to cover everything. It was hard, but he worked.”
“Worked doing what?”
“He had a job on the campus. At the student recreation center.” Mr. Garza spoke up. “He did other things. Worked for his uncle. Picked up items for his uncle’s store and brought them to Laredo for him.”
Eli shifted, his gaze intense. Gabriella tried to unobtrusively elbow him. He glowered at her. “What kind of items? What uncle? What store?”
Mr. Garza’s eyes narrowed. The grief-stricken father gone momentarily, he set his glass on the end table with a definitive smack. “What did my son say to you, exactly, Señorita Benoit?”
“He knew my name and he mentioned Jake, but he died before he could tell me whatever it was he needed to tell me.” Gabriella gripped her hands in her lap, trying to keep her voice level. “That’s why I’m trying to find out more about your son. Anything you could tell me about his life might help. Something has happened to my brother. Your son was trying to tell me my brother needed me to do something or come to him.”
“He was a good son, a good student, a responsible young man.” Mrs. Garza’s long nose wrinkled. Her eyebrows lifted. “Do not think otherwise. Undoubtedly, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.” Eli’s tone softened. “What store? What items?”
“My brother, Manuel Figueroa, owns a sporting goods store here in Laredo.” Mrs. Garza’s thin lips pursed. “He also has some pawn shops and an auto repair shop. He’s a good businessman who employs many people.”
“And your nephews, Rudy and Chuy, work for him.”
“Sí.” Her voice cracked. “Alberto, he is good student, good boy. He never does anything wrong. Always so good in school.”
“Until he started buying weapons for someone else. What’s the name of the store?”
“No. No. I don’t believe it.”
“Mrs. Garza, I talked to a store manager in San Antonio who sold him the guns. What’s the name of your brother’s store?”
“You’re just trying to blame Beto for something he didn’t do.” Kristina straightened, sniffed, and wiped her nose. “Señorita Benoit, this Jake Benoit. He’s the one in the newspaper today. The one they’re looking for who murdered the man on the banks of the river and then ran away.”
“Jake never ran from anything in his life.” These people were grieving, but they didn’t get to sully her brother’s reputation either. “He’s an honorable man. If we can find him, maybe we can find out who did this to your son.”
Mrs. Garza looked up at her husband. His face darkened to a molten red. “No.”
“Yes.” Mrs. Garza turned to Kristina. “Tell them what you told me.”
Kristina huddled among the members of her dead boyfriend’s family. Her long hair was wet and matted to her neck. “Alberto texted me Thursday afternoon. He said he was in trouble and he had to leave town.” She chewed her bottom lip. “He said he’d gotten mixed up in something bad, but it was a mistake. A big mistake. He kept saying he was sorry, sorry, sorry.”
“What kind of trouble? Sorry for what?” Gabriella grappled with the need for restraint, the need for more information, and the desire to escape this room with air so heavy with grief it threatened to crush her. This was one of the many reasons she chose to leave the legal profession. “What did he get mixed up in?”
“He said they’d found out.”
“Who found out what?”
“Everybody, apparently.” Her brittle laugh cracked and fell around her. “Your brother knew Beto had been buying weapons in San Antonio for . . . for someone here in Laredo.”
“He was a straw buyer.” They already knew this. It didn’t help. “Who was he buying for?”
Kristina went on as if she hadn’t heard. “He needed the money. He couldn’t make rent. He was ashamed to tell his parents. He knew they would want him to come home and go to school here in Laredo. So he asked his uncle for advice about getting a job. Mr. Figueroa said he could use his help, running errands. Money problem solved.”
“So the task force ID’d him as a buyer and sent Jake to bring him in.” Eli leaned against the wall next to the door, his arms crossed.
“Except the ATF wanted him to stay in play, that’s what they called it. They wanted to get the guy here in Laredo who was selling to the cartel.”
The cartel. Bad guys to cross. Very bad guys. “So his connection found out he was informing?”
Kristina shrugged, her lips quivering. Tears trickled down her bronze cheeks. “I think so. He said he was going to San Antonio. He wouldn’t be able to contact me for a while but not to worry. He was going to talk to a lawyer he could trust.”
Gabriella exchanged glances with Eli. She was the lawyer. How did Beto know about her? Jake would never reveal family information to a CI. Not intentionally. “What did he say about the lawyer?”
“Only that he thought he could trust her. He said he wouldn’t have a phone for a while. When he could, he’d call me. Only he never did.” Her anguish a palpable presence in the room, she dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.
Gabriella fought the urge to do the same. Jake had used a college kid to get inside a gun-smuggling ring. Somehow the kid found out about her and came looking for her. Now he was dead, and Jake was missing. What happened to Beto’s phone? So many missing pieces and no way to fill them in.
“One more time.” Eli stood. “The name of the store here in Laredo. And the address.”
This time, Mr. Garza didn’t hesitate.
They were almost to the car when Kristina called Gabriella’s name, forcing her to halt. The desire to be free of the haunting grief of this family froze her hand to the car handle. She ducked her head, breathed, and turned.
“Please, miss, I need to know.” Kristina stumbled down the uneven sidewalk and through the gate. She touched Gabriella’s arm. Her fingers were icy. “I didn’t want to ask in front of Beto’s mama. Did he . . . did he suffer?”
The lump in Gabriella’s throat choked her. She squeezed the girl’s hand. “He slipped away.” It was true. Here one second, gone the next. “He was very brave. He found me and tried to give me a message. It was an honorable thing to do.”
“He was a good guy.” Kristina hiccupped a sob. “He didn’t deserve this.” She tugged a pen from her back pocket and turned Gabriella’s hand over where she wrote a telephone number on her palm. The pen pressed into her flesh. “Promise me you’ll call me when you find who did this. I want to be there to spit in his face. I want him to suffer like Beto suffered.”
Gabriella cradled her hand against her chest. “We’ll
do our very best to find who did this. I promise.”
Kristina nodded and backed away. “I hope your brother is still alive.”
“Thank you.”
Shoulders slumped, she turned and trudged back into the house.
Gabriella turned to see Eli watching her across the hood of the car. He smiled at her. “What are you looking at?”
“You have such a good heart.”
“Shut up and get in. We have to find Jake and catch a murderer. Time’s wasting.”
Still smiling, Eli did as he was told.
Chapter 14
“Gabs! Gabby! Your phone is buzzing.”
Gabriella jerked awake. Eli’s fingers touched her cheek, withdrew. In her foggy state of exhaustion, she almost raised her hand to bring it back. So much had happened today. Alberto Garza’s family. Sunny Mendez. Kristina Briones. Too much to process. Still, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was figuring out how to find Jake. She slid upright in the Charger’s leather seat and pushed her hair from her face.
The phone. Jake. News.
Natalie. Her heart jerked in a painful hiccup. She should’ve called Natalie. She’d be worried. Gabriella rooted through makeup, gum, mints, keys, billfold. Finally, her hand closed around the phone.
Her sister’s voice was low and hoarse. Gabriella could barely hear her. “What’s the matter, Nat? Are the kids keeping you awake? Tell them I said to get in bed and stay there.”
“You’re in danger.”
“What? What are you talking about? Where are the kids?”
“The kids are in the back of the van, asleep. They’re fine. Listen to me. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
“It was dead and I had to charge it. Then I left it in the car while we interviewed Alberto Garza’s family. I’m sorry. Are you okay . . . Did you say back of the van? Why are you in the van?”
“It doesn’t matter. Thugs—”
“Back of the van?” The sound of air rushing and static mixed with faint music registered. Natalie wasn’t at home. She was driving. Gabriella glanced at her watch. Nine twenty on a Friday night. “You shouldn’t be driving and talking on the phone at the same time. Where are you going?”