by BIBA PEARCE
“No comment.”
“It could be anyone,” said the lawyer. “We’ve been through this, Detective.”
“There was only one flaw in your plan,” Reid said.
Snake looked up.
“The Strangler raped all of his victims. He toyed with them. He tied them up and sexually assaulted them. Sometimes for days. You didn’t know that, did you? Because that wasn’t made public.”
Snake’s gaze darkened.
“When we examined her body, it was obvious she wasn’t one of the Strangler’s victims. And now that Halston’s lawyer has confessed to coercion, your denial is worthless. He’s willing to testify that Bella offered to pay for a biographer to write a book about the Strangler if he confessed to Natalia’s murder.”
“I told her it was a bad idea,” he muttered.
His attorney gasped.
“Told who?” Reid asked, not a flicker betraying his relief. “Bella?”
“Yeah, I told her we didn’t need him. Trying to bribe him was risky.”
“It was a brilliant plan,” confessed Reid, playing to Snake’s ego. Now that he’d broken, he wanted to draw the sucker out. “With the Strangler confessing to her murder, there would have been nothing we could do. The case would have been closed. If only it had paid off.”
Snake balled his hands into fists.
“It’s over, Snake. You’re going down for first degree murder.”
“It was all Bella’s idea,” he said.
Reid relaxed into his chair. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“She came up with it when we were dating. She never had any money, and my record label was threatening to drop me if I didn’t come up with a number one hit.”
“The pressure at the top?”
“Yeah. Anyway, Bella had this friend, Natalia. She was beautiful, but simple, you know? She was an heiress, had bundles of money. Bella said if I married Natalia, I’d be set for life.”
Reid watched him in silence.
“I didn’t want to at first. I said I’d rather be with her, but Bella insisted. She said it would be easy to get Natalia to fall in love with me. She was so gullible, she’d believe anything. Then we could plan it so that she had an accident or something, and I’d inherit her fortune.”
“An accident?”
He nodded miserably. “It sounded simple back then. I didn’t think it would get so out of hand.”
“Murder is never simple,” Reid pointed out.
“Anyway, those bodies started popping up in the swamp. Bella said we could make it look like Natalia was another one of his victims.”
Another brilliant plan on Bella’s part, except she hadn’t known about the sexual assault.
“But you had to get rid of the suitcase.”
“I asked Bella to keep it. We couldn't dump it, and with police sniffing around, we didn't have time to destroy it.”
Reid nodded. That’s what he’d thought.
“After Bella was arrested, we decided to leave town. Natalia’s estate was going to be all mine. I’m a rich man now.” He grimaced. “Or at least I would have been.”
He wouldn’t get a cent of that money now. Convicted murderers didn’t inherit. It was against the law.
“You were going to run off into the sunset together?” To use Kenzie’s words.
Snake gave a sad nod. “We almost got away with it too.”
Almost.
48
Reid sat outside the warehouse, waiting for Torres to finish work. It was dark already. The manager had been putting in long hours lately, and Reid got a feeling something was about to go down.
He’d kept a close watch on his security cam, still transmitting from the opposite building. He’d been back a few times to change the batteries, and now he had a pretty good idea of Torres’s working habits. Yet, he still didn’t know much about his personal life.
Tonight, he found out.
Preparing for the trial had occupied most of his days, but this was important and couldn’t wait. If the cartel were up to something, he wanted to know.
Torres appeared shortly after eight. He locked the side door, patted the security guard on the back, then left in his Audi. Reid, parked out of sight behind the vacant prefab, eased after him. Since the Morales cartel had reappeared, nobody knew where they were based, or where the top guys lived.
Reid could have enlightened them, but he’d kept the location of the warehouse to himself, even when the DEA had rounded up the Kings, including Matt Garcia, which effectively ended the turf war. Police had found one of the guns used to kill Navarro in Garcia’s house, complete with a fine set of fingerprints, so he was going away for life. First degree murder. He was lucky not to get the death penalty.
For now, the Warriors reigned supreme. But it wouldn’t be long before the Kings rose again, or another gang took their place. Until then, Miami could enjoy the relative peace.
He followed Torres to an upscale neighborhood just minutes away from the Miami oceanfront, then pulled over and watched as the Audi drove through a pair of wrought iron security gates.
Reid cut the engine and slipped out of the car. He surveyed the colonial-style villa, complete with columns and an ornate crest. So this was Torres’s Miami hideaway. He glanced around for a security guard but didn’t spot one. In addition to the Audi, a Mercedes-Benz was parked in the driveway. A second car, or a girlfriend?
Torres was living a relatively normal life. Operating a legitimate business. On paper, he was a model citizen. Except Reid knew better.
Torres got out of the car, opened the front door, and disappeared inside.
Now what?
Did he wait until the cartel manager had gone to bed, then try to break in? Did he come back while he was out?
He was still pondering 10 minutes later, when the front door reopened, and Torres appeared along with an unnatural blond in a bright red dress. They were arguing. “We’re late.” Her shrill voice rang over the still night air. “The reservation was for eight o’clock. You promised.”
“I can’t help it,” he growled. “I got tied up at work. Did you let them know?”
“Yes, but it’s rude. We’re always late.”
“Get in the car,” he barked.
The woman got in and the gates glided open. Reid hid behind a tree a few houses down. Decision time. Follow Torres and see who he was meeting or use the opportunity to have a look around his villa.
Reid stayed put.
Once the Audi’s headlights had disappeared down the road, he scaled the wall and dropped soundlessly into the cartel member’s property. He hadn’t seen Torres set any alarm, perhaps because he’d been in a hurry and his girlfriend was nagging him.
Reid hoped.
He walked around the house, keeping an eye out for cameras. Surprisingly, there weren’t any. Then again, what would a legitimate businessman need with security cameras? To be safe, he pulled on a balaclava that he’d stuffed into his pocket at the last minute. He didn’t want this coming back to bite him.
Wearing forensic gloves, he forced a window at the back, then held his breath. If the alarm sounded, he could leap over the wall on this side and disappear onto the golf course behind the house. It was a gorgeous spot, tranquil and peaceful. Removed from the manic hustle and bustle of Miami Beach.
All was quiet. Exhaling, he slid open the window and climbed in. A lamp had been left on in the living room, casting a welcoming glow. The house was tastefully decorated with expensive furnishings and fine art on the walls. There were signs of a female touch, so the woman must have lived with him, her Mercedes in the driveway.
Wife? He hadn’t thought Torres was married, but a lot could happen in a year and a half.
He searched the downstairs living area, but apart from the framed photographs of Torres with the blond on the mantlepiece, there wasn’t much to see.
He ventured upstairs. Three bedrooms and a study. He ignored the bedrooms and headed for the study. If there was anythi
ng to find, it would be in there.
The study was as neat as the office in the warehouse. Obviously, Torres was a highly organized individual, but he needed to be to run the cartel’s Miami interests as well as his own dock operation.
Reid made sure the blinds were drawn, then turned on the light. Torres wouldn’t be back for a while, so he had time. He started with the desk, a large, mahogany piece with three drawers down either side.
He found the usual bits of paper and stationery, a file with the company name on it containing invoices, and personal utility bills. Alberto Torres was now going by the name of Alex Guerra. That was why nothing had flagged on their systems.
Other than the name change, there was nothing to hint of his drug-running sideline. A man like Torres wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave anything incriminating in plain sight. Did his wife know what he did for a living? How he afforded this villa in one of Miami’s prime real estate areas? If she didn’t suspect something, she was a fool. A dock operating equipment company wouldn’t support this kind of lifestyle. Or maybe she just didn’t care.
The lower drawer on the left side was locked. He searched for a key but couldn’t find one. In the end, he took out all the other drawers and went in from the top. No point in locking one if you didn’t lock them all.
He rifled through the contents. He found a personal bank statement that he was sure the DEA would give their eyes and teeth to see. This had nothing to do with Regal Holdings. Every month there were eye-watering payments from other shell companies, names that made no sense and probably couldn’t be traced. Alberto Torres was a very wealthy man.
Reid took a photograph with his phone, then put them back. He was about to close the drawer when he felt it give a little. He pushed it again and sure enough, it jiggled out.
A false bottom.
He took everything out and laid it on the floor. The last thing he wanted was for Torres to know someone had been through his stuff. Then he removed the flat board bottom and put it aside. There were only two items in the fake compartment.
A handgun and a photograph.
The gun was a Sig Sauer 9mm, loaded. Now that was interesting. Did Torres keep it here for emergencies? Ready to go in case he was ambushed or had to make a quick getaway?
Reid pulled out the photograph and his breath caught in his throat.
It couldn’t be.
He stared at it for a long time, but there was no mistake. The photograph was of Torres and Bianca. They were on a beach somewhere, their arms around each other. That wasn’t surprising. Bianca had been undercover as his bit on the side. It was the look on her face that shocked him. Her eyes shone as she laughed up at him. Shone in a way they never had with Reid. The most surprising thing was Torres was smiling back. He was relaxed, tanned, and clearly besotted.
There was obviously more to their relationship than Bianca had let on. Had she fallen for her mark? For the man she was supposed to be betraying?
He stared at the photograph again. How could a man who looked at a woman like that shoot her in the head? Was he that ruthless a bastard?
He worked for the cartel, after all. Perhaps he was a cold-hearted psycho. But why did he keep a picture of the two of them in his desk drawer? This picture? This intimate moment? Was it a macabre keepsake? A memento?
Reid frowned, unsettled. Perhaps he hadn’t known Bianca as well as he’d thought he did. He put the photo and gun back, then replaced the contents of the drawer.
What had Bianca got herself into?
One thing was for sure. He needed to do more digging if he was going to get to the bottom of this, but it would have to wait. The trial was coming up and he didn’t have the time right now. But he would get to it. It had been a year and a half already.
Alberto Torres, or rather Alex Guerra, wasn’t going anywhere.
49
“Congratulations,” Kenzie said as Reid got out of his car. As soon as the court case had ended, she’d driven out to his place to wait for him. She hadn’t seen much of him in the weeks leading to the trial. He’d been busy preparing evidence and writing reports. They had to make sure both the case against Halston and the case against Snake and Bella were watertight.
She’d attended the proceedings, of course, but in the press section. He’d been in the front row with Pérez. The trial had been drawn out over a week. Reid had been asked to testify, as had the medical examiner. Kenzie had felt proud to have been part of the investigation.
Entry had been restricted for fear of Natalia’s fans causing an outburst. As it was, both Snake and Bella were getting death threats. Natalia may have been “simple” and “vacant” but she was loved.
“Thanks,” Reid replied. “I’m just glad they’re behind bars.”
The jury had been unanimous in their decision. Guilty as charged. Snake had been given life without parole, while Bella, who’d been charged with second degree murder, had gotten 10 years.
“Bella should have gotten more,” said Kenzie. “She was the mastermind behind it.”
“She played everyone,” Reid said. “Even Snake, the man she professed to love.”
They went inside. As usual, it was stiflingly hot in the cabin. Reid opened the patio doors leading to the deck, but there wasn’t much in the way of a breeze.
“Want a beer?” he asked.
“Sure, I think we deserve one.”
He got two from the kitchen and they stood on the deck overlooking the grassy river. The sky was strewn with voluminous clouds, but the humidity pressed down on them like a blanket. Kenzie wiped a bead of perspiration off her temple.
“Cheers.” She raised her bottle. “To a successful investigation.”
“We couldn’t have done it without you,” he said. “You came up with the parking lot idea, and you figured out how Bella and Snake killed Natalia. I’m sorry you didn’t get any of the credit.”
“I got my exclusive.” The news had broken the day after Halston’s arrest. The Herald had dedicated a whole two page spread to it.
“You deserved it.” He clinked her bottle.
She chuckled. “I think my editor was just relieved nobody filed a lawsuit against us. It had the potential to go that way with Snake being so sensitive about his career.”
“It was just a ruse to get you to back off,” Reid said. “He was more than happy to give it all up and live in Mexico with Bella.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.” His eyes burned steadily into hers. She caught her breath.
“You’re welcome. I knew we made a good team.”
He grinned, easing the tension. “Ryan did some excellent work tracking Fernández. Thanks to her, we picked up Ivan Petrovitch. Once he heard he’d be deported back to Serbia, he was happy to strike a deal.”
She chuckled. “I’m glad. Did you manage to get any of the investors’ funds?”
“Some.” He shrugged. “But that’s not my department. We passed it on to Fraud. They’re dealing with it.”
“I liked Detective Ryan,” Kenzie said.
“Yeah, she’s young, but she’s a good detective. She’s got a great career ahead of her.”
Kenzie studied him. “And what about you, Detective Garrett? Are you going back to Miami PD full time?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Really? I thought for sure you’d go back.”
“That place doesn’t have very good memories for me. I told Pérez I’d work on this case as a consultant, answering only to him, but I don’t think I could run a team again.”
“Why not? They all look up to you.”
He shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the same.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Okay. So what are you going to do?”
“For one thing, I thought I’d take a look at your mother’s case.”
She gasped. “You got the files?”
“I made copies.”
She gave a little hop. “Reid, I don’t know what to say.
”
She couldn’t believe it. Finally, after all this time, she was going to get a peek at the investigation into her mother’s disappearance. Her heart surged with gratitude.
“You’re welcome.” He grinned at her.
“Can I see them?”
“Sure. They’re on my nightstand.”
She darted into his bedroom and found two thick manilla folders lying next to his bed. “You didn’t tell me you had these,” she chastised, coming back outside.
He tilted his head. “I wanted to have a look at them first. I knew as soon as I told you you’d want to see them.”
“Is there anything interesting inside? Any leads?” She felt the familiar buzz of anticipation. It was the same feeling she got when she hit on a big case.
“Maybe, I’m not sure yet. There are one or two things we could follow up on, a couple of potential witnesses we could talk to if they’re still alive, but other than that, it was carried out pretty much by the book.”
“I always thought they gave up too quickly.” She hugged the folders against her chest, still unable to believe he’d actually gotten them.
“Yeah, that was a bit odd,” he admitted. “But I suppose with no evidence, they couldn’t justify the resources.”
“Maybe.” She wasn’t convinced. “Can I take these home?”
“What do you think?”
Unable to help herself, she wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re the best, you know that?”
He looked away. “Make sure you bring them back, so I’ve got something to work off.”
She grinned up at him. “You didn't think I was going to let you do this alone, did you?”
He smirked. “No, I guess not.”
“Do they know you’ve got these?” she asked.
His eyes flashed. “No, but it was 20 years ago. I didn't think anyone would care.”
“I care,” she said softly.
“I know you do,” he replied.
“Thank you, Reid.” She glanced down at the folders. “This means a lot.”
“Maybe you can pay me back by cooking for me one night. I’m still waiting.”