by K. C. Crowne
I smiled and gave her a little wave. “Hola.”
I didn't speak much Spanish, but I at least knew how to say hello. Her frown deepened. Clearly, not impressed.
“That's my abuela,” Julia said. “It's not you. She doesn't like anybody.”
“I can see that,” I said.
“She did like Chris, ironically enough,” she said, her voice growing distant and a little sad.
“Hard not to like him. He's a funny guy.”
“Yes, he was.”
I arched an eyebrow at her choice of words, as my gut started to roil. “Was?”
“We broke up,” she said.
“Ah, yes, I knew that,” I said. “I just thought maybe you meant – ”
“What? That I know he's dead? Do you think I'm capable of killing someone?” she asked, her voice rising.
A few people turned to look at us as I ushered her toward a far corner of the patio, trying to get her well away from everyone else before she blew this whole thing. Tears welled in her eyes, and for the first time, I saw something other than anger flash through her face.
“I loved him. He loved me,” she said. “I don't know what he told you, but if you thought I ever wanted anything to happen to him, you're wrong. Very, very wrong. I never wanted to hurt him.”
Her words took me by surprise. All this time, I'd painted her as someone who broke my friend's heart, but there she was, crying her eyes out about how she'd had no intention of hurting him.
And that she'd loved him. That didn't slip my notice at all and is something I found entirely surprising, given some of the things Chris had said.
“If you two loved each other, then why did you split up?” I asked.
“I had to,” she said. “It was the right thing to do.”
“Why was it the right thing to do?” I asked.
Before she could answer though, moving almost in unison, everyone turned toward the patio doors leading into the restaurant, including Julia.
“My father's here,” she said, her voice low.
An older man walked out onto the patio. His face looked squished into a tiny little space on his face, leaving an extra large forehead and chubby cheeks bare. His eyes were narrow and beady, his nose a little too pointy. His dark hair was slicked back and had just a hint of gray at the temples, and he wore a nicely fitted business suit that had been tailored specifically for his short, stocky stature.
When his eyes fell on his daughter, they lit up, until he saw me and frowned.
Julia walked toward him, and I followed behind a step. Julia rushed toward him, wrapping her arms around him excitedly and squeezed him tight.
“Papa,” she said, kissing the man on the cheek.
The look on his face said it all – his daughter was his entire world, and she knew it too. “I want you to meet someone” Julia said in English as she gestured to me. “This is Seth, he works in finance as well.”
“Oh, is that so?” Ignacio said, his smile fading a bit as he scrutinized me. “What do you do?”
“I'm CFO of Nolan Securities, you may have heard of – ”
“I have,” he said curtly.
“I've heard a lot about IHS over the years, and I must say, I'm an admirer of yours.” All of it lies, but I tried my best to play it off as sincere. I needed an in, I needed him to trust me.
“Have you now?”
His lips pulled back into a smirk as his eyes narrowed in on me. The way he looked at me was a little unsettling and I got the impression he didn't miss much. It was like he could see through me. See all of my darkest secrets. He looked me up and down, taking my measure – and clearly found me wanting.
He turned to Julia and said something in Spanish I couldn't understand. She frowned and shook her head, glaring at me as if I'd already done something wrong.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing my arm and yanking me toward the exit.
“What?” I said. “Where are we going?”
“Papa told me he wanted you out of here,” she said. “Said that he doesn't trust you.”
I pulled my arm free and walked back to where her father was still standing and glowering at me. I stood before him, trying to control the irritation and anxiety roiling around inside of me.
“You don't trust me?” I asked. “Why is that?”
“I don't trust any man who uses my daughter to get to me,” he said. “She said you were a date, not a business partner.”
“Can't I be both?” I demanded.
“No, you can't. And I'd prefer it if you no longer dated my daughter, either,” he said. “She deserves better.”
A pair of rough hands grabbed my arms and started to haul me backward. I glanced over my shoulder and saw three large men. Only one of them held onto me, the others were simply there as backup, both of them shooting me threatening glares, daring me to do something.
“I meant no offense, Mr. Santiago, I only wanted to talk business,” I said. “I believe we could work together and make a pile of cash. I also just want to make it clear that your daughter and I are only friends.”
“He's right, papa,” she said. “I am not dating him. I haven't dated anyone since...”
Her voice trailed off, and I looked over at her, but she didn't finish her sentence. We both knew what she was going to say, though. I studied her face, then her father's. His remained a blank mask. Completely emotionless and vacant.
There was something behind his eyes though that, he couldn't quite mask completely. He was intrigued – likely by the mention of making a pile of money. If there was one thing that got the attention of guys like Santiago, it was money. I knew the hook was in.
“And you want to talk business with me?” he asked, staring down at his pointy little nose at me.
“I do,” I said.
He chuckled, then motioned for the guards to let me go. Just like that, the iron clamps that had been holding on to me were released and the men all took a step back – though, they remained close enough if needed, and they didn't stop glaring at me.
“Now is not the time for business. Now, is the time for family. But if you want to talk, we'll talk,” he said and handed me a card – the same card Mallory had given me that had his name and number on it. “Come by tomorrow at nine, and we'll chat. But now, you should go and let me spend time with my family.”
I braced myself for the guards to grab me again, but they didn't. They merely stepped closer, as if warning me that this was it. I had what I wanted – or so Ignacio thought – and there was no more reason for me to remain at the party. Julia, seeing that I was stuck and had no way of getting what I'd come for and what I needed, stepped up for me, surprisingly enough.
“Papa, speaking of dates, have you heard from Chris lately?” she asked sweetly. “I went by his house and he wasn't home. And he's not returning my calls.”
Maybe I could trust her, after all. I hesitated for a brief moment, then walked slowly back toward the gate. I listened for a response and stared over my shoulder at the man. He waved her off.
“Why would I have heard from him?” he said dismissively. “No, Julia, I haven't heard from him. And please don't speak his name again this night, he was never good enough for you. I'd rather enjoy my dinner and my time with my family.”
Julia stared back at me and gave a nearly imperceptible. She'd tried to get some answers for me, but there was nothing more to be said. I continued toward the gate, feeling like all of this had been a waste of my time. Except, of course, I had a meeting with the man tomorrow. To talk business. Not that I wanted to work with him. At least it gave me an in. A pretext to question him a little more closely to get the intel I needed.
I crumpled up the card angrily and stuffed it into my pocket as I walked out of the patio, the guards behind me the entire way. I half expected them to follow me out into the street, maybe take me into an alley and beat the shit out of me, but they didn't. They stopped and just watched me walk away.
4
Liam
/> “You got nothing?” I asked, shaking my head. “Nothing at all?”
“Just a meeting with the big man tomorrow to talk business,” Seth said, climbing into the backseat of the truck with me. “Julia even asked him about Chris but said he wouldn't talk about it.”
“Hmm,” Mallory said out loud.
“Have an idea?”
“I do,” she said. “Since you've got a free pass to meet with him tomorrow, I say you should bring someone along as a business partner. Maybe a few of us so we can check the place out.”
“Should you be doing that?” I asked. “Being that you're a cop and all.”
“Probably not,” she said, shrugging. “But if the law won't help us find Chris, we have to take matters into our own hands. Cop or not, I'm not going to sit on my hands and do nothing while Chris is out there somewhere.”
“Damn right,” Jason said.
Those were the first words he'd uttered since Seth got back into the truck. He'd just been silently gripping the steering wheel tightly, staring straight ahead, as he listened to us speak. In fact, he'd hardly said anything all evening. Jason knew Chris better than all of us, and it was plain to see that this was starting to take a toll on him.
Jason continued. “I think I need to reach out to his folks, see if they've heard anything from him,” he said. “I think we need to make sure all of our bases are covered.”
“Good idea,” Mallory said, stroking his arm. “I didn't want to worry them before by calling prematurely, but we're going on two days with no sign of him now, and have no idea where he might be. Maybe they know something we don't.”
Jason and Chris were both from Nevada, originally. They came from a small town on the California/Nevada border. They'd grown up together, played sports together, and eventually enlisted together. They were brothers in everything but blood and were tighter than the rest of us.
“I really don't have a good feeling about this,” Seth said after a few minutes. “I just don't see how he could –”
“Stop,” Mallory said, shooting Seth a dark look. “Let's not talk about the worst-case scenarios right now. We'll have plenty of time for that later. Right now, we just need to focus on doing everything we can to get the information we need to bring our boy home.”
Jason looked even more pained than usual. The idea that one of our closest friends – his closest friend on the entire planet – could be dead, was unfathomable to me. But, to him, I knew it would hit even harder and cut even deeper. He knew Chris's entire family. He'd grown up next door to them. All his childhood memories included Chris. They were partners-in-crime. It was hard to imagine one without the other. “I'm going to drive out there tomorrow. I've taken the week off work,” Jason said. “I'd rather talk to them in person.”
“Good idea,” Mallory said. “But maybe you shouldn't go alone?”
He looked over at Mallory. “You offering?”
“Sadly, I can't. I have to work this week,” she said.
She looked over at me. The only one of us who still didn't have a full-time career that I needed to tend to daily.
“Maybe Liam could go along?” she asked.
“I'd be happy to,” I said.
* * *
The drive to Harvelle, Nevada was a long one. We left early the next morning, before the sun even rose, and set out for the city just on the other side of the border. Jason was quiet for the first part of the trip, his hands on the wheel and his eyes fixed on the long ribbon of black highway that unspooled before us.
It was easily a three or four-hour trip, and I wasn't about to just sit there in silence, so I decided to try and make conversation. “I guess I can see what Chris saw in Julia now,” I said. “She's a feisty one, isn't she?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Jason mumbled.
“Hot too, but damn, she could drive a man crazy.”
Jason side-eyed me, frowning. “Are you really going to sit here and talk like this? With our friend missing?”
“You can't blame yourself, Jason,” I said.
“Why would I –”
“Cut the crap. I was there, remember?”
He gripped the steering wheel even tighter but didn't say anything.
“Listen, we all have feelings for Mallory,” I said. “Every single one of us. And none of us acted on it because we're like family. Chris stepped way out of line, and – ”
“Shut the hell up, Liam,” he growled.
“I just want you to know it's not your fault.”
“I said shut up.”
He slammed on the brakes and turned sharply into a dumpy old gas station. Once parked, he jumped out of the truck and slammed the door behind him. I followed behind him as he stalked off toward the scrubby desert landscape.
“Jason, listen, it's going to be okay.”
“You don't know that. No one does,” he said.
He stopped just as he stepped off the pavement and onto the dry, desert land, the dirt and rocks crunching beneath his boots. He just stood there and stared off into the distance, his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and an expression of deep thought on his face.
“I just keep thinking about that fight,” he said softly. “If only I had kept my mouth shut.”
“Listen, man, he needed to hear it. Mallory has made it clear, she isn't going to fuck up what we have by getting involved with us,” I said. “Chris had crossed a line thinking that he could run back into her arms after the breakup, and you set him straight.”
“I might have also killed him.”
“How?”
“What if he –”
“What if he killed himself?” I finished the thought he wasn't going to. “You know Chris better than any of us. You know he wouldn't have done that. He might have been depressed, maybe even lashed out like an asshole, but he wasn't suicidal.”
“I sure hope not.”
“Like I said, you knew him better than anyone, Jason,” I said. “Do you really think he'd take his own life?”
He didn't answer for the longest time, but when he did, he shook his head slightly. “I don't think so,” he said. “But, I don't know what else to think. Maybe I didn't know him as well as I thought.”
“You didn't cause this to happen, man,” I said. “We're going to find out what happened. One way or another, we're going to get some answers.”
“God, I hope so.”
Me too, I thought to myself. I didn't want Jason to think I was doubting it, but truthfully, I wasn't sure what would happen. I wanted to believe Chris was still alive out there, just doing something stupid, but why hadn't he showed up by now? Why hadn't he contacted us, knowing we'd be worried? Where the hell was he?
“Just wait. He's going to come back with some stupid ass story involving escorts in Vegas or some shit,” I said, patting Jason on the back. “Maybe he took an Uber to the airport, forgot his phone at home and is off having the time of his life right now.”
Jason tried to smile. Hell, so did I. It was a nice thought, as unrealistic as it was. Still, imagining our best bud gambling all his money away on a game of poker was better than the alternative.
5
Mallory
Seth and I were on a mission. A mission to find out everything we could about IHS and whether they – and Ignacio Santiago specifically – had any involvement with our friend's disappearance. When we showed up the next day, Alfred the hulking, perpetually angry-looking security guard was ready to stop us at the door.
Seth, however, calmly pointed out that he had scheduled a meeting with Ignacio Santiago personally. When Alfred called up to check, it was verified, and we were let in. Much to his obvious chagrin. I smirked at Alfred as we walked past, remembering the trouble he'd given Jason and me the other day, but I resisted the urge to say anything about the earlier slight against me. We were in. That was all that mattered in that moment.
Seth would meet with Ignacio while I took a look around, talking to whoever I could find, discreetly trying to dig up whatever intel I
could. Maybe, I'd even meet with the big guy myself, since we were supposed to be business partners.
Ignacio's suite was on the top floor, so we took the elevator all the way up and stepped out into an ornately appointed lobby that was almost gaudy, with its black marble floors, sleek black leather furniture, and gold trim everywhere.
There was a desk up front and a woman sat there, typing away. She looked up from her keyboard at us we exited the elevator, her lips momentarily curling downward, before she caught herself and plastered a ridiculously phony looking smile on her face. It was like we'd broken her concentration on whatever she was doing, and it pissed her off.
She actually reminded me a lot of Julia with large, brown eyes and a youthful, pretty face, which made me wonder if they were somehow related. The woman gave herself a little shake and seemed to come back to herself. She smiled – a more genuine looking smile – and instantly looked a hell of a lot friendlier than Julia did. Still, the resemblance was uncanny.
“Here to see Mr. Santiago?” the woman asked.
The name plate on the desk said her name was Rosa. She reached out a hand, hers smaller than mine, and greeted me with a handshake before turning to Seth.
“Yes, he should be expecting us.”
“Of course he is,” she said, motioning for us to follow her back toward the large, wooden doors behind her.
“Are you related to the Santiagos by chance?” I asked.
“I am. I'm Mr. Santiago's niece,” she said, smiling brightly.
“I thought so. I know Julia,” I said. “You two could practically be sisters.”
Rosa giggled, a friendly high-pitched tinkling sound that reminded me of a child's laughter – which seemed to fit perfectly well with her childlike appearance and youthful demeanor.