Caballo Security Box Set

by Camilla Blake

  “We’re trying to save Ox here,” Akker said softly.

  “Yes.” I completely agreed with that assessment. “But he was trying to save Caballo. Not just for him and Oliver, but for everyone who works here. What do you think would happen if we took a bunch of records that prove Caballo’s been laundering ill-gotten gains for a couple dozen cops over the past twenty years? The first thing they’re going to do is contact the feds, and this place will be swarming with FBI and Treasury officials ready to destroy everything Ox has done these past four years. Not only that, but Ox and Oliver and that nice little man, Emilio, will all be sent to prison so fast their heads will spin. We save Ox from Lindsay by destroying him and his father’s legacy.”

  “Well, if his father’s legacy is based on a damn felony…!”

  “What about you? What about Skylar and Prescott and Trey and everyone else who works here? What about your families?”

  Akker slowly began to nod. “You’re right.”

  “You know I’m right. It took me a little bit to see it, but it’s exactly what Ox has been trying to do.” I sat heavily in one of the chairs around the conference table. “I think he’s taken all the information and put it somewhere safe, somewhere no one will ever find it. And I think he’s probably eradicated any trace of it all from the computer systems here, except maybe…” I remembered the piece of paper Cheryl had given me in the hall. I’d set it on the table, but I picked it up now. “He might have missed the retirement fund.”

  “Retirement fund?”

  “Cheryl says she found some inconsistencies. She thinks that might be how some of the money was being laundered.” I looked at the sheet she’d given me and saw a list of names that made my blood run cold for a second. I sat up a little straighter, staring at names of men I’d worked with when I first began my career. A dozen men. There were even one or two I still worked with.

  “What the fuck?” I muttered under my breath.

  “What is it?”

  “Why are all these cops on here? When did they work for Caballo?”

  Akker took the list from me and scanned the names. “I think we’ve found that list of names Ox told you about.”

  My heart sank at the thought. Some of these people were men I deeply admired and respected. It broke my heart.

  A knock on the door pulled us out of our thoughts.

  “Mr. Mills?” an older gentleman asked as he stuck his head through a crack in the door.

  “Can I help you?”

  The man came inside and held out his hand to Akker. “I’m Edward Sharp. I’m Mr. Winn’s lawyer.”

  “Oh, yes.” Akker shook his hand. “This is Detective Salazar.”

  I stood and shook the proffered hand, smiling as politely as I could make myself.

  “I got your message, Mr. Mills,” Mr. Sharp said. “I was coming by to see Mr. Winn anyway, so I thought I’d stop in and see how I could help you.”

  “I was actually hoping to ask you a few questions about the case you’re working on for Mr. Winn.”

  “Oh, well, I can’t answer specific questions. Attorney-client privilege and all that.” He waved his hands in a “stop” gesture. “Not unless Mr. Winn is present.”

  “He’s indisposed at the moment.”

  “Well, then, I will bid you farewell.”

  “Could you tell us why you were coming to see Ox—Mr. Winn?” I asked.

  He stopped, pivoting slowly on his heels. “I don’t suppose that would be breaking any rules.” He smiled at me. “I was coming to give Mr. Winn the good news: the lawsuit has been dropped.”

  Akker and I exchanged a glance, his expression as credulous as I imagine mine was. “Why?” I wanted to know.

  “They said they had come to the conclusion that it would cost more to pursue the case than what they were suing for.” He rolled his shoulders. “It happens that way sometimes. Court costs and lawyer fees add up much faster than most people expect.”

  “Yes, they certainly do.”

  Mr. Sharp offered us a little wave, then he walked away. I looked at Akker.

  “That’s interesting.”

  “Well, when you expect the defendant to be dead within a few hours, it’s probably not such a dumb conclusion to come to.”

  The thought made me feel a little nauseous, but I knew he was right. We both settled back down at the table. Akker pulled the laptop over to him and began scrolling through something or other after opening the lid again. I got up and went to the beverage bar, looking for some source of caffeine that wasn’t coffee. There were cokes. And a lovely bottle of Fireball in the back. I poured us both a generous measure and carried the glasses back to the table. Akker took a distracted sip then grunted, glancing at me.

  “That’s got a kick.”

  “I think we’ve earned a little refreshment.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  He sipped the drink as he continued to look through the computer files. I sat back and held the glass between my hands, not really doing much of anything. Sometimes I found it was easier to solve a puzzle when I didn’t focus on it too hard. Instead, my thoughts wandered to Ox and that building where I’d left him. It was funny, really, the power that place had constantly had over me the past couple of decades. I had nightmares of it, dreams that were so powerful I would sometimes wake up with the knife I slipped under my pillow every night in my hands. I always dreamt that I took the long butcher knife out of the kitchen drawer and used it to stop my father, that I rescued my mother instead of holding her in my arms as she wasted away.

  There was something about going back to that place that had taken some of its power away, though. I’m sure I would always have nightmares, but it got easier and easier to walk through that door each time I did it. I no longer saw my father standing there, screaming my name the way he did the morning he’d turned his scalpel on me. I no longer cringed at just the thought of the squeak that bed made every time I’d crawled up there to bandage another of my mother’s wounds, or when Father had leaned down to make another.

  My therapist had once told me that seeing the place in the bright light of day would help put some of my nightmares to rest. Maybe she’d been right.

  How much I hated admitting that that old bag might have been right!

  “I think you’re right,” Akker said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  “Am I?”

  “I don’t see anything in the financial records that could indicate Caballo was involved in something nefarious. I mean, I just plugged in a few simple search terms; I didn’t look deeply. But I don’t see anything. I will, however, have Cheryl keep looking through the retirement accounts.”

  Akker sat back and lifted his drink, taking a substantial swallow. He grunted, setting it back on the table and rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands.

  “How long has it been going on?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “You and Ox.”

  I chuckled softly. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Not glaringly, but, yeah. It’s kind of obvious.”

  I nodded slowly, sipping from my own drink. “About a month. Started right here, in this room.”

  Akker raised his eyebrows. “Good thing we have a good cleaning crew.”

  I laughed. “It wasn’t like that. We’ve been taking it slow.”

  “Slow is good.”

  “Sometimes. Others… not so good.”

  He smiled even as he lifted the glass to his lips again. “Mustn’t be too slow if you’re already prepared to put your entire career on the line for him.”

  “He’s a good man.” I swirled my glass, watching a cyclone begin in the center of it. “I wasn’t really thinking when I drove him away. I just… I was imagining Lindsay beating him up with a phone book.” Akker smiled at the old reference. “I just wanted to protect him from getting hurt. I had no idea that murder was what was on Lindsay’s mind. That was just… I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “We’re all
grateful for what you’ve done.”

  “If I had known before all this, I don’t know if I would have believed him, you know? If he’d told me that a bunch of cops were stealing from perps and filtering the money through here. I think I would have turned tail and gone in the other direction. Some of these people… they were more than mentors to me, you know. One of these men…” I stopped because the thought was threatening to choke me. I touched the paper, touching the space beside the man’s name. “He rescued me years ago when I desperately needed someone to. I never would have believed him capable of something like this. I might still not believe it if it weren’t for Brock.”

  Akker nodded, the little color he’d regained in his face disappearing again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No. I get it.”

  “You have something like a family here at Caballo. That’s what I thought I had at the precinct. These men, they taught me everything I know. I am the person I am right now because of some of these people.” I shook my head. “It’s like learning that your priest is a child rapist.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I rolled my shoulders. “It’s no one’s fault but theirs. And I’m going to make damn sure that each and every one of them faces the consequences for his actions.”

  “Starting with Chad Lindsay.”

  There was deep, dark anger in Akker’s voice. I not only understood it, but I felt it, too.

  “Lindsay is already a done deal. As soon as we’ve got what we need to take the rest of them down, I will personally put the cuffs on that asshole!”

  Chapter 14

  Cheryl

  “Garth, my love.”

  “Oh, how I love it when you call me that!”

  I laughed. “I’m sure you do. Listen, I need a little help.”

  “That’s what I live for!”

  “What? To hear me beg?”

  “To help you, of course!”

  Despite the grave events of the day, I couldn’t help but smile whenever I talked to Garth. He was a computer tech working for a private company up in Dallas. Garth had access to databases I could hack into, but I found using his services much faster. He’d helped us crack the police department’s system this morning with a few tricks he’d taught me months ago. I was hoping he could help me again now.

  “I need traffic-cam footage.”

  “What happened? Did you get in a fender bender or something? I hope you didn’t hurt yourself!”

  “No, this is for a case. We need footage from as many cameras in town as you can get.”

  “All of them? Do you know how many that is, Cheryl?”

  “I know. I’ll give you times and dates and intersections. That should help a little.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “I’ll text them to you. I really appreciate this, Garth. This one is a little personal.”

  “Anytime.”

  I smiled again as I set the phone down. No matter what happened, Garth could always make me feel like the prettiest woman in the world.

  He asked me to come to Dallas all the time. He wanted to meet in the real world. I had to admit, the idea was tempting. But like with Internet dating, there was always this fear that I wouldn’t get what I was hoping for. With Garth, I wanted to imagine a big, strapping man like the men who worked here. I mean, hell, I spent all day with men who looked like Chris Pine and Liam Hemsworth, men who could be Hollywood stars all on their own. How could I go from that to a nerdy computer genius without some disappointment? And his voice… damn, it suggested big muscles and a face cut from marble! But the imagination was always so much better than reality—right? I mean, he couldn’t be that good-looking, or he wouldn’t still be single. I knew about his business, had a good guess as to the kind of money he banked every month. A man like that didn’t stay single unless he wasn’t much to look at.

  Maybe someday. But I wasn’t getting my hopes up.

  “Hey, Cheryl?”

  I looked up. Detective Salazar was standing in my doorway, a shy smile on her face. I studied her a second, wondering if this dark beauty was really who got Ox jumping. I’d seen the way he looked at her whenever she came into the office to offer advice or whatever on a case. But it hadn’t seemed like a real thing until all this began to blow up this morning.

  Another of these hunks taken. First Akker, then Brock and Prescott, now Max and Ox. Everyone was getting someone except me.

  “What can I do for you, detective?” I asked, hoping I sounded professional and not in the slightest as jealous as I was.

  “I was told you have a whole host of apps you put on the operatives’ phones to help them with their cases.

  I bit my lip. Some of those apps weren’t exactly legal.

  “It’s all right,” she added quickly. “I’m not here to call you out on them. I was actually hoping you could put them on my phone. Especially the recording function. I understand that connects directly to your computer?”

  “Uh, yeah. It’s kind of like a listening device on your phone. When you close the app it automatically uploads any recordings to my computer. Or you can set it to send the audio to my computer in real time.” I tilted my head slightly. “It’s not really legal, though, unless what you’re recording is a conversation between yourself and another person.”

  “I know the law,” Detective Salazar said. “I’d like the apps anyway.”

  “Of course.”

  She handed me her phone and I hesitated, wondering if I could get in trouble for putting illegal apps on a cop’s phone. But she’d saved Ox, so I figured I could trust her.

  If you can’t trust the boss’s girl, who could you trust?

  Chapter 15

  Kinsley

  We pulled up in front of the extravagant home and I found myself staring at it through the eyes of a woman in a new relationship rather than as a cop. This was the home Ox had spent a chunk of his childhood in. He’d probably played in this driveway, walked up those steps hundreds of times. Had he ever climbed that tree? Was that balcony outside his bedroom window? Had he spent much time on it?

  It was a lovely colonial, all brick and stone. The front yard was perfectly manicured, the flower beds on either side of the front steps full of late-fall color. The tall windows suggested bright rooms beyond, the shutters a rustic touch that made me feel a little nostalgic for the idyllic childhood I never had.

  Akker came around the car and opened my door, holding it out of the way as I unfolded my tired legs and stood. My body ached in places I never knew I had, exhaustion becoming a burden I wasn’t sure I could carry much longer. But a part of me suspected that this would be over sooner rather than later.

  Mrs. Winn would give us what we needed.

  As we approached the front door, the fantasy was shattered by the sight of empty booze bottles piled behind a rose bush next to the steps. There were beer cans in the sagebrush, too.

  Akker knocked a dozen times before the door finally jerked open, a tall, dark-haired woman half falling out the open space as she struggled to focus on us.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Mrs. Winn, I’m Detective Winn and this is Akker Mills.”

  She blinked a few more times, her eyes stuck on me. And then she glanced at Akker and suddenly burst into a bright smile. “Well, Akker Mills! I know you!” She stumbled forward, nearly slamming into Akker. He caught her deftly, just as graceful as the rest of the men down at Caballo. I wondered if this was where they learned it, catching women who would crash if not for them.

  I know Ox had caught me. A little more figuratively than literally, but he had.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Mrs. Winn asked, her words slightly slurred.

  “We’d like to talk to you about your son.”

  “Which one?”

  “Ox.”

  “Hmm, Oxley David. My oldest.” She pulled back a little to look Akker in the face. “He’s a good boy, you know. Most of the time.”

  “I’m sure he i
s.”

  “He comes to see his mother, like a good boy should. It’s the other, Oliver… he never comes to see me anymore. He’s still pissed over that whole accident thing… like I could have predicted what would happen!”

  That accident thing? Was she seriously talking so flippantly about a tragedy that took a son from a family? That put her own son in jail for two years? Unbelievable!

  “Let’s go inside, Mrs. Winn.” Akker carefully turned her and pushed her toward the door. She stumbled a couple of times, falling back against him, but he was patient, holding her up as they moved along. I followed, closing the door behind, my curiosity once again piqued as I studied the huge living room that spread out in front of and to the left of the front door. Had Ox really done homework here? Had he watched television with his brother here? And was that the staircase where his father had died?

  I shivered, remembering that Ox’s childhood wasn’t much more idyllic than my own.

  “A drink?” Mrs. Winn asked quite loudly once Akker had her on the couch.

  “No, thank you, ma’am.”

  “No, not for you. Make me one.”

  Akker shot me a look, but he went dutifully to the bar and poured a healthy glass of vodka for the older woman. I took a seat across from her, taking the opportunity of her distraction in watching Akker to study her. She was quite tall, one of those ladies who looks like the famous seventies model, Twiggy. She could maybe have been a model once upon a time. She had lovely green eyes and all this dark hair that either hadn’t begun to gray, or was a very expensive dye job. She wore dark, linen slacks that hung low on her hips and a dark, silk blouse that was tucked into her pants. Very neat despite her drinking habit. Her hair was pulled back into a clip, her makeup partially completed. It seemed she’d forgotten to put eyeliner on her left eye. Her lashes too were oddly uneven, like she’d forgotten her fake lashes on one eye. But she was beautiful despite the slight yellowing to her complexion and the deep wrinkles that had come early to her smooth skin.

  “Here you go,” Akker said as he helped her curl her hand around the drink he offered her. He took a seat beside me and seemed to study her in the same way I had, particularly when she raised that glass to her lips and drank nearly the whole thing down in one big gulp.