Only one more question circled around in my brain, but I was afraid to ask it. Or more to the point, I was afraid of what the answer would mean, but I had to know.
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I asked, knowing full well if she killed me now, nothing she said mattered anyway.
“Because I need your help.”
“You need my help? I’ll be in jail as soon as next week, if I even survive that long.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Christina said without batting an eye. “But first you have to do something for me.”
Chapter 75
I told Sara everything would be okay. I would do whatever it took to keep her and the boys safe. She nodded, her face still a jumble of emotions. Raul pulled me out of the room before I could say anything else. As I drove back to the hotel, I spent a good amount of time thinking about how much I’d grown to hate the Escalante family.
Enrique and Gustavo (it was weird knowing their names) started this whole mess when they threatened my family and forced me to kill Carlos. Then they proceeded to make my life a living hell, ruining my reputation, destroying my practice, and upending my marriage. Were they also behind the state trooper who beat the shit out of me? All of this was in the hope that I would crack from the strain, that my anger and frustration would lead me to do something stupid, like try to kill Christina Escalante.
Carlos still haunted my dreams. The poor drug-addled idiot who was sent to his death by his own two brothers for reasons I’ll probably never understand. I did what I had to do to protect my family, but now they were in more danger than ever. And Carlos wouldn’t let me forget it. It wasn’t nearly as often, but he still visited me at night, finding new and inventive ways to terrify me and rob me of sleep.
Then there was Christina, with her legendary temper and quick trigger, who, for some reason, decided not to kill me herself, but instead devised a plan so outrageous it would almost certainly get me killed. Not that she cared one way or the other. I was a means to an end for her, too. She wanted her brothers out of the picture and I could get them to come to her. Plus, she still held Sara as a hostage.
She sent Sara home with two of her goons, both of whom would remain outside the house at all times, ready to pounce if Christina gave the word. “You may not always see them,” she told us, “but they’re out there.” Anyone who asked, including the kids, was to be told they were there for protection. Just in case, with everything that had been going on in my life recently. Sara could not leave the house without permission or without being accompanied by at least one of her new friends. School and back, work and back, and not much else.
I wished I’d never heard of the Escalantes.
When I got back to the hotel, William was gone but Ingo was still there, waiting less than patiently. He greeted me with a barrage of fresh swear words in languages I didn’t recognize with an occasional familiar one thrown in. After not hearing from me for over an hour, he’d written me off for dead. Who could blame him? I certainly didn’t expect to survive my meeting with Christina.
Callie Ann had regained consciousness and was now sitting in a chair, hands still bound behind her. The only way she could have gotten there was with help. Seeing as he wanted to kill her not long ago, I eyed Ingo suspiciously and said, “What’s going on?”
“Simon, I need to talk to you,” Callie Ann said.
“I’m not interested in what you have to say,” I spat. “I have bigger problems than you right now.”
“You really should hear what she has to say,” Ingo submitted. An hour ago he wanted her dead, now he was campaigning on her behalf. Whatever she told him, true or not, it must have been convincing.
I let out a frustrated sigh and sat down on the corner of the bed nearest to her chair. I was tired, scared, and not looking forward to the days ahead. But I had to admit, I was curious to hear what Callie Ann’s role in all of this was.
“Go ahead,” I said.
Ingo grabbed another beer out of the mini fridge, situated himself in a lean against the dresser, and we both waited.
“I never meant for any of this to happen, Simon,” she began. “You’re a really nice guy and I feel terrible about everything that’s happened.” She looked contrite and ashamed, and as gorgeous as ever. I didn’t know if she was playing on my emotions or not, but nothing she was saying was of any help right now.
“Thanks. Is that it?”
“Simon,” Ingo chimed in, “give her a minute.”
I still couldn’t believe the complete one-eighty he’d taken in regard to her. I looked at him and he gave me a reassuring nod. I turned back to Callie Ann who hung her head and stared at the floor.
“My fiancé is in a coma,” she said matter of factly. She was engaged. A rush of illogical jealousy surged through me. I was well aware of my hypocrisy, but it was hard to deny the thoughts and feelings I’d had over the last few months for Callie Ann. She was getting married, and whoever the guy was was in a coma.
“Miles is a photographer, or was,” she went on. “We met on a magazine shoot in Miami. He had a way about him, and I was instantly attracted—”
“You’re a model?” I blurted out, realizing how stupid it sounded as soon as I said it. Both she and Ingo gave me the same quizzical look. I’d spoken as if it was somehow implausible someone as drop-dead gorgeous as Callie Ann could be a model.
“We dated for a few months before he popped the question and I agreed. We were out celebrating our engagement when they jumped us. Two guys leapt from the shadows as we walked back to the car. They threw me to the ground, then turned on Miles. They beat him within an inch of his life.” Her voice cracked and she turned her head to wipe her eyes on her shoulder. “I tried to help, to stop them, but they were too strong. I screamed for help, but it was too loud inside the club. No one heard me. When Miles stopped moving, they came toward me. I thought they were going to rape me, but they just stood over me as I sat there, shaking and crying. They told me they’d be getting in touch with instructions that I needed to follow exactly, or Miles, and everyone else I cared about, would be dead. Instructions that had to do with you,” she said, looking up at me.
“And the guy you told me about?” I began. “The one that followed you home and broke into your apartment? The one you shot and killed? The one you cried on my shoulder about? Did that really happen?”
She looked at me with tears in her eyes and I knew the answer before she said a word. “I’m so sorry,” she said. She hung her head and began to sob.
I just sat there, trying to assimilate everything I’d learned today. Ingo caught my eye and gave me a sympathetic look, though I wasn’t sure if it was me or Callie Ann he felt sorry for.
“Did you see the two guys that jumped you?” I asked, but I already knew.
“It was dark,” she said with a sniff. “I didn’t get a good look at them. They both had Hispanic accents. That’s really all I remember about them. After that night, I never saw them again. They only communicated by phone or text.”
With that, I knew everything Christina had told me was true. Her brothers were behind everything. Callie Ann was just another pawn, forced to do their scut work. Ingo walked over to the desk where she sat, pulled a small knife from his pocket and cut the zip ties securing her wrists. My head hurt as I wondered how far back this plan went, and how I ever came to be involved.
Chapter 76
The warehouse was teeming with activity. Gustavo sat on a folding table with his legs dangling off the side, his hand wrapped around a pistol resting in his lap. Enrique stood next to him, arms folded, and the two watched their men stack bricks of cocaine and cash into separate crates.
“He’s alive!” Matias came barreling through a side door, sweaty and out of breath.
“Bullshit!” Gustavo responded.
“I’m telling you, I watched him walk out of there with my own two eyes.�
��
Matias was a cousin twice removed on their mother’s side. He idolized Gustavo and wanted to be just like him—tough, angry, and violent. He would do whatever was asked to earn their respect.
“She didn’t kill him?!” Enrique asked, equally surprised.
“Nope.”
After getting tipped off about the meeting, the brothers sent Matias to follow Simon. He tailed him to the office where Christina was waiting, watched him go in, and sat outside for more than an hour before Simon re-emerged, alive and well.
“And he didn’t kill her either?!” Enrique asked.
“No, she’s alive. A few minutes after the doc left, two of Christina’s guys loaded the wife into an SUV and drove away. Christina and Raul ducked out through the back door and sped off.”
“Raul, that fucking prick,” Gustavo said with venom.
“What is going on?” Enrique asked, more to himself than anyone else, rubbing his chin in thought.
“I don’t know,” Gustavo replied. “How did she and the doc come face to face and neither of them end up dead?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t like this,” Enrique said. He turned to Gustavo and said, “It’s time to turn up the heat.”
Gustavo punched in a number and handed the phone to Enrique.
“Hello…?”
“You’re not doing your job.”
“What more can I do? He’s smart.”
“I don’t give a fuck. We’re paying you a lot of money, so get it done.”
“I’ll do what I can, but—”
“I suggest you do a little more than that,” Enrique interrupted. “Because the doc’s life isn’t the only one on the line.” He hung up, enraged. “She’s up to something. We need to be ready.”
Chapter 77
Callie Ann, still sniffling, let out a sigh of relief and rubbed her sore wrists. She went into the bathroom, grabbed a handful of tissues, and took a moment to compose herself. When she returned, she and Ingo both stood there as I paced back and forth. After a minute, Ingo held up a hand and stopped me in my tracks.
“What is it?” he asked.
I raised my eyes and looked at him. “I know who they are,” I said.
“Who?” he asked.
“The guys that jumped you,” I replied, looking at Callie Ann.
“What?” she said, and they both waited for an answer.
“Maybe you should sit down for this,” I said. “Both of you.” Ingo, beer in hand, grudgingly took my spot on the edge of the bed, while Callie Ann returned to the chair at the desk. I took a deep breath and told them both everything that Christina had told me about her brothers and their grand plan. Their family history, their motives, and what they ultimately wanted.
“And you believed her?” Ingo said, clearly not ready to accept what I said.
“I had no reason not to. Why would she lie? What does she have to gain? If she wanted to, she could have killed me right then and there.”
“It adds up,” Callie Ann submitted.
Ingo had a pensive look on his face, and I could see he was working hard to poke a hole in Christina’s story.
“She also still has Sara under lock and key,” I added, and told him about the situation at the house.
“Well, I guess it’s time for a new plan,” he said.
“We already have one, but you’re not gonna like it.”
He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow.
“We have to draw the two brothers out. No one has seen them, no one knows where they are. They’re very smart, and very careful. We need to get them out in the open so she can do whatever it is she’s going to do.”
“Kill them?” he asked, looking up at me.
“Probably,” I replied.
“Good,” he said. “That would solve your problem with the Attorney General. But how are we supposed to draw them out?”
“Christina said there’s only one thing that would guarantee their appearance.”
“Which is…?” Ingo asked, growing more impatient with each passing second.
“Her funeral.”
“Her funeral,” he repeated. “What are you saying?”
“We have to kill Christina Escalante.”
At that he stood up and glared at me. “Well that’s fucking brilliant, mate.” His sarcasm was not lost on me.
“Hear me out,” I said, hoping more information would get him on board. He stood in front of me, folded his arms, and waited. Slowly, I laid out the plan, watching Ingo’s reaction as I spoke. I was right. He didn’t like it.
“Are you joking?” he said. “Simon, you’re gonna get us killed!”
It was hard to argue with that. What we had to do would probably get us both killed, but I had no choice. My family was at stake, and I saw no other way out. Not for me, and not for my family.
“Ingo, I get it. This is an impossible situation, and you’re right, it will probably get us both killed, but I’m out of options. My family is on the line and I can’t just walk away. You can turn around and walk out that door right now, and I would totally understand.”
He paused for a second and stared at me. He looked as though I’d just insulted his honor, but I knew a part of him had to be considering it. He’d escaped death many times in his life. Why put himself in harm’s way for me? His answer, however, didn’t surprise me.
“Nah, mate,” he said. “I think I’ll stick around. I have a feeling you’re going to need some help.”
“You and I both know I can’t do it without you. Any of it,” I said, relieved that he was staying.
“So what was all that ‘you can walk away right now’ business?”
“I don’t know. I was trying to be noble, I guess.”
“Fuck noble. Just try not to get us both killed.”
“Don’t worry. This is gonna work,” I said, with as much false bravado as I could muster.
“If it does, it’ll be a fucking miracle.”
I let out an awkward laugh, thinking the same thing.
“How can I help?” Callie Ann asked. I began to protest, but it occurred to me she might be quite helpful.
Chapter 78
James Henderson was being held at Palm Beach County’s Main Detention Center on a million dollar bond. A college student on financial aid, he couldn’t afford a tenth of that. His family did what they could, but the little they were able to scrape together fell far short of what it would take to get their son out of jail.
After the shooting in the movie theater and the murder of more than twenty people, James surrendered immediately to authorities at the scene and was arrested without resisting. He’d been processed and booked, and now spent his days in an isolation unit where violent criminals were kept. He’d been in and out of court, his trial postponed again and again thanks to clever maneuvering and timely motions filed by his attorney. James spent his sophomore year in jail, and he wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon.
Finding him was easy enough. The Palm Beach Sheriff’s Office website allowed visitors to search for inmates and locate their whereabouts. Figuring out what I would say to him was a whole other story.
I’d scheduled a visitation appointment online, which I’d hoped would allow me to skip the long lines at the detention center and get in to see him faster. With my trial set to start next week, time was not on my side. I clicked submit and my visit was confirmed instantly.
When I arrived at the detention center the next day, my heart raced. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but I knew people were watching. I spotted them following me days ago, so to say I’d been on edge of late was putting it mildly. I was also tense about visiting a place that might soon become my permanent home.
I walked through the main door of the visitation area and approached the three adjoining check-in windows. I’d complied with the strict dress
code rules I’d read about, and since cell phones were not permitted in the building, I left mine in the car. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. There were a dozen cameras covering the entire area, I didn’t need them all pointing at me.
With twenty to thirty people already waiting to check in, I got in what I hoped was the shortest line and waited patiently. According to their website, there were more than five-thousand visits per month to this facility, so I considered myself lucky the lines weren’t longer. When it was my turn, the female officer behind the glass waved me forward and greeted me with the gruff voice of someone who’d been smoking for thirty-plus years. She peered through the reading glasses perched on the end of her nose and retrieved my online registration. While she scanned my ID, she reminded me that my conversation inside would likely be recorded. She lifted a receiver, called down to wherever and announced that James Henderson had a visitor. She hung up and told me to take a seat, that it would be a few minutes.
Long benches made from recycled plastic filled the waiting room of the visitation area. I found an open spot and took a seat. People of all ages surrounded me, waiting to see someone they knew, someone they loved, imprisoned here. I couldn’t help but picture Sara, Jordan, and Brock sitting here, patiently waiting to visit me behind bars, and my stomach churned.
When my name was finally called, I was led into the central video visitation center, a room filled with dozens of cubicle-like stations. A single chair was tucked in at each one, sitting under a narrow table mounted between two curved half-walls that offered a small amount of privacy. The chair faced a video monitor with a fifteen-inch screen, built-in camera, and a phone mounted on the right side.
An officer directed me to one of the few empty stations. I pulled out the chair and took a seat. I looked around at all the other visitors, talking to the monitors through the handsets, but there were no actual prisoners in the room. Technology had, once again, reduced the personal interaction between people down to staring at a screen. I had hoped to meet James in person, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not yet anyway. I’d have to get him to trust me through video chat.
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