“Not on my decorating list.” I wrote it down on the paper anyway.
Next, I entered sweet pea and the Seattle area but there were no streets with that name. One by one I jotted down company names that had sweet pea in the title. There was a surprising number including a photography studio, a preschool and a pediatric dental clinic. In each case, I clicked on the websites to see if there were any clues.
The waitress delivered my food and I mumbled a thank-you and mindlessly ate while I continued my search. I felt like I’d searched every damn sweet and pea and sweet pea thing in Seattle but, unfortunately, none of the sites opened onto a page with a flash video showing the Flores Cartel smiling at the camera.
Which made me think...
I renewed my search typing in sweet pea and Flores.
Immediately a website came up for a tree nursery in the small city of Wenatchee a couple hours away. Wenatchee was known as the apple capital of the world so sweet pea was a bit of an odd name. I clicked through to the website to find out why my search linked to this company. On the About Us page was a list of workers. Beside each photo was a name and description of their duties at the nursery. A Josephine was listed as the treasurer but there was no last name and no photo of her. The very last name on the page had only a blank box where a photo should have been. The person was described as the owner and operator of the Sweet Pea Nursery.
My blood chilled in my veins as I said his name out loud.
Mateo Flores. The head of the Flores Cartel.
Chapter Eleven
I was quickly on my feet and nearly knocked over the waitress who’d come to clear my plates.
“Sorry.” I dug out some bills and handed them to her before she could even hand me the bill and then I was out the door.
My mind was focused on only one thing. I needed to get to Wenatchee and visit this Sweet Pea Nursery and I needed to do it like yesterday. Again I cut though the tall cedar hedge that surrounded the motel parking lot but then I stopped short. A stocky man with a ball cap was staring inside my rental car. He approached the motel and peered inside the window of my room and I took a step back so I was hidden behind the hedge but could keep an eye on him from between the branches. I put my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. Even from where I stood I could hear Wookie’s snarling attack bark.
“Go right ahead,” I whispered. “Break in and we’ll see how much meat Wookie can rip off your ass.”
The man craned his neck to get a good look between the drapes to see inside my room, then he turned and took out a cell phone. He snapped a picture of the room number on the door and turned to take a picture of my rental car parked directly in front of the door. He even leaned close to take a picture of the license plate. My throat grew dry with fear.
The man began to walk in my direction across the lot and I scrambled back a few feet, panicked that he might have spotted me. As he got closer I got a good look at his face—brown skin, a crooked nose and a spider tattoo on his neck. I was just about to turn on my heel and run when he changed the direction of his walk and headed toward an older black Honda Civic. The car had a long scrape that ran all along the passenger side.
While he walked with his back to me, I got out my own phone and, making sure the volume was off so he wouldn’t hear the click, I snapped a number of pictures of him and his car. Unfortunately, with the ball cap pulled down low over his eyes the only thing I could say was that he was a stocky guy with brownish skin and a spider tattoo. I tried to get a picture of his plate as he pulled out of the lot, but he was gone too fast.
Resisting the urge to run immediately across the lot toward my room, I forced myself to wait until a full two minutes had passed. As soon as that time was up, I raced across the lot. My key card wouldn’t work the first couple times I tried to unlock the door because my hands were shaking so hard, but I finally got the door to the motel room open.
Wookie jumped all over me. He was thrilled to have me back from breakfast, but I had no time for fun or to give him the attention he craved. Someone was following and tracking me, and it was probably the person who blew up my Jeep.
“We’re moving, boy,” I told him as I began to fling things into my large duffel bag.
Within five minutes I had the car loaded with Wookie and his gear as well as my duffel bag and dowsing backpack. I hooked the Do Not Disturb notice on the motel room door and made sure the drapes to the room were closed tight and the TV was turned on with the volume just high enough it could be heard from outside. I didn’t check out. For as long as possible I wanted whoever was stalking me to think I was still staying at this motel.
I accelerated out of the lot and onto the main street. First stop was the car rental place where I told the young woman working the counter that I wanted a different vehicle.
“But you just got it a couple hours ago. You don’t like the car?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like something different. An SUV if you have one. I’m just used to driving something bigger.” My smile was polite, but I tapped my fingers impatiently on the counter.
She shrugged and snapped her gum as she clicked a few things on her screen. “It’s going to cost you more money. Your insurance only covers a basic compact or mid-sized car for one week until you can buy something else after a collision.”
I didn’t tell her my Jeep was blown up, not involved in an accident.
“That’s fine.” I gave her another pleasant smile. “I really appreciate your help because I’m kind of in a hurry.”
She shrugged again.
It took ten minutes for her to put me into a white mid-sized SUV. When she opened the vehicle, I pronounced it suitable and immediately began transferring all the gear from the car to the SUV. That gear included Wookie.
“Our pet policy says you have to make sure you vacuum the vehicle before you return it. Any pet hair and we’ll have to charge you a cleaning fee.”
“I didn’t have a chance to vacuum this one.” I nodded to the car. “Charge me if you need to. But I’ll be sure to clean this one once I’m done.” I snatched the keys for the SUV from her hand. “Thanks. Have a good day.”
I’d tossed my backpack up front with me and, as I drove onto the main street, I dumped its contents all over the passenger seat. I snagged my Mariners ball cap and put it on my head, carefully tucking my blond hair under the cap, and put on my sunglasses. It was the best disguise I could come up with on such short notice, but it would have to do.
It was going to take me nearly two and a half hours to get to Wenatchee, and that was plenty of time to think. Unfortunately, most of my thinking was worst-case scenarios. I tried to focus on the positive. Garrett was alive. At least he was alive yesterday when he’d left me a note to warn me. That was reassuring so I’d keep that in mind.
I licked my lips and tried to relax. It occurred to me that I was about to rush into a situation that I knew little about, and my recklessness could end up putting Garrett in more danger. My entire body was taut with fear.
“I’m okay,” I told myself, and Wookie whined from the back seat as if even he didn’t believe it.
The highway was forested on either side and about halfway there I took a turn onto a dirt road and pulled my vehicle behind some trees. I let Wookie out to sniff and pee and put a water bowl out for him. Part of me was screaming that I had no time for this and should hurry back on the road, but the sane voice inside told me I needed to clear my head before I lost it completely.
I had barely a signal out here but with patience and moving around to search out a bar or two of service, I managed to look up what I wanted; pictures in various news sources of the Flores Cartel and their henchmen. Enlarging pictures, I got a good look at Mateo Flores, the head of the cartel—good-looking in a cocky way, mid-forties, fit, thin mustache. A newspaper reported Flores had a penchant for sports cars and was known to give one as a gift to his inf
ormers. I immediately thought about the red Jaguar convertible driven by Jerry Mayer.
In the news article one of his muscled thugs caught my eye. I recognized him as the guy who’d been looking for me at the motel. He was called La Araña. Spider. That made sense given the spider tattoo on his neck. Every article I could find listed the man as a suspect in numerous murders. If Flores wanted someone gone, La Araña took care of it.
My anxiety was bad. Every inch of my body was vibrating with nerves. While Wookie chased a squirrel up a nearby tree I closed my eyes and drew in deep, cleansing breaths. In through my nose and out through my mouth. And again. I consciously unclenched my fists and relaxed my jaw, so my teeth were no longer clenched.
Everything is okay.
You are safe.
Garrett is safe.
Even in my mind, the words stumbled.
I wanted a drink so bad. A sweet little guzzle to make all this bad go away.
Over and over I repeated positive thoughts until, finally, my hands stopped shaking and I felt a little calmer. Wookie sauntered over and slurped noisily from his water bowl and then put his dripping nose against my legs.
“Ew-w-w.” I chuckled. “Thanks for that, you big goof.”
I gave him a chew treat and returned him to the back seat of the SUV. Before I hit the road again I formulated a tentative plan. My phone chimed quickly in succession as two text messages rolled in.
The first message from neighbor Preston was: Great flooring choice!
A picture followed showing about half the living room already had the new hardwood installed. Nevada Maple had been a great way to go.
His second text said: So sorry to hear about your Jeep! What the hell happened there?? You coming by today to look at the floor?
I hesitated in sending my reply because I suddenly recalled the T-shirt he was wearing with the broken lightning bolt on it. The one for Flash Imports.
Trust no one.
Garrett’s words screamed in my head as I sent my vague reply: Working today but I hope to stop by later. Thanks for the pic!
Preston sent me a smiling emoji that felt evil and mocking. What if he was one of the bad guys and I’d given him an actual key to our house? I thought of Phil and Preston and their exuberant neighborliness and couldn’t imagine either of them hurting us.
Another text sounded just as I was about to start the car.
I’m working til 4. How bout dinner?
I wanted to call Tracey and tell her everything that was going on. I wanted to warn her to stay away from the motel and not to go by my house and not to call or message me until this was all over because I’d dragged her too far into this situation. I’d already put her in danger once by bringing her to that pub. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. I could only hope that if she just stayed away from me she’d be safe.
Garrett’s back and he’s great!! I’m meeting him in... I thought for a second then finished... Seattle. We’re going to have a few days together.
Tracey was quick to reply.
Awesome!! Don’t worry about Fluffy. I’ll keep him as long as you want.
Thanks. Talk in a couple days.
She sent me a thumbs-up and a hugging emoji and my bottom lip quivered just a bit. Maybe I should’ve told her to go into hiding but if anyone was watching her too, I wanted it to look like her actions were normal and I had to believe the only danger she’d be in was if she was with me. I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers that big muscled Craig was also staying close by and keeping her safe.
I’d plugged the address of the Sweet Pea Nursery into the GPS and it was now indicating I was arriving at my destination on my right. I slowed to just below the speed limit and coasted by. The area was surrounded with tree orchards, and the property itself had three massive steel buildings probably used for storage. Even from the road I could see several security cameras at the entrances so approaching would not go unnoticed. A small paved parking lot out front had some vehicles in it and a long drive that went around back had a semitruck exiting.
“Now what?” I murmured as I accelerated past. Wookie woofed as if in reply.
I continued driving until I reached a town about a half hour farther down the road. After a moment’s thought, I entered a store and picked up a couple blankets and some food and water. I vaguely remembered searching for a drowning victim at a lake nearby. After a quick search of the location on my phone, I headed to a somewhat secluded campground.
“We’re probably sleeping in the car tonight,” I told Wookie as I put the vehicle in park. “It’ll be like camping.”
It had been a long time since I’d gone camping. Another lifetime ago with a monster I once considered family. I shuddered at the dark thoughts as they tried to envelop me. With a clap of my hands and a loud clearing of my throat, I tried to refocus.
It was still getting quite cold at night but, with the blankets, we’d be warm enough and, if needed, I could start the vehicle. The Sweet Pea Nursery website said it stayed open until eight o’clock. It was nearly that now. My plan was to wait until late tonight and then go and see if I could do a little investigating around the facilities. The massive warehouses on the property could hide just about anything—thousands of pounds of Mexican Mud heroin or an FBI officer and his wayward brother-in-law.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
At the W word, Wookie was whining with excitement and he happily bounded out of the vehicle. We took the narrow path down to the lake. A crisp breeze came off the water, bringing the damp wooded scents of forest and marsh. Wookie found a stick nearly as big as he was to play with and, while I watched him, I talked out loud to myself.
“Garrett’s okay. He wrote me a note to warn me not to message him maybe because someone has his phone.”
His earlier text to me calling me Sweet pea and the etching of the word into his notepad made me believe I was definitely on the right track by searching this nursery.
I picked up a smaller stick and threw it for Wookie to fetch. He was thrilled with the game and more than happy to put it on repeat until my arm was exhausted. The sun sank down across the lake and the air grew chilled. My phone chimed an incoming text from Agent Karla Powel asking if I’d heard anything more from Garrett. I hesitated. When Garrett said to trust no one I’m sure he didn’t include his very pregnant partner on maternity leave. Still, I reasoned that even if Agent Powel was helping as much as she could on the sidelines, she would not exactly be impressed to think I was planning on checking out a business owned by Mateo Flores. I sent her a simple ‘no’ in response.
I grabbed a blanket from the car and wrapped it around my shoulders as I sat on a nearby log. Wookie slumped at my feet, gnawing enthusiastically on his stick. When I started to feel overwhelmed, I covered my face with my hands.
“What does your gut say?” I asked myself. After a deep breath, my reply was, “It feels like he’s not safe, and all I know is that if he’s in danger, he needs my help.”
I thought about Agent Powel again. Big as a house and ready to give birth any day. The fact that she’d been trying to keep an eye on Garrett since he was pulled from the case made it feel like she would be a safe person to turn to. There was no way I alone could stand up to a bunch of cartel henchmen if Garrett was being held at Sweet Pea. I made up my mind that, if needed, I’d call Agent Karla Powel and ask her to send reinforcements.
I sat with my eyes closed and tried to splice together everything I knew for fact, and those things I only felt in my gut. Somewhere in the middle of those two things was what I needed but it was still out of reach. A crisp breeze picked up, and even the blanket around my shoulders wasn’t helping to keep away the chill.
“C’mon, boy.”
We walked back to the vehicle with Wookie startling a rabbit out from a shrub and then losing it again a second later. I took out his bowls and let him take a long drin
k and eat some kibble. For myself, I took a muffin out of the convenience store sack and ate it while leaning against the car and staring up at the darkening sky. We climbed into the car and I started the motor to give us some heat. I gave Wookie one of the blankets on the back seat and took one to cover myself. We both immediately snuggled in. Once we had enough heat, I cut the engine and we sat in the still darkness of the woods and waited.
I dozed off and the sound of an incoming text jolted me awake. Fumbling for my phone I scanned the screen hopeful for a message from Garrett but it was Agent Powel.
Stopped by the motel but you’re not there??
Her two question marks made it feel like a demand. It was nearly midnight. What excuse could I give her for not being there? And did she have information for me regarding Garrett? My fingers hovered over the letters on my phone while I struggled with a reply.
Wookie hurt his paw at the dog park. Had to find a 24 hour vet.
I hit Send on the fib hoping against hope that I really didn’t need to be lying to this FBI agent. Praying she was on my side but not willing to risk it. I quickly added, Any news on Garrett?
Was she weighing the truthfulness behind my story about Wookie? Even without FBI connections it wouldn’t take her long to figure out how many vet hospitals in that area were open twenty-four hours for emergencies. I was hoping it wasn’t on her priority list to start checking. It felt like forever for her reply to come.
No. Things are heating up in the case. Can’t get into it. Things might wrap soon.
Had she stopped by the motel near midnight just to tell me that? Or was she afraid to put anything in writing and would’ve told me more had I been there, or maybe just showed up to pick my brain and see what I knew. And by wrap did she mean the FBI was closing in on the case with the Flores Cartel? Did the heating up put Garrett in danger? I didn’t even know how to reply to that because I had too many questions I knew she wouldn’t answer. While I was still tossing her words around in my head she sent another message.
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