by G S Fortis
“What was that about?” he asks.
“Oh, it’s an ongoing bet I lost.” Along with my dignity.
As I move farther into the room, I notice another person near the kitchen—his partner, Detective Snyder. In his left hand, he holds a can of Coke, apparently his go-to source for caffeine. I offer him a nod. He offers back a grunt in greeting and grooms his moustache.
David rises from the couch and approaches me. I’m never sure how to greet him. Should we shake hands? Should we hug? Should I jump into his arms and ask him to whisk me away?
We shake hands.
“We were in the neighborhood and thought we could drop by.” He looks me up and down, in the way guys do when they think they’re being subtle but aren’t. I feel both vindicated by my choice in outfits and self-conscious that I didn’t have more time to get ready.
“This is some door,” growls a voice behind me. Snyder plays with the pocket door, sliding it in and out of the brick wall that separates my room from the living room. The heavy oak makes a dull roar as it moves along its track.
“Yeah,” I say, “a girl can never be too safe in this neighborhood.”
He studies the iron latch that securely, and formidably, locks it into place. “The lock’s on the outside.” The hook clamps into place, offering a deep metallic clank.
“Well…” I start, exchanging a look with Paige as I struggle for a reasonable excuse.
Paige finishes. “Sometimes I need a little peace and quiet when she’s acting up…?”
“And why would you be acting up?” Snyder asks.
“PMS,” I reply.
And with that, Snyder concludes his questions. If there’s one thing that stops men—even detectives—from asking questions, it’s a woman’s bodily functions. Satisfied, I take a seat on the couch, and Paige joins me.
“Sorry. I’m a little out of it this morning,” I say while trying to tousle my hair.
“Rough night?” Snyder asks. There’s no mistaking the stern tone.
This isn’t going to be a friendly visit, and I’m now on the defensive. “I’m not a morning person,” I say matter-of-factly.
“It’s eleven in the morning, Darcy,” David says, standing over me. “Hot date last night?” He smiles as if he’s teasing me.
This is no tease. He’s searching for answers to different questions and talking around the subject he’s investigating—which, chances are, has everything to do with what transpired last night in Harvard Park. I know this what he’s trying to do because it’s what I do.
Now I need to counter and to learn what he knows without giving anything away. I also need to know what Paige might have already told him. Everything counts on our keeping our stories straight. The last thing I want is to get caught in a lie and taken to police holding. Nothing good would come of locking me in a jail cell with a hundred other women with anger-management issues.
I don’t answer his question. I ask my own. “What brings you here?”
“Can’t I come by and say hello?”
“You’re on the clock. Didn’t think you’d have time while you’re working.”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
I do my best to remain calm despite panicking on the inside. I decide to redirect the conversation. “Have you found any information about Lupe’s killer?”
“Killer?” Snyder asks. He closes in on us—on me—and leans in. “Was there only one killer?”
“Was there more than one?” I ask.
“Do you know something?”
“Less than you, I’m sure, Detective.”
Snyder steps away, clearly annoyed by my response.
“No updates,” David says, shooting Snyder a glance. He turns back to me. “Sorry. We’re still looking.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your checking in.” I hope that is the end of the conversation. I lean forward and get ready to stand, but David continues speaking.
“You hear about the house fire last night? Happened in Harvard Park ’bout eleven thirty.” He’s given me something, expecting I’ll give something in return. I don’t.
I sink back into the couch. We’re going to be here a while. “Are you with the fire department now?”
“Were you out last night?”
“Are you suspecting me of arson?” I ask.
“Should I?”
“Do you have a reason to?”
Detective Snyder sighs in the corner, causing David to flinch. It’s becoming clear that Snyder has, once again, extended David the courtesy of leading this interrogation—I mean, interview. As of now, Snyder is less than impressed, and his patience is waning.
“I might,” David says, shifting gears again.
Shit. He has something.
My mind races, but I don’t let him see. I run through the checklist from last night. Did I remove all the evidence of my being there? Did I leave anything behind? I can’t keep up the act much longer. I need to cut to the chase.
“Why are you here, David?”
“Where were you last night?” The playful tone in his voice dissipates. He wants an answer.
Paige pipes in. “I told you, we were both here last night. Drinking wine and binge-watching X-Files.”
It’s sloppy but effective. I go with it. “I was here last night. Drinking wine and binge-watching X-Files.”
“So I’ve heard,” he responds, shooting Paige a warning look.
Snyder mutters something. I don’t catch it, but it makes David uncomfortable.
I repeat my earlier question. “What brings you here?”
David pulls out his notepad. It’s cute when he tries to act like a grownup around me. “I’ve got a witness who claims he saw someone last night who fits your description.”
Shit. Stupid dog walker.
“My description? Beautiful, demure young woman with impeccable fashion sense?” I’m trying to keep up the breezy atmosphere. Even as the words escape my mouth, I can hear the desperation. This is not going well.
“Girl with yellow eyes.”
I need to start wearing sunglasses more often. I smile for David. “Can’t be too many of us in LA.”
“No. Not too many.”
“If you want to know if I’m going around setting house fires, the answer is no.”
I know why he’s here. He needs to say it.
“Not just fire. There were five bodies in the house. Fire department thinks it was intentional. That makes it a homicide.”
Paige stiffens behind me. I don’t look, but I hope she doesn’t give anything away with her expression.
“I was here last night,” I repeat, “drinking wine and binge-watching—”
“Jesus Christ,” Snyder says.
My stomach growls loud enough for everyone to hear.
Snyder approaches and hovers over Paige and me. When he finally speaks, it’s to me. “Five bodies! In a house that happened to be a meth lab.” He extends the index finger of the hand holding the Coke right at me. “And a person matching your description leaving the scene.”
David puts his notepad away and takes position behind Snyder. As the senior detective, Snyder has now taken over. David has to defer to the ranking officer.
“Now,” Snyder continues, “if you want to answer our questions honestly and completely, we’re happy to do that here. Keep dicking us around, and we’ll do this at the station—maybe even put you in a lineup and see if someone can ID you at the scene.”
I share a glance with Paige. If they put me in a lineup, this dog lover might have a pretty good chance of IDing me. David might also have evidence I don’t even know about.
Paige repeats herself adamantly. “Like I said, we were here last night. Watching TV.”
David paces behind Snyder, running his fingers through his hair in that way he does when he’s debating.
“Fine,” Snyder mutters. “Why don’t we go to the station? Get your things.”
I pipe up. “Not until I can arrange for my attorney to be present.”
Snyder stops. David finally steps in and whispers into his ear. I can make out, “Can you give us a minute?”
He and Snyder have a silent exchange. The senior detective is clearly not happy about being asked to leave. Finally, he shakes his head and walks away. He slams the door closed behind him and disappears into the hall. David turns back to me and nods toward Paige.
“Okay, Darcy, can we talk privately?”
More than a little worried, I look at Paige.
“Actually,” she says, “I’d prefer to stay.”
David shoots me a look of dismay. “What the hell? I got my guy to leave.”
“Fine,” I relent. “Paige?”
“No.”
“I tried.”
Paige doesn’t budge. We sit there looking at David, challenging his next move. His shoulders sag in defeat. He knows this isn’t a fight he’s going to win.
“Four of these guys we haven’t ID’d, yet,” David says. “We know the place was a meth lab, so they probably weren’t there to spread the good word. We did ID a Russian-mob kid. Sebastian Gallo, street dealer, arrested a handful of times going back to juvie. No one on the force is going to miss them. And no one on the force is going to work overtime to find out who did this one. But the bodies…” He hesitates. “They were in pretty bad condition. Aside from being burnt”—he looks at me—“they were mangled. Someone or something tore them up pretty bad.”
He pauses and watches me. I can see him trying to make sense of what he saw and how I fit in. I can also feel Paige tightening up, putting two and two together about what happened last night.
“I know you were there last night. What the hell happened?” His voice betrays how desperate he is, not because he wants to know why but because he wants to know how.
I finally give him an honest answer. “I don’t know what happened to them.”
David shakes his head. “Fine, but I don’t think they kidnapped Elizabeth Viramontes.”
I have a pretty good poker face, but when David announces Elizabeth’s name, my jaw drops.
“We know you’re working for Carmen. We know you’re looking for her daughter.”
I have to give David credit. He’s been slowly playing me the whole time with a pretty solid hand. With as much as he knows about the Viramontes case, I have no idea how much evidence he has on me regarding the arson.
And murder. Murders. I am so screwed.
“It’s a missing-girl case. That’s all,” I offer.
“This one’s not just a missing-girl case. How much do you know about the woman you work for? Who do you think this Carmen Viramontes is?”
I hesitate. “Widow. Undocumented. Inherited the electronics chain from her husband, which is probably a front for her drug dealing.”
I feel pretty confident at the moment. The fact that I’ve figured out she’s a drug dealer gives me a free prize on my first spin. Spin again to solve the puzzle.
“You think she’s just a drug dealer?” he says incredulously.
Lose a turn.
“Her family runs one of the largest drug cartels in Mexico, the Galeana Cartel. They’re worth nearly a billion dollars. And Carmen? Her husband used to be the chief distributor of cocaine, marijuana, and heroin in LA. And that electronics chain? That was her doing, her invention. They own a factory in Juarez, Mexico, and place the drugs in the electronics boxes they ship here directly. Once they receive the shipments, they remove the drugs for distribution and launder the hundreds of millions of dollars they take in each year through the chain. She’s not just a drug dealer, Darcy. She’s a drug lord.”
Bankrupt.
The weight of all this sits in my stomach like a brick. She doesn’t keep herself trapped in the house to avoid getting deported—it’s probably because there’s a bounty on her head from any number of rival cartels. And Hugo must be some sort of capo.
And Leona? Could she be the consigliere? Underboss? Bagman?
Paige sinks into the couch behind me, and David sits down near me. “She’s dangerous, Darcy,” he says. “A ruthless, manipulative, evil, and incredibly smart woman who won’t let anything stand in her way. She’s known as the Vibora Negra—the Black Viper. The LAPD is in a joint task force with the FBI and the DEA. No one in law enforcement has even set eyes on her—she stays in that compound twenty-four seven. We know who she is, we know what she’s been doing, and we are putting together enough evidence to put her away for a long time. Just walk away before someone gets hurt—before someone else gets hurt.”
I look up and meet his eyes. He seems sincerely worried about me. “How long have you been working on her case?” I ask.
“I’m not. Not anymore. When I was with GND, we busted up a small ring. Tried to connect her husband to it but failed. You know why? Carmen. She covered his tracks like you wouldn’t believe.”
And now he’s with Homicide. I repeat this in my mind before I respond. “You’re with Homicide now. How’d you know I was on the Viramontes case?”
“Word got back to me. Girl with the yellow eyes hanging out in Pasadena. Shows up again last night in Harvard Park. Not too many girls like that.” He tries to play it off as casual. I admit, it gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside knowing someone is looking out for me.
“I don’t need anyone looking out for me,” I grumble. I don’t know why I say it.
“Tough shit, Darcy. That’s what I’m doing.”
Swoon. “What about Elizabeth? She’s still missing. Someone has to find her.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
This pisses me off. “How you can say that? A girl is missing out there.”
David retreats. “I’m not saying her life doesn’t matter, but you’ve probably figured out by now she was taken by a rival cartel. She’s being used. The most dangerous thing you could do is find her. Then you’ll be in real trouble.”
I think about Yury Yury and his threat. David has a point. If I find Elizabeth, and people learn that I have her, then I’m in real trouble. Rival cartels are going to be hunting for me. “Do you know who has her?”
He shakes his head.
“Do you know how she’s being used?” I can read the reaction in his face. He’s hiding something. “What do you know?”
“It’s out of your league, Darcy.”
Out of my league? He doesn’t even know about the death cult and the witches.
“That was a dumb move, going to that house alone,” he adds after a moment of silence. I can tell he’s getting frustrated because his New York accent reemerges and gets thicker. “I don’t know what the hell happened there or how you got out of it, but this ends now. Drop the case. Back away.”
He doesn’t ask me to agree. We’ve known each other long enough for him to know how stubborn I am. Most men would attack me for my resolve. David respects me for it.
Before he reaches the door, I ask, “Am I under investigation by the LAPD for last night?”
David pauses then turns to me. “Five drug dealers from two different gangs were killed last night. That means two rival gangs have bounties out for the murderer. If the LAPD implicates you in their deaths, the last thing you need to worry about is getting arrested.”
This is both an assurance and a warning. The LAPD is going to leave me alone for my own safety. Any gang looking for revenge is going to come after me if they find out the police believe I’m a suspect.
“There’s only so much I can do,” he adds. “There’s already a lot of heat on you. The murder at the library. Last night’s fire. The missing girl.” He shakes his head. “I’m worried you may already be in more trouble than you even realize.”
This, coming from a guy who doesn’t know I have a literal demon hibernating inside me. I’m in a no-win situation.
David opens the door and joins his partner in the hallway. Snyder shoots him a look so intense that I can only ima
gine the admonishment he’ll receive later. I know David is protecting me against his senior partner and possibly the rest of the force. Snyder turns to leave, and David trails behind him.
When I close the door, I can feel Paige’s penetrating gaze behind me. I turn around to face my own chiding.
“What… happened?” she demands.
I spend half an hour explaining what transpired and the hour after that listening to Paige lecture me about my reckless and dangerous decisions—about how stupid I was to go out there alone… about putting myself in a situation where I lost control of Dudley… about not telling her what happened when I got home. She builds up so much momentum that she even yells at me about forgetting to pick her up from the airport last year.
As Paige’s voice starts to get hoarse, she finally slows down and looks at me. Over the past sixty minutes I’ve slowly curled myself into a ball on the couch. I stare straight ahead, absorbing the slings and arrows with nary a snarky response.
“What?” she says.
I look up. With shame and fear, I utter the one thought I haven’t been able to shake since last night. “I murdered someone, Paige.”
The words taste like bile as I speak them—the final ugly admission of what I did. I committed an act that can never be forgiven and can never be undone. Ten years ago, I took my brother’s life. Since then, I’ve managed to keep the demon inside me at bay. I’ve found ways to contain this evil—by confinement, by sedation, or by isolation. Until last night.
Paige sits next to me and takes my hand. “You’re not a murderer.”
“I killed them!”
“The demon killed them, not you. It’s not your fault.”
I shake my head. David and Paige were right—I shouldn’t have gone to the hideout alone. This time, my reckless behavior had deadly consequences.