by Ali Vali
“I’m a flunky. No one tells me anything,” he said, curling his fingers into his palms.
“That’s three questions you don’t know.” She shook her head.
Emile stepped behind him and pressed a large knife to his throat. “Open your hand.” He pressed the knife tighter against Mike’s throat, making him come up in the seat. “Put it on the table or I’m going to cut once and be done with it.”
Mike put his hand down, sweat beading on his forehead, and waited.
“You sure you owe this bastard this kind of loyalty?” Cain asked. She gave him a few long seconds to decide, the room quiet except for Mike’s panicked breathing and the repeated snick of metal sliding against metal as Remi worked her blade a few times.
“Nunzio’s in the hospital in Lafayette. He got sick in—”
“Shut up, you asshole,” Santino screamed. Emile kicked him in the head, silencing him.
“You were saying?” Remi prodded him with another few snicks.
“He got sick in Mexico where he went to see some guy named Roth Pombo in a jail down there. Santino and I stayed at the hotel, but Nunzio said he wanted to restart some pipeline of drugs this Pombo guy used to do.”
“The bottles of liquid coke, you mean?” Cain asked. The thought of Hector getting his hands on that idea made her take a breath.
“Yeah. Nunzio came back from seeing Pombo, but before he could tell us what the score was he got really sick, so Santino returned to town to wait for tonight.” Mike put his hands under his armpits, his eyes darting from Cain to Remi. “I really don’t know who that woman Nicolette is. If she was there tonight, she was with whoever started shooting the second we got there.”
“And the woman who looks like Kim Stegal?”
“It’s her sister, Tracy Stegal. She was with Nunzio at first, and they were really together for a while, but she left and he hasn’t been able to find her. He looked though.”
“Did Santino tell you who you were meeting at that dock tonight?”
“No. He doesn’t like to share too much.” He smiled and then started laughing. “Now you have to decide if I’m lying or not. The only way to know for sure is to let me go, and I’ll tell you as soon as you do.”
“What do you think, Remi?” she asked and moved back a little.
“I think it’s enough of the truth,” Remi said, and then Emile buried his big hunting knife in the guy’s chest. When he pulled the knife out, Mike slumped forward, his head hit the table with a muffled thump, and he gurgled his last breath.
Cain made a call to Ramon on the satellite phone Emile kept at the camp and told him where to find Nunzio. If they were able to get to Lafayette in time, they could maybe finish this tonight. But Cain would let her friend make that decision, and she’d do her best to back Remi up if she needed it.
Remi worked her cutter a few times as though she felt cheated of the chance to use it. She spoke without looking at the man on the floor. “I know you’re awake, Santino. So have the balls to open your eyes.” She kicked a chair over to him, and Emile grabbed him by the collar to haul Santino up and seat him in it.
Santino stared at Remi with an almost blank expression.
“Do you know what it’s like to get shot in the chest?” Remi asked, but he didn’t answer. “What, no smart comeback?”
“If you can’t understand it was only business, then there’s nothing else to say,” he finally said. “You, your father, or Cain would’ve done the same thing.”
“Business to you is killing someone’s child, a lover, a sister because they won’t buy something you’re selling?” Remi hit him before he could answer. “Junior’s dead because that’s what he thought. Your grandson will be dead before the sun comes up, and it’ll all be on your head.”
“The death of my family will haunt you for years to come. You can kill me, but that’ll be a huge mistake.” Santino lifted his hand as if to point his finger at her, but it dropped quickly when Remi shot him through the heart. It was a poetic thing considering what the Lucases had planned for her.
“Emile, are you sure about the guy who drove us down that road?” Cain was ready to go back and spend the rest of the night with Emma.
“I had him take the dead out to the Gulf. You won’t have to worry about him because his pockets are full of cash now. But mostly because he knows me and what’ll happen to him if he double-crosses us.”
“Then we’re almost done.”
Chapter Thirty-five
Emma was waiting up for her when she got home and let her hold the baby to put him back to sleep. “Will this take long?” Emma asked as she watched Cain dress completely in black.
“I’m hoping to be home late tonight, if it goes like I think it will. It’s Thanksgiving in a few days, and you know how much I love turkey.”
The trip to California would be completely off the grid so she’d turned down the offer of Remi’s plane, and, instead, Jasper had arranged what she understood was a plane that transported ghosts. No one on board existed. Colin and Judice were next to her, but she wasn’t interested in conversation so she closed her eyes and went to sleep. Her brain needed a break from all the thinking she’d been doing since Nicolette had taken a bullet in that swamp.
Before she went to sleep she wondered if Shelby had accepted her invitation. Salvatore was her true target, but there wasn’t any reason to not do a favor for someone in a black hole. Three hours later she woke up and smiled at the sleeping duo sitting close together holding hands. Maybe Colin was starting to wear Judice down. Now all she had to worry about was whether Carlos Luis had come through for her.
Colin jerked awake when the wheels hit the tarmac in what looked like an airstrip in the middle of nowhere. The guys waiting outside hopefully were Colin’s people, because she’d left Katlin and Lou behind to give the illusion she was still home.
“We’re not dying yet, cousin,” Colin said as he stretched. “They’re mine, so let’s go.” When she left the plane, she noticed some people who still sat in their cars, so she walked in that direction, surprised to see the late Rodolfo’s son, Carlos Luis.
“Good to see you again,” she said and shook his hand. “Have you been well?”
She waited for the translator, but Carlos nodded, answering himself. “I do well, and get good business again.”
“It’s good to meet you,” the young woman at Carlos’s side said. “I’m Carlos’s wife, Paloma, and he’s hoping the next time you meet his English will be better. But for now he understands what you’re asking for, and we’re ready to go.”
“Tell him I’ll owe him a favor, and I don’t say that often,” Cain said. Paloma immediately repeated it in Spanish, and Carlos responded.
“It was because of you that he was able to avenge his father’s death. He owes you more for that than doing this for you. If you like, you can ride with us.” She pointed to the large black Suburban. It felt almost like a test.
“Sure.” Cain waved to Colin. He nodded and got into his car, to follow. “Are we ready to go?” she asked as they pulled out to head for LA.
“Carlos called our contacts in the gangs here, and they’re waiting for our phone call. They know Salvatore Maggio because they’re doing a lot of business with him. It’s an easy contract since they buy from us, then turn around and sell to Salvatore for more. The setup has dropped exposure to the watchful eyes of the police so the gang has grown.”
“Please let Carlos know the arrangement will continue, but with only Colin Meade. Salvatore intends to cut Colin out. If that happens you’re going to be dealing with someone who’ll eventually bring war to get what he wants. That easy money isn’t going to last.”
Paloma had a small conversation with Carlos, and he gave short answers to whatever she was saying. “He trusts you, so all you have to say is you’re ready to go, and he’ll call his friends.”
“We’re ready to go.” She gazed out the window at the large expanse of the city passing below them, quiet until they rea
ched the spot she’d requested. The place, well off the main highway, appeared as if it’d been abandoned for years. She walked through the house to enjoy the view behind it, trying to imagine why someone would’ve let this place go like this.
The pool was dry, its bottom littered with dead vegetation, but the chairs nearby appeared clean and fairly new. All they had left to do now was to wait. She planned to hit Salvatore hard and fast, but not leave any of her family’s fingerprints anywhere on the action. When the shit settled, the police would think it was simply another skirmish between the local criminals over drugs.
Carlos came to sit with her, holding out a picture of his wedding day.
Cain smiled at him. “Beautiful,” she said. “Your father would be proud.”
“I find happiness, and you help me. I work like my papi, and I thank you for Gracelia. Today you owe me nada.”
“Thank you, Carlos, and I think you’re doing a good thing.” He waved Paloma over. It seemed important that he know what she said. Cain repeated what she’d said, then waited for Paloma to translate before adding the most important part. “Today he’ll make more than one friend.”
They sat and talked for five hours about nothing else of importance, and as the day grew overcast, a man came out and reported something that made Carlos nod.
“It’s done,” Paloma said. “Salvatore as well as everyone of importance to him is gone.”
“Thank you, and the other thing I asked for?” Cain asked.
Carlos held up two fingers, and his men carried two guys out of the house and into the empty pool. Their hands and feet were then tied and their heads covered by hoods. They’d die on their knees.
“If you want, go ahead and take off,” Cain said. “I need to do the next part alone.”
“What they did for Gracelia, they did without the sanction of their leaders,” Paloma said.
“I have a feeling they did it for the money and for someone else we’re both looking for. Anthony Curtis, the tainted FBI agent, is still out there, and he’ll survive only if both of us are dead.”
“Carlos hasn’t stopped looking, so keep in touch. Whatever your plans, delivering these men won’t put you in debt to anyone involved today.”
She accepted Carlos’s embrace and watched them leave. Her next visitor arrived forty-five minutes later. Shelby appeared in the doorway of the house, her Glock extended with both hands and sweeping the area in a wide arc, as if she expected an ambush. She relaxed when she saw Cain.
“I didn’t think you went anywhere alone,” Shelby said.
“I’m not really here. I’m a figment of your imagination,” Cain said and wiggled her fingers. “Did you bring the paper I gave you?”
“Yes.” Shelby lowered her gun and walked toward Cain, but her eyes stayed on the hooded men kneeling in the pool.
“Read the names,” Cain said, watching as the men’s heads turned toward their voices when Shelby called them out. “Holster your weapon, Shelby.” Cain handed over one of the guns Carlos’s men had left wrapped in the bandana of their gang colors. “There’s no more real irony in this world than getting shot with your own gun.”
“It’s really them?” Shelby said, taking the gun and sliding her finger onto the trigger.
“From what the guys who found them told me, they killed your parents on direct orders from Gracelia Luis and her business partner Anthony Curtis. The guys working for Gracelia had no idea he was an agent, but they wouldn’t give up anything else about him.” She pointed to the two guys. “These two, though, were responsible for the actual killing. So Shelby, the next step is your choice. I’ve led you to your orchard, but to pick the fruit isn’t something I can force on you.”
“And if I don’t, what happens?”
“They killed two people on the order of an FBI agent, one of them a retired cop. The FBI and employers of the two men in the pool won’t take kindly to that, so they’re here to give you the chance you said you wanted.”
“You’ll stay and watch so you can use it against me, I guess,” she said, bouncing the gun nervously against the side of her leg.
“Actually, I’m leaving. My ride should be here in a few minutes, so you have an hour to decide, I’m told. You can see these two aren’t going anywhere. If you choose to do nothing and leave, the cleanup crew will finish the job. They’ll be dead no matter what, and whether it’s by your hand or theirs, I’ll never know.”
“Did pulling the trigger help you?”
“No life can be free of regret, Shelby, but I sleep well at night no matter what you think of me.”
Shelby laughed and shook her head. “You never really answer anything, do you?”
Cain rose at the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house. “My answer is clear enough, so good luck.” She put her hand on Shelby’s shoulder and squeezed. When Shelby kissed her cheek, Cain returned the gesture, then started toward the house.
“Can you do one favor for me before you go?”
Cain stopped and nodded.
“Can you remove the hoods? I hate them so much I can’t really get that close to them, and I want to avoid—”
“No need to elaborate,” she said and walked down the pool’s stairs. “Remember one thing,” she said as she uncovered their heads and pointed to the teardrops tattooed on their faces. “They carry different reminders of your parents than you do. These little mementos are earned only with bullets and killing.”
“Thanks again,” Shelby said when Cain left the pool and, again, headed to leave.
On the ride back to the airfield, Cain reviewed her actions to ensure she’d left nothing of herself behind. Whatever Shelby decided would be on Shelby alone. Her debt was paid.
*
“You’ve watched that video about a million times already,” Abigail said from the sofa where she was reading a book while Finley worked. “I’d think you’d have memorized it by now.”
“There’s got to be something I’m missing.” Finley had hacked the police department in St. Charles Parish’s files on the warehouse case. The explosives didn’t have any kind of special ingredient, and they were still reeling from this happening in their quiet town.
“Maybe you need a fresh set of eyes,” Abigail said, getting up and putting her arms around Finley’s neck to kiss the top of her head. “Play it from the beginning in real time.”
Finley pressed the mouse, and they watched the two people walk around the office before going to the back, supposedly to set a bomb. Something made Abigail want to run. “Play it again please,” she said, leaning down to get closer to the screen. “It’s impossible.” She hadn’t noticed it before when she’d only briefly looked at the footage.
“What?” Finley asked, turning so Abigail could sit on her lap.
“Play it again, but slow it down when that one starts to go through the drawers of the desk.”
On the video, the door opened and two people entered, glancing around the room. The taller of the two walked to the first desk with a pronounced limp, and Finley slowed the action like Abigail had asked. The person paused with a hand on the drawer, then yanked it open as if expecting something to jump out. When nothing did, the person ripped the rest of the drawers out of the desk, but all were empty.
“Did I miss something?” Finley asked.
“Watch,” she said as the person flexed their hands from a fist to a completely open palm. “One, two, three, four, and five,” she counted along as the person repeated the action.
“How’d you know that?” Finley asked, replaying that part again.
“It was an old injury,” Abigail said, “something about landing on broken glass on the playground when she was seven. The cut was deep, and though it healed, it left residual pain that got worse with age. The only thing that helped was physical therapy, and that’s where she learned to stretch it to ease the ache.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Nicola, that’s her,” Abigail said, fighting the sudden urge to th
row up. “That’s her. She did that all the time.”
“Nicola died in a plane crash.”
“Finley, that’s her. I lived with the woman for years and watched her do that move about a thousand times a day.” She repeated it in the cadence Nicola had used as Finley played the video again. It was the same. “It’s her.”
“Where’s she been then?”
“I don’t know, but it explains what happened in New York. No court would give her back the kids, so she had to kill me. Maybe she really was in a plane crash, and it’s taken this much time for her to rehab her injuries. She didn’t have that limp before.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, but why would someone copy her on purpose? An accident might have changed her distinctive stride, but that move with her hand…” Abigail restarted the video and they watched it again. The person repeated the hand movement when the pair stepped into the security closet. “That’s Nicola. I’d swear to it in court.”
“I noticed it before, but I attributed it to the gloves. Not everyone is used to wearing them, but I believe you. If it’s her, though, we’ve got a problem.”
“It’s a huge problem,” Abigail said, biting her lip. “No way did her parents come down here without her knowledge, so, if she’s alive, she’s going to follow the breadcrumbs back to us. What are we going to do?” Abigail held onto Finley. She felt like she’d fall from a great height if she let go. “She’s going to kill us and take the kids.”
“She doesn’t know we’ve figured it out, so we’ll look through David or Yury’s stuff until we find the clue that will lead us to her first.”
“Do you think Cain will help? I can’t lose my children, Finley. I can’t.”
“She’s already offered us protection, so I can’t see this changing her mind. Do you feel comfortable with that, or do you want me to put you someplace safe until we find her?”
“You want me to go?” She put her hand on Finley’s cheek and kissed her. It was like finally finding the needle in a haystack the size of Manhattan, then being asked to let it go. She was tired of putting off her happiness because of the Eatons.