He moved quietly forward and around to the congregation side of the altar. Slipping into a pew, he knelt. And he prayed to find Pablo, who would tell the truth…who would be the key to clearing his name…and he in turn would be allowed to save Pablo from following in his brother’s footsteps…or to his grave.
A slight sound whispered through the church. A frightened kid hiding but getting restless?
Patience, Father Padilla had commanded.
Dermot could outlast any restless, reckless kid.
But could he make Pablo talk?
“SO, WE’RE WORKING with a ticking clock,” Stella told the members of Team Undercover when they got together before the club opened that evening.
While waiting for Dermot to show, she’d gone over the attack on her and Manny’s subsequent murder. Where the heck could Dermot be? she wondered. He’d called her cell a while ago and said he had something to show them, and that he would be here as soon as he could.
“We have maybe a few days before the prints are entered into the system,” Logan explained. “Actually, it’s a good thing Stella never made a report about his threatening her, or Norelli would pick up on the connection and have the prints rushed. They would have a match, and Dermot would rot in a jail cell before any judge would grant bail again.”
“You can’t talk to Manny, and Pablo has disappeared, so what now?” Cass asked.
Gabe said, “I’ve been looking more closely at Marta Ortiz.” He handed Stella a folder. “She has a very interesting history…as the leader of a girl gang.”
“What?” The very idea shocked Stella—an alderman who was fighting the gangs was a former gang member herself! “I know she’s several years older than me, but I don’t remember her being part of a gang.”
“Neither do I,” Blade agreed.
“That’s because she wasn’t originally from Pilsen or from anywhere on the south side. Try Humboldt Park.”
A north side neighborhood not too far from the club and the location of the Humboldt Park Center for Change, the organization Dermot worked for, Stella thought as she looked at the information given to her. It was an old article in the Chicago Writer, a free newspaper that specialized in feature stories the traditional papers didn’t cover. This one was about girl gangs, and there on the front page was a photo of a familiar-looking, dark-haired young woman, identified only as Marta O., leader of the Latina Queens.
“It does look like her,” Stella said, “but this is dated nearly twenty years ago.”
Gabe said, “Once I found that article, I followed up with a couple of calls. The O. stands for Ortiz.”
A shocking discovery, but what did it mean? Stella wondered. Marta had been incredibly young here, and if she’d participated in criminal activities maybe young enough to have her juvy records sealed.
Before they could get into the significance of the find, a knock drew everyone’s attention to the door opening. Dermot stood there, and in front of him was a terrified-looking Pablo Santos.
DERMOT HAD STAYED ON ALERT in St. Peter’s for nearly three hours before Pablo had tried to sneak out from where he was hiding behind one of the side altars. Only after Pablo had made his presence known did Dermot speak to the kid, first telling him he wanted to put Manny’s murderer behind bars. The kid could have run then, but where to? Where would be safer than taking sanctuary in the church? So he’d let Dermot talk. And he’d let himself be convinced that he could be the one to put his brother’s murderer behind bars.
“This is Pablo Santos,” he told the members of Team Undercover, knowing that Stella was already familiar with the kid. “He witnessed his brother Manny’s murder last night.”
“Oh, you poor thing! Come, sit. We’re going to help you if you’ll let us,” Cass said, motherly instincts apparently coming from somewhere.
Pablo headed for the seat she offered, arcing wide to keep his distance from Stella.
Dermot was right behind him, but stopped and put an arm lightly around Stella’s back. She leaned into him and he gave her a squeeze. Having so many people around, he couldn’t do what he really wanted, couldn’t take her in his arms for a long, deep kiss.
As if she could read his mind, Stella surreptitiously elbowed him. “So tell us,” she said, her face softened by heightened color which he hoped was his fault.
“Pablo’s been hiding out at St. Peter’s since last night. That’s where I found him.”
“I’m sorry about your brother, Pablo,” Gideon said. His voice hardening, he added, “I can’t think of anything worse than having to watch someone you love murdered.”
Pablo tilted his chin to his chest, no doubt so no one could see the tears in his eyes.
Gideon wedged a hip on his desk and looked at Pablo with compassion that seemed to go beyond everyone else’s reaction. Almost as if he could empathize, Dermot thought.
“You’re welcome here,” the club owner told the kid. “If you want, I’ll find a way to keep you safe until the bastard who killed Manny is behind bars.”
Dermot didn’t miss the significance of the invita tion. Unless he was mistaken, Gideon meant he personally would take care of Pablo. According to Blade, Gideon mostly orchestrated the team’s actions. And put up bail money, Dermot thought, thankful that the club owner had been so generous. He couldn’t help but be curious about what prompted Gideon to step out of his usual role.
Stella moved closer. “Pablo, I’m sure you remember me.”
For a moment the wild look returned to his eyes, but when Stella didn’t yell or act threatening, he calmed down and nodded. “Yeah, the lady cop.”
“The lady cop who plans on seeing your brother’s murderer behind bars. Tell us what happened.”
Dermot thought she sounded incredibly reasonable considering what a scare he’d helped give her.
“Manny got a call on his cell after midnight.” Pablo’s voice shook with emotion that he seemed to be trying to control by twisting his hands together in his lap. “I knew he was sneaking off on gang business, and I wanted to go with, but he said no…”
When his voice tapered off, Stella said, “But you followed him, right?”
“Yeah. To an alley where he met this guy still wearing his mask from Day of the Dead. They were arguing about something. Then the guy pulled out a knife and s-stabbed Manny. H-he didn’t even have a chance to fight.”
Pablo choked back a sob, then looked embarrassed and angry. Next to him, Cass patted his shoulder without saying anything.
“What then?” Stella asked.
“H-he took off that damn mask and covered Manny’s face and ran off down the alley. I waited till he turned the corner, then went to help my brother. T-too late. I called the cops on his cell. Then that bastard came back and saw me and I ran before he could kill me.”
“He saw your face and can identify you?” Stella asked.
Pablo nodded.
“And what about him? You saw his face, right?”
“Yeah, I saw his face. Paz Falco.”
“Falco?” Stella gave Dermot a startled look.
So she remembered—Mrs. Santos had told them Manny was influenced by the guy. Dermot thought it was too damn bad he’d been influenced to death.
“Pablo, can you describe Falco?” she asked.
“He’s clean-shaven, has short hair with Zs carved in the sides and back.”
“Zs.” Stella sounded breathless. “Do they kind of look like lightning bolts?”
“Exactly.”
“Sounds like you’ve seen the guy,” Gabe said.
“I may have seen him working my cousin Frank on Sunday, in front of the church. Frank told me he was looking for a job, but I wonder.”
Pablo’s laugh was bitter. “Falco don’t need a job. He got other ways of making dead presidents.”
Illegal ways, Dermot thought, knowing dead presidents was slang for money.
“What do we do now?” Cass asked.
Logan said, “We bring Pablo to Area 4.”
“No!” Wild-eyed, the kid jumped out of his chair and faced Dermot. “You swore on the Madonna you wouldn’t turn me in, not till you got Falco!”
“Whoa!” Gideon said. “No one’s turning you in. We’ll work something out.”
Logan’s jaw tightened for a moment before he said, “Right. We’re getting close. We’ll make the case soon.”
“He a cop, too?” Pablo asked.
“He is, but he’s very cool.” Cass patted his shoulder. “And you’re our secret weapon.”
Pablo calmed down, and Cass took him to the employee lounge for something to eat so the rest of them could confer.
“That sure was a stroke of luck finding the kid,” Gabe said.
“I had some help.” Dermot explained how Father Padilla had clued him in without actually telling him anything specific. “So how did you all make out?”
Stella handed him a folder. “Check out the story Gabe found about young Marta O., Latina Queen.”
“You don’t say.” Dermot scanned the article. “Humboldt Park, huh? I have an in with a couple of reformed gang members from the area. As a matter of fact, there’s one at the center who helps teenagers prepare for legitimate employment opportunities. Maybe tomorrow would be a good time to check in at work and see what I can find out.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Gideon said.
“Speaking of plans…what did you plan to do with Pablo tonight?” Dermot asked, reminding him, “The kid’s only fourteen.”
“I know he’s a minor,” Gideon said. “Has he spoken to his parents yet?”
“Done,” Dermot confirmed. “He won’t go home. Actually, he can’t go home and be safe. I told them I would try to talk him into going in and making a report and let the authorities take care of him.”
“Which means he would either be returned home or given over to Family Services.”
“What’s your alternative?” Dermot asked.
“If he was with a family member somewhere safe, there wouldn’t be a problem.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Dermot said. “I’ll call Mrs. Santos and see if I can work out something. She’s mourning one son and wants to see the other safe. She’ll cooperate.”
The club was already busy, especially since today was Halloween. Cass poked her head in and reported throngs of costumed customers filling the stairs, waiting to get in. The team scattered and got to work.
Dermot made the call. And within fifteen minutes he had the solution. He’d pick up an older cousin outside of the neighborhood who would Pablo-sit at Gideon’s place.
Hopefully, a couple of days would be long enough to bring down Paz Falco and whoever was pulling his strings.
THINGS WERE HEADED in the wrong direction.
Falco had failed in his mission and had taken out his frustration on one of his own. Not that Manny Santos was a big loss. But at least he’d done what he’d been ordered to do and hadn’t taken actions that would bring the spotlight down on them all.
Stella Jacobek was still the key. And, regretfully, she was still alive. Once she was out of the picture, the operation would be back to normal. No one believed her theories, at least no one who mattered.
And no one really cared about a dead gang member. Besides, according to Falco, the only prints on the knife were O’Rourke’s. And O’Rourke was still poised to take the fall on the Vargas murder. So he would go down for two. Those prints would seal his fate.
If no one messed things up.
Like Stella Jacobek.
This had to be done right, though. The blame had to go elsewhere.
A simple phone call would get the ball rolling, would set the scene so that, when she died, it would be in public, and the authorities wouldn’t know who to blame.
Some things—if you wanted them done right—you just had to do yourself.
Chapter Thirteen
Dermot dead-bolted the loft door behind them. “Alone at last.”
“And amazingly without incident,” Stella added, wondering if their luck was changing. “Everything went as planned and Pablo is safe, assuming he stays put. No one followed us. No one tried to attack me….”
Dermot slipped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck, sending a flush of excitement straight down to her toes. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”
The sizzle fizzled a bit. “Yeah, right.”
“But I know my interference wouldn’t be at all necessary, because you’re a kick-ass cop who can take care of not only herself but the whole damn city.”
She flattened a hand against his chest and pushed at him. “Now you’re patronizing me.”
“Maybe just a little.”
He was smiling at her, not only with his lips but his eyes. Stella’s heart fluttered in her chest. She wanted to be as close to Dermot as she could get, but maybe that was a mistake. Their circumstances threw them together, and danger had become something of an aphrodisiac.
She wasn’t sure that was healthy.
Wasn’t sure if it was real.
Moving out of Dermot’s arms, she said, “I wonder if we’re doing the right thing, keeping Pablo hidden rather than bringing him in.” She wanted him alive, not only because he was a witness, but because she’d seen something in the young gang member to salvage.
“What would you get without Pablo’s cooperation?” Dermot asked. “And the next time he runs, who knows what could happen? Besides, Manny’s murder is Logan’s case, and Pablo’s parents are in the loop and cooperating, so we’re covered.”
“Let’s just hope nothing goes wrong with the plan. I wish it wasn’t so late. I could call Frank and ask him about Paz Falco.”
“Just because they were talking doesn’t mean Frank has the score on Falco.”
“Maybe not, but odds are he’d give me some clues as to where I could look for him.”
“In the wee hours of the morning.”
“Now is when he’ll be on the move. Besides, there is no inappropriate time for a cop, Dermot.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not trying to minimize what you do or overprotect you. Well, maybe the last, but I can work on that.”
And maybe her fears were for nothing, Stella thought.
Not that she knew exactly how Dermot felt about her. It was obvious that he cared for her. He wanted to protect her.
But did he love her?
Dermot’s lips brushing hers kick-started her libido, making it difficult to remember she’d ever had objections to their being together. Nothing wrong with him backing her up if it proved he cared.
Dermot was showing her now, his hands spreading warmth that pulsed through Stella. All she could think about was feeling him naked against her. For a few hours she wanted to lose herself in him and forget about everything else.
Morning and Paz Falco would come soon enough.
PAZ FALCO was nowhere to be found.
A frustrated Stella was wasting her time on the hunt for him while Dermot was busy trying to track down someone who had known Marta Ortiz when she was a Latina Queen.
Despite Pablo’s disbelief that Falco needed or wanted a job, Frank had insisted it was so when she’d finally called him. Supposedly Paz Falco had quit school and wanted to work full-time…or so he’d told Frank.
Why would a gang member want a job at the auto repair shop? Stella wondered, looking for a deeper motive. Maybe he thought he could scam the business somehow. Odd that he hadn’t followed up with Frank since Sunday, then.
While Frank didn’t know where Falco lived, he did have several suggestions as to where she might look. But the gang’s haunts were deserted. Any gang members not in school were probably still sleeping.
The plan was for her to track down Falco and then call Logan for backup. Unless Logan found him first, which meant he would call her. He and his partner were working on the case day and night. The moment Falco was collared, Logan would bring Pablo out of hiding, round up his parents and get his story officially signed, sealed and delivered. The fact that a know
n gang member had attacked her—a cop—with intent to kill would go against him when it came to setting bail.
Stella hoped to see him rot in hell.
The trick was in finding Paz Falco. Who, other than Frank, had so many sources?
Wondering if Leroy could help her out, she called him at Lion Auto where he’d been a mechanic since leaving Frank’s employ. Today was his day off. Knowing he spent much of his leisure time playing poker—perhaps one of the reasons he needed a second job—Stella headed for Skipper’s.
Leroy was just getting up from the poker table when she walked into the bar. She waved to him, but seeing her didn’t change his down-in-the-mouth expression. He must have been losing, she guessed.
“Stella.”
“So, how’s it going? No luck finding a second job?”
“Not around here. And don’t tell me to see Frank again.”
There was that hostility again. “What is it between you two?”
“Let’s say I didn’t agree with his way of doing business and leave it at that.”
Now her curiosity was really whetted, but she wouldn’t press him for past history when she had a kid’s future—and ultimately Dermot’s and her own—to think about.
“Let’s go over there,” she said, indicating a corner where they could talk without being overheard.
“So, how’s it going?” Leroy asked in a low voice.
“Complicated, but coming along. There’s someone who holds the key to the whole thing.” It had become second nature to her to only reveal as little as possible to get what she needed. “Does the name Paz Falco ring any bells?”
Leroy whistled. “Only bad ones. Even other Vipers are scared of him. He’s a loose cannon, doesn’t answer to anyone. No one to mess with.”
He answered to someone, probably Marta Ortiz.
“You wouldn’t have an address on him, would you?” Stella asked.
Leroy shook his head. “I think he lives somewhere near the river, west of Ashland. How important?”
Okay, so she had to tell him. “A matter of life or death. Maybe mine.”
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