Mayan Gods in the Yucatan (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 5)

by M. L. Hamilton

She looked into her coffee cup. When he put it like that, it did sound suspicious. “Okay, so maybe you and Marco are right and he’s interested in more than being friends, but I haven’t encouraged him at all. In fact, I’ve made it very clear that I’m committed to Marco.” She reached for the sugar dispenser and flicked up the metal lip with her thumbnail. “Can we please talk about the Daws’ case? I promise you I’ll stay away from Mike. You can tell Marco I’ll be a good little soldier and fall into line.”

  Radar made a noise of disbelief.

  Peyton ignored it, flicking the tab again. “If Mark Turner died of carbon monoxide poisoning, he was murdered, Radar, and it had to be because of this case.”

  Radar held out an empty hand.

  Peyton flicked the tab again. “But why? Why did they want Turner dead? What did he know that we don’t?”

  Radar shrugged, but his attention had moved past Peyton’s shoulder again.

  “And what did someone want in a cold case file? What would they be looking for?”

  Radar’s eyes shifted back to her.

  She flicked the tab once more. It sailed off and landed in Radar’s cup of coffee.

  Peyton’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh, God, Radar, I’m so sorry.” She grabbed the napkin off the table and tried to clean up the spray. “Let me get you a new cup.”

  He just glared at her. “Sparky, you’re impossible,” he grumbled. A moment later his phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, looking at the display. “Leave it,” he told her, motioning to the mess. “Susan will get it. Dusty’s done.”

  He dropped a ten on the table, rose to his feet, and walked out of the café. Peyton swiveled around and watched him go, then her eyes shifted to Susan.

  “I tell you what, he’s gonna wear his coffee one of these days!” Susan said.

  Peyton turned back and finished wiping up the mess, gathering everything, including the ten, and carrying it to Susan. She gave her the money and dumped the rest. “I’m sorry.” She pointed over her shoulder. “But the sugar dispenser’s missing it’s tab.”

  * * *

  Peyton found Radar leaning against the doorjamb of her office, talking to Dusty. The CSI was cleaning off his hands with a wet wipe. Peyton felt her heart sink as she saw the black powder on every surface.

  “Are you sure?” Radar demanded.

  “I’m sure, Radar. It’s clean. I did a preliminary run on the fingerprints I found and they were Agent Brooks, Margaret, Agent Campbell and Agent Redford. I didn’t even find yours in here.”

  Radar scratched the back of his head, looking around. Peyton edged up next to him and peered at her desk. A flood of relief went through her when she saw Daws’ file, sitting on the surface with black powder on the cover.

  “Can I check the file?”

  Radar looked at Dusty for confirmation.

  “Go ahead. I didn’t get anything off it either.”

  “What about hair?” asked Radar.

  He nodded at Peyton. “We can test it, but I’ll bet it’s from Agent Brooks.”

  Peyton squeezed past him and hurried over to her desk, but she didn’t want to get the black powder on her clothes. Dusty handed her a pair of latex gloves and she pulled them on, opening the file. She leafed through it quickly, searching for the familiar pages. She’d gone over the file so many times, she felt she knew it by heart. She couldn’t remember how many times she’d read it from cover to cover.

  She flipped to the back and caught her breath.

  “What, Sparky?”

  She looked up at them, but she didn’t answer, going back over the file again, page by page, making sure not a single page stuck to one another. Radar and Dusty watched her, but didn’t interrupt as she went through the whole thing a third time.

  Finally, she had to admit the photos were gone. She looked up at Radar and felt her heart hammering in her throat. “They’re gone.”

  “What’s gone?”

  “The photo of the coin and the photos of the two napkins with the numbers on them.”

  “They were in the file?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

  “You took them out, you said.”

  “So Tank could scan them, but I put them right back inside. They took them, Radar. They broke into my office, drilled out my lock, and took a few pieces of paper. Why?”

  Radar ran a hand over his chin. “Who the hell knows, Sparky, but I want that damn security footage of the hallway but quick. Something’s very wrong with this case and now I’m pissed about it.”

  Peyton closed the folder and sank into her chair. He was right about one thing. Something was definitely wrong.

  CHAPTER 4

  Rosa handed the folder to Darren. “Make sure everyone understands the schedule. Agent Tréjo wants to be done by 3:00PM at the latest. No one should be late for their training session. Got that?”

  “Got it,” said Darren, not a hair on his blond head out of place. He had classical good looks, strong chin, blue eyes, wide forehead. And he dressed in the finest suits.

  Rosa walked back to her office, circling around her desk. Darren had come with the SAC position and at first she hadn’t been sure if he’d work out. She wasn’t sure she liked inheriting someone else’s cast-offs, but she was quickly changing her mind. Darren was around thirty, gay, fashionable, and ambitious. He came to work punctually and stayed focused the entire day. She never had to ask him twice for anything. She wasn’t sure why he hadn’t tried to become an agent himself and she felt she ought to encourage that, but she hated to lose her most competent assistant to date.

  She settled into her chair and swiveled it to face the computer, then she pulled up her email. Scanning the inbox, she clicked on the Las Vegas Nevada Field office. The ASAC (Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge) Troy Balais was requesting to know which of her agents was investigating a cold case in her office.

  She frowned as she read the case profile. Lance Corporal Isaac Daws had died in a sleazy motel room off the Las Vegas strip of a drug overdose. Why had the FBI even been involved in this case? Unless it was because of Daws’ military connection. She thought she remembered hearing Radar mention something about it. Rather than respond to the email, she closed it and decided she’d question him about it first chance she got.

  Just as she was opening the next email, her landline rang.

  She reached over blindly and picked it up. “SAC Alvarez,” she said into the receiver.

  “You have a call from Celeste Miller,” came Darren’s voice.

  Rosa went still, then held the phone away from her face and stared at it. “I’m sorry, who?”

  “Celeste Miller.”

  Celeste Miller? Joe’s wife? She and Celeste had never really gotten along. Celeste didn’t enjoy her husband having a younger female partner and Rosa didn’t appreciate the underlying current between them. Of course, Joe hadn’t noticed it and seemed bewildered when either of them brought it up. Rosa thought back to Joe’s strange text messages, and now this? What the hell was going on?

  “Sarge?” asked Darren. “Do you want me to take a message?”

  “No.” Rosa chewed her bottom lip. Something very strange was going on. Her senses were on high alert. “Put her through.” She set the phone in the cradle, then reached for her cell phone and brought up Joe’s text messages.

  You remember how they rode you those first few days – calling you Mamacita. Bastards. The lot of them.

  She scrolled down. The next message was even stranger.

  Do you remember the locker room incident? They asked me to take you on, said I’d be good for you. Man, they had it backasswardz.

  Her phone rang and she settled the cell phone on her desk, snatching the receiver out of the cradle. “SAC Alvarez?”

  “Rosa?”

  She recognized the voice. Celeste always sounded breathless as if she’d been running a treadmill or something. “Hello, Celes
te. I haven’t talked to you in a long time.”

  “It has been awhile. That’s my fault. I’ve been so busy with the kids and then you moved out to San Francisco.”

  “Yeah, but that’s no excuse. I’ve heard from your husband a few times over the last few days.”

  “Really? That’s great, Rosa.”

  Rosa frowned. “Actually, the text messages have been strange.”

  “You know how he is when he’s on a case, away from home. He gets all homesick and everything.”

  “Sure.”

  “Look, I’m in San Francisco for a few days and I was wondering…”

  “Why are you in San Francisco? Are the kids here?”

  “No, no, they’re staying with Joe’s mother. Um, I wanted to get away, so I thought why not come to the City. This is my first time here.”

  “A little different than DC, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, yes it is. So, Rosa, I was wondering if you’d be free for lunch tomorrow.”

  Rosa sat up straighter, alarms going off inside. “Lunch tomorrow?”

  “Right. Somewhere fun, out in the open.”

  “Out in the open?”

  “Like Cafe Flore on Market. It has an outdoor seating section.”

  “Outside, huh? You know this is San Francisco, right? It can get a little cold, even in late June.”

  “The weather said it’ll be nice. I’m really looking forward to seeing you, Rosa. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  Celeste and Rosa had absolutely no catching up to do. They were acquaintances only because of Joe, but otherwise, the two women would have had nothing to do with each other. For Celeste to ask her to lunch meant something was very wrong here.

  “Okay, Celeste. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time?”

  “Quarter past noon.”

  “Quarter past noon it is,” she repeated.

  “See you then.” The line went dead. Rosa sat, holding the receiver so long that she could hear the strange sound a phone made when the other side disconnected. She set it on the cradle once more.

  What the hell was going on? She didn’t like this, especially in light of the two messages she’d gotten from Joe, messages with no responses. She didn’t want to meet with Celeste by herself. First of all, something told her she wasn’t understanding the entire picture and she wanted another set of eyes on this, but there was also Celeste’s strange request to meet in the open. Why?

  She could ask Adrian to go with her, but that might spook Celeste. She needed someone who gave off a nonthreatening air, but who would be sharp enough to pick up on any subtle body language or strange things Celeste might say.

  Brooks immediately popped into mind. She’d never seen anyone who interrogated the way Brooks did. She was able to get suspects on her side with an uncanny ease, and she was hands down the best interrogator she had.

  She picked up the phone receiver and pressed the button for Darren.

  As always, he picked up on the first buzz. “Sarge?”

  “Can you call Agent Brooks at home and see if she’s coming in today?”

  “I just saw her talking to Margaret.”

  “Can you find her and send her to me?”

  “Done.”

  Rosa picked up her cell phone and thumbed it on, staring at the text messages. What was going on with Celeste and Joe? Joe Miller had been a career agent for the DEA. He had to be pushing twenty-five years with the department. He’d had a stellar career and together they’d had one of the best records regarding solved cases. Their success had made it easy for Rosa to jump over to the FBI where she felt she had more advancement potential.

  Suddenly, Brooks appeared in her doorway, her wild curls down around her shoulders. She wore a pair of jeans and a pale pink t-shirt that complemented her dark skin. Her FBI badge was affixed to the silver chain of her belt, but she didn’t seem to be wearing her gun.

  “You wanted to see me, Sarge?”

  “I thought you were driving D’Angelo back and forth to physical therapy, but you’ve been here everyday.”

  “I took Marco this morning, but he went into the precinct. I came here to get Margaret to scan a casefile for me.”

  “What case? Is this related to the break-in at your office yesterday?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did Radar get the video feed from the hallway like he requested?”

  “I don’t know. I was going to give him a call when I got home.”

  “What is this case?”

  “Lance Corporal Isaac Daws. He died…”

  “Of a drug overdose. I have an email from the Las Vegas ASAC in my inbox.”

  Brooks took a step into the room, her brow furrowing. “What?”

  Rosa clicked on the email again, reading through it. “They’re pulling the case back to the Las Vegas field office. They want us to return the file.”

  “Wait. Why? They haven’t worked that case in years.”

  “They said one of their agents died on his way out to talk to you about it.”

  “Mark Turner. He had the case originally. He died of carbon monoxide poisoning on the way over the Sierras, crashed his car into the back of a semi.”

  Rosa frowned. “That sounds…”

  “…hinky?” Brooks nodded and came forward, taking a seat on the other side of Rosa’s desk.

  “You said you’re having Margaret scan the file?”

  “Yeah, some pictures were stolen out of it. I figured we might want to have a protected copy.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Brooks smiled. She liked praise. Rosa knew she still worried she didn’t belong with the FBI, especially after being diagnosed with PTSD.

  “Radar’s looking into this case with you?”

  “Now he is. At first he just kept telling me and Tank to focus on our current cases. What do you want me to do about the Las Vegas request?”

  “Once Margaret finishes scanning the file, send the physical copy back to Las Vegas. I’ll email the ASAC and tell him we’re sending the file over to him, but you and Radar keep working it.”

  She beamed at that and started to rise. “Great.”

  Rosa held up a hand. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Brooks sank back in her seat, her expression shuttering. Rosa sighed. No matter how long she worked for Rosa, there would always be history between them. Rosa and Marco had had a tryst during a case they worked with the SFPD. Peyton always seemed to think that Rosa was going to bring it up or that she still had designs on Marco. Although Rosa had fond memories of their time together, it was a one-night stand. Nothing more. She knew, even then, that Marco was crazy in love with the little bundle of energy sitting across from her right now.

  “Do you remember my old partner Joe Miller from the DEA?” she said.

  Brooks nodded. “He didn’t say much, but I remember him.”

  “We keep in touch, but sometimes we go months without talking to one another.”

  “Okay?” Brooks reached over and tapped a finger on the top of Rosa’s metal business card holder, trying to tamp the cards into a straight line.

  Rosa tried not to be distracted by that. “A few days ago, he sent me a text message.”

  Brooks’ dark eyes lifted to her face, her finger hovering over the cards. “What does it say?”

  Rosa pulled up the message on her phone and showed it to Brooks.

  Brooks read it. “I’m guessing you remember this incident. Why would he bring it up now?”

  “Exactly. Then a few days later, I got the next one.” She nodded for Brooks to scroll down.

  Brooks read the message, then scrolled up and read the first one again. “What’s the locker room incident?”

  “They put mangos and papayas in my locker over the weekend, and the fruit spoiled.”

  “Wow, that was shitty.”

  “Yep.”

  Peyton handed the phone back. “Some of my fellow trainees found out about the serial killer case Marco and I
worked before I went to Quantico.”

  Rosa nodded.

  “They filled my training locker with cereal. Serial, cereal.”

  Rosa shook her head in disgust. “What’d you do?”

  “I wasn’t going to do anything, but Stryker found out. I mean, he found out who did it and he made them run double what the rest of us did. He never said why. He never called them out in public, but everyone knew the reason.”

  “That’s why you think so much of him.”

  “Well, that and he’s fair. He was hard on us, but he was always fair. He kept telling us we had to be in top physical form or we’d end up dead. He gave us a reason for everything he asked us to do. A lot of the other trainers didn’t bother with that. We appreciated it.”

  Rosa nodded.

  Peyton reached for the business cards and lifted them from the holder, trying to straighten them in her hands. “So, why do you think Miller is sending you those texts like that?”

  Rosa shrugged. “No idea. It’s completely out of character. We talked about a lot of things, but Miller wasn’t the nostalgic type.” Her eyes lowered to Brooks’ hands, adjusting the cards, and she found it oddly hypnotizing. “Anyway, it gets stranger.”

  “How so?” Brooks looked up again, but when she did, the cards tumbled out of her hands and scattered on the floor. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” She dropped to the ground and began gathering them up.

  Rosa shook her head in amusement. She should have moved the holder the moment Brooks appeared at her door. “Today I got a call from Joe’s wife, Celeste.”

  Peyton’s head lifted from the floor and she peered up at Rosa. “About what?”

  “She’s visiting San Francisco on vacation without their kids or Joe.”

  “Why?”

  “She says she’s never been here.”

  “They live in DC?”

  “Springfield, Virginia.”

  Brooks gathered the rest of the cards, taking her seat again. She started tamping them into place against the arm of the chair. “That seems odd.”

  “Yep. She wants me to meet her for lunch at Cafe Flore tomorrow because they have an outdoor seating area.” Rosa said the last slowly.

  Brooks went still. “I don’t like the sound of that.”