He entered, glancing around the hotel room, taking in the floral print bed with its white wicker headboard and white wicker furniture, the open balcony door.
“Would you like a cup of coffee? I have a pot brewing in the bathroom,” she said, giving him a shrug.
He shifted and the look on his face stopped her. His mouth was turned down and his eyes looked haunted. “Rosa, maybe we should sit down.”
She clasped her hands before her, wringing them. “What is it, Kaz?”
He looked away. She could feel the tension in his every muscle.
“Kaz, tell me!” she demanded, using her best SAC voice.
He met her gaze with his dark blue one. “They found the rest of Joe’s body.”
She felt the room tilt. She hadn’t been prepared for that. Kaz caught her elbow.
“I’m sorry, Rosa. I didn’t know of any better way to tell you.”
She nodded, then pulled away, walking out to the balcony and dropping into the lounger. Kaz followed her, taking a seat in the other chair, but turning to face her.
“Are you okay?”
She stared out at the sparkling blue waves. “They found the rest of his body?”
Bass nodded. “Just this morning. Just today.”
She looked over at him. “Where?”
He chewed on his inner lip, then squared his strong jaw. “Chichen Itza.”
“Chichen Itza?”
“The Mayan ruins. It’s about three hours by car from here.”
“Chichen Itza? I don’t understand.”
Bass closed his eyes for a moment. “He was found in the great pyramid, El Castillo, stretched on the altar like a human sacrifice from ancient times.”
Rosa shivered. “What?”
Bass nodded.
“He’s been dead for more than a week, Kaz. No one found the body before this? No one checked the site?”
“They didn’t have any reason to check it. Tourists aren’t allowed on the great pyramid any more, so there was no reason for anyone to find him. Yesterday, a tourist used her binoculars to look at El Castillo and she noticed a dark liquid staining the top stairs. She asked a tour guide about it. The tour guide wasn’t sure, but he called one of the archaeologists who curate the site. The archaeologist climbed the pyramid and found him. He called the authorities, who called Federico. Joe’s DEA badge was found on his body. Federico asked them to seal the scene and leave it for us to investigate.”
“They left his body there all night?”
“Federico and I thought we’d want to canvass the scene, do our own investigation. He’s been dead a week. Another night…” His voice trailed off.
Rosa stared at him in horror. “Is the body…is it…” She forced herself to continue. “Is it decaying?”
He nodded, closing his eyes again.
Rosa felt sick to her stomach. She’d had fruit and yogurt for breakfast, brought up from room service, and she feared she would lose it if she thought about Joe’s rotting corpse too long. Bass reached over and covered her hand with his own.
“I’m so sorry, Rosa. I know how hard this is.”
She shook her head, forcing herself to regain control. “Let me assemble my team, then we’ll head out. You said three hours away?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, we’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Bass rose to his feet. “I’ll see you in the lobby. Federico’s coming with us as well.”
“Fine.”
“We’re gonna get these bastards, Rosa,” said Bass, his voice trembling. “I promise you. We’re gonna get them.”
She nodded, but she didn’t look up. All she could think about was Joe Miller, dying in a brutal way, realizing he’d never see his wife or kids again. It was almost more than she could stand. Finding his killer would not bring him back, right this wrong, comfort his widow. Joe Miller was gone.
* * *
Marco grabbed the cellphone and pressed the button for the video chat. Peyton’s face filled the screen.
“Hey, sweetheart!” he said, so damn happy to see her. Her hair was down, damp from a shower, and she wore a floral print tank top. She smiled at him.
“Hey, yourself. How’s my dog?”
“How’s your dog? That’s the first thing you ask me?” He noticed the reflection of glass behind her and could hear the sound of waves. “Are you outside?”
“On the balcony of Bambi’s and my room.”
“You’re not sharing with Rosa?”
“Nope. She has her own room.” She turned the camera. “Take a look at this.”
A brilliant blue expanse of water filled the screen. In the foreground, he could see a white sand beach and in the distance a waving palm tree. She turned the camera back to her.
“Isn’t that amazing?” she asked.
“Gorgeous. Reminds me of the Virgin Islands.”
After she’d come back from her training in Quantico, they’d taken two weeks to vacation in the Virgin Islands. It was one of the best memories he had.
“I know.” She braced her chin on her fist. “I wish you were here.”
He smiled at that. “What’s the first order of business today?”
“Not sure. I got up, got showered. I haven’t even had breakfast yet.” Her eyes narrowed. “By the way, when we talked yesterday, you didn’t tell me what Dr. Chamberlain said about the bone graft.”
“It’s good, sweetheart. He says everything’s progressing well.”
“When will he let you walk?”
“Not for another couple of weeks, but he thinks it’ll be sooner than we expected. Joyce said my left leg was kicking almost as much as my right when I swam today.”
“Joyce, huh? How is your girlfriend?”
Marco smiled. “She’s great. Really gets me, you know?”
“Very funny, D’Angelo. Maybe I don’t wish you were here.”
“Yes, you do. Remember the night we went skinny dipping.”
Her smile lit up her face. “Do I ever.” Her expression sobered. “What do you have planned for today?”
“I have a lunch meeting with the mayor over the task force. Tomorrow we’re hosting a barbecue out in Hunters Point for Jamaad Jones. I’m hoping we get some information on his shooter.”
“So do I.”
A knock sounded at the door behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, then looked back at him.
“Do you need to get that?”
“Nope. Bambi’s getting it.” She leaned closer to the phone, dropping her voice. “Something’s up with Bambi.”
“What do you mean?”
“The DEA agent we met down here, Kazander Bass, he’s really good looking.”
“Is he now?” Marco said, narrowing his eyes on her.
“He’s not my type. He’s sort of a Malibu Ken, you know?”
“Sure.”
“Anyway, she didn’t even flirt with him.”
“No way,” he said in a mocking tone.
“She didn’t flirt with the good looking AFI agent either and he’s tall, dark and handsome.”
“Now that is your type. Do I need to be worried?”
Peyton considered a moment. “You’re right. He is my type. And he’s flirty as hell. Hm.”
“Brooks!”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a thing for guys with a limp.”
“Ah, well, just remember that, okay? No skinny dipping.”
She pretended to cross her heart. “Anyway, she didn’t flirt with him either.”
“Something is definitely wrong with her,” he said dramatically.
Peyton shook her head. “Scoff all you want. Oh, and by the way, Rosa’s sleeping with Stryker.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yep.”
“Your trainer from Quantico?”
“Same one.”
“How do you know she’s sleeping with him?”
“Well, I actually think it’s more than sleeping. I think they’re in a relationship.”
“What? Rosa doesn’t do relationships.”
“She does now, so if you ever thought of going back, that ship has sailed, D’Angelo.”
Marco leaned back in his chair, feeling a rush of emotion for this feisty woman who had his heart. “You know you’re the only one for me, right, sweetheart?”
Her expression softened. “Same goes for me, Marco,” she said. “You know that, right?”
“I do.”
“Sparky!” came Radar’s voice from inside the hotel room. “Get a move on! We’ve got a three hour drive ahead of us and there’s a middle seat with your name on it!”
Peyton rolled her eyes. “I gotta go. Gramps is bellowing.”
“I can hear,” he said.
“Love you,” she said, making a kissing motion.
“Love you,” he answered and she was gone.
Glancing at the time on his phone, he realized he needed to get going if he wanted to make the mayor’s meeting on time. Honestly, he wanted to grab the table at Original Joe’s before the mayor got there, so his crutches wouldn’t be as obvious. He didn’t want Harlan Osborn to think for a moment he wasn’t on his game.
He levered himself out of his desk chair and grabbed the crutches, then he moved around the desk and out of his office. He almost ran into Jake as he came through the door.
Jake braced a hand on his shoulder. “Whoa, Adonis, slow your roll.”
Marco glared at him. “Slow my roll? Are you serious?”
To their right, Lee snickered and went back to typing on his computer.
Jake still had his hand on Marco’s shoulder, but now he gave him a slight squeeze. “Damn, man, you are buff. How do you keep it up with your leg all hamburgery?”
Marco slapped Jake’s hand away. “Stop squeezing me like a damn tomato, Ryder.”
Jake held out his hands. “Can you believe this guy?” he said to Lee. “Blow out one of his legs and he’s still a Greek god.”
Marco’s expression grew grim. “Do you want something?”
Jake took a step closer to him, shooting a look at Lee and lowering his voice. “Do you remember what we talked about at the pizza parlor the other night?”
Marco remembered something about Jake being lonely, but honestly, he tried to ignore that kind of conversation, especially where Jake and Abe were concerned. “I guess. Look, I gotta go.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s not necessary. Can’t you just bug Abe about this crap?”
Jake backed up and held open the half door for him. “I already bugged Abe about it and he’s in, but I want you to go too.”
Marco frowned, then he glanced at Lee who was pretending not to listen. “I’ll be meeting with the mayor,” he told his assistant.
“Got it.”
“I’m on cell if you need me.”
“Okey dokey, Captain,” said Lee, saluting him.
Marco crutched through the half-door. Jake let it close and hurried around him, pushing open the outer door as well. Marco consigned himself to being walked to his damn car. He hated navigating the stairs outside when he was alone, but it was worse with Jake hovering over him. He gritted his teeth and began his careful descent.
“So I talked to Stan Neumann about going to one of his superhero conventions. You remember? To meet women?”
“I remember,” Marco gritted out.
“There’s one tomorrow night. It’s the Wizard of Shadynotch Convention.”
“Awesome.”
“I don’t know much about that comic book series, but I did some online research.”
“Good for you.”
“It’s mostly wizards, and elves, and ogres.”
“Well, there you go,” said Marco, fighting to hide his annoyance. The whole crutch thing was starting to make him angry, and Jake wasn’t helping. Jake never helped.
Jake stopped in front of him. “Do you want me to help you with the barbecue in Hunters Point tomorrow?”
Marco looked up, narrowing his eyes. Damn him. Jake always had an angle, always a tactic to weasel his way. He knew Marco couldn’t stand that long to barbecue, and the others were needed to canvass the scene. “What do you want?” he growled.
“A little enthusiasm…”
Marco gave him his most murderous stare.
“…but,” he held up his hands. “I’ll take you going with us. Please. And I’ll do all the barbecuing tomorrow.”
“Fine. I’ll go to the Wizards of Shadynight or whatever…”
“Shadynotch.”
“Right. What time?”
“It goes all day, but Stan wants to go at night because he says that’s when the hottest girls come out. We thought we’d get there around 8:00PM. It goes until midnight, but we probably won’t stay there that long.”
Marco exhaled heavily. “Why do you want me to go to this with you?”
“We have to dress in costume and I’m worried that if I just go with Stan and Abe, I’ll look…”
Marco’s brows rose in question. “You’ll look?”
“Desperate.”
“Fine.” He started crutching again, then stopped as a horrible thought occurred to him. “Hold on.” He shifted around on the stairs. “You said and I quote, we have to dress in costume.”
“Right.”
“We? Costume?”
“Right. So, here’s the thing.” He held out his hands, palms down as if he were placating Marco. “We’re meeting at Stan’s apartment tonight. He’s got a lot of good costumes that he’s willing to lend us.”
Marco’s jaw clenched. “Costumes? I’m six four with a bum leg, Ryder.”
“I know, but Stan assures me he can figure something out. If nothing else…” He nodded his head a few times, but didn’t speak.
“If nothing else?” said Marco, enunciating each word.
Jake jerked his head to the side. “There’s makeup.” He waited for a reaction, but Marco just stared at him.
Suddenly, Jake bolted, running back up the stairs and into the precinct.
Marco braced the crutch under his arm and rubbed his forehead. Then he couldn’t help it. He laughed. Damn Jake Ryder anyway. He actually had him curious about Stan’s apartment. Marco realized he’d never been there before. What technicolor fantasy land might that prove to be?
* * *
Marco arrived at Original Joe’s about five minutes before noon. He entered the building and smiled at the maître d’ waiting at a podium at the front of the restaurant. The maître d’, a tall man wearing a black suit with a bowtie, black hair cut short with a neat beard and mustache, inclined his head.
“Good afternoon, sir,” he said.
“Good afternoon. I’m meeting the mayor for lunch.”
“Ah, yes.” He gave Marco a quick once-over, then glanced at his reservation book. “Captain D’Angelo?”
“Yes.”
“The mayor hasn’t arrived yet, but let me show you to his favorite booth. He’s quite a regular in our establishment.”
Marco gave a chin jerk in agreement. “He comes with his wife, I suppose? She mentioned she loves your grilled salmon salad.” He’d glanced at the menu before coming over here, hoping there’d be something he could eat, and he figured a woman like Irene Osborn probably wasn’t a meat and potatoes gal. Any information he could glean about Osborn would help their investigation.
The man hesitated, his smile growing brittle. “Of course. Mrs. Osborn is always a delight.”
Mmhm, thought Marco. Mrs. Osborn likely wasn’t a regular nor was she a delight.
They made their way through the restaurant. Large copper light fixtures hung from the ceiling, illuminating the brown checkerboard floor and red leather upholstered booths. Spotless white table cloths covered the tables, decked out with a full service of white china and sterling silver place settings.
The maître d’ stopped before a booth in the center of the room and gave Marco’s crutches a critical gaze. “Will this be a problem for you?”
Marco shook his head and pulled out the wooden chair arranged before the table, sinking into it and laying the crutches on the floor beneath the chair out of the way. Of course, this put his back to the room and the cop in him squirmed at this arrangement, but sliding into the booth would be even more awkward.
He adjusted his suit jacket and looked up at the other man. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. The mayor should be here shortly. Can I get you a glass of wine or some other beverage while you wait?”
“Just water please.”
“Certainly. Would you like to look at a menu?”
“No, thank you.”
The maître d’ inclined his head and started to move away, but Marco stopped him. “Does the mayor always choose such a conspicuous place to sit?”
“Of course. His constituents recognize him and come over to offer him their greetings or suggestions. He’s a man of the people.”
“How often does he meet people here?”
“A few times a week.”
Marco gave him his most disarming smile. “Do you recognize any of the people he meets?”
The man clasped his hands before him. “Some, and some I do not. This, of course, is his favorite restaurant in the City. Now, let me get you that water.”
The maître d’ hurried away. Marco felt his spine crawl. He hated sitting exposed like this. He was just thinking about forcing himself into the booth when he felt a hand on his back. Mayor Harlan Osborn peered over his shoulder, a broad smile lighting up his face.
“Goodness, you didn’t have to wait long, did you?”
Marco smiled back at him. “No, sir, I just got here.”
“Good, good,” said Osborn, patting him on the back. “My lord, Captain, you do stay in shape, don’t you?”
Marco tried not to squirm. Finally, Osborn moved around the table and slid into the booth. He grabbed his napkin and placed it in his lap, clasping his hands over his plate. Marco’s eyes were drawn to the gold wedding band on Osborn’s left hand. How little that symbol meant to some people?
“I am so glad you decided to meet with me,” Osborn said, beaming again.
Marco nodded. “I’m glad you invited me.”
The maître d’ appeared, setting a glass of water before Marco and an amber colored drink before Osborn. Osborn clapped his hands. “You know me so well, Nando.”
Mayan Gods in the Yucatan (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 5) Page 22