Death Blow

by Isabella Maldonado

  She pushed the swinging door open and strode down the corridor into the waiting room, prepared to speak her piece. The growing sea of blue stilled when she entered. Before she began, a heart-wrenching sob at the opposite entrance drew all eyes away from her. A uniformed officer entered the room with Sarah Stark, Sam’s wife, leaning heavily on his arm.

  Sarah’s red-rimmed eyes found hers, and she headed for Veranda.

  “I’m so sorry,” Veranda whispered when Sarah stood in front of her. The words were hollow, wholly inadequate. She wanted to express her remorse, her pain, but didn’t know what to say.

  Sarah’s body shook. “I begged Sam to retire. But he’s not ready to leave yet.” Her eyes narrowed. “Because of you.”

  Veranda was dumbfounded. “Me?”

  “You can’t leave the cartel alone, can you?” Sarah said, her tone strident. “You’re supposed to be a Homicide detective, but you manage to make everything about that damned Villalobos family.” She lowered her voice. “Your family.”

  Veranda sucked in a breath. The accusation thudded into her heart like an arrow finding its mark.

  Sarah moved in close. “And now one of those … those animals shot my husband.” Her voice cracked.

  The shooter wasn’t here, so Veranda had become the target of Sarah’s rage and fear. And she deserved all of it because her partner’s wife was right. This was on her.

  Unable to help Sam, she met Sarah’s fiery gaze and offered the only solace she could. “I promise to do whatever it takes to bring the Villalobos cartel to justice.”

  Sarah slapped her full in the face, snapping her head to the side. “Don’t you dare endanger another policeman’s life with your personal battle. Those bullets were meant for you. And you should have taken them. Not my husband.” Sarah collapsed into the patrol officer’s arms, her body racked with sobs.

  Everyone stared in shocked silence. Sam’s wife had just assaulted a police officer in a room full of cops, but nobody made a move to detain her. A tacit understanding held the thin blue line in check.

  Veranda had seen the blow coming and didn’t flinch. Instead, she stood still to take the brunt of Sarah’s wrath. Her cheek stinging, she remained silent as the officer guided Sarah past her.

  “Veranda.” Diaz’s use of her first name distracted her from her self-recrimination. “Why don’t you go home and wait for my call?” He held out a ring of keys. “Take my car. Agent Rios and I can catch a ride with one of the other detectives.”

  She understood the subtext of her supervisor’s suggestion. The cartel had used her gun to shoot her partner, fellow officers had spread rumors about her, a woman who might be a widow very soon had just slapped her in the face, and the chief wouldn’t make eye contact with her. Clearly, she was doing no good to anyone by staying at the hospital.

  “I get it, Lieutenant,” she said, taking the keys. “No one wants me around. I’m a disruption when everyone should be focused on Sam.” She lowered her head. “I’ll go. Just promise you’ll call when there’s

  news.”

  At his curt nod, she pivoted, passed through the automatic glass doors, and trudged down the hallway.

  “Veranda,” someone called out.

  She turned to see Rios jogging to catch up with her.

  “I told Diaz I’d come with you,” he said. When she shook her head, he pressed her. “I’m useless here. This is not my department. I don’t know the rank and file officers, or most of the command staff either. But I do know you. And I can be with you. On your side.”

  “Thanks, but no.”

  He continued walking with her. “I’m supposed to help apprehend Salazar, but who knows where he is right now? Until there’s new information about where he went, I’m waiting. Like you. We can wait together.”

  She knew he meant they could wait for word on Sam’s condition as well. And that he thought she shouldn’t be alone if the news was bad, which seemed likely.

  “Okay,” she said on a sigh. “Diaz said his car was in the police parking zone. Shouldn’t be hard to spot.”

  She led the way to the lot near the ER entrance and found Diaz’s dust-covered Chrysler 300. The windshield appeared to have been hurriedly wiped clean. They got in and she drove toward the bridge leading into South Phoenix. Rios remained silent, giving her time to reflect while she steered the car on autopilot.

  What if Sam died? She beat the thought back. That kind of speculation took her on a downward spiral. As long as he was alive, she would keep the faith.

  She was almost to Chuy’s garage when Rios’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. She read his shocked expression and knew he’d jumped to the same conclusion she had. They’d left the hospital less than twenty minutes ago. Sam was supposed to be in surgery for hours. Unless …

  Fearing the worst, she pulled to the side of the road. If Diaz had called Rios, it meant he didn’t want to notify Veranda while she was driving. She shifted the car into park as he slid the phone out.

  “No number, just a question mark in the middle of the screen,” he said. “Could be my comandante. Better take it.” Lifting the phone to his ear, he answered in Spanish. “This is Agent Rios.”

  Curious, she listened in on the one-sided conversation.

  He switched back to English, his tone harsh. “How did you get my number?”

  Curiosity morphed into concern as she watched. He turned to her, the color draining from his face.

  “I don’t have to go and find her.” He looked at Veranda. “She’s sitting right next to me.”

  She gestured for him to give her the phone. Instead, he tapped the screen. “You’re on speaker.”

  After a brief pause, she heard a frantic female voice. “P-please help me, Detective Cruz.”

  She stared at the phone a moment, trying to place the familiar voice. The caller’s hysteria made her difficult to identify. She flicked through a mental list of female acquaintances before blinding realization struck. She gaped, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible, then finally spoke.

  “What’s going on, Daria?”

  35

  Veranda wanted answers. “And why the hell are you calling me on Agent Rios’s phone?”

  “Shut up and listen!” Daria sounded terrified. “Salazar trapped me in a building near South Mountain. He thought I lost my phone. I waited till he left to call you.” She choked back a sob. “Something’s happened to him. He’s insane.”

  She struggled to catch up. “Salazar turned on you?”

  “He took me prisoner at our armory in West Phoenix. I took out one of the guards and escaped. But he chased me down.”

  That would explain Daria and Salazar’s absence during the raid. They were each driving to the other side of the city. Veranda was losing patience. “Let’s have the rest of it, Daria.”

  “I’m running out of time.” Urgency strained Daria’s voice. “Salazar pushed me into a blast pit. I can’t climb out. And … and … there’s a bomb strapped to a pole in the middle.”

  Veranda and Rios traded wide-eyed glances. “A bomb?”

  “Technically, two Claymore mines,” Daria said in a rush. “On a timer.”

  “Slow down,” Veranda said, her measured tone designed to stop Daria’s babbling. “Tell me about the timer.”

  “Salazar set it for one hour. I waited until I was sure he was gone before calling you. The display says I’ve got forty-two minutes, thirty-eight seconds left.”

  Veranda checked her watch. 3:46 p.m. “Can you turn the thing off?”

  “There are pressure plates surrounding the device. They’ll detonate the bomb if I step on them.” Daria sighed. “Look, the pit and the bomb are my prototypes. I designed them to be completely secure. I can’t escape.” She hesitated. “But I can be rescued.”

  Veranda glared at the phone as if Daria could see her exasperation. “How do y
ou expect me to do that? And more to the point, why would I want to?”

  “There’s a kill switch inside the building. You can deactivate it if you’re on ground level,” Daria replied. “As for why you would want to … do you remember that deal you offered me?”

  She snorted. “When you had a gun to my head? Yeah, protection in exchange for testifying against your father.”

  “I want the deal now,” Daria said.

  She tugged Rios’s wrist, pulling the phone closer. “It’s off the table. Everything’s off the table. You assholes shot my partner.”

  “Salazar shot him before he caught up with me,” Daria said. “Then he left your gun behind so everyone would know how you—”

  Veranda cut her off. “I don’t care about Salazar.”

  It was a lie. How could she not care when every cell in her body screamed for retribution? She would hunt Salazar down. Even if it took the rest of her career. The rest of her life. Rios’s voice penetrated the wave of anger, drawing her attention back to the conversation.

  “What about your men?” he asked Daria. “Why can’t they help you?”

  “I have no men left,” Daria said. “My personal guards and all of the coyotes were arrested or killed at the main building. Salazar left me here to die and took off.” Her voice took on a pleading note. “If you save me, I’ll help you. We can work together to take down the cartel. You’ll be the one to arrest Adelmo Salazar, the man who shot your partner. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  It certainly was. “Where are you exactly?”

  “The foot of South Mountain on the eastern side,” Daria said. “In a building on twenty acres of land off a dirt road. I’ll text Agent Rios the coordinates and you can use your GPS.”

  Rios mouthed an angry no and shook his head vehemently.

  Veranda ignored him. “Stay on the phone. Let us know if any—”

  “My battery’s almost dead. I might not even have enough juice to send the text. Please hurry, Detective Cruz.” Daria seemed on the verge of tears. “I’m down to forty minutes and fifty-two seconds.” She disconnected.

  Rios spewed a barrage of Spanish expletives.

  She threw the car in drive and veered back onto the roadway. “I know roughly where she is. We’re already in South Phoenix, so it’ll take less than twenty minutes to get there. Forward the text to my cell when you get it.” She gave him an apologetic look. “There’s no time to drop you at a precinct. There’s a fire station down the street. I’ll let you out there.”

  Rios looked incredulous. “No.”

  “You can’t come with me,” she said. “I have to do this for Sam. And for my family, Cole, and everyone else I’ve put in danger. Sarah Stark is right. It’s my battle, and I need to fight it. Alone.”

  “Daria’s a liar.” His phone vibrated with an incoming text message, but he kept his gaze on Veranda. “It’s a trap. Daria and Salazar are laughing together while they wait for you to show up.”

  “I can handle myself.” She pinned him with a glare before returning her gaze to the road. “Without any help from you.”

  Apparently unfazed by her patented death stare, he tapped the screen, silencing the buzz. He continued to gaze down at the phone in his hand as his expression became calculating. “Maybe I should call Lieutenant Diaz.”

  She couldn’t believe he would stoop so low. “You’re threatening me with Diaz?”

  “Actually, why aren’t you on the phone with him now? He’s your supervisor, after all.” His cunning smile widened as she struggled for a response that wouldn’t make her position worse.

  “You know damn well he’d tell me not to go,” she said, going with the truth. “He’d insist on an ops plan and a SWAT team. There’s no time for that.”

  “Let’s see.” Rios tapped his chin in mock concentration. “The woman who kidnapped you and claimed she blew up your house is next to a bomb. If we don’t rush out to save her, she’ll die.” He frowned. “I say we wait and clean up the mess after the bomb goes off.”

  She gripped the steering wheel hard enough to leave her fingerprints in the molded vinyl that covered it. “I don’t want to save her because she’s a good person. I want her to testify against her father. And Salazar. She knows enough to help the Feds freeze their assets. Disrupt their markets. Root out their distributors.” She pushed the car harder, anxious to get there. “Don’t you get it? The cartel wouldn’t survive.”

  “Do you actually believe anything that woman says? It could be a trap.”

  His calm demeanor maddened her. This was an unprecedented chance to strike at the heart of a vast criminal empire.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Once I have her in custody, she’s mine. She’ll flip to save her own skin.” She pictured Daria in an orange jumpsuit. “I don’t see her taking one for the team.”

  He sat in quiet contemplation as they sped down the road. She felt his eyes on her for a long moment before he broke the silence. “If you’re going to do this, I’m coming with you.”

  “The hell you are.”

  “I have the coordinates.” Rios waggled the phone in his hand. “You think you can take this from me?”

  She read his body language. The set of his jaw told her he wouldn’t back down. Taut muscles indicated he was prepared to use brute strength. She considered her options. Pepper spray inside a moving vehicle would incapacitate both of them. Shooting him was tempting but might cause an international incident. She summed up her conclusion in one word. “Shit.”

  “You need backup and you need a plan.” He hooked a thumb at his chest. “I’m a former tactical officer who’s gone up against the cartel before.”

  Her resolve began to crack. “But you don’t even have a gun. How can you back me up?”

  “I’ve told you, I don’t need a gun to kill someone.”

  Resigned to her circumstances, she relented. “Pull up the navigation on your phone while I check for gear.”

  She pulled to the side of the road again. Fingers crossed, she jogged to the back of the car and popped the trunk. Finally, something had gone her way. She seized Diaz’s go-bag and angled herself back into the driver’s seat. Tossing the duffel to Rios, she accelerated back onto the asphalt, tires spinning up a plume of dust.

  Dimples creased Rios’s cheeks. “Let’s see what the teniente keeps in his bag.”

  He rifled through the duffel, plucking out Diaz’s portable radio, flex cuffs, and handcuffs. “We’ll need these.” He dug deeper. “And this.” He pulled out a military-style folding knife and flicked open a six-inch serrated blade.

  “Do you see a backup gun?”

  “Not even a Taser.” He folded the knife again. “Diaz spends too much time behind a desk.”

  The insistent buzz of a vibrating cell phone had them both checking their devices. This time, her phone was the one receiving a call. Glancing down, she saw her lieutenant’s name flashing from the console cup holder where she’d stashed it. Her thoughts immediately went to her partner. Heart aching, she nodded at Rios, who lifted the phone and tapped the speaker icon.

  “Lieutenant, do you have news?” She choked out the question around the lump in her throat. “How is Sam?”

  Diaz spoke as if every word pained him. “You should come back to the hospital right away. There may not be much time left.”

  36

  Veranda fought through the despair engulfing her. “I can’t go to the hospital, Lieutenant.” She wondered if her supervisor could hear her heart breaking on the other end of the phone. She blinked back the unshed tears that blurred her vision as she raced toward South Mountain.

  “Why not?” Lieutenant Diaz went from grief-stricken to irritated in a nanosecond.

  Her fellow officers would hate her for what she was about to do. It didn’t matter that she did it for Sam. And for every other cop the cartel would m
urder in the future if she didn’t stop them. They would see it as a betrayal. Her partner lay dying, but instead of rushing to his side, she rushed to save the sister of the man who pulled the trigger.

  She owed Diaz the truth. “Because I’m on my way to rescue Daria Villalobos.”

  Agent Rios, sitting in the front passenger’s seat next to her, mimed hanging himself.

  “Excuse me?” Diaz said, irritation ratcheting up to anger.

  She glanced at her watch and did a swift calculation. With less than thirty minutes until the device detonated, Diaz had no time to intervene. He wouldn’t order regular patrol units to respond to a cartel stronghold; they weren’t equipped. Sergeant Grigg and his SAU team were still on the far side of the city at the raid site. Another tactical team couldn’t suit up and deploy fast enough.

  She would make Diaz see that she was the only one who could respond. One of Rios’s hands gripped the dash, the other held the phone for her as she outlined the situation while maneuvering through traffic.

  Diaz waited until she finished before he brought the full weight of his authority down on her. “Let me make this crystal clear, Detective. Apprehending Daria Villalobos is not worth your life. I will not allow you to attempt this rescue by yourself. It’s not—”

  “She’s not by herself,” Rios said, interrupting Diaz mid-rant. “I’m her backup.”

  “Tell me something, Agent Rios.” Diaz’s tone grew wary. “How often do members of the Villalobos family call you?”

  Rios reared back against the vinyl seat, indignation replacing shock on his expressive face. “Are you accusing me of working for the cartel?”

  “How did Daria get your cell number?” Diaz demanded.

  Veranda had asked Daria the same question. And never got an answer. She pulled her gaze from the roadway long enough to gauge the federale’s reaction.

  Rios bellowed at the phone in his hand. “Remember Nacho, the hacker? Use your brain, cabrón. The cartel probably has a lot more than just my phone number.”