“Look, we both know what he’s capable of. We just don’t know who’s next on his hit list. If we can stop him before he starts then no one else has to suffer, including Isabel—”
Manuel leaned forward. “You wearin’ a wire or something?”
“I’m not wearing anything.” Stone stood and patted himself for the prisoner’s benefit. In fact he was wearing a wire, just in case anything useful came out of the conversation. “What you have to say is just between you and me.”
Manuel seemed to mull this over. “All right. I’ll just say that Rafael ain’t through yet. He still blames that black judge Grant Nunez for sending him to prison back when the dude was still a prosecutor. And he also wants some payback from the good lookin’ Latina lawyer bitch for trying to bring him down again.”
Beverly Mendoza, Stone mused. He had considered that Santiago had a beef with Beverly and Grant Nunez, but didn’t figure him to be stupid enough to actually go after them.
Well, think again.
Stone looked across the table at Santiago’s twin killer. “Just one more question. How did you manage to nail your story about the crimes against the Crawfords so accurately? Or were you there?”
Manuel eyed him askance, grinning. “Already said what I’m gonna about that.” He paused and seemed to have second thoughts. “Rafael gave me the scoop word for word, man, blow-by-blow—passing the information through other inmates. It was easy. I just memorized what I needed to and made up the rest. Guess it was close enough.”
“Yeah, guess it was.”
Stone doubted that the conversation would be enough to put Rafael Santiago back on trial for crimes he committed. But it was enough to convince him that the lives of Beverly Mendoza and Grant Nunez were in danger.
They needed to be warned and Santiago located before it was too late.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
The gun was buried in a shallow grave not far from the apartment building. It was one of many such burial grounds scattered across the vacant lots and dilapidated, abandoned buildings in that part of town. Rafael dug it out with his bare hands. He had somehow felt that he would be reunited with the piece again someday.
Looks like today’s my lucky day! But not so lucky for others.
Kissing the .25 caliber handgun, he stuck it inside his pants. He had some unfinished business to take care of.
It was time to collect from those who owed him.
That bastard, Judge Crawford got his.
His whore wife was a freebie, and worth the effort. Rafael had recognized her the moment he saw her pretty face. Before she hooked up with the judge, he had watched her dance in the strip clubs, knowing then that she would do whatever men with enough cash paid her to do.
Only he took his for free. And made the bitch beg for her life for his trouble.
Maybe when this is over I’ll pay her another visit. This time it would be for keeps!
Right now it was time for the lawyer who had sent him to prison to get what was coming to him. The asshole was now a judge. One who had tried to put him away again.
Just like his lady lover bitch had tried to do.
Both would pay dearly with their lives.
But with the prosecutor broad, Rafael would have some fun first. Just as Manuel had tried to do before they stopped him in his tracks. He would make Beverly Mendoza feel everything the judge’s whore felt. Only twice as much. Before he killed her.
Maybe he’d torture and kill the bitch’s son right in front of her. Then she would know what it really meant to hurt in ways she could not even imagine.
Already Rafael was starting to feel good again and glad to get another chance to make things right before disappearing for good.
He had Judge Grant Nunez to thank for that. He intended to thank him personally.
Along with the Assistant D.A., Beverly Mendoza.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Grant greeted Beverly with a kiss on the cheek and gave Jaime a low five. He was glad to be able to get together with them again socially, without a cloud hanging over their relationship. The Santiago-Gonzalez situation was unfortunate for everyone, but ended as it should have: with someone in custody for the murder of Grant’s predecessor and the sexual assault of Maxine Crawford. Maybe a quiet, or not so quiet, dinner was just what they needed to get back on the right track for what Grant hoped would become a real family.
“I’ll bet you’re hungry, champ,” he said to Jaime.
“Yeah, kinda,” he said.
Grant smiled. “Well, we’ll see what was can do about that. I don’t claim to be the world’s greatest chef, but I know enough to have cooked up something appetizing. Of course, you’ll have to be the judge in this case—along with your mother.”
Beverly laughed. “At least someone else gets to be the judge this time around.”
Grant laughed at her weak attempt at humor and Beverly marveled at the sight of him in an light brown blazer over a white sweater and black slacks. For an instant she imagined him with no clothes on at all. It warmed her up and Beverly quickly shut off such thoughts until later.
“This is way cool,” exclaimed Jaime, studying a model of the Titanic that Grant purchased last year at an estate sale.
“Yes, cool,” agreed Grant. “Although I’m afraid it was downright frigid for those 1500 plus poor souls who failed to escape the real Titanic.”
Jaime cringed at the sad news, then perked up when Grant smartly switched subjects and began talking about sports and going to see the San Francisco Giants or Oakland A’s in the spring.
Beverly thought they were getting along better than she could have expected these days. She’d wanted Jaime to have a father figure in his life, especially when her own father had developed Alzheimer’s disease. Grant seemed to have voluntarily stepped in to fill the role and for that she was grateful, but not greedy. When and if the time came to make that official she would be ready and more than willing.
“Can I go outside?” Jaime looked to his mother, then Grant. “I just want to stretch my legs.”
“I’m sure dinner will be ready soon,” said Beverly, seeking to discourage him from going out. Not that Grant didn’t live in one of the better parts of Eagles Landing with crime rarely an issue. She recalled feeling the same way recently about where they lived. Before Manuel Gonzalez had shattered that myth into a thousand pieces.
“Actually dinner is still about a half hour away,” Grant said. “Why don’t you go play in the backyard? There’s a hoop back there and plenty of room to stretch those legs.”
“Okay.” Jaime grinned at his mother. “See ya in a bit.”
He scurried away before Beverly could utter a word of objection, racing out the door. She could hear his footsteps stomping across the concrete towards the backyard.
Grant smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, baby, if I said the wrong thing. He’ll be okay. I know it’s hard to let him grow up, but it has to happen sooner or later. Besides, I think I like being a parent. Or at least someone that Jaime can look up to for guidance and authority.”
“I like that, too.” Beverly certainly did not want to discourage the bonding between her son and Grant. Even if part of her was still a little scared to have Jaime out of her sight, if not mind.
“Did anyone tell you today that you look terrific?” Grant gave her the once over and Beverly suddenly grew warm beneath her pink crewneck shell and long black skirt.
“As a matter of fact, no one has—till now.”
“Then I’m glad to be the first. You look terrific!” He grinned and she grinned back. It ended with a long kiss that practically lifted Beverly off her feet.
Grant finally pulled away. “Think we’d better get into the kitchen, before I lose my appetite for anything but you. I could use some help on the salad.”
“My specialty,” hummed Beverly, enjoying the taste of his lips on hers, which were still throbbing.
The kitchen was gourmet with new cupboards, vinyl flooring, and a state of the art
stove and microwave combined. Grant had marinated pork chops in the oven and rice pilaf simmering on the burner.
“I hope you’re not beating yourself up with the way it all ended with the Santiago trial,” Grant said while chopping carrots.
Beverly shook her head while rinsing off the lettuce. “I’ll leave that up to the media. I was handed a case and followed through to the best of my ability. If anyone has a problem with that, then to hell with them. I can’t change what happened.”
“No, you can’t. Neither of us can.” He put the carrots in a bowl, along with diced cucumbers. “And I like your attitude about it. Getting one scumbag for another is hardly a losing effort. Bottom line is that we nailed the person responsible for Sheldon Crawford’s murder and Maxine’s ordeal. All in all, I’d say that’s a pretty damned good day’s work.”
Beverly was inclined to agree, even if a part of her still wished that it had been Rafael Santiago who went down in this case as the man she had put on trial. But justice had prevailed in the final analysis. Manuel Gonzalez was where he belonged and people like her no longer had to fear being victimized by him in the future.
“How about your investigation into Judge Crawford’s illicit activities?” Beverly looked up at his successor on the bench, though the subject was officially supposed to be off limits.
Grant looked at her with an unreadable expression. “We expect a grand jury to hand down indictments any day now against a number of people involved in this scheme.”
“Oh...” She batted her eyes with curiosity. “Anyone I happen to know?”
He smiled at her. “Well, let me put it this way—the good guys aren’t always good and the bad ones aren’t necessarily as bad as they seem.”
Beverly laughed. “Uh, okay...” Looks like I won’t get any more from him than that.
Grant came up behind her, wrapping his long arms around Beverly’s waist. “What I can tell you is that it’ll all be over soon,” he promised. “And I fully expect that you’ll have some new and interesting cases to sink your teeth into.”
“I see.” Beverly was piqued at the thought and happy to move on as a prosecuting attorney.
Grant nibbled at her neck. “Then we can begin seriously thinking more about ourselves and Jaime. Maybe becoming a real family—”
A real family.
The words hit Beverly like a bolt of lightning. The word marriage popped into her head. It was something that was beginning to agree with her more and more. Maybe even having another child or two?
The mere prospect filled her with glee.
“I’d like that,” she murmured dreamily.
The phone rang, disrupting the mood.
“Hold that thought,” muttered Grant. He grabbed the cell phone off the granite countertop, clicking it on. “Yeah...”
Beverly watched as he said with mild surprise to the caller, “Detective Palmer. Nice to hear—”
Grant was apparently cut off by what Stone had to say. Beverly wondered if Paco’s Dad was calling for some follow up work on his case against Manuel Gonzalez, which had suddenly grown in leaps and bounds as if not already a workload for the detective.
Grant frowned, muttered an expletive, then told Stone, “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”
He hung up and Beverly asked, “What is it?”
Grant pursed his lips. “A warning. Detective Palmer seems to think we’re in danger.”
She raised a brow. “From whom?”
“Rafael Santiago. Palmer believes that Santiago may come after us now that he’s free.”
“But why?”
“Revenge. Looks like Manuel Gonzalez practically bragged about switching places with his brother just so Santiago could finish what he started.”
As Beverly tried to digest this, with the clear implication being that Rafael Santiago had been guilty as charged in attacking the Crawfords, there was a shattering sound coming from the Great Room.
Immediately Beverly thought that Jaime had hurt himself. She raced from the kitchen with Grant hot on her heels.
* * *
The first thing Beverly noted was the replica of the Titanic on the floor, smashed to smithereens. Then she saw Jamie with a frightened look on his face.
Only he wasn’t alone.
Behind him was Rafael Santiago. He had a gun pointed at Jaime’s head.
Trepidation gripped Beverly like in a bad dream. But she knew this was real life and her son was in trouble.
“Has he hurt you, Jaime?” Were the first words to come from Beverly’s mouth.
The boy shook his head, as if unsure. “He came out of nowhere, Mom,” Jaime stammered apologetically. “I’m sorry—”
“Shut the hell up!” ordered Santiago, a streak of pure evil in his tone.
“Let the boy go,” urged Grant, keeping his voice firm, but not hostile. Any false move on my part could get Jaime killed, so I have to deflect the attention to myself. “If you want me, Santiago, you can have me. Just leave them alone.”
Santiago let out a hoarse laugh. “In your dreams, man,” he taunted. “We’re gonna have ourselves a little payback party, Yo Honor. And this big-assed boy here is gonna be a part of it, whether you or your girlfriend likes it or not—”
Beverly was almost glued to the spot. The mere notion that Jaime could die...that they all could without leaving this house was almost more than she could bear.
God, please don’t let this happen. Don’t let this man win.
“You killed Judge Crawford, didn’t you?” she had to ask him.
“Figure it out, Ms. Assistant D.A.!” Santiago bared his teeth at her like a vampire out for blood. “He got what he deserved; so did his cunt of a wife! You had me right where you wanted me, bitch, but you couldn’t hold me. Thanks to my twin bro, Manuel—”
Beverly exchanged sorrowful glances with Grant. Both knew they had been conned by two homicidal maniacs. Now it just might cost them their lives.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, Rafael,” Beverly tried to reason with him somehow. “You won. You have your freedom and there’s nothing anyone can do to take it away from you. Unless you harm us—”
“She’s right,” seconded Grant, reluctant to try anything foolish under the circumstances. Not till he could get Jaime and Beverly out of harm’s way. “If you let the boy go and turn around and walk right out of here, I swear we’ll forget this ever happened. We’ll call it even, the past friction between us...”
Santiago grinned amusingly. “Man, you must really take me for a dumb assed Cuban,” he cursed, pushing the barrel of the gun against Jaime’s tender scalp. “You ain’t never gonna forget this, any more than I can forget what you did to me, asshole—”
“I didn’t do it to you,” spat Grant, inching closer to them. “You did it to yourself, Santiago. You murdered your girlfriend and were held accountable. If it hadn’t been me who prosecuted the case, it would have been someone else—”
“But it was you,” boomed Santiago, ignoring all reason, “both of you. And now it’s time to pay the piper—”
He shoved Jaime to the floor and pointed the gun at Grant.
“Say good night, Judge Nunez,” he said gleefully.
Like hell I will. Grant lunged at Santiago as a last gasp measure to save Beverly, Jaime, and maybe even himself.
But Santiago, anticipating the wild move of a desperate man, easily evaded Grant’s long, outstretched arms. He then fired off a shot, hitting his target in the shoulder. Grant winced from the searing pain, but continued to move toward the rapist-killer.
Santiago grinned and aimed the gun at Grant’s head. “Once you’re dead, I’m gonna have some real fun with your lady before she begs me to kill her.”
Grant took another swipe at Santiago, missing badly. Santiago slammed the gun into Grant’s injured shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain; then rammed a fist into Grant’s jaw, dropping him to the floor.
Beverly watched in horror. It was happening so fast, she had trouble breathing.
He was going to kill Grant. Then her and Jaime. She had to do something or watch her whole world collapse.
Santiago stood over Grant, the gun aimed at pointblank range over Grant’s right ear.
“Noooo!” A blood-curdling scream erupted from Beverly’s mouth as she flew towards them. The sound of a gunshot exploded in her ears like cannon fire.
She expected to see Grant’s head splattered on the parquet floor. Instead it was Santiago who tilted backwards, glass-eyed as if in shock, before dropping the gun and falling forward, flat on his face.
Looking to the entryway, Beverly saw a tall, familiar figure standing there. His long arms were sticking straight out, a revolver held tightly in his hands.
It was Detective Stone Palmer.
“Are you all right?” he asked her, moving forward while keeping the gun pointed at the motionless Rafael Santiago.
“I’m not sure,” she uttered honestly, her pulse racing. “He shot Grant—”
Stone watched her for a moment, along with her son as they both scrambled to their feet, frightened, but apparently unharmed. So this was Paco’s buddy. He gazed at Jaime. Glad to know that their friendship had been spared. Had he been seconds later, the situation could have been far worse.
Ignoring Grant Nunez for the moment, Stone ambled over to Santiago, ready to shoot him again if he moved so much as an eyelash. He knelt down and felt his neck. Nothing. The bastard would never kill, rape, or sodomize again. Not in this world.
“Santiago’s dead,” Stone announced without an ounce of remorse.
He stood and checked the condition of the judge. Beverly and her son were huddled around him like guardian angels. Grant was only semi-conscious, a bullet having ripped through his shoulder.
“He’ll live,” Stone assured them, recognizing the special bond between the three. “I got here as fast as I could. Others are on the way, including medical assistance.”
Beverly thanked God that they had somehow survived this ordeal. Then she thanked the detective who had saved their lives. As she expected, he shrugged it off as only doing his job. But she suspected that the job had become personal with him, as with her, and it had led Stone right to Grant’s front door.
State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller Page 33