“Okay.” Her voice came out as little more than a whisper. Honestly, it was all pretty overwhelming.
“So Zander would really like to talk to you. Would that be okay?” Elly’s question sounded cautious, as if she was afraid of scaring her away.
Zander. Should she know who that was?
Her confusion must’ve shown because Elly added, “My friend who works for the police. He’s the detective investigating Jessie’s death.”
“No. No cops!” What had she done? Now she was trapped here on this boat and the cops would come–
“Hey, it’s okay. If you say no, I’ll respect that.”
Monica stared at Elly. She looked sincere. “Really? Won’t that make him mad?”
“Well, he won’t be happy about it, but I already told him it’s your choice.” Elly paused. “But maybe think about it, okay? He’s a good guy who wants to help find your friend’s killer and cares about your safety.”
Could she be right?
Possibly. If Zander had wanted her dead, he could have killed her that day in the alley and blamed Fernando and his crew.
So maybe it’d be okay.
“Just think about it. You don’t have to decide right now.”
Think. She could do that. She nodded.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Her nose smelled the food long before she saw it.
Rice and vegetables were placed in the center of the table, along with what looked like a loaf of freshly baked bread. No sign of meat, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t sure that vegetables had ever looked so good before.
Zeke said a prayer for the food, but she didn’t hear a word. All she could do was stare at the steaming bowls in front of her.
“Monica.” Josiah’s voice drew her gaze from the food to the empty plate he offered. “May I dish you up?”
She nodded, watching as he dished up a heaping spoonful of rice, followed by a matching spoon of the veggies and a slice of bread, which he set in front of her.
“There’s plenty here so feel free to help yourself if you want more.”
Plenty. Had she ever had plenty of anything in her whole life?
Trouble maybe. But never anything good.
She picked up her fork and took a bite.
It was tasty. And she didn’t think it was just the hunger that made her like it. She didn’t know much about spices or cooking, but whatever they’d used to season it had rich flavor and a hint of spice.
Conversation flowed around her as she ate.
The more she learned about the people around her, the less she worried about what would happen to her here. Zeke shared about the people he’d talked to at a homeless shelter earlier that day and Josiah talked about some Bible study he was leading at a prison. And, of course, Elly talked about some of the kids at the youth center.
By the time her plate was empty, her stomach was full.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been warm and full.
Now all she wanted was a good night’s sleep.
It wouldn’t be so bad to stay here, would it?
Maybe if she saw the rooms and the layout, it’d help her decide.
“Would you like to see below deck?” Elly’s question penetrated her mind. Weird. It was as if Elly could read her thoughts.
Then again, she probably looked tired. “Sure.”
As she rose from the bench, she reached for her dirty dishes but Josiah waved her off. “Go on. We’ve got the dishes.”
She followed Elly down a set of narrow, well-lit stairs that opened into a kitchen. They crossed the kitchen and entered a hallway on the other side.
Elly pushed open the first door and flipped a light switch. “This is your room, if you choose to stay. Josiah is across the hall and Zeke and I are at the end.”
Her room.
The words echoed in Monica’s head. She’d never had a room all her own.
What would it hurt to look?
The room was lightly furnished. A dresser against one wall and a bed against the other, with a chair in the corner.
“There are bathrooms between the bedrooms. You and I will share one.”
She turned her head to assess the middle door. A real bathroom. No bushes or dirty alleyways but a real toilet and sink. Maybe even a shower.
It was all too much.
“I–I can r–really stay here?” Her voice came out small and squeaky.
“As long as you’d like.” Elly gestured to the bathroom. “Help yourself to the soap or shampoo or whatever. Tomorrow we can go pick up a few things for you, too.”
Tears burned her eyes and she couldn’t speak so she simply nodded. Elly placed a hand on her shoulder. “Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Wooden legs carried her into the room that would be hers for as long as she wanted it.
A bed. A real bed.
She brushed her fingers across the comforter. It was as soft as it looked.
How long had it been since she’d been able to sleep in a real bed? One free of strangers and services and expectations?
A man’s laugh drifted down the hall and she gasped.
Was she safe here? Was this all too easy, too convenient?
She darted back to the door and softly closed it. No lock. Anyone could come in anytime they wanted and she wouldn’t be able to stop them.
But they seemed nice.
So had some of the others. They’d still taken what they wanted with no regard for her.
Maybe she’d been brought here for their entertainment.
No. Elly wouldn’t do that to her. Would she?
Really, how much did she know about Elly anyway? Maybe Elly was no better than any of the rest of them.
Calm.
The thought flooded her body, whispering through her mind like a parent’s voice.
Peace replaced the fear. Her instincts told her that Elly and her brothers were okay. More than that, she had this crazy feeling that they would protect her with their lives. Why, she wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was true.
Weird.
Still, she’d sleep better if the room were secured.
The furniture all looked like it was built into the walls.
Except for that chair in the corner.
She touched the striped fabric. Soft. Just like the bed.
Maybe she could use it to block the door.
Dragging it across the room, she angled the back under the doorknob and wedged it in place.
Arms limp by her sides, she stared at her handiwork.
Well, it wouldn’t keep out someone who was really determined, but it’d slow them down enough that she could prepare to fight back.
Her whole body felt heavy.
Kicking off her shoes, she collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to pull back the covers or climb inside. Sleep claimed her only seconds after she closed her eyes.
₪ ₪ ₪
A ghost.
Ray stared at the information his contact had given him. Or, more accurately, the lack of information.
How could a grown woman have so little trail in the modern world?
Learning the do-gooder’s name had been easy. Eliana Levi.
But that was where the information ended. There was no birth certificate. No social security number. No driver’s license. In fact, he couldn’t find a single official record of any sort.
At this point he’d even settle for a social media account. But there was nothing.
How had she managed to stay so far off grid? It was impossible… Unless she had something to hide.
Secrets could complicate things.
If she was hiding something, he’d figure it out. Then he’d end her.
His phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID.
Celestine. “Yeah.”
“I just heard that the police know about our operation.”
Operation. The word dropped like a bomb in his mind.
Had to be Tranquility Day Spa. It was their lar
gest, most profitable operation, the one that would cripple them the most if it went down.
Making it the one that would warrant the concern he heard in Celestine’s voice.
“How did you learn that?”
“Carlos.” The name huffed from her. “He passed the message through his lawyer. The police were asking him about it. They even had a picture showing him outside.”
“You think he let something slip?” It’d be just like Carlos. The man was a loose cannon if he’d ever seen one.
“According to the lawyer, the police had the information already.”
“You want me to have him eliminated?”
“No.”
Naturally. She might be one tough chick, but they were talking about her brother.
“He said he didn’t tell them anything and I believe him. It would implicate him, too. Besides, killing him now would draw too much attention.”
“How do you want to handle this?” She wouldn’t have called him if she didn’t need something.
“We need to move our operations. How fast can we get the warehouse converted?”
The warehouse? She must be desperate. “A few weeks, at least. We’d have to build some walls, beef up security. Install more bathrooms and some showers. Even if we just made a community bathroom, it'll take some doing. And cost quite a bit.”
He ran some calculations in his head, knowing what her next question would be even before she spoke it.
“How much?”
“Rough guess, I’d say at least fifty grand. Maybe more.”
Celestine cursed.
“Any chance they’re just fishing?” After all, he hadn’t heard anything about this. And he paid his contacts well.
“I don’t think so. Besides, we can’t take the chance. There’s too much at stake here.”
“You don’t think those rooms in the basement are hidden enough?” They’d constructed false walls in several of the rooms in the basement for this very purpose. False, soundproof walls.
“We can’t fit all the product inside. Besides, if all the product is in there, we won’t make any money on them.”
Product. The word she always used when referencing the young women and men that she kept under her thumb. “Let me reach out to some sources and see if there’s another facility we can use until this settles down.”
“Fine.” She sighed. “I’ll call Damien and have them all moved downstairs until I can come up with a better option.”
Celestine ended the call.
Setting the phone aside, Ray’s thoughts strayed to Monica. His gut said this all tied back to her. Of all the girls they’d ever had, she was the only one who’d escaped recently. The only one who remained at large.
All of that pushed her to the top of his hit list. He’d find both her and Eliana Levi and take them down.
Fifteen
Zander couldn’t suppress a yawn.
Ugh. Stakeouts. The worst part of the job.
Well, second to paperwork. And maybe bureaucracy.
“Coffee?” Morgan handed a large carafe to him.
What he wanted was something a heck of a lot stronger than coffee, but this would have to do. He refilled his Styrofoam cup from earlier, took a swig, and grimaced.
Nope, hadn’t gotten any better since the last cup.
Next time he’d make the coffee. At least his was palatable. This junk was one part coffee to about ten parts water.
They’d only been down here two hours but he was already sick of sitting.
Couldn’t someone do something illegal already?
He stared at the posh building about a block up the street. For a day spa, there was a lot of night traffic.
So far they’d seen eleven men and two women go inside. Of those, four of the men had already left. They’d snapped pictures to run through facial recognition but that wouldn’t happen until tomorrow.
He wanted a drink. Needed it. Could almost taste it on his tongue.
Was there someplace nearby where he could get a beer? Maybe a six pack to last through the night?
He didn’t even care what brand. Sure, he had his favorites but at this point he’d take…
Whoa.
Morgan was right. He did have a problem.
Another car pulled up in the circular drive. A Lexus this time.
He forced himself to focus, tried to keep all thoughts of beers and shots and mixed drinks from his mind.
An expansive man in a fancy suit hauled himself out of the car and handed the key to the valet who scurried over. After adjusting his suit jacket, the man strode toward the double glass doors, which swished open in front of him.
Sheesh. It was after ten. At what time did this day spa finally close its doors?
Maybe it didn’t. It appeared that after hours business was quite profitable.
The soft clicking of the camera as Morgan snapped pictures echoed in the confined space.
He settled in to get comfortable. Looked like he was in for a long night.
₪ ₪ ₪
Celestine toyed with the business card, drinking in the name embossed on it.
Zander Salinas.
The older brother of the only man she’d ever actually loved. When she first saw him in that graveyard…
A tremor shook her hand. It’d been like seeing Jave, back from the dead.
If only.
Maybe with his help, she could finally find Jave’s killer.
Ludicrous. Her? Working with a cop?
Then again, he didn’t know who she was. Nor the connections she had. If she could somehow learn what he knew, it might shed some light on the question that haunted her during the long nights alone.
Could she feed him just enough information to get him talking?
Could she? Ha! She was Celestine Montoya, leader of the Alma Negra. She could make men do most anything.
And if he was anything like Jave, he would be the gun in her hand, a willing instrument for whatever she desired.
Maybe she could even find out what he knew about Tranquility Day Spa.
Given her lack of options where that was concerned, it was certainly worth trying.
She slid the card beneath her phone.
She’d call him tomorrow, set something up.
And hope he led her to Jave’s killer. Four years had gone by since someone had stolen Jave from her.
And that someone still walked free.
Unacceptable.
It was time for retribution.
₪ ₪ ₪
Sunlight filtered in, caressing his face in warmth.
Zander opened his eyes and looked around the bedroom. His clothes piled in the corner where he’d shed them last night. The TV was still on, some old sitcom with cheesy lines and canned laughter.
The clock glowed that it was after nine.
He swung his legs out of bed, his foot colliding with an empty beer bottle. The bottle clanked against the others discarded next to it.
The night was a blur. He vaguely remembered the stakeout and that nothing happened. They’d left a little after midnight. He remembered getting home around one a.m. and grabbing a beer from the fridge. But after that…?
The evidence at his feet proved he’d gone back for at least two more beers.
But he wasn’t as hung over today as he’d been yesterday. That was something.
Something small.
He had a problem. Every day he counted down the hours until he could have his next drink. Some days it felt like all he lived for.
He buried his head in his hands.
How had he gotten here? When had he turned into an alcoholic?
No. He wasn’t an alcoholic. In fact, he was done drinking. Today. Today he would not have a single drink.
A shower cleared his thoughts and some scrambled eggs brought him fully awake.
Even though it was Sunday, he got ready to head into work. Just for a few hours. He wanted to run those pictures through facial rec and see if they got any hits.
>
His phone rang. The number on the display wasn’t familiar.
He accepted the call. “Salinas.”
“This is Celestine.” A woman’s voice, strong and crisp. “We met at the cemetery.”
It was her.
His heart accelerated. Was she ready to talk to him? “I remember.”
“I’d like to know what hap–” She pulled in a deep breath. “What happened to Jave. Maybe we can compare notes.”
“Yes. Of course.” Not that he had any intention of involving her in his investigation, but he might have to reveal a few details to get her to start talking.
“I know it’s short notice, but are you available in an hour? Maybe for coffee?”
Though phrased as a question, there was an implied expectation that he would agree. And he would. He didn’t want to give her any more time to reconsider talking to him. “Sure thing. Where?”
The coffee shop she suggested was a trendy number in the heart of Alma territory.
Coincidence?
Unlikely.
Still, he’d take it. It was the first potential lead he’d had in years.
Even after Celestine ended the call, Zander stood there holding the phone.
Who was this Celestine woman? What was her story? And what had made her decide to talk to him?
With any luck, he’d find out in exactly fifty seven minutes.
₪ ₪ ₪
Zander had just claimed the corner table when she walked through the door.
The filtered sunlight reflected on the deep red highlights in her hair. She wore the same leather jacket as the last time he’d seen her but this time it covered a tight blue shirt that dipped low enough to reveal the lace fringe on her bra. Her leather pants were so tight it was a wonder she could move and her ridiculously high heels clicked across the tile floor.
She glanced at him but proceeded to the counter. Several minutes passed before she pulled out the chair across from him, setting her twenty-four ounce, whipped cream topped concoction on the table in front of her.
“I’m glad you called.” Why had he felt the need to break the silence? She was the one who’d requested this meeting.
“I need closure and I think you can help provide it.” Her black eyes bored into him. “Jave’s killer has gotten away with this for too long.”
Silent is the Grave Page 17