Don't Say a Word

by Beverly Barton

  Chapter 18

  “What’s this? Donald Trump joining us on the flight?” Julia asked Will as they walked out across the tarmac to the sleek maroon-and-tan private jet waiting for them.

  “This is our ride.”

  Will strode on, but Julia stopped in midstride. “Wait a minute, are you serious? We’re taking a private jet to Las Vegas?”

  “That’s right. C’mon.”

  Julia caught up with him. “Man alive, you special agents do like to travel in style. The rest of us peons fly tourist.”

  When they reached the jet, Will started manually checking the outside of the plane and doing all kinds of other pilotlike things.

  Julia trailed along. “I hope you don’t break any of this stuff.”

  Without comment, Will kept doing what he was doing. Julia frowned until he finished, stood back, and allowed her to precede him up the steps. “Just to be clear, this isn’t the Bureau’s. It belongs to a friend of mine. I can get access to it whenever I need to get somewhere fast.”

  “Wish I had friends like that.”

  Will gave her that splendid smile of his. Aha, he was loosening up about last night. “Maybe I’ll introduce you someday.”

  “You? Introduce me to a personal friend? I think not. Trust me, I’m not going to hold my breath until that happens. You’ll probably make him wear a mask and cloak.”

  “Don’t forget the dagger.”

  Julia had to laugh. She’d never been on a private jet and had to admit it was pretty cool and überluxurious. The interior sported maroon and tan decor. The walls were tan with a maroon stripe at midwall. The carpet was maroon, and both couches and the six leather swivel chairs were tan. There was also what looked like a fully equipped galley in the rear, and even better, a wet bar with lots of bottles lined up behind secured glass doors. All very snob-o-licious and privileged. She felt mightily out of place. Then, of course, there was that good-looking, coppery-haired private hostess who hastily made her way out to Will’s side. They air-kissed on each cheek, European-style. Yuck.

  “Hello, Will. It’s so good to see you again. How have you been?” Very heavy accent. Scandinavian, perhaps?

  “Good. Everything okay with you?”

  “Oh yes, I’m looking forward to my day off tomorrow.”

  “Well, you just got today off, too. Grab your things. We’ve got to get this baby off the ground.”

  Belatedly, he remembered to introduce them. Tsk-tsk, Brannock, where are your manners? “Julia Cass, this is Barbie Johanssen. Barbie, this is Julia.”

  Of course her name would be Barbie. What else would it be? Julia watched Norwegian Barbie twist her hips back down to the galley. She did indeed look like a Barbie doll: large breasts; long legs; tiny, waspish waist; and short black skirt.

  “Wow. I’d say this friend of yours knows how to spell luxury. He also seems to know what kind of flight attendants you prefer. Redheads must really ring your bell, Brannock.” She was kidding, sort of, and he looked annoyed, sort of. Yes, maybe his irk was rising back to the just-above-mild level.

  “You’re never going to let that rest, are you?”

  “Probably not, if it gets this kind of rise out of you. But hey, I’m just kidding. Don’t be so sensitive.”

  The pilot was next to appear. He exited the cockpit door and strode toward them, rolling a small black suitcase with one hand. He was an older man, probably in his sixties. He was deeply tanned, had a trim build, and was not much taller than Julia. He and Will shook hands and seemed to know each other very well.

  “Julia, this is Jim Cooper. Coop, this is Julia Cass.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, a little concerned when Barbie showed up with her own rolling bag and the two of them headed for the exit door.

  “I thought we were in a hurry,” she said, slightly alarmed when Will pressed a button that started the door closing behind them. “Whoa, wait a cotton-picking minute. Where are they going?”

  Will didn’t answer at first, just listened for the pneumatic hiss of the vacuum, then twisted the lever. He headed off toward the cockpit.

  “Will? Wait a minute here. I’m not liking the looks of this at all.” She followed Brannock and found him calmly strapping himself into the pilot’s seat.

  “Sit down,” he said. “You get to be my copilot.”

  “Oh no. No way. I’m not going anywhere without a real pilot.”

  “I’m a real pilot. In fact, I’ve got more hours in the air than Coop does. You’re safe with me.” He looked up at her, amusement glinting in his brown eyes. “Trust me. You’re in good hands. I promise.”

  Forcing down a swallow, Julia still hesitated. She watched him flip all kinds of switches and press some buttons, and then settle his headphones over his ears. She could feel her heart beating fast inside her breast, but she sat down in the seat and fastened the seat belt. Will Brannock was just full of surprises.

  After a moment of clearing takeoff with the air traffic control tower, Will pulled off the headset and looked at her. “Don’t be nervous. I know what I’m doing. I’ve flown planes since I was eighteen. Trust me.”

  “Jets this size?”

  “Well, this kind, just since I was twenty-three. Relax, enjoy the flight.”

  “I do trust you, but maybe not so much at thirty thousand feet.”

  “Put on your headphones. Take a nap. We’ll be there in three or four hours.”

  “Yeah, right. Believe me, I’m going to sit here and watch every move you make. I’m nervous flying anyway, so you’d better not be lying to me.”

  “Yeah, sorry, but I’m lying. I’ve never been in a cockpit before. I decided to try it out and see if it’s as complicated as they say.”

  “Ooh, sarcasm is alive and well in Special Agent Brannock.”

  “You’re going to owe me the biggest apology you’ve ever given, once we land safely at McCarran International.”

  “You act almost excited about this trip.”

  “I am. I love to fly, and don’t get to do it very often. On top of that, my gut tells me that Maria’s going to tell us something we need to know.”

  Julia tried to relax as they taxied out to the runway and awaited their turn for takeoff. He seemed to know what he was doing, and Will wasn’t a moron. Surely, he wouldn’t take the controls if he didn’t know what he was doing. Still, she’d be glad when they got to Nevada. She might even kiss the ground like the Pope did.

  “C’mon, Cass, relax. All that hand-wringing is making me nervous.”

  “Me, making you nervous. That’s a laugh.”

  When they got the okay, Will maneuvered the jet out on the tarmac and slowly increased speed until they smoothly lifted off and gained elevation. Julia was gripping the arms of her seat as he banked in a long turn and headed west. He knew what he was doing, she knew that; he was displaying that, but still, it was only the two of them. What if he had a heart attack?

  “What if you have a heart attack?”

  “I’m going to, if you don’t quit dissing my piloting skills. If it’ll ease your mind, I’ve got some parachutes stashed in the back.”

  Julia narrowed her eyes. “Do you really?”

  “Hell no. We’re not going to need parachutes. Now go to sleep and give me a break.”

  “You’re tired, too. What if you fall asleep?”

  “I’ll wake up when the plane goes into a nosedive.”

  “Ha-ha, very funny.”

  But it was funny, and she had to laugh, be it a shaky one.

  “Ah, that’s more like it.” Will glanced over at her. “Relax. You look like a Macy’s window mannequin. Take a nap, figure out if you’re going to let me kiss you again tonight.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “You never get tired of breaking my heart, do you?”

  “You’ll get over it soon enough. I’m sure you know more Barbies in Las Vegas.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I know at least fifty, or it might be up to sixty by n
ow, but some of them are Barbs. A few more are Barbaras.”

  Smiling, Julia leaned her head back against the seat, a lot more comfortable than she thought she’d be. He handled the controls with ease and skill, and she trusted him to get them across the country in one piece. Sometimes he made her laugh, even when she didn’t want to. A sudden vision of Gloria Varranzo’s body sobered her, and she ran the case in her mind. It wasn’t long before she took Will’s advice and closed her eyes. And that’s pretty much all she remembered about the flight to Las Vegas.

  McCarran International was a busy place. Desert winds were buffeting palm trees, newlyweds were excitedly boarding hotel shuttles, and last-minute gamblers were trying their luck with the airport slot machines. Without much ado, Will and Julia got into the new black Lexus left for them by Will’s mysterious friend and headed off to the Las Vegas city jail on Stewart Avenue. The LVPD booking center was a busy place, too, and as they arrived, several police cars were discharging drunken, mouthy prisoners who seemed to have been enjoying the Las Vegas nightlife a tad too much. Yeah, what happened in Vegas stayed in jail in Vegas.

  Julia said, “Well now, this is a jumping hot spot tonight. Almost as much as the casinos, I’d say.”

  “You ever been out here in Sin City before?”

  “Nope, but it’s quite glittery and well lit, I must say.”

  “The lights never go out.”

  “That’s not very energy efficient.”

  “This place has its own kind of energy.” Will shoved the gearshift into park and opened his door. “Let’s go. We’re looking for Sergeant York.”

  Julia got out but questioned him over the top of the car. “You’re kidding me. Like the World War One hero, Sergeant York. You know, that movie with Gary Cooper.”

  “I guess so. First name’s Archie.”

  “I wonder if Archie’s as good a shot. Sergeant York’s my sharpshooting hero. I idolized him when I was nine.”

  Inside, they introduced themselves, showed their law enforcement badges, and asked for Archie York. He showed up a moment later and led them to the elevators. Several floors up, they passed some newly booked prisoners shuffling around in orange shirts and pants and flip-flops. Most of them were solemn, hangdog, and behaving themselves, but a few were yelling and screaming cop brutality behind heavy white steel doors. A few were beating their heads against the window. Their jailors didn’t like that much. Four officers rushed a man going berserk in his cell and strapped him into a restraint chair.

  As they passed by that commotion, Archie York looked at Julia. “We try to let them detox before we process them. Makes it easier.”

  “Yeah, so do we.” Sergeant York was from Texas, she’d bet on it. The cowpoke accent was a dead giveaway. So were the tattoos on his arms. The first one read Remember the Alamo in fancy curlicues, and the other one was a very good rendition of the Texas state flag. All he needed was a portrait of Davy Crockett to lock up the deal.

  “So what’s this little Bota gal done back in Tennessee?”

  “Nothing criminal,” Will answered. “Not yet.”

  “She’s been cooperative but acts scared spitless.”

  “Where did you pick her up?”

  “On the Strip. In Circus Circus. A security guard recognized her.”

  Julia said, “Did she have a little boy with her?”

  “No, and she wasn’t registered at that hotel. We ran a check and couldn’t find her name registered anywhere on the Strip. No room keys on her, either. Of course, she could’ve been using an alias when she registered.”

  “Did she tell you anything?”

  “No, she clammed up once we got her in here.”

  York stopped in front of one of the quiet cells. A heavy, green plastic curtain covered the outside of the small window on the door.

  “Take a look-see. See if it’s your gal.”

  Will lifted the flap and took a peek. “That’s her, all right. Can we talk to her inside?”

  “Sure. But we’ve got interrogation rooms that you can use if you want.”

  “The cell’s fine,” Julia said. “As long as you don’t forget to let us out.”

  Her quip was answered with a low guffaw. Yep, he was a Texan, no question about it. “Where are you from, Sergeant? San Antonio?”

  “No, Amarillo. How’d you know?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  York grinned at her.

  “Okay, York, quit flirting with the detective and open it up.” That was Brannock, displaying a bit of his testy side. Then again, he hadn’t taken the airborne four-hour nap that Julia had.

  Maria Bota sat up on the built-in white iron bench, and the terrified expression on her face indicated that she was not exactly overjoyed to see them. She scooted back into the corner as far as she could get, as if she thought they were going to drag her out by the long, black braid hanging down her back. She had on a pale green knit tank top with gold sequins around the neckline, denim skinny jeans, and a pair of tan low-heeled sandals adorned with plastic sunflowers. Her toenails were painted baby-girl pink. She looked cold. Julia leaned one shoulder against the wall and let Will do the talking. He obliged, and with gusto, at that.

  “Hello, Maria. Nice to see you again,” Will started off, real laid-back and pleasantlike.

  Maria didn’t fall for his TBI charm. “What you want with me? Why you follow me here? I do nothing, nada. I am innocent.”

  “Because you ran. That makes you look guilty.”

  “I do nothing, nothing. I was scared, scared for my niño.”

  “Where is your niño?”

  Maria put her head down on her bent knees and wouldn’t look at them. Julia had a feeling Will wasn’t going to get much out of her. When he looked at Julia, she gestured to let her give it a try. Woman to woman. Will could be a little pushy, and his size alone was intimidating.

  Sitting down on the bench beside the shivering young girl, Julia kept her voice low and nonthreatening. There was a reason this girl was so frightened and had been since the judge had been murdered. She knew something, something they needed her to tell them.

  “Maria, listen to me. We aren’t here to hassle you, or hurt you, or accuse you of anything. We don’t think you killed the judge. We know you’re scared. We know you want to protect your son. Julio’s all right, isn’t he, Maria? You got him to a safe place, right?”

  Maria looked up, her dark eyes blurred with tears. She nodded. “He’s with mi madre, but do not tell no one. Please, I beg you.”

  Julia’s voice remained quiet. “Who’s after him? All we want is the truth. Just tell us.”

  No dice. Julia decided to tell Maria what they already knew. Maybe that would crack her reserve a little bit. “We already know your involvement with the Battle Street Ten gang. We know they’re after you for talking to the cops.”

  “I did not know he was a cop. He was, how do you say it? Undercover man.”

  “Do you think they’re after Julio, too? Is that it? Is one of the gangbangers Julio’s daddy? Is that why they’re looking for you?”

  Maria shook her head. “I do not know what they want. I know they kill you if you talk to cops. They have cut out tongues. Many times, like Lucien.”

  Again, the fact that Maria and the judge were on a first-name basis bothered Julia. “Tell me, Maria, what kind of relationship did you have with Judge Lockhart?”

  No answer. Maria put her head down on her knees again, hiding her face. Julia decided to change directions.

  “Do you know a man named Juan DeSoto? Goes by Hap.”

  That brought Maria’s head jerking up. “I do not wish to go to that place. The judge make me.”

  “Mr. DeSoto gave us the impression that you and the judge had more than an employee-employer relationship. Told us you were lovers.”

  Maria’s teeth tugged at her lower lip. “He made me do it. The undercover man told him about me. Lucien say I stay with him, that I be safe. I thought kind man and want to help me.” She shook
her head and tears streamed down an otherwise stoic face. “But he came to me late in the night. He make me, make me be with him. He hurt me. He hurt me lots of times.”

  Julia looked at Will. Will’s jaw was clamped, and he looked angry and disgusted. Maria’s story was ugly and getting uglier by the minute. Then the truth dawned on Julia.

  “Julio is Lucien Lockhart’s son, isn’t he?”

  Maria wiped her tears on her sleeve. Sighing, she nodded. “Sí, and after Julio was born, he kept me like slave and not let me leave with my baby. He cruel to me. Senora Lockhart knew, and she hate me for things he make me do.”

  “Why did you run, Maria? Tell us. The judge was gone. He couldn’t keep you there. Iris Lockhart kicked you out, is that it?”

  Will went down on one knee in front of her. “Tell us the truth, Maria. There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you know. Please, you’ve got to help us. We need to find this killer. He’s killed again since you left. Did you know that? Twice. A man named Roc VanVeter and a woman named Gloria Varranzo.”

  Maria’s young face went white, bleached out as if her blood had instantly plummeted to her toes.

  “Do you know either of them?” Will continued.

  She shook her head and kept shaking it.

  “He’s a serial killer,” Julia told her. “That means he’s going to keep killing, keep mutilating bodies the way he did to the judge. Tell us what you know. Help us get him.”

  Now Maria really looked petrified. Even so, Julia was shocked at the next words that came out of Maria’s mouth, in a whisper so low they could barely hear them.

  “I see him.”

  Will stiffened, his face locked with intensity. “Saw who? The judge?”

  “No, sir, I see the diablo who do that awful thing to him. This is why I run away, why I hide here. He do the same thing to me and Julio if he know I see him.”