"I know, but you were partners then, yes?"
"Sí."
"Did you know his wife Camilla and her son Mateo?"
"Why are you asking?" Hector returned.
"Because Camilla is—was—my mother," Diego said, stumbling over the tenses. "And Mateo is my brother. I've been looking for them for a very long time."
"Camilla was your mother?" Hector echoed, looking a bit shocked by Diego's words. "I did not know she had another son."
"But you did know her and Mateo?"
"Mateo? Her son's name was Michael."
"How old was he?" Diego asked, uncertainty entering his voice.
"He was about ten, I think. I'm not that good with kids' ages."
Ten was about the right age, Tara thought, remembering the timeline Diego had given her.
"All right," Diego said slowly. "Tell me about Tomas's relationship with my mother."
"He was so happy to marry Camilla. He couldn't stop smiling. But the good times did not last. Your mother died a few years into the marriage."
Diego nodded. "I discovered that fact yesterday. Do you know how she died?"
"She took a fall in the mountains near Cascada. They would go there on the weekends. Tomas had family there. She was on a hike, and she lost her footing. It was tragic."
Tara moved closer to Diego, drawn to the sad turmoil she could feel going on inside him. He wasn't looking for her comfort, but she couldn't stop herself from putting her hand on his back.
"Did she die instantly?" he asked, a harsh note in his tight voice.
"I believe so. I'm sorry. Did you not know?"
"Actually, I heard about her fall this morning, but not from someone who knew her or knew Tomas."
"Tomas was beside himself. He was angry that he hadn't gone with her on the hike. He'd been busy working, and she'd gone on her own," Hector said.
"She was alone when she fell?"
"That's what I understand. The family went out to look for her, when she didn't come home before dark. They didn't find her body until the next morning. It was too late by then." Hector paused, giving them a pained look. "Tomas felt so guilty that he hadn't gone with her. He was completely devastated. He started drinking, and I think he was drunk for the next four months. Finally, he started to pull himself out of the depression, but I don't think he was ever really happy again. He died of a heart attack less than two years later. I sometimes think it was a broken heart."
"Or maybe the guilt was eating away at him," Diego said harshly.
"Perhaps," Hector replied in a neutral tone. "Does that answer your question?"
"Not completely. What happened to Camilla's son? Did he stay with Tomas until his death?"
"No. Tomas was in no condition to raise a child. His sister Irina came and got Michael. That's the last I ever saw of him. I don't even know if Tomas kept in touch with him or not."
Tara's heart went out for the little boy who had lost so many people. First Diego's father sent him away, then his mother died, and he was sent to live with a woman he probably didn't even know.
Diego moved over to the window, staring at the view for a long moment.
Hector gave her a compassionate smile. "I'm sorry to have to deliver bad news."
"We appreciate your time." As Diego seemed lost in thought, she pressed on. "Do you know where Irina lives? Is she here in Medellin?"
"No, she lives in Cartagena. I think I might still have her in my book," Hector said, reaching into a drawer. "She used to send me cards at Christmas, and I always reciprocated." He pulled out a black book and flipped through it. "Yes, here it is."
Diego quickly returned to her side as Hector handed her the address book. There was an address for an Irina Salazar Garcia.
Diego picked up a notepad and pen from the top of Hector's desk and jotted down the address.
"I don't know if she still lives there," Hector continued. "I don't believe I've heard from her in a few years."
"What about her husband? Is he alive? Was he taking care of my brother?"
"No, her husband died about three years before Tomas. She was a widow when she took Michael in."
"One more question," Diego said. "Was Tomas involved in the family business? With the cartel, to be more specific?"
Hector frowned. "He did some work for them out of loyalty to his cousin Caleb. I believe Caleb's father actually paid for Tomas's law degree."
"So, he was indebted to the family," she murmured.
"Yes. He went to Cascada twice a month to work on family matters," Hector said. "I know Camilla did not like going there. I think she wanted him to separate himself, but the ties were too strong. I would suggest you not ask the Salazars about your mother's accident. They don't take well to questions, and in that part of the country, they are the law."
Diego nodded. "What about Irina? Is she in the cartel, too?"
"No, she's a teacher, or at least she was." Hector paused. "I didn't know Camilla well, but she was very sweet when we got together. She was a bit shy but kind and caring."
"And Michael—what was he like?"
"I don't think he said much."
"Really? He used to be incredibly talkative."
"Well, he didn't know me, and when I saw him there were no other children around. He was probably bored. I hope my information has helped."
"It has, thanks," Diego said.
"Good luck with your search."
She gave Hector a grateful smile and then followed Diego to the door and down to the car. As she fastened her seat belt, she noted that Diego was not in a hurry to start the vehicle. She shifted sideways in her seat, so she could look at him. There were tension lines around his eyes, a bleakness to his gaze, a hard line to his mouth. "Are you all right?" she asked, almost afraid to intrude on his thoughts.
He turned his head to look at her. "Sorry. What?"
"I asked how you were doing. That had to have been rough, hearing about your mom's death."
"It doesn't make sense, Tara. My mother did not like to hike. Why would she go into the mountains alone?"
"You don't think it was an accident?"
"I'm not sure, but something is off."
"Maybe it was a beautiful day. Perhaps she wanted to see the waterfall, or she simply needed a break."
"But she wasn't with Mateo. Or should I say Michael? Why the hell would she have changed his name?"
"Was Michael his middle name?"
"No, it was Mateo Joseph Rivera. Joseph was my grandfather's name on my dad's side. I can see why she might have wanted to get rid of Rivera, even Joseph, both ties to my dad, but Mateo was the name she picked for my brother. She used to tell me that the one thing my father hadn't cared about was our names, so he'd let her choose, and she'd liked the rhythm of Diego and Mateo. I know that's a crazy conversation to remember, but I can still hear the laugh in her voice as she told the story while she made us empanadas."
"I don't know what to say," she murmured. "It's weird. Unless, it was a way to keep Mateo away from your dad. But she didn't change her own name. Maybe she thought your dad would want Mateo back, that he would decide he was just an innocent child. He had raised him for—what—eight years? He must have loved him."
"That love died when he found out Mateo wasn't his."
"Maybe that's it. Your mom wanted him to have his real father's name?"
"Well, we're not going to figure it out sitting here," he said, starting the engine. "We need to go to Cartagena, to talk to Irina."
"Do you want to do that now?" she asked slowly, not sure how she felt about leaving Medellin.
"We'll talk about it after we go to the tour apartment. I haven't forgotten about Bethany." He took out his phone. "In the meantime, I'm going to text Lucas and see if he can get a phone number for Irina or any other information on her."
"At least we have someone else to talk to. Someone who was with Mateo for at least a part of his life. If Mateo went to live with Irina, and she doesn't participate in the cartel, t
hen your brother might not have gotten caught up in that."
"I'm really hoping that's the case. Now let's go check out the apartment."
Eight
The tour apartment was located on the third floor of an upscale apartment building. Tara unlocked the coded door and allowed Diego to enter first while she lingered in the doorway.
He took out his gun as he moved inside, making his way across the living room and into the bedroom. From her vantage point, the apartment looked empty and exactly as she'd last seen it. When Diego returned and put away his gun, she stepped all the way inside and locked the door behind her. Then she followed him into the kitchen.
As he opened cupboards, she couldn't help asking, "What are you looking for?"
"I don't know yet." He opened a narrow drawer by the sink and pulled out an array of shot glasses. Two of them were from the same nightclub—El Toro, the logo of a red bull on the glass. "Have you ever heard of this place?" He handed Tara one of the glasses.
"Yes. It's a bar in Cartagena. It's one of Bethany's favorite clubs. She always takes her tour groups there. In fact, she's friends with one of the waitresses. She introduced her to me when we went there on my trial tour." She frowned, wondering why she hadn't thought about talking to Rosa. "I can't believe I forgot about her. I was so focused on this city, this apartment and the bus station that I completely forgot about the other stops on the tour, the other places Bethany might have gone."
"Tell me more about the tour. Where does it start? Where does it end?"
"The company runs two tours in Colombia. One is seven days and one is ten. The shorter one starts in Bogota for three nights, then goes to the Coffee Triangle for two nights, and Medellin for two nights. The longer one adds a third night in Medellin and then moves to Cartagena for three nights."
"Is there an apartment in Cartagena like this?"
"Yes. There's one in Bogota, too. Occasionally guides will stay there before the beginning of the tour."
"I assume Bethany's last tour was the shorter version, ending here in Medellin."
"Yes."
"So, why are there shot glasses from Cartagena in this apartment?"
"I have no idea. Bethany, or one of the other guides, might have had a party here. They could have picked up the shot glasses at any time. I took one home with me after I went to the bar at Christmas. Why are you fixating on the glasses? We don't even know if they belong to Bethany."
"I'm trying to find something personal in this apartment." He opened the refrigerator.
She could see a dozen bottles of water, two bottles of white wine, a six-pack of beer, and some condiments.
"This is pretty clean," he commented.
"A housekeeping service comes in three times a week to check on the place, whether anyone is here or not."
"A service, huh? Do you have a name and number for that? They might have seen Bethany when she was last here."
"I did actually think about them, but when I contacted Tony at Allende Tours to ask for the name, he told me he wouldn't give me the information, that he didn't need me getting anyone else upset over Bethany when she was clearly on vacation. He was upset that I'd gone to the police. He told me my questions could ruin their business."
"You didn't tell me this Tony threatened you."
"Well, it wasn't a threat. He was just really annoyed with me."
Diego's phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. "It's Wyatt."
"Would you mind putting it on speaker, so I can hear?"
"All right." He answered the phone. "Wyatt, what's up?"
"I was able to access Bethany Cooper's phone records," Wyatt replied. "Four days after she was seen at the bus station, which was a Wednesday, she made three calls to the Palumbo Airfield on Saturday. It's twenty minutes outside of Medellin. It's a small private airfield servicing prop planes and light jets."
Tara's heart skipped a beat at Wyatt's words.
"Any record of her getting on a flight?" Diego asked.
"No. I made a call to the airfield office, but the girl who answered the phone said she couldn't tell me anything about their customers. You might want to check it out in person."
"I will. Was there anything else of note on Bethany's phone log?"
"That same day, she also made two calls to a burner phone that I tracked to a Los Angeles electronic store, but when I called the number it was dead. And there was also a call to a bar in Cartagena called El Toro."
"Interesting," Diego muttered.
"Those were the only calls made since her disappearance. I can get one of our analysts to go through the calls prior, but that will take a little time."
"I'd appreciate if you'd set that up."
"No problem. Did you check out the lawyer?"
"I did. He remembered my mother. He confirmed what you told me previously about her death during a solo hike in the mountains of Cascada. It sounded like a very shady story. He also said that the little boy he met with my mother went by the name of Michael. I have no idea why my mom would have changed my brother's name, but if you come across a Michael Salazar, I'd like to know."
"What's next?"
"After my brother's stepfather died, he apparently went to live with a cousin by the name of Irina Salazar Garcia. I have an address for her in Cartagena. I texted Lucas to see if he can get me a phone number. That will be our next stop after we check out the airfield."
"You've got your hands full chasing down these two ghosts."
"We certainly do," Diego said. "Keep in touch."
"You, too."
He put his phone away and said, "Do you have any idea why Bethany would have been calling a small, private airfield?"
"She once took a private plane from Medellin to Cartagena. Maybe she did it again."
"Well, one thing we know for sure is that she was on her phone four days after she got on the bus to Cascada. That narrows the timeline once more."
"And if she flew to Cartagena on her own, maybe she's just hiding." Tara really wanted to believe in that theory, but one other thing Wyatt had said bothered her. "What about the burner phone calls to the LA electronics store?"
He stared back at her. "Whoever she was talking to didn't want anyone to be able to trace the call."
She drew in a worried breath. "Which is not good."
"No. But I think we're done here. Let's check out the airfield."
* * *
They arrived at the airfield a little before noon. It was located off a two-lane road in a rural area and consisted of a one-story terminal building, a hangar, and three small airplanes parked on the tarmac. A sign that was falling off its hinges touted flight lessons, sightseeing trips, and private charters.
After parking next to a dusty old Chevy and a newer sedan, they got out of the car and entered the building, finding themselves in a small waiting room, with two vending machines, a couple of chairs and a small table that was covered in newspapers.
There was no one behind that counter, but there was a small bell, which Diego hit somewhat impatiently.
A young female Hispanic woman came out of a back room. She was probably no more than twenty, and she had a mug of coffee in her hands. "Hola," she said cheerfully.
"I hope you can help me," Diego replied in English.
"Ah, you are American," she said. "You want to book a ride?"
"Possibly. Do you answer the phones here?"
"Sí. That's an odd question," the woman replied, giving them a curious look.
"I'm looking for my friend," Tara said, taking over the conversation. This young woman might be able to relate to her situation. "She disappeared a few weeks ago, and I'm desperate to find her. She made several calls to this airfield and we're wondering if she got on a plane. Her name is Bethany Cooper."
A wary spark flickered in the woman's eyes. "Someone else was asking about her. You said she disappeared?"
"Yes. And I think she might be in trouble. I'm really hoping you might know why she called here or who she
spoke to?"
"I'm not supposed to talk about the customers." The woman cast a quick look over her shoulder.
"Please. It could be a matter of life and death," she said.
"Sí. I understand. All right. I spoke to her. She wanted to see if we had any open seats on a flight to Cartagena."
"Did she find a seat?"
"I think so." The woman got on the computer.
Tara's pulse sped up as several minutes ticked by. She really, really wanted a new lead on Bethany.
The woman looked up. "Yes. She got on a flight on March 26."
Her breath caught in her throat. "Are you sure?"
The woman checked the computer again. "Yes, the one o'clock flight last Saturday. Captain Ray Volero flew her there, along with two other passengers."
"Who were the others?" Diego asked.
"I probably shouldn't tell you that," she said hesitantly.
"Were they part of the Salazar family?" Tara asked.
"The Salazars? No. No," the woman said quickly. "It was an older couple, a bank executive and his wife. They fly back and forth between Cartagena and Medellin every two months to visit their grandchildren."
Relief swept through her at that information. She looked over at Diego, not sure what to do next.
"We need to get to Cartagena," he told the clerk. "Do you have any flights today?"
"Today? There is a flight in thirty minutes, but it's booked."
"When's the next flight?"
"Tomorrow. There are two seats available. The flight leaves at two p.m."
"That's not soon enough," Tara said, looking at Diego. "We can't wait until then."
"I agree," he said.
"You can check the Medellin airport. They might have an open flight," the clerk suggested.
"Before we do that, is there any chance we could speak to Captain Volero?" Diego asked.
"He's on the tarmac getting the plane ready for flight," she said. "You can go through there." She waved her hand toward a nearby door.
Tara was surprised at the lack of security, but she wasn't going to question it, as she followed Diego through the glass door.
A pickup truck was parked near a small plane about fifty yards away. The two stairs leading into the plane were down, and a man was standing near the bottom of those steps with a clipboard in his hands. He appeared to be in his thirties, with dark hair and a thick moustache.
Dangerous Choice KO PL Page 9