by Linda Ladd
Novak pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, sat down, and retrieved the Ruger and the Glock. He started with the Ruger. He released the clip and checked everything over while Jenn poured him a red mug full of hot black coffee. She retrieved a platter of ham sandwiches from the fridge and a bag of Lay’s potato chips and placed them down on the table in front of him with the mug. Then she took her coffee and sat down across from him. “I figured you’d be hungry. You usually are, in the best of times.”
“I’ve been on the run from a paid serial killer. Makes a guy hungry. Couldn’t stop for tacos.”
One corner of Jenn’s mouth curved up a little. She took a sip of coffee. “Okay, tell me where you found her. And everything else again. Don’t leave anything out this time. There’s more to this than you’ve told me. You have stepped into something really nasty this time.”
“No kidding.” Novak took a bite out of the sandwich and continued to eat while he spilled out the entire story, in detail and from the beginning.
Jenn sat and listened, and watched him over the rim of her mug. “That’s not much to go on.”
“I want to know who that girl in there really is and why these people want her.”
“All I know is what the TV reports and newspapers say. They’re saying now that she was kidnapped out of some convent up in the Sierra Madres. So was some other girl. Nothing much is being said about the second girl yet. Actually, not much is being said about either of them, not anything that’ll help you. No IDs. No pictures of them. No rewards offered. But word on the street is that Marisol is the daughter of a drug lord and is one of the girls who was kidnapped. Believe me, Novak, if he wants his daughter kept out of the news media, it will be. It’s said that he didn’t want photos of her taken, didn’t want to worry about abductions for ransom. Nobody in this country wants to cross him. He’s said to be as cold-blooded as anybody in Mexico. I suspect he’s warned the cops off because he wants to find her himself and punish the abductors. I vaguely remember her face because I keep an eye on what the drug traffickers are doing around here. I saw Ruiz and his daughter, not too long ago on a surveillance video. They were leaving Mass at a cathedral in Mexico City. Nice clear shot. I think that girl in the hold looks a whole hell of a lot like the girl I saw. Maybe not, but chances are good that she is, considering the rumors going around. And if she is, she is definitely worth a lot of money to her father. He will want her back and he’ll have his goons out looking for her, you can bet on it. Don’t know if this Mayan freak is one of them. Maybe he’s after a reward, but then again, he’s already attempted to kill her once, right?”
“Yeah. He left her for dead out in the middle of the ocean. She’s not innocent, no way, but she’s hard to figure. She comes off so lost sometimes, yet I know she’s been playing me. Worse than that? That guy she calls the Mayan? He almost got us today. I mean he was right there, right behind us, Jenn. On the same damn street, looking for us. He’s got to be tracking us everywhere we run. I thought it was the sat phone he left in his canoe, but apparently it’s not. And now I think there’s a girl after her, too. She denies it but I saw a woman beckoning to her with my own eyes.”
“Who was she? Maybe she’s the girl who went missing with Marisol?”
“Wish I knew. She wants Marisol, had a car waiting to pick her up.”
“How’d she manage that?”
“I think Marisol is signaling people somehow.”
“How?”
Novak shrugged. “I intend to find out.”
Jenn thought about it. “You think she knows what this Mayan guy wants with her?”
“He wants her dead, that’s what he wants with her. And she knows it. She’s been lying her head off since I got involved in this whole freaking mess. I think she’s in there thinking up more lies as we speak. I think she’s an expert at it. I think she knows exactly who this guy is and why he wants her out of the picture, but it’s not for the reason she told me. I’m going to have to get it out of her before we leave here.”
“And how do you plan to do that?”
“I’m going to ask her politely, and then I’m going to make sure she knows she’s got no choice but to tell me.”
“Want me to play bad cop?”
“I look more the part.”
“You’re just a big teddy bear. Especially around defenseless women like Marisol. She’ll play you like a fiddle.”
Novak glanced at her. “In the beginning she did, maybe. Not now. She’s beginning to get on my nerves.”
“Don’t give me that. You’ve got this soft spot for vulnerable women. It’s in your genetic makeup. It always happens. If she had been some young guy, you’d have forced her to come clean a long time ago.” Jenn was smiling, teasing him, like she used to. Softened her face like crazy when she played around like that. “We are two hard-asses, aren’t we?”
“Trained to be. Not smart not to be,” Novak said.
“But not so much with a scared little teenage gal, huh?”
“Nothing’s wrong with being scared. From what I’ve seen, she needs to be scared. She needs to come clean with us and talk, because we are all now directly in this guy’s crosshairs. He gets her, he gets us. She’s telling us some of the truth, maybe, but not the why and how.”
“Okay, go ahead, eat. I’ve got apple pie warming in the oven.”
“Yeah, I can smell it. So you bake now?”
“No, but Mrs. Smith does. I’ve got ten boxes of her pies stored in the freezer.”
Novak smiled as Jenn continued. “I’m gonna bring that girl out here, let her chow down, let her get nice and comfortable, and then we’ll scare the hell out of her.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter Eleven
Jenn sat silently and watched Novak eat. She didn’t partake. Neither of them said much else that meant anything. It seemed odd to be around her again, after so many years had gone by. She didn’t look much different. Sexy as ever. Especially in what she had on. There had always been a strong connection between them, a deep friendship as well as the kind of sexual energy and electricity that burned and shot sparks when they were alone and safe and making love. There was some sexual awareness going on now, too, crackling between them, and Novak was finding it hard to ignore.
Novak had met Jenn ten years after his wife had died, and Jenn knew he didn’t love her and probably never would. Not like he had loved Sarah and their kids. That had been okay with Jenn. They had been lovers and happy enough together, for a while, anyway. He looked away from her and studiously got a grip on his libido. It wasn’t the time or the place to think about things like that, and it wasn’t smart on his part. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get anything started again, even if she did.
“I know that look in your eye, Novak. I saw it plenty of times up until you took off. Relax. Have I ever made demands of you?”
“I said I was sorry, Jenn.”
“Truth? I forgave you a long time ago. Have to say, I never thought I’d see you again. Not down here inside this house.”
Nothing else was said. Novak ate a piece of pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. She watched him eat it. They were comfortable enough together to sit in silence. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth on a napkin, finished his third cup of coffee, and put down the mug.
“How about I do some research about this Mayan guy?” Jenn said. “He’s got to have left tracks behind somewhere. Unless he’s government connected and his files are wiped.”
“Only thing I know for sure about him is that he’s good at what he does. I’ve got a feeling he’s left a trail of bodies ten miles long and not a single clue left to incriminate him.”
Jenn retrieved her Apple laptop and set it down on the table. She opened the top and started typing. She stared down at the screen, concentrating on the task, a small dent between her eyebrows. Novak admired her while she worked the keyboard.
“Okay, CIA has a file on somebody that sounds like him. Calls him the Mayan, so that m
atches. Looks like he was active for years, 1980s on, up until about ten years ago when he dropped out of sight. Murders just stopped, and groupthink is that he’s dead or locked up in prison under an alias.”
“Does it give the MO? Anything in there about scalping victims?”
“Not that.” Her fine eyes lifted and locked on his face. “Says here he cut out the hearts of his victims a time or two. Was thought to be following the rituals of ancient Mayan priests. Apparently, that’s what they did with war captives. Plus, those priests liked to toss captives’ heads to the crowds and let the warriors play soccer with them, or something resembling soccer. No mention of the Mayan beheading anybody. Says here he scared the hell out of his enemies. He hit fast and without warning. Nobody ever saw him go in or come out, just found the bloody crime scenes he left behind. Sounds like a lot of this is hearsay and rumor. No clear evidence.”
“Does it mention any connection between him and Arturo Ruiz?”
“Just rumors that he worked for Ruiz as an assassin. His victims were usually drug traffickers or drug mules who’d cheated Ruiz. Pretty much concentrated on taking out bad guys and doing hits for hire. Nothing political that I could find.”
“Ruiz cleaning out the competition, maybe? How about a picture of the Mayan? Background info?”
“No photo. Nobody ever sees him, except for you, I guess. This says he’s like a shadow, dresses in black, goes in and out in the dead of night, leaving everybody dead and mutilated behind him. Says he uses a special knife made out of green obsidian, some kind of legitimate Mayan artifact he got hold of somehow. The kind those same Mayan priests used centuries ago. Doesn’t say how he got it or what it’s supposed to mean ritualistically. They assumed he was a Mexican national or maybe from somewhere in Central America. Most of his jobs were in this area, though, around the Yucatan. A few others thought to be his jobs were in Africa. About ten assassinations were perpetrated in the Middle East. Specifically, in Turkey and Syria.”
“Probably used the obsidian because it’s hard enough to cut through a man’s breastbone.”
“He’s a sick guy. They’ve got crime scene pictures of the mutilations. Want to see them?”
“Not particularly. I’ve seen his handiwork up close. It’s not pretty.”
“There’s a list here of people they think he murdered by contract. They never caught him, never came close. Accounts say he’s too careful. Gets rid of all witnesses. Which I suspect means you and that girl in there, at the moment. Glad I haven’t seen him yet. When his signature killings stopped, they figured he was dead and the file went cold. Nothing tied to him for the last decade.”
“Until now. I saw him myself. Or somebody impersonating him. Anything else?”
“No, but I’ll keep looking. I’ve got access to all the databases, as you know.”
“How about Ruiz? If that girl in there really is his daughter, he’s waist-deep in this whole thing.”
“I told you what I know. Let me see what else I can find.”
There followed a few seconds of typing and intense concentration. Then her face relaxed visibly. She looked at him and then swiveled the laptop around to face him. The photograph was grainy and taken from a distance. A young girl in a Catholic school uniform. A blue blazer and plaid pleated skirt and white knee socks. “Meet Marisol Ruiz, Novak. Looks like our girl to me.”
“Is that the best picture you’ve got?”
“I haven’t found any others except the one I already showed you. I think it looks a lot like your girlfriend in there. Same long dark hair. Thin as a rail. I would say it’s her, maybe.”
“Sort of looks like her. Sort of not.”
“She looks around eleven or twelve in this picture.”
“Does it give anything else on her?”
Jenn pulled the screen back around. “Only child. Her mother died at Marisol’s birth. This says she’s almost twenty now.” She scrolled down some more. “Okay, I just hit pay dirt. This article says she’s got a tattoo. A tiny blue butterfly on her lower abdomen, just under her bikini line.” She looked questioningly at Novak. “You seen that yet, Novak?”
“I haven’t looked under her bikini line, Jenn. Give me a break.”
“Just asking. That might be all the proof we need. If it’s true.”
“You’re gonna do the looking. I want nothing to do with that.”
Jenn just smiled at him and then returned her attention to the screen.
Novak said, “If that’s true about her mother, she’s been lying to us about that, too. She told me Ruiz abused her mother.”
“Says here she’s reported to be a pretty girl, intelligent, good grades, but very headstrong and rebellious. Says she’s run away a bunch of times and had to be tracked down by her father. Wow, listen to this. She’s got an arrest record in Mexico City for petty theft and drunkenness and drug use. Cocaine and weed. Never did time. Daddy dearest bailed her out, I presume. Probably got some of the cops in his pocket, not to mention a few high-ranking Federales. Most drug lords down here collude with the rotten apples.”
“Marisol told me she’s run away before, but her father always finds her. That’s when he supposedly beats her and locks her up under house arrest.”
Jenn sighed. “Says she made it out of his compound one time and was gone almost six months. That happened a few years back, before his men found her and dragged her back home. Apparently, that compelled her daddy to stick her up in that mountain convent. Wanted to make a nun out of her. Probably so he could get some sleep.”
“Fat chance. Not that girl in there. You heard her story. Says she got involved with Diego Ortiz, who ended up holding her for ransom out on that boat. What about the other girl who was kidnapped? Say anything about her?”
“Nope. News articles concentrate on Marisol, with very little other info. They say the other girl was younger. No mention of name or family or history. That’s a bit strange, don’t you think? She could be the girl you saw today. The blonde?”
“Maybe. I’m sure they knew each other, but Marisol denies it. Still, why would Ruiz send his personal assassin-slash-adopted son to kill her and everybody else who touches her?”
“None of it makes sense. Maybe he got tired of trying to reason with her and wants to get rid of her. Maybe she became a thorn in his side.”
“She’s that, all right.”
“That girl in there? Trust me, Novak, she knows exactly what’s been going on. Telling us the truth, that’s a whole different ball game.”
They stared at each other a moment, thinking about options.
“So? You ready to go at her? Let me check out that tattoo?” Jenn asked him.
“Yeah. Let’s do it.”
Jenn put away the laptop and left the room. A minute later she was back in the kitchen, Marisol in tow. Jenn was the picture of concern now, very sweet and attentive to the girl’s comfort. She sat Marisol down at the table directly across from Novak. Then she moved to the kitchen counter and fixed the kid a plate of food. She put it down in front of Marisol and sat down beside her. Nobody said anything.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Marisol asked them, looking from one to the other, stiff and wary.
“We already ate, sweetie,” Jenn told her.
Marisol looked relieved, and Novak could almost see her relax. Probably thought they were stupid and was already planning her next escape.
So Marisol ate her sandwich in total silence while the other two stared unblinkingly at her. After a while, she began to look uncomfortable. Then she tried to ignore them but without any luck. She took her time eating, though, finishing everything and then pushing the plate away. She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a white paper napkin and drank the Coke that Jenn had provided. The table manners showing up again. She wasn’t gonna belch out loud and laugh about it. Other kinds of good manners hadn’t cropped up in her all that much. Just lies upon lies. Honesty had not been taught at the convent as a virtue worth developing.
; “Thank you,” she said, smiling at Jenn. “That tasted really good. I was starving.”
“Okay, you ready now?” Novak asked her.
Marisol looked confused, or pretended to be. “Ready for what?”
“Ready for us to interrogate you.”
Apparently, she wasn’t ready, judging by the alarmed expression overtaking her face. “Interrogate me? What does that mean?”
“I think you know what it means. We want you to tell us everything that we want to know and we want you to tell us now.”
“I did already! I did tell you everything, every single thing I could remember. I’m still confused and stuff. You know, I got hit in the head. Remember? I don’t recall every single thing yet. Please, don’t hurt me. Are you going to hurt me?”
Big tears welled up. Jenn wasn’t having any of it.
“Don’t pull that crybaby act on me, kid. I don’t buy it. Tell me the truth. Novak’s too nice a guy to get physical with girls like you, but it doesn’t bother me, not at all. Believe me.”
Marisol leaned away from her and assumed a look of abject terror. It looked legitimate to Novak, not so much to Jenn.
“Stop with the theatrics, kid,” she continued. “I don’t have that kind of patience. Not after the way you jumped out of the Winnebago and put us all in danger. I don’t feel the least bit sorry for you. I don’t know you but I don’t like you much. I don’t like having you in my house because you are trouble, and you’re bringing it down on our heads, too.”
No way would Jenn ever hurt the kid. Novak knew that. Marisol didn’t, and Jenn looked tough. She was tough, but she didn’t torture people. His threats certainly hadn’t gotten through to Marisol. Let Jenn have a stab at it.
Novak pushed back his chair and stood up. “Okay, I’ll leave her to you, Jenn. Maybe you can make her see reason. I’m gonna take a look around outside. Make sure we weren’t followed.”
“No! Mr. Novak, please! Don’t leave me in here with her! Please, Mr. Novak, please don’t go. She hates me!”
Novak sat back down. “Does that mean you’re ready to tell us the truth?”