Cocoa rose in the water, letting out a strange sound.
And Lara felt someone settle next to her.
She was afraid to turn and see who it was. She wanted to believe that it was Meg, but she knew it wasn’t. She lowered her head for a minute, praying for courage and inner strength. Then she looked to her side and saw him, the man who had stood in her office doorway and later appeared in her backyard.
Miguel Gomez.
He was there, seemingly solid, and yet she knew he wasn’t real. He spoke, saying, “Please” very softly, and with the trace of an accent.
She couldn’t respond right away; she couldn’t help being afraid.
“You were the one who made sure they knew the truth,” he said into the silence.
She managed words at last. “What is the truth? I want to help—I do—but you need to help me understand.”
Miguel looked out over the water, sadness in his eyes, as if he knew that was where his body had been. Where parts of it still remained.
“I loved my wife, and I didn’t kill her,” he said brokenly.
“I believe you,” she said softly. “What happened?”
“I went into the warehouse. I was careful, because I knew someone would be there. One of the Barillo family. I didn’t see anyone, but he came up behind me. I felt…pain. Then…then I knew nothing, until I was looking at Maria’s body… I was dead, I knew I was dead, and Maria was gone, as well. People said I did it. I hear what goes on. I know someone said he saw me there, but…”
His voice trailed off just as Lara started to speak, and then he was gone. He was there—and then he wasn’t.
She felt a presence behind her and turned quickly, thinking that Miguel had returned.
But it wasn’t him. In the dying sunlight she saw the dark form of Agent Brett Cody, tall and broad shouldered and just standing back, waiting. She wondered if he had seen her talking to someone who wasn’t there.
And if he thought the kidnapping that had nearly cost her her life had in fact cost her her sanity instead.
He walked slowly down to the platform and reached down to help her up. When she met his eyes she was surprised to see him looking at her with a strange understanding. His hand on hers felt strong, and as the gaze continued, she suddenly felt as if she knew him far better than she should.
And that he knew her just as deeply.
She didn’t realize that she was still holding his hand until Meg hurried over to join them. “Lara? Are you all right?”
She really didn’t begin to understand how Brett Cody’s nearness seemed to give her strength, but somehow it did.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“I saw him. Miguel. I saw him here with you,” Meg said.
She knew that they were waiting for what she had to say, hoping he had said something that could help them solve the mystery.
She realized that Matt must have just arrived, because he was standing just behind Meg, and she saw Rick and Adrianna in the distance, walking toward them in the growing dusk.
“Did he say anything useful?” Brett asked.
“He said that he didn’t know from the time someone hit him from behind in the warehouse until he was in his house. He knew he was dead, and he knew that Maria was dead, too. He said he knows people think he did it.”
“Hey!” Rick called to them.
“Hey,” Lara echoed as he and Adrianna joined the group. “I’m going to head out with these guys. I just need to run up and get my things. Will you lock up when we leave?”
Adrianna smiled. “Of course. You were saying good-night to Cocoa, huh? If you have some time tomorrow afternoon, you can do a training session with her and me if you want to.”
“That would be great,” Lara said.
Rick turned to Brett. “Have you found out anything yet about what’s going on?”
“We’re working on it,” Brett assured him.
“You guys aren’t worried about being out here alone, are you?” Lara asked Adrianna.
“No, honestly, we’re not. Once you’re gone, we’ll set the alarms. You don’t think we should be worried, do you?” Adrianna asked.
“No, no, of course not,” Lara said. “Right?” she asked, looking at the others.
“I don’t believe that this facility or anyone here is in any danger,” Brett said. “But if you’re at all worried—”
“Lock and load. I have a licensed Colt,” Rick said. “We’re good. I have the cops on speed dial, not to mention our alarm buttons, which are everywhere, just in case we need them. We don’t have security personnel here, but our alarm system calls the police with the push of a button, and they can be here within minutes.”
“Okay, then,” Lara said. “I’ll be right back.”
Meg followed her back to her office. “You really okay?” she asked.
“Fine, honestly.”
“You seem anxious to leave.”
“I just talked to a ghost. That’s not a normal day at the beach for me.”
“Okay. You look rattled. I’ll drive your car. Matt has our rental and Brett has his own car, so they can follow us.”
“I’m good to drive, and I know where I’m going,” Lara assured her. “But I’ll be happy to take you with me.”
Meg studied her. “I guess you are all right. Let’s go, then.”
Lara was all right, and she proved it. She drove smoothly and competently to her house; the traffic had died down, so it only took a few minutes. Matt was right behind her, and when they’d parked and were approaching her duplex she said apologetically, “I haven’t really been here long enough to do much with the place, so…”
“I’ve been in my house for years and I haven’t done much with it, either,” Brett said. “And don’t worry, we’re not expecting you to cook for us. We’ll order some dinner—or am I the only one who’s starving?”
“Dinner sounds great,” Matt said.
Brett suggested Chinese and everyone agreed, so he took requests and ordered once they were inside. After that Lara asked what people wanted to drink, and they all opted for iced tea. Apparently everyone wanted a clear head in case Miguel showed up again.
Lara went to get the tea, and when she finished she found them all in the family room. Meg and Matt had taken the wicker sofa with its overstuffed cushions, which left her and Brett the matching chairs facing it across the coffee table.
Brett started the conversation as soon as she sat down, turning to her and diving in without preliminaries. “I have the feeling you were pretty unnerved today. Talking to a dead man.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. He was the one who had pulled up the picture of Miguel Gomez and asked her if he was the man she’d seen, so obviously he wasn’t fazed by the idea of people talking to ghosts. But he was right: she was.
“I—”
“It’s all right,” he said flatly, looking from her to Meg and Matt. “Because I think I’m seeing a ghost of my own.” He met Lara’s eyes again. “Miguel has decided that he needs to communicate with you.” For a long moment he was silent, and then he said, “And apparently, Maria Gomez has decided that she wants to speak with me.”
CHAPTER 9
Strange how life was so often all about perception, Brett thought.
He had been living with a tension unlike anything he’d known before, as if his muscles had been twisted like burning wire and then hardened that way.
But later that night, sitting on the back porch of Lara’s apartment, he sat back and realized that he should have been thinking like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes.
When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
He’d respected Matt Bosworth from the time he’d met him, and he’d heard the
news when Matt joined the Krewe. He’d also heard the snide remarks people made and the nickname Ghost Posse, but he knew that despite the attitude behind the asides, the Krewe were called in whenever something “different” came up—and when others failed.
And that night, because the Krewe were there and because Lara had been so open about her own experiences, it was all right that he read strange messages on his computer and that Maria’s ghost had shown up in his bedroom.
They ate Chinese food out of the cartons and talked about the case and its similarity to past cases Matt and Meg had worked. He was sitting close to Lara, and when she looked at him now and then, he could feel the strange connection that he couldn’t deny was growing between them. He frowned when Meg and Lara talked about visiting the voodoo store. He wasn’t worried that they’d gone to the store or talked to Papa Joe. He had met a number of people who practiced voodoo through the years—good people, all of them.
It was Lara’s involvement in the case that bothered him.
Then again, he was the one who had gotten her involved so deeply.
Neither Miguel nor Maria made an appearance during dinner. But he learned exactly what had happened to Lara, the truth behind all the press surrounding her abduction and the Walker scandal, and his admiration for her grew. She’d endured so much. She’d been kidnapped by a serial killer, held prisoner under god-awful circumstances, and yet she had survived. And now this.
Perception. It was everything, really.
He had thought of Lara as an extremely attractive woman. Any man would have found her appealing, even in a city where beautiful women could be found in abundance.
But now…
Now he also saw her as strong. Now…
Now her smile turned his insides molten.
He didn’t want to leave her—not even with her best friend, not even with agents he trusted.
And now he felt even more determined to solve this case.
It was growing late, and despite the fact that he was actually working and his line of work didn’t adhere to an eight-hour day, he needed to sleep, and that meant he needed to leave.
At last he regretfully stood. “Tomorrow is going to be another long day. I’ve got to get home. Thank you, Matt and Meg, for your help. And thank you, Lara. You’ve been great through all of this.”
She smiled, rising. “Thanks. Is home far?”
“Not even five miles. If you ever want a brisk walk in the blazing heat, I’m in South Miami, just past the Gables.” As soon as he said the words, he wondered what had gotten into him.
Matt stood, too, and said to Brett, “We’ll be at Sea Life in the morning, and I’ll meet you at the cemetery around one. I’m going to try to find connections between all these people—the staff at the funeral home, the dead we know about—and the Barillo family. I know the local task force is working it, but I also know your Special Agent Bryant isn’t getting anywhere and his informants aren’t giving him anything useful, so since Meg and I are here, we’re going to help if we can.”
“All help appreciated,” Brett replied. “And I can’t help but thinking that this might be an unwitting conspiracy.”
“What’s that?” Lara asked.
“What I mean is that a number of people might be doing things that are illegal without any idea how their efforts are being combined for a much larger—and deadlier—end,” Brett said. “Someone may be supplying whatever drugs and poison are being used. Someone else may have been bribed or blackmailed into supplying a body. A third person may be sharing the know-how without any idea that someone is actually using it. So the more connections we can make between any of the players, the better.”
“In other words, if we start at the end of the string, it may lead us to another string, then another, and eventually they’ll lead us to the spool of thread,” Meg said.
“So is there any indication that Miguel or Maria Gomez knew Randy Nicholson or anyone at the Diaz-Douglas funeral home, or anyone at the cemetery?” Lara asked.
“No. Miguel might not even have known anyone else involved. Except the Barillo family. Because I know they’re in on it somehow,” Brett said. “There’s no other way things could have gone down that way in the warehouse unless someone in the Barillo family was involved. No one else would have known he would be there.”
“What about his family?” Matt suggested.
Brett shook his head. “No, Maria loved her husband, and Miguel made sure his children and grandchildren were far away after he contacted the FBI—even when he caved and started working for Barillo, he wanted his children and grandchildren living elsewhere. They’re out in the Midwest, and they’ve agreed to stay where they are until we’ve gotten some answers. They’re not happy about it, but they understand it’s a safety issue.”
He told them all good-night at the gate, wishing he felt entirely sure that Lara would be all right even as he told himself it was foolish to want to stay. As an agent, he’d quickly learned that no man was an island. They depended on one another. Trusted one another. They had to. He was usually pretty good at it; it was pure ego to think he was the only one who could manage any particular task.
But this was different. Still, he managed to leave, his fingers lingering on Lara’s as she shut the gate, his eyes meeting hers. “Good night. You’re in good hands,” he told her.
She smiled and nodded. He thought that maybe she was wishing he could stay, too.
Or was that just wishful thinking on his part?
He got into his car and drove home. As he neared his house, he saw that a car was parked in front of his neighbor’s house, and there were men just sitting in it.
Watching his house.
An assassination team? he wondered.
He told himself for the second time that night that no man was an island. It was late, but he sat in his own car down the street, lights off, and felt for his Glock and his phone. He dialed Diego.
Diego answered right away, instantly alert, even though Brett was sure he’d been sleeping.
“Men in front of my neighbor’s house,” Brett said.
“I’m on my way. Should I call for backup?”
“No, this time of night, you should only be five minutes. I’m parked down the street, and let’s leave the line open.”
“On my way.”
Brett set the phone on the seat next to him. He didn’t get out of the car—he would be an easy target if they spotted him—just sat, watched and waited.
A moment later the other car’s driver’s door opened; a man stepped out and walked around, then opened the passenger-side door. He reached in to help a second man out.
It was Barillo. Even in the dark, Brett knew. He’d seen video and pictures of the man often enough.
The two men walked over to where he was parked. So much for hiding in the shadows, Brett thought.
“Agent Cody,” Barillo called.
Brett drew his Glock and stepped out of the car. Barillo lifted his hands. The younger man at his side did the same. They weren’t holding weapons, though Brett was certain that one of them, at least, was armed.
“What?” he asked, Glock aimed at the older man.
“There’s no need for that,” Barillo said to him. “I came in person to tell you that you don’t need to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Brett said.
“Then, you’re estupido!” the other man said angrily.
Barillo nudged him, and the man went silent.
“I’m here to tell you I don’t murder women,” Barillo said. “And I didn’t kill Miguel. You need to look somewhere else and find out what is going on. I came here in peace. I’m old. I’m done with my old ways. Do you understand? If you want to catch a killer, you need to look elsewhere. I came in person to tell you. That’s all. Good night, Agent C
ody.”
Barillo turned around and headed back to the car. Brett watched him go. The man was in his mid-sixties, though he looked at least fifteen years older. When his name was said, people imagined a tough virile man who could take down half an army.
That wasn’t the Barillo Brett had seen tonight.
I’m old, he’d said.
He was more than old, Brett thought. He was also sick.
The Barillo car drove away and disappeared down the street. As Brett stood by his own car staring after it, he saw Diego round the corner in his beloved old BMW.
Diego slammed to a stop and jumped out of the car. “Gone?” he asked.
Brett nodded. “Barillo and a younger man, maybe forty, forty-five,” he told Diego. “Oddest thing. I was afraid of an ambush when I stepped out of the car, but he came out to tell me ‘face-to-face’ that he didn’t kill Maria or Miguel.”
“I wonder why it’s so important to this guy that we believe he didn’t kill Miguel,” Diego said. “Or why he’s so focused on you.”
“Maybe he knows that Miguel came to me. We have informants, they have informants,” Brett said. “I’ve never seen the younger man. Some lieutenant, probably.”
“Must be, since he keeps his kids out of the family business.”
“What a good father,” Brett said.
“Do you think it was a ploy, something to get us off his tail?” Diego asked.
“No,” Brett said thoughtfully. “I actually don’t. He seemed sincere.”
“Lots of criminals seem sincere—the same way murderers find Christ just before they go up in front of a parole board,” Diego said.
That was true enough, Brett knew. “Come on in. Might as well get out of the street.”
At his door, Brett keyed in the alarm code and they went inside. “Want coffee or something?” he asked.
Krewe of Hunters Series, Volume 5 Page 44