Unbridled

by Diana Palmer

  “Yes, we have.”

  “The priest. Which one?” Hollister asked.

  “The one who used to be a merc,” John replied.

  Hollister’s face closed up. His eyes narrowed, glittered.

  John knew the man didn’t like to talk about his past. He respected that. “He works in the area where Los Diablos Lobitos operate. He has a friend who leads the local Serpientes gang. We need the contact. You don’t have to go with me. If you could just write a note of introduction...”

  Hollister’s lips made a thin line. He drew in a harsh breath and pulled a sheet of letterhead out of the drawer.

  He wrote something, signed it and placed it in a sealed envelope. On the envelope, he wrote Father Eduardo Perez, Catedral de Santa María.

  He handed the envelope to John and gave him the address, which John put in the notes app on his cell phone.

  “Listen,” John said softly as he put his phone in its holster, “I know you don’t talk about the past. But there’s a dead kid, two wounded kids, two murdered adults, and I think they all tie in to this one gang and a cold case involving the death of the daughter of a state senator. This...” he indicated the note “...may help me catch the perps, before they can do it again. Whatever I find out, I’ll share with you.”

  Hollister relaxed, just a little. “I don’t like remembering,” he said.

  “We all have things in the past that hurt us. Things that sting from time to time.”

  Hollister smiled sadly. “I lost everything,” he said tightly. “Including a woman I would have died for.”

  John didn’t speak. His black eyes were curious.

  “Not Sunny. In case you wondered,” he added suddenly.

  John laughed. “Am I that transparent?”

  “She’s a sweet woman. And I’m partial to blondes. But there was never any sort of spark there. She...reminds me of someone I lost.”

  That made sense. John recalled that Hollister was a widower and concluded that he was speaking of his late wife. He smiled back. “Okay.”

  “I’ve never seen Sunny as happy as she is lately,” Hollister added. “She smiles. She laughs. She was the saddest person I’ve ever known, before you came along.”

  John beamed. “Yeah. It’s that way with me, too. I love just being with her.”

  Hollister sat back in his chair. “You’ll let me know, if you dig up anything?”

  “Certainly.” John got up. “My lieutenant thinks Father Eduardo may know something about the cases. I hope I won’t get him in any trouble with the gang by going over there.”

  “You won’t catch any Lobitos gang members within a city block of the church,” Hollister said with pursed lips. “When Father Eduardo first settled into the parish and started watching out for victims of the gang, Lobitos decided that he was an interloper and they were going to get him out. They walked into the church with weapons drawn.” Hollister let out a whistle. “The emergency room was full. And I mean full! Eduardo stayed with the victims while they were treated and advised them to leave his parishioners alone in the future. They listened. One man against seven armed gang members. They still talk about it, even today.”

  John laughed. “Okay. Now I really want to meet this guy!”

  “He’s unique, I’ll say that for him.”

  “Thanks again,” John said. “And I’m sorry I had to ask for this.” He held up the envelope.

  Hollister’s face was hard. “I made a lot of mistakes in my past, did a lot of things I wish I could undo. Eduardo and I have a history. He’s been a good friend. He’ll help you. He has no fear of Los Diablos Lobitos. In fact, it’s sort of the other way around,” he added whimsically. “Tell him I’m free most Friday nights if he wants to go watch them do the tango at Fernando’s.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  * * *

  Father Eduardo was tall, powerfully built, with jet-black hair and dark eyes. He had scars on his face, and he looked like a man that no sane criminal would tangle with. John recalled what Hollister had said, that seven gang members hadn’t been able to take him down.

  “Yes? What can I do for you?” Father Eduardo asked congenially.

  John handed him the envelope.

  The priest raised his eyebrows curiously before he opened the envelope and read the note. “Ah, yes,” he said. “Cal.”

  “He said he’s free most Friday nights if you want to have supper at Fernando’s and watch the guests do the tango.”

  “Amateurs,” the priest chuckled. “The tango is not for the weak of heart.”

  “I know,” John said. “My people come from Argentina.”

  “¡Compadre! So do mine!” Father Eduardo laughed. “Who are you?”

  “John Ruiz.” He shook hands. “I work for the Texas Rangers. I’m investigating a string of gang hits in the city.”

  “Oh, yes, we know about those,” he said sadly. “I have counseled survivors. I would love to see the gangs go the way of the dodo bird. Sadly, that is a pipe dream.”

  “I’m afraid it is.”

  “Come into my office. We can talk.”

  He led the way through the cathedral, past a small group of people milling around the candles, lighting them for loved ones.

  “I did that not long ago, at San Fernando,” John said, indicating the guests.

  “You lost family?”

  “My wife, three years ago. A heart attack.”

  “I am most sorry,” the priest said quietly. He closed the door, and turned to John. His face was hard with memories. “I lost my wife and two sons to a man whose brother I killed while I was practicing my former profession. He murdered them in front of me while I was tied up and helpless. I took the collar soon after,” he said. He hesitated. His eyes asked a question.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. I do know what your former profession was,” John confessed. “My lieutenant told me about you.” He cocked his head. “So did Hollister. Seven armed gang members it was, I believe...?”

  The priest’s face lightened. “Yes, they thought it would be a simple matter to get rid of an annoying priest. They had no idea what I used to do for a living. It seemed to be a great surprise to them.” He smiled. “Two of them joined the church afterward.”

  “I can see why. You seem to have a powerful ally.” He glanced up at the ceiling.

  “Divine connections,” the priest agreed, smiling. “I do what I can for a congregation that defines the word poor,” he added. He shook his head. “It never ceases to amaze me, that in a country of such plenty, there are so many in need. We spend millions, billions of dollars, developing weapons that can never be used, biological and otherwise. What I could do here with just a fraction of that,” he said sadly. “I contacted a group of wealthy patrons and got them to provide clothing for a family of eight whose father lost his job. They found him another one.” He smiled. “I believe in angels. Some don’t have wings.”

  “We have good people here in the city,” John agreed.

  The priest sat down at his desk and invited John into a chair across from it. “What do you need?”

  “I won’t ask if you’re squeamish,” John said, because he knew the man wasn’t. He pulled out his cell phone and went to the photo app. “I need you to look at these photographs and tell me if you’ve ever seen any of them before.”

  He handed over the phone. It contained pictures of the Jacobsville woman, the well-dressed dead man who was in Los Diablos Lobitos and the Serpientes gang member who’d been killed. The photo of the woman was painful to see.

  The priest crossed himself. “To do that, to a woman,” he said, wincing.

  John was sorry that he’d had to include that photograph. Eduardo’s wife had been murdered. It must bring back painful memories. But he had to do what he could to catch the killers.

  Eduardo turned his attent
ion to the man in the photo. “Yes, this one is familiar,” he said, and John’s pulse jumped.

  “How so?” John asked.

  “His mother is my parishioner. I went to see her this morning. She could not stop crying. He was a good son, although he was certainly involved in the selling of drugs, and he belonged to the Lobitos. His name was Alberto. Alberto Fuentes.” He frowned as he looked at the photo. John was taking notes on his cell phone. “This chalk drawing beside his head,” the priest commented as he thumbed through the photos, “it’s the mark Lobitos leave at a crime scene.” He looked up. “They killed one of their own?” he exclaimed.

  John nodded. “I have a suspect. I just can’t prove a connection.”

  “Rado,” the priest said with venom in the pronunciation. “I would give much to see him off the streets. Even with the old gang leader, the one now on death row, there was not so much blood spilled. Rado uses. It makes him more dangerous than a rational man.”

  “I have noticed that. He broke a child’s arm—”

  “Yes, David Lopez’s,” he interrupted. “He was... What is it?”

  John’s caught breath stopped him before he could finish the sentence. “That name. Lopez. There was a Harry Lopez. Died of a drug overdose at the time Senator McCarthy’s daughter Melinda also died of one. Neither of them was known to use hard drugs. In fact, Melinda had just come out of rehab and was looking forward to getting her life back together. Everyone we talked to said that Harry Lopez had never been known to use drugs of any kind.”

  “Harry Lopez.” The priest winced. “He was a good boy. One of the better gang members, if there is such a thing. He took excellent care of his sister and little brother, although he did it with money that was not legally earned. When he was killed, Rado took over the family. He put Tina out on the street and made her prostitute herself for him. She comes to confession.” His face hardened. “I cannot tell you what she told me. You do not know what I would give to tell you.”

  “I can guess.” John studied his boot, where one long leg was crossed at the ankle over the other one. “Lopez. No, the case, that’s not why I remember the name. It’s something else. Tina Lopez. That name sounds familiar, but I had no contact with her when her brother was killed. Banks was working that case.” He frowned. “She’s a prostitute?”

  “Yes. It is a sad life. She has great fear of Rado. He threatens her brother when she defies him.”

  “The brother, what’s his name again?”

  “David. David Lopez. He’s a troubled boy. They put him in an alternative school, hoping to straighten him out. Now Rado does this to him.” He sighed. “Lawmen and priests. The things we know and have to live with,” he added with a sad smile. “Not much different than being a merc. You see only the bad things.”

  “You also see some good ones,” John countered. He smiled. “A man with a gun trading it for a collar, and changing lives for the better. That’s not one of the bad things.”

  “Thanks, amigo,” the priest replied sincerely.

  “Do you think Tina would talk to me?”

  “Do you think crocodiles might speak English or learn to fly?” came the whimsical reply. “Just being seen with you might condemn her brother to death. She risks enough coming to confession. They stay away from me, and they know I never reveal anything I learn at confession. That’s the only reason she’s still breathing.”

  “What a way to have to live,” John said.

  “Agreed. But perhaps we may find a way to get Rado off the streets. If you want to talk to Mama Lupita, I can have her come here for confession and have you waiting in the office afterward. You might have to come in something a little less noticeable than your present attire.”

  John chuckled. “I own a ranch in Jacobsville. I’ll come up in my work clothes on a Sunday. Any Sunday you like. I’ll even go to Mass first.”

  “¿Es catolico?”

  John laughed. “Toda mi vida,” he replied. “What is Mama Lupita’s last name?”

  “Fuentes, like her poor son. He was Alberto, but they called him Al.”

  “Criminals have parents just like everyone else,” John said. “A child commits a crime, and they say, that’s a kid with bad parents. But it isn’t always. You can do the right things, make the right choices and still have your kid end up in an alternative school,” he added bitterly.

  “I do understand,” Father Eduardo said, and he saw a lot more than John realized.

  “Would you like to get her here this Sunday?” John asked.

  “I would. But would Saturday be better for you...?”

  “Sorry, no,” John chuckled. “There’s a party at my boss’s house this Saturday. I’m taking my best girl. She doesn’t know it yet.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “She’s a nurse,” John said. “With the kindest, sweetest heart I’ve known since my late wife. I’ve never known anybody like her.”

  “A nurse. Well, it’s not a profession one chooses for the money. Like yours, and mine,” he added with a chuckle.

  “That’s true, and she works at a children’s hospital,” he replied.

  “Even better. She must have a very soft heart.”

  John nodded. “Soft and very innocent.” He ground his teeth together. “I took a woman home with me a year ago. My son ran away from home. He said if I got involved with someone else, he’d run away and join a gang and I’d never... Oh, my God!”

  “What is it?”

  John stood up. “He ran away. He got mixed up with Los Diablos Lobitos. The woman he was staying with when I tracked him down was a prostitute with gang ties. Her name was Lopez. Tina Lopez!”

  NINE

  “Your son?” Eduardo asked.

  “Yes. My son. I just made the connection.” He shook his head. “No wonder the name sounded familiar. The woman was protective of my son until she had proof that I was his father.” He recalled her. Tall, dark, beautiful. “She was a knockout,” he added. “And Rado’s making her prostitute herself?”

  “He pairs her with rich men who can afford all sorts of luxury gifts, which he then confiscates, along with whatever cash she gets,” the priest told him. “She hates it. She was a good girl. Innocent and sweet until one of her brothers mixed her up with Lobitos.” He shook his head. “I will never understand greed.”

  “Nor will I,” John replied. “Well, now I have some answers and many more questions, and I can’t go near the Lopez woman without getting her or her brother killed, or both. And if I try to have you bring her here, after the Fuentes woman comes, Rado may find out and it could cause even more tragedies.”

  “Hollister.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Have Hollister send one of his officers to pull her in for prostitution, put the word out that one of her johns wants to press charges, hold her overnight. While she’s there, you’ll have a free hand to question her. If you’re worried, send a lawyer to do it instead and have him tape the session.”

  “I like the way you think,” John said.

  Eduardo smiled. “I do my best. Meanwhile, I’ll do what I can, without divulging anything I know.” He stood up. “I may not be in the profession anymore. But I know plenty of people who are, including a high-level security guy for Ritter Oil Corporation. He was a merc longer than I was. We’re still friends. He’s pretty good at interrogation.”

  “Colby Lane?” John asked with an amused smile.

  “Yes. You know him?”

  “He was down in Jacobsville on the Dominguez case, when she was arrested and charged with drug dealing,” John recalled. “In the process, Colby Lane’s little girl was kidnapped, as insurance to keep the authorities away. Lane had them find him one of the drug runners and he questioned him about his daughter’s whereabouts. They say that afterward, he ran to the nearest officer and confessed to things he hadn’t even done to get
him away from Lane.”

  Father Eduardo grinned. “Yes. Colby has a unique method of asking questions. He worked for Eb Scott for a while, but he was forbidden to teach any sort of interrogation tactics to Eb’s recruits. Sad thing. Colby and his family were going to live in Jacobsville, but his wife couldn’t give up her DEA job. So they went back to Houston, where another of our friends is the top security guy for Ritter, Phillip Hunter. Sarina had a little boy and went right back into the field. Colby’s resigned to it now. He says he’d rather have her with her little quirks than go back to being a bachelor. Besides, he loves the family life.” He shook his head. “If you’d seen him in Africa...”

  “If you mention Africa around Cal Hollister, he gets this look,” John said. “I can’t even describe it. That must have been one bad campaign.”

  “One of the worst any of us ever lived through. After that, Eb and Cy came to live in Jacobsville, Colby worked as a security guy for the L. Pierce Hutton Corporation. Hutton builds oil rigs, among other things. When the company relocated overseas, Colby went to work for Ritter in Houston, doing security.”

  “You know some interesting people,” John said.

  “You have no idea how many. If I can be of further help, please feel free to call on me.” He pulled out a business card and gave it to John. “That’s my cell phone number.” He indicated it. “I keep it with me night and day. I don’t sleep much, so it won’t bother me if you call at night.”

  “I’ll remember. Thanks again, for your help.”

  “It was my pleasure. If you can put Rado away,” he added with a flash of cold eyes, “it would be the best blessing of my recent life.”

  “I promise you that I’ll do my best. I’ll be in touch, about Sunday.”

  “Okay.”

  * * *

  John wanted very badly to talk to Tina Lopez. He stopped by the San Antonio police department and went to see Hollister again.

  The blond man was unloading the clip from his pistol. He had a cleaning kit on the desk. He looked up, grimacing. “She did it again.”