“What’s your mother’s name?”
His dark eyes grew sad. “Lucia. She died.”
“Oh. How long ago?” she said, gently now.
“When I was five.”
Only a few years, then. Once again, Janelle’s heart went out to this poor boy. “I’m so sorry to hear that. So it’s just you and your father, then?”
“And our housekeeper.”
“No brothers or sisters?”
“No.”
He sounded so sad. He’d lost his mother, and now his father was turning on him? If his story was true.
“What does your father do?”
He thought a moment, then shrugged. “I do not know.”
“So you overheard him talking on the phone tonight?”
“I have heard him before. He has been talking to these men a long time.” He sniffed the air again, his nostrils quivering. “Did you go to a parrilla tonight?”
“A what?”
“A steakhouse. I smell grilled steak.”
“We went out to eat. It’s my leftovers. Are you hungry?”
He nodded, looking so sad it broke her heart in two. She reached for her bag and handed it to him.
He tore into the wrapping and began to gnaw the steak as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
“Doesn’t your father feed you?”
He shook his head.
That was probably a lie, but she couldn’t be sure. This boy was either a really sad case or a really good con artist. Maybe a little of both.
She turned around and eyed the building on the corner.
No sign of Simon. If this was some kind of set up he had walked into, she’d never forgive herself. No, the men in the helicopter wouldn’t go to the trouble of setting up something like this.
Or would they?
Chapter Sixteen
The building on the corner was a renovation under construction.
It had no walls, just rows of studs and concrete beams and dusty ply board floors Simon hoped wouldn’t creak under his feet.
The ground floor was boarded up, but he had found a way in, forcing his body through a narrow opening in the planks. In the dim light from the street, he made his way to a stairwell. Nearby stood what was to be an elevator shaft, but that right now was nothing but an open chute.
Third floor, the boy had said. He knew he was on planta baja, floor zero, as they were numbered here. That meant three more sets of stairs.
As quietly as he could, he climbed the staircase, found the next one, and the next.
As he reached the final steps leading to the third floor, he heard voices.
His eyes at floor level, he dared to peer into the space.
This area had a few more walls in place. In the corner directly opposite him, a group of men stood talking to each other in the dark shadows. None of them seemed to be looking his way.
Simon spotted a concrete column close by.
Should he take the chance?
No other choice. Quickly, he climbed out of the stairwell and rushed to the column, pressing his back against it, as he forced down the heaving of his chest.
He could hear the voices clearly now.
“What is it you want?” said a hoarse one.
“I told you on the phone. I want to make a deal.”
“A deal for what?”
Simon dared to peek around the column.
He saw four men in dark clothes. All of them had facial hair, two had headgear. Simon guessed the one with the mustache and flat-top ivy cap facing the other three was the boy’s father.
The trio opposite the man came in three sizes. Small, medium, and large. Small wore an eye patch and a three-day stubble. He was the one doing the talking—with the raspy voice. Medium had wavy gray hair and a matching goatee. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder for effect. Large didn’t need a weapon to look foreboding. He had a narrow forehead and dark squinting eyes with brows and mustache crammed together on a large square face with an expression Simon assumed was set to perpetual mean.
“For the product you are known for,” said the boy’s father.
“We have none right now,” Eye Patch told him in his raspy voice.
“That is not what I was told on the phone.”
“Someone was mistaken. We have another customer.”
“Tell me who he is,” said the father. “I will match his bid.”
“He wants more than one.”
“How many? I will match it.”
“Can you match half a dozen?”
Medium and Large chuckled in amusement.
“This customer has an order for half a dozen boys?”
Simon’s gut went hard. It didn’t take all the years he’d had tracking down criminals involved in human trafficking to know what they were talking about.
“My customer has money,” the father said. “Name your price. I will ask him. Can we talk again?”
“Perhaps.”
“Tomorrow night then. I can meet you here.”
“Not here. I’ll call you.”
“When?”
“Nine o’clock.”
The men started to move out. Simon zipped around the column and took his Glock from behind his back before pressing himself against the cold concrete.
He listened.
The men weren’t as quiet as he had been as they made their way down the stairs. Simon waited a moment until the last man was gone.
The father.
Daring to move from his hiding place, he watched the top of his head go down the stairwell.
Then he followed him.
Quietly he descended each level until they were on the ground floor again. He watched the man exit through a door opposite to the one Simon had entered, and followed him through it.
Outside the street on the other side of the building was deserted, the night air growing crisp. He spotted the man at the end of the block and hurried to catch up.
Simon followed him down a street with boarded up storefronts and bars on the windows.
The man turned a corner. Simon pursued, and the area turned nicer.
Here the shops were better kept, and there were a few pedestrians on the walkways. Cars whizzed by on the road. They passed a parking garage and an apartment building.
He crossed the street and for a moment, Simon lost the man in the shadows of palm trees along the sidewalk. He hurried to catch up and spotted him in the middle of the road crossing the street.
Simon held out a hand to stop the traffic, but only got a blaring horn in return. He tried again, was successful, and reached the sidewalk on the other side just as his target zipped around the far corner.
He trotted alongside a large white stucco building with blue trim and filigree balconies until he reached the corner.
After sprinting around it, he came to a halt.
He didn’t see the man anywhere.
Not up ahead. Not across the street.
Had he gotten into a vehicle and driven away? Cautiously Simon moved down the walkway, peering into cars parked along the curb.
Nothing.
What now? He was getting too far away from the rented Beetle. From Janey and the boy. He couldn’t leave her sitting there much longer.
He put a hand to his head.
What was he doing? He wasn’t in Buenos Aires to catch a kidnapping ring. He had no support, no one to contact for help, no back up at all. As much as he wanted to do something, he couldn’t.
And he had to get back to Janey.
Feeling defeated, he turned around and made his way back to the street where he’d started.
Chapter Seventeen
Janelle nearly jumped out of her skin at the sharp rap on the car window.
When she saw it was Simon, she quickly unlocked the doors and waited for him to get in, her heart still hammering in her chest.
“You came from the opposite direction,” she hissed once Simon was inside.
“There’s another entrance to the building on the othe
r side. I went around the block.”
He had done more than that. He was too winded for just a little stroll. “Did you find anybody inside?”
Alejandro popped up from the backseat. “Did you see my papa?”
“I saw a man with a mustache. I don’t know if it was your father.”
Simon shook his head at her.
Whatever he had seen inside that building, he didn’t think it was fit for tender ears. She’d better change the subject.
She gestured to the boy. “By the way, this is Alejandro.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Mateo.”
What were they going to do with this boy? They couldn’t let him go home to his father.
She put on a happy smile. “What do you say to us having Alejandro as our houseguest for a while, Mateo?”
Simon eyed her closely, apparently both pleased and amused she had picked up on the fake identity. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
Before the boy could reply, Simon turned the ignition and they started back to the hotel.
Now that they were going directly there, the trip took only a few minutes. To avoid prying eyes, they entered through the back way from the parking garage, and once they were inside their room, Janelle called downstairs for extra towels and a toothbrush.
After they were delivered, while Alejandro was in the bathroom, she and Simon huddled in the corner, and he told her what he’d heard in that corner building.
She was stunned. “Alejandro’s father really is involved in human trafficking? With young boys?”
“So it seems. Alejandro’s right. His father is a criminal.”
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Was he trying to sell Alejandro to them?”
“It sounded like he wanted to buy a boy.”
That sounded even creepier. She rubbed her arms as a shiver went through her. “I got the father’s name from Alejandro while we were waiting for you. It’s Tomas Torres.”
His brow rose with what looked like admiration. “Good thinking.”
Despite the dire situation, her heart beat a little faster at the praise.
Alejandro came out of the bathroom and turned on the TV. Argentinian music filled the room while the boy made himself at home on her bed.
Janelle turned her back to Simon and spoke as softly as she could. “The boy doesn’t know what his father does for a living.”
Putting a finger under his nose, Simon stared down at his laptop.
“I wish you could connect that thing.” Then they could run a search on the father’s name and find out more about him. But connecting was too dangerous. The men in the helicopter or someone else at the FBI would be sure to pick up the signal.
Simon glanced across the room. “Looks like you’ve lost your bed.”
The boy had fallen asleep on it.
“Take my bed. I’ll sleep in a chair.”
“I’ll sleep in the chair,” she said.
“I can’t let you do that.”
He was so stubborn. But it wouldn’t do any good if either of them woke up with backaches tomorrow. She studied the mattress a moment.
“I’m willing to share. Are you?” She turned to him.
He was standing so close to her, she felt his breath on her face. Her heart fluttered like hummingbird wings.
He dared to take her hands. Then he let his lips brush hers.
She felt as if she might faint from the sensation. Even though it wasn’t a real kiss.
As if coming to his senses, he pulled away. “We’ll sleep back to back.” He nodded toward Alejandro.
Right. They couldn’t let themselves get carried away with him in the room.
They got ready for bed. She pulled on a pair of flowered navy blue sweatpants and a plum T-shirt instead of her usual babydoll sleepwear, turned off the TV, and got into bed with her face toward the boy, her back to Simon.
“Goodnight, Janey,” he said softly.
“Goodnight, Mateo.”
She thought she felt him smile.
Simon closed his eyes and tried to use an old relaxation trick he’d learned long ago in training. It didn’t help. He couldn’t sleep. All he could think of was the taste of Janelle’s lips. The smell of her. The feel of her. He’d love nothing more than to roll over and make passionate love to her right now.
But that would be the most irresponsible thing he could do.
They were in trouble. He was in trouble. He’d dragged her into this mess, and it was only getting messier.
And now they had a boy on their hands whose father was involved in human trafficking. What were they going to do about that? Every fiber of his being wanted to go after the men he’d seen in that building tonight and bring them to justice. But there was no way he could. His hands were tied.
Best to find somewhere to take Alejandro and get on with finding Agent Julian Knox.
He’d look for a children services division in the city tomorrow. No, that might get their identities into a database. He’d think of something else.
Thanks to Janey’s ability to get information from the boy, at least they had a name to work with.
She was such an impressive woman. He longed to have her as a partner on the job. He longed for more than that. He thought about what Parker and Steele had together. Could he and Janey have a relationship like that? Did he dare hope for it?
But he didn’t even have a job anymore. He had to remember that.
He heard her steady breathing, rolled over, and ran his gaze over her body. She was so beautiful. She’d taken off her wig and her beautiful long red hair lay over her shoulders, tempting him almost beyond endurance.
“I love you, Janelle Wesson,” he wanted to whisper to her.
But he didn’t dare.
Instead he lay back down and after a while, finally fell asleep.
Chapter Eighteen
Janelle opened her eyes, glanced at the clock on the nightstand, and realized she’d slept until ten. She just wasn’t used to Argentinian hours.
Feeling disoriented, she rolled over and patted the other side of the bed.
It was empty.
She sat up and saw the TV was on. Alejandro sat cross-legged on what used to be her bed engrossed in some Argentinian cartoon.
He turned to her with a toothy grin. “Buenos dias, Señora Rodriguez.”
Simon must have told him their fake last name. “Good morning, Alejandro. Where is, uh, Mr. Rodriguez?”
“He went out.”
Out? Her throat tightened. “How long has he been gone?”
The boy lifted a shoulder. “Not sure.”
She frowned a moment. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“I guess so. I go to the escuela primaria.”
She was wondering whether someone from the school would report him missing, and whether they could press kidnapping charges against them when the door opened and Simon appeared, laden with packages and cups of hot coffee.
She let out a breath of relief as he headed across the room and set everything down on the little table, which had been cleared. Simon must have packed his laptop away from prying eyes before he left.
He began unpacking a large paper sack. “I decided it was best for us to have breakfast here.”
Janelle moved over to him and lowered her voice. “You could have told me you were going out.”
“You were asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.” His expression was sincere.
She didn’t know what to make of it.
Alejandro hopped off the bed and hurried over. He peeked inside the bag and grinned. “Factura!” He began to dance around, making both of them smile.
Simon took the goodies in the bag out and arranged them on a paper plate the hotel had supplied. Now Janelle was able to translate the word. Pastries.
She recognized the medialuna that resembled croissants and were similar to what Sofia had served her at the ranch. Alejandro pointed to the flaky layered buns. “Libritos,” he said as if he were a language
teacher.
“Libritos,” Janelle repeated, pretending to be the student.
Next he pointed to the long pastry that resembled a giant french fry. “Churros.”
“Churros.”
His finger moved to the miniature sugared buns stuffed with something creamy. “Bolas de fraile.”
Simon grabbed the boy’s wrist before he could touch any of the delicacies. “Have you washed your hands?”
He nodded vigorously.
“All right, then.”
They sat down and began to eat. Janelle bit into the bolas de fraile and sighed. “What’s this filling?
“Dulce de leche,” Alejandro said with his mouth full, his dark eyes twinkling with delight.
“It’s caramelized milk,” Simon explained “It’s everywhere here.”
“Well, it’s delicious. Thank you for such a decadent breakfast.”
That coaxed a smile from him. “What do you usually have for breakfast?”
In the cabin, they’d eaten what he’d brought from the town where he got supplies. Fruits and oatmeal mostly. Simon didn’t know what her typical habits were. The idea that he wanted to surprised her.
She thought a moment. She’d never been big on breakfast. “Yogurt, coffee, orange juice. Nothing special.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Oh? She ate another pastry and watched Alejandro wolf down five. “He’s got a good appetite.”
“That he does.”
They finished the rest, cleaned up, and Simon pulled something else from his bag. It looked like a child’s video game. “This is for you, kid.”
Alejandro rushed up to him and snatched it from Simon’s hand. “Pac-Man. Copado! Thank you, Señor Rodriguez.” And he bounced over to the bed and started playing.
“That should keep him occupied.” Simon said to her and led her to the far side of his bed.
They sat down, and he removed the last surprise from his bag.
Janelle sucked in her breath. “A cell phone.”
“It’s a burner. Thirty days, five gigs of data. Unlimited talk and text, but we won’t be needing that. I had to use my DNI card to buy it, but I don’t think that will be a problem.”
She hoped not. But she bit her lip as she watched him connect to the hotel’s wifi and bring up a search engine. He entered the name Tomas Torres.
Escape from Danger Page 7