Next to Jay, Smitty appeared puny. How often had Smitty flaunted his muscular physique and bragged to her about the amount of weights he could bench-press?
Jay’s attention zapped from Smitty to Lela. Then he crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge. Smitty followed suit.
Lela turned to hide her grin. Were they posturing for her benefit? A tingle budded near her heart, but Jay’s words squelched it.
“The text message said the package will arrive this afternoon. No specific time.”
As they neared the front door, Tomas called from the side of the house. “Señor, a vehicle is coming. A large pickup.” He pointed toward the gate.
Smitty checked his watch. “Must be Cooper. He drives a heavy-duty truck.”
“Está bien, Tomas.” Jay turned and headed to the gate. “I’ll let him in.”
“Let’s plan our next move, Mr. Smith. Come inside.” Lela entered the house and perched on a chair at the dining table where her laptop displayed an aerial view of the community around El Porvenir.
Smitty straddled a chair next to her. “I’m sorry for how I ended our relationship. How you doing?”
Not now. “You lost the right to ask.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Fine. Busy. Let’s concentrate on the job.”
“I can handle that.” Without further comment, he pointed to the screen. “Is this the house?”
“Yes. It’s surrounded by rolling hills. Even in daylight, we can get pretty close.” Two operatives discussing strategy, nothing more.
Footsteps on the tiled foyer announced the entry of Jay and Cooper.
Lela gave the agent a quick once-over. He matched the description she’d been given. Tall, solidly built, sandy-blond hair recovering from a military cut. A jagged scar ran from his left eye, across his cheek, down to his chin. Before she knew it, she rubbed her abdomen. Did he also have scars on his soul? She shook her head to dislodge the question and returned her attention to the computer screen.
Brief greetings dispensed with, the men circled the laptop. Since Lela had been to the house, she led the discussion. They agreed that Cooper would remain at the beach villa to receive the package. During the exchange, Jay leveled an intense gaze at her. Did he sense the tension between her and Smitty?
Armed with earpiece communicators, assorted weapons, and binoculars, Lela and Smitty climbed into the front seat of her pickup. Jay squeezed into the backseat.
Once out the gate and onto the street, Lela caught Jay’s guarded expression in the rearview mirror. “I know Bowen agreed you could accompany us, but—”
“Believe me. I won’t get in your way. You’re at the helm.” He scowled then relaxed his brow. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
Although Jay said the right words, Lela sensed he might be reluctant to take orders. Would his take-charge attitude hinder their efforts?
Smitty said, “Follow our lead and use the weapon as a last resort.”
Jay slumped against the seat. He hadn’t looked thrilled when Smitty handed him a rifle, which he handled like a poisonous snake. During his four years in the Marines, Jay explained as a communications specialist, he’d only fired at non-human targets.
She’d love to discover more about his time in the military, but right now, she focused on the winding road that transported them into the hills.
The thirty-mile trip passed mostly in silence. The closer to their destination, the quieter they became. On the dirt road, Lela drove at a turtle-pace to minimize their dust plume and then parked the pickup in the same arroyo she’d used before.
With communicators set to include Cooper at the villa, Lela and Smitty set off down the track.
Jay followed, his rifle slung over one shoulder. He paused and whispered, “Do you mind if we stop a moment to pray?”
Caught off-guard by his request, Lela turned and frowned. “Pray? Now?”
“What better time than when there are problems and trouble?” The sincere expression on his face convinced her of his seriousness.
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing we could do.” As she said the words, her grandmother’s face swam before her eyes. OK, Abuelita. I’ll pray with him.
Smitty shrugged and stepped closer.
Jay closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Father God, please protect Beth and the children. Lay Your hand of comfort on them. Guide our search for Chuck, and if it be Your will, may we find him soon. And keep all of us safe. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Silence surrounded them.
Jay cleared his throat. “I’m done. We can go now.”
His prayer stuck in Lela’s mind. What did he mean if it be God’s will? She shook the cobwebs from her conscience and nudged Abuelita’s memory away. No time for such nonsense.
They tramped along the dry creek bed startling vultures feasting on the carcass of a small animal. The cloying, boiled cabbage odor of death surrounded them. Lela pinched her nose and crept up a rise with the men close behind. Hidden by scraggy bushes, they peered at the house through binoculars.
“There are no vehicles out front, but that doesn’t mean the place is deserted. Let’s make our way to the rear of the house. There’s lots of vegetation cover back there.” Flat on her stomach, Lela slithered along the rise. Good thing she’d tended to the cactus pricks on her arm and her thigh wound. And her tetanus shot was up to date.
The men followed like silent shadows.
Coming alongside the shack, she gestured her intention to look in the window. The mattress and up-ended table remained. She hadn’t expected anything else. “I’ll run to the back door. Cover me.”
Muscles tensing in her gut, she dashed to the house and flattened herself against the stone wall. No sounds or movement from the interior, and Smitty’s voice in her ear reassured her he observed nothing suspect. She turned the door handle with her left hand and waited, pistol aimed at the dark opening. Silence.
Smitty joined her while Jay remained at the shack. Lela nodded toward the door, and Smitty barreled in.
She followed, doing a visual sweep of the kitchen.
An overflowing bag of trash filled the small room with pungent whiffs of rotting food. Further investigation revealed old furnishings in the living and dining rooms. Discarded beer cans and full ashtrays littered every flat surface. A dark bed sheet still hung on one wall and small droplets of dried blood sullied the scuffed floor around a wooden chair.
“Clear,” Smitty yelled from the far end of the hall.
Lela called for Jay to help them thoroughly search the house for clues.
“The coffee in this pot is kinda warm. They haven’t been gone long. I’ll check outside.” Smitty strode out through the front door.
Lela slipped on a pair of latex gloves and then located a roll of plastic garbage bags in the kitchen. After collecting the empty beer cans in one bag, she dumped the contents of the ashtrays into another, choking on the combined stench from the alcohol and stale tobacco. Don’t go there. He can’t hurt you now.
“What are you doing?” Jay asked.
Thankful for the nudge back to the present, she wrinkled her nose and held the objectionable bags to the side. “Collecting items for DNA and fingerprints. We might get a hit on the vehicle registration, but if we don’t, this could help identify the guys. Stash any small items in evidence bags. Oh, and put these on before you touch anything.” She handed Jay a pair of gloves, and grinned as he struggled to fit his large hands into them.
Jay lifted a corner of the threadbare rug and picked up a slip of paper. He examined both sides. “I found something. If I’m not mistaken these partial words are in Spanish.”
“Let me see.” Lela accepted the scrap from him. “You’re right. Nomb, Fecha de, Géner. Spanish for Name, Date of Birth, and possibly Gender. Is there anything else?”
This time, he flipped the rug over and snatched up another scrap. “Yeah. A corner of a manila folder.” With his back toward her, he straightened and drew in a breath.
“What’s wro
ng?”
“Nothing.”
His quick answer concerned her. Lela eyed him carefully. Did he stuff something into his pocket?
12
How could she work with an outsider who concealed evidence?
“Let me have it.” Lela held out her hand. “Everything you picked up.”
Turning slowly, Jay passed her the piece of folder. “There’s nothing on it except scuff marks.”
Lela checked. Sure enough, it was blank. She studied his expression. Blank like the scrap in her hand. Had she been mistaken? He wouldn’t hide evidence with his brother-in-law’s life in the balance, would he? With a shrug, she secured the items in separate evidence bags.
A fly buzzed Lela’s head. She swatted it and propped a hip against the tattered sofa. “Do you have any idea why these men abducted Chuck?”
“No.” Jay’s heavy tone did not back up his answer.
While opening a drawer in the side table, Lela peeked at him.
He furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” He pivoted. “Last month Chuck invited me to lunch. He asked a lot of questions about the national park in the Sierra de San Pedro Mártir. I decided at the time that he was showing an interest in my job. That’s where I recently concluded a project. But now I’m confused.” Jay tugged a folded postcard from his pocket and handed it to her. “I also found this.”
Lela smoothed out the card, a colorful photograph depicting the national park. “Are you suggesting Chuck has a connection to the kidnappers?”
His denim-blue eyes had lost their usual sparkle and his shoulders slouched. “I don’t know.”
Bursting through the door, Smitty wiped sweat off his upper lip. “It’s hot out there. Other than a bunch of footprints and tire tracks from two vehicles, I found nothing to help us. Anything in here?”
Jay pointed to the postcard in Lela’s hand and explained what he knew of its significance. “But I don’t understand why Chuck would have it with him at the beach. That doesn’t make sense.”
Smitty brushed at a smudge on his jeans. “The kidnappers might have dropped it. We need to let Bowen know.”
Static caught their attention. Cooper said, “Small package…didn’t see…open…”
“What’s in it?” Lela concentrated on the rough, wooden floor planks as if the action would make Cooper’s words easier to understand.
“You’re not…to believe…there’s…old…” Rustling sounds. “Wait…a message.”
Lela moved closer to Jay so he could hear. Wrong move. His spicy aftershave wrapped around her. She fought to concentrate on Cooper’s garbled words, fading in and out between the static. “It’s…ruse to…time to leave…hurry back…news from Bowen.”
Jay prodded Lela’s arm. “What did he say?”
“Cooper, we’re getting every other word or so. Do you mean the package was a ruse to keep us there while they escaped?”
“Yes.”
“We’re on our way. What did Bowen say?” Lela cast one last scan of the room and headed to the front door carrying the bags of empty cans and cigarette butts.
“Traced…name is…”
“I can’t hear you, Cooper. We’ll try to make contact again when we’re out of the hills.” Walking toward the gate, she turned to Jay and Smitty. “It sounded as if he said Bowen has an ID on the owner of the SUV. On the way out, let’s talk to residents in El Porvenir again. See if they noticed the vehicles, and if so, in which direction they were traveling.”
They jogged to the arroyo where Lela ripped off her gloves and secured the evidence bags in the metal toolbox on the bed of her truck.
Strapped back in the cab, the three investigators bounced along the rough road in silence. Attempts to communicate with Cooper failed.
Lela glanced at Jay in the rearview mirror. The concern she’d seen earlier had been replaced by an emotion she couldn’t quite name. He noticed her scrutiny and sent her a small smile, which evaporated before it traveled to his eyes.
Jay tapped Lela’s shoulder. “That piece of paper could have been left by the previous occupants. Doesn’t mean the kidnappers dropped it.”
“Anything’s possible. But it was clean. I don’t think it had been there long.”
Aiming an air-conditioning vent at his face, Smitty chimed in. “Did I tell you we found out who owns the place?”
“No.” Lela gave his leg a slap. “Getting forgetful in your old age, huh?”
Smitty chuckled. “Must be. Anyway, the house belongs to Juan Pedroza, who lives in Mexico City. His son, Javier, is named as co-owner.”
“Hmm. One of the men I saw last night was named Javier.” She tapped a finger to her lips. “Could be a coincidence. Lots of men are named Javier. But it’s interesting.” Lela parked the truck outside a tiny café and reviewed details of the vehicles in question for her passengers. “Smitty, you take that side of the street. Jay and I will talk with folks on this side.”
On the sidewalk beside Lela, Jay asked, “Does Smitty speak Spanish?”
“Yes. He’s fluent. How about you?”
“Pretty good. As long as people don’t speak too fast. But I’ll follow your lead.”
Fifteen minutes later, they met at Lela’s truck with information. A late model, black SUV and an old, green pickup had flown through the community about two hours earlier, heading south on the road to Ensenada.
With gaze periodically on the speedometer, Lela raced to the coast, knowing she had no guarantee of the vehicles’ destination. Once out of the hills, Cooper’s voice came through their communicators loud and clear. Lela switched her headset to speaker for Jay's benefit. Cooper repeated his earlier message. The package had contained a bunch of crumpled newspapers and a typed message, which he read. “Go back to San Diego and wait for our next phone call. Don’t contact the police. If you do, you will never see Chuck again.”
For a moment, silence reigned in the truck.
Then Cooper continued, “I read the message to Bowen, and he wants Lela and Jay back in San Diego immediately. IRO has traced the SUV to Walter Ferguson. Last known address in Sacramento. Smitty, you and I are to remain here in Ensenada until IRO can verify Chuck’s been taken to California. The note commanded Beth to return, but that doesn’t mean they’ll take him there.”
“I’ll bring Smitty back, and then head to San Diego.”
“Since I don’t have a car, I’ll have to ride with you.” Jay leaned on the seat. “If you don’t mind.”
Saluting his reflection, Lela said, “No problem.” As long as you don’t pray all the time. Lela slowed as they entered Ensenada. To avoid midday traffic, she swerved off the main drag and chose a back road to the beach villa, punched in the gate code, and parked next to Smitty’s sleek silver sports car.
When they entered the cool house, Cooper greeted them with a large paper sack in hand. “Hope you don’t mind, but I asked Marta to make sandwiches and selected a couple of canned sodas. I know how time-conscious Bowen is, and you must be hungry. This way you won’t have to stop for lunch.” He ran his thumb over the scar on his cheek.
“Thanks. I need to freshen up before we take off.” Lela found the restroom and shut the door. She had no problem working with the majority of IRO operatives who were men. At least the ones who followed orders. Cooper struck her as a confident, no nonsense co-worker. Although Jay wasn’t employed by the company, what would it be like to have him constantly by her side? If he’d continue to allow her to lead, maybe the alliance would work.
She washed her hands and face, reformed the ponytail, and scowled at her reflection. Her mother often told her she kept her beauty hidden under a tough shell. What beauty? Nose too sharp, eyes too far apart, bushy eyebrows that demanded frequent plucking. And now the purplish bruise.
Letting out a slow sigh, Lela straightened her shoulders. What did it matter? Hadn’t Jay driven all the way to Rosarito to have a meal with his ex-fiancée? She shrugged. They were working together on this one case. On
e case. Any attraction she felt for the guy was superficial. It had to be. No way would she fall prey to a handsome face again.
She opened the door and marched into the kitchen. It only took a moment to hand over weapons to Cooper. She couldn’t take them across the border. “Ready, Jay?”
Giving her a thumbs-up sign, he smiled, revealing deep dimples she’d not noticed before.
Her stomach flip-flopped. Why didn’t he smile more often? Stop. You don’t need a man in your life. Lela picked up the paper sack and examined its contents—anything to quiet her fluttering heart.
“Let’s go.” A duffle bag in one hand and his briefcase in the other, Jay followed her through the front door.
As Lela reversed her truck in the driveway, Smitty jumped on the running board and held on through the open window. “I’ll open the gate for you, sweet cakes.”
“Don’t call me that, Preston Smith.” He hated his given name, and she wanted no reminders of their failed relationship.
Smitty hopped to the ground, punched in the gate code, and waved as she drove off. She stopped at a gas station, all the while ignoring the inquiring glances Jay threw her way. But the instant they were back on the coast highway, she turned to him. “What?”
“Sweet cakes. Is there something I should know about you and Smitty?”
Gulping a swallow of soda, she kept her eyes on the road. “No.” Would he notice her reply had been rather sharp? “We’re…just friends.” She had to admit, it’d been difficult to act as if she and Preston were mere colleagues.
Jay bit into his cheese sandwich. “Ooh. Me thinks she—”
“Do you want me to drop you off at the corner?”
He answered with a prolonged, “Nooo.”
“OK, then. You’d better hush.” She couldn’t help smiling as she fisted the sandwich he offered her. Forget Smitty. Perhaps sharing the investigation with Jay wouldn’t be onerous, after all. As long as she kept her heart locked in a bomb-proof vault.
About twenty miles from the border, Jay’s cell phone rang. He checked the screen. “It’s my sister. Bethy, are you home?”
Day of Reckoning Page 6