Murder in the Tenderloin (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 2)

by M. L. Hamilton

  Magdalena ignored her. When they turned the block, she pulled open the door and followed them.

  Rain pounded down and the wind pressed the thin cotton of her shirt against her. She didn’t have time to grab a jacket. They were walking rapidly and she could hear them cursing as they went. Their movements were tense and jerky.

  They turned into an alley. Magdalena waited at the opening until they disappeared from sight. Then she followed. The alley was dark and the rain pattered on the tops of the dumpsters. She edged slowly, afraid they might come back this way and she wouldn’t hear them in the downpour.

  The alley ended. They were nowhere in sight. Her eyes chanced across the ŁĦȺ tag by the backdoor of the building. Someone had nailed boards across it to keep people out, but one of the boards had been pried off and another was pulled away.

  She crept to the door and listened. She could hear them swearing inside, but she couldn’t see them. Her heart was racing and she realized she was nearly hyperventilating. Venus was right. They would kill her if they found her following them, but she had to know what happened. She had to know. It was the only path home.

  Easing her way past the boards and into the building, she found herself in a hallway. Crossing the hall, she peered out at the lobby of a hotel. El Griego and El Miedo had met up with two others. One was a hulking brute of a man with blunt features and a massive build. The other was El Viento. She would remember him anywhere.

  She shivered, not from the cold or the rain. She would never forget what he did to her, how cruel he’d been. She wanted to shrink away and hide, but she couldn’t. The path to home lay through him. If she could stop him, she could go home.

  The ceiling of the lobby rose high above them and a skylight in the roof provided a bit of light. Across the lobby were the front doors and light from the streetlamps filtered into the room. El Miedo was begging. She could tell by his hunched shoulders and the clasping of his hands, but she couldn’t really make out the words. The rain was drumming too hard on the skylight.

  “Enough!” shouted El Viento. “Why was there no guard in my warehouse?”

  Magdalena had wondered the same thing.

  El Miedo mumbled something, ducking his head.

  El Viento looked at the man next to him. “I don’t ask for much, do I, Jorge?”

  “No, jefe,” said Jorge.

  “I’m a reasonable man, sí?”

  “Sí, jefe.”

  “I give you a good cut of business. I give you weapons. I give you manpower. All I ask is that the shipment be delivered on time and then, that it be guarded.” He pulled out his gun and pointed it at El Miedo. “If not, you die.”

  Magdalena held her breath. She wanted to look away, but she was paralyzed.

  “Please, jefe,” begged El Miedo, “please, let me explain.”

  El Viento raised the gun, pulling the muzzle from El Miedo’s head. “Explain?”

  El Miedo made some strange motions with his mouth and hands, then he bolted. He took off running across the lobby. Magdalena expected El Viento to shoot him in the back, but he calmly turned to El Griego and handed him the gun. “You do him.”

  El Griego hesitantly took the gun.

  With a cold smile, El Viento turned in the direction El Miedo fled and he began walking. El Griego and Jorge followed.

  When El Miedo came to the front doors of the building, he tugged on them, but they’d been boarded shut. Frantically, he picked the left hallway and began running. El Viento and the other two men walked a bit more rapidly after him.

  Magdalena knew she should leave. This was far worse than what she’d expected. She rose from her crouch and turned toward the backdoor, but a shot rang out in the building, echoing away into the distance. She stopped and listened, wondering if it was thunder.

  She knew she should go. The path of retribution had been set in motion and it was moving far more quickly than she’d expected. In fact, she wanted to stop them from peddling their drugs, but she didn’t want anyone shot.

  And yet, she turned toward the lobby and peered around the perimeter. She saw no one. Drawing a deep breath, she sprinted across the open areas, past the disabled elevators, beneath the vaulted skylight. She slowed as she came to the other side and dove behind an upright steel garbage can, then she crept to the opening, peering into the gloom.

  The hallway was so dark, it was hard to see anything. Three fourths of the way down, she saw someone standing in a doorway. An exit sign blinked overhead, the bulb dying. Magdalena tried with all her might to see, but it was impossible.

  She crawled on her hands and knees beyond the garbage can and strained to hear in the darkness. The rain drummed on the skylight, but she could hear murmuring.

  “Do what I said. Now.”

  She didn’t hear an answer, then someone shouted, “Oh Dios mío, por favor!”

  “Do it. Cut it off.”

  A rush of bile rose in Magdalena’s throat and she scrambled to her feet. Backing away from the hallway, she ran into the garbage can. She twisted, trying to catch it, but she was off-balance and only succeeded in falling over it herself.

  She heard the clatter as the lid fell off, but she didn’t wait to see what would happen. Scrambling over it, she raced across the lobby, her heart in her throat, the sound of her own breathing like thunder in her ears. She tore into the hallway and dove for the backdoor.

  A shadow loomed in front of her as she pushed her way through and she fell back against the door with a scream.

  “It’s me! It’s me!” shouted the figure.

  Magdalena blinked, the rain pounding down on her, but she recognized Venus. Grabbing her arm, she dragged her down the alley. Venus tried to look behind her, but Magdalena didn’t want to know if they were being followed.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going? Punta, I’m talking to you.”

  Magdalena stumbled at the sound of his voice, but Venus pulled her up. The alley stretched away before them, glistening in the rain. Magdalena didn’t have time to think about what he’d do to them if he caught them. She just ran.

  Then something slammed into her back and she went sprawling. The asphalt came up and bit into her hands, the breath knocked out of her. She felt his fingers dig into her shoulders, forcing her to her back and she went crazy, pounding him with her fists, kicking wherever her feet could reach. His cold fingers closed over her throat and he squeezed. Lights burst in Magdalena’s head and she pounded on him, arching her back to try and throw him off, but she could feel his grip tightening, cutting off air. She fought harder, but his weight was forcing her down into the asphalt as if he thought he could merge her body into the alley.

  Suddenly Venus was there, clawing at his face. He released Magdalena and grabbed Venus’ wrists, but the weight of him was centered on her stomach. She sucked in air, gulping it and the rain into her mouth. Her throat burned, her fingertips ached, but air filled her lungs.

  Venus moaned, writhing in pain. He crushed her wrists in his hands, grinding her bones together. Magdalena knew he wouldn’t stop, not now. Like Joan of Arc, Magdalena had to rise to this battle and face whatever God had planned for her, but she wasn’t going to let this man kill her.

  She saw the gun in his waistband as he struggled with Venus and she reached for it. She’d never held a gun in her life and she couldn’t believe how heavy it was in her hands. He felt her grab the gun and turned to look down at her.

  Magdalena thought about her stolen innocence, the way he’d used her and sold her to others to do the same. She thought about her family and how she missed them, but could never return, never go back to being their daughter. She thought about her ruined future and the death of her dream to go to college. Finally, she thought about the only friend she’d made since coming to this city, Venus, the woman who fought now to save her, and she knew what she had to do.

  She lifted the gun to his head and...

  …she pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER 17

  Th
e precinct buzzed with activity when they returned. The ride back to the City had been tense and quiet. Marco drove the Charger and Peyton stared out the window, thinking about what Luis Garza had told her. Javier hadn’t said much either. He rode in the backseat and typed into his phone the entire time.

  Alvarez and Miller ordered them into their command center. Peyton sank into the chair at the round table and stared at the surface of it. She wanted to think of Luis Garza as an animal, devoid of human sympathy, but then he offered his life to protect his mother and sister. It didn’t square with the man who had so callously shot her father dead.

  I freaked and shot your papa.

  That explanation just wasn’t enough to warrant forgiveness, but his sacrifice for his family did force her to see him as something other than subhuman. Could her father’s death have been a horrible, horrible accident? A moment of panic that became lethal? How could she accept that?

  “Brooks!” snapped Alvarez.

  Peyton blinked up at her. “What?”

  “You talked to Rafael Peña and you didn’t disclose that to us?”

  For some reason that accusation rankled. “I was put on leave the moment you arrived. When did you want me to debrief you?”

  “The second we took jurisdiction of this case. I don’t think you appreciate how serious this is.”

  Peyton narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t feeling like playing nice right now. “Enlighten me.”

  “If we had known you interviewed Peña, we could have pulled his bank records, his green card, anything else. We could have moved on him sooner. Even with Garza in solitary, someone is bound to communicate this meeting to Peña. We’ve got at most a day or two before he knows we’re on to him.”

  “If Garza’s in solitary, who’s gonna get to him?” Peyton asked, although she probably could guess.

  “A guard on the take, another gangster. If we knew how the gangs communicated in and out of prison, we’d be able to stop it, but believe me, someone will inform him.”

  “Fine,” interrupted Defino. “What is our second option?”

  “I’ll bet he has an arsenal at his fingertips. We go in with SWAT and take them all out,” offered Miller.

  Peyton frowned. “We aren’t going to get a search warrant and find probable cause before we take him out? Out here in the wild west we do things a little differently and don’t go in guns ablazin’.” She couldn’t help the sarcasm. There was a lot for her to process right now.

  No one said anything for a moment, staring at everything else but each other.

  Finally, Alvarez stirred. “Of course we’re going to get a search warrant and do this legally, but I’ve seen how these things go down. Want it or not, it’s gonna be guns ablazin’.” She leveled an eye on Peyton. “Go home, Brooks, and stay there.”

  Peyton’s frown deepened. “Go home?” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “I’m not going home.”

  “You’re still on leave.”

  “The hell I am. You took me off leave when you demanded I speak with Garza. You can’t put me back on now. That genie ain’t going back in the bottle, lady!”

  Alvarez and Miller stared at her. A number of the other tech guys stared, but Peyton didn’t back down. Across the table, Marco was fighting to hide a smile.

  “You are insubordinate, Brooks.”

  When Peyton didn’t take the bait, Alvarez turned to Defino. “Your call, Captain.”

  “Brooks is reinstated,” Defino said without hesitation.

  Alvarez turned to one of the tech guys. “Get us a map of Nob Hill, just overhead, so we can pinpoint the house. Miller, get to work on those warrants.”

  “On it.”

  Peyton felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She slipped it out and thumbed it on, holding it below the table so Alvarez wouldn’t notice. She didn’t want to be called insubordinate again. She blinked in surprise at the message.

  Help! El Viento at hospital!

  Peyton leaned forward and slid the phone across to Marco, giving him a pointed look. He caught it and studied the text. Then his eyes lifted to meet Peyton’s. As they both rose to their feet, Maria opened the conference room door, forcing Alvarez to halt in her planning.

  “A call just came in. One dead at Our Lady of the Blessed Sacrament,” said Maria.

  “What? What is that?” demanded Alvarez.

  Peyton and Marco were already moving. Defino was on their heels.

  “That’s the psych hospital where Olivia Walker and our Jane Doe are staying,” the captain said.

  Alvarez dropped her map and reached for her suit jacket as Miller headed for the door, still talking into his phone.

  * * *

  Jake climbed out of the squad car, looking around. They’d parked at an emergency exit on the side of the hospital. A utility drive cut along the edge of the hospital, dropping to a cargo door. Cops milled about the utility drive and yellow crime tape roped it off from the general population.

  Jake followed Holmes and Bartlet under the tape and to the emergency door. It was one of those solid affairs with no windows and a sign labeling it Emergency. Holmes pulled it open and motioned Jake through. Jake clutched the camera case and moved from the overcast day into the darkness of the hallway.

  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but then he saw the body. A middle aged man dressed in a security guard uniform lay crumpled in a half-sitting position against the wall. A streak of blood ran down the wall and pooled beneath him. A gaping wound in his throat easily gave away the cause of death.

  Jake fought a rise of bile and looked around at the cops. Peyton and Marco were talking to the DEA agents and the captain. They were arguing about something. Jake unhooked the camera bag and set it on the ground, then pulled out his camera. The solid weight of it allowed him to compartmentalize the horror of his surroundings.

  And once he started taking pictures, he felt the calm seep into him. The dead body became nothing more than a prop for the art. It had to be that way or he wouldn’t be able to do it. Despite the horror he saw on this job, for the first time he felt like he was part of something bigger than he was, something more important.

  As he took pictures, he edged back toward Peyton and Marco. She was talking emphatically, but she was trying not to be overheard.

  “I’m telling you it’s our best bet. We’ve found Venus there before. Everything in this case is tied to that warehouse.”

  “She’s right,” offered Marco. “And if she isn’t, we haven’t lost anything. We’ve got to set up a perimeter around El Viento or this is going to get out of hand.”

  “How do you know it was El Viento who took the girl?” asked Alvarez.

  “The description the floor nurse gave us matches. Who else would do this?”

  “I don’t like it. It could be a trap.”

  “According to what you say, we’re walking into a trap no matter where it is. I’d rather this battle go down in an abandoned warehouse than on a city street.”

  The DEA agents and the captain seemed to consider this. Jake glanced at Peyton and found her leaning forward, her face bright with urgency. He shifted the camera just enough to get a picture of the five of them. The dynamics of the living would always be more fascinating than the dead.

  “Go,” said Defino. “I want SWAT out there as well.”

  Peyton nodded and turned to go.

  “Brooks?” called the captain.

  Peyton paused and looked over her shoulder at her.

  “Don’t hesitate to go for the kill.”

  Peyton nodded, then her eyes shifted to Jake. He held up a hand and she did the same, forcing a slight smile. Jake couldn’t make himself smile. After the shooting at Abe’s lab, he couldn’t look at her without thinking that all cops lived on borrowed time.

  * * *

  Venus watched as Jorge forced open the backdoor of the warehouse. He had driven down the alley behind the buildings, parking just below the stairs. She held Athena’s hands tightly, the girl curled in
to her side. She kept muttering, “It’s gonna be all right,” but as she watched that door open, she knew both of them were going to die in here today.

  Once it was braced open, Jorge ran back to the car and grabbed the passenger door. El Viento didn’t turn around. He sat facing forward in the passenger seat of the Lincoln. “Get out,” he commanded.

  Jorge wrenched open the door and grabbed Venus, hauling her bodily from the car. She thought to scream, but who would hear them out here? A homeless man? Athena was pulled out with her because she wouldn’t let go of Venus’ arm.

  Felix ran around the back of the car and took Athena’s other arm. The girl whimpered and buried her face against Venus’ shoulder. The four of them made a shambling, stumbling group as they staggered to the stairs and began to climb. Behind them came El Viento.

  They were forced down into the cargo bay of the warehouse. Venus could see the burnt out truck and she stared in amazement. She couldn’t believe anyone would have done that to the Aztecas. Then she knew. Athena did it.

  “Imagine my surprise when $5 million dollars of crack cocaine goes up in smoke,” said El Viento, walking around them until he faced them. “$5 million dollars. Even more shocking, the fire department wasn’t sure what the truck contained, because an accelerant was used. Still, they sent a sample to the lab. What do you think they’ll find when they get around to testing it?”

  Venus shook so badly, her back hurt. Athena was trembling nearly as bad. $5 million dollars? They were going to die.

  “The fire was contained to the warehouse. I thought one of my men set it. Had to be an inside job. In fact, I executed one of my best men because of it. Then again to my surprise, my other man gets his face blown off. Not by an Azteca, but by a whore.”

  Venus closed her eyes and hugged Athena to her.

  “I still wouldn’t have been suspicious, except I come to find out that this whore has been following my men.” Venus knew he was staring at her. Oh, God, she had caused this. She hadn’t wanted to give up Athena, but when he started burning her with his cigar, the pain had been so agonizing, and then he threatened to do it to her face. Of course, she hadn’t known Athena burned up the truck, but she’d known Athena followed them.