Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3)

by Giordano, Lauren

  The ghost Marisol wanted to drift away from the crowd. From the noise. From the terror she was experiencing. She wanted to be invisible— so no one would be staring at her, talking about her in hushed tones— about her loss. About her trauma. So no one would bear witness to this unspeakable pain.

  Even in this otherworldly state, Mari was capable of bargaining. With God. With anyone who could bring Hector back to her. She would take a beating— worse than anything Nick had inflicted. Was she being punished for being so happy? Had she grown arrogant in her life? She would give up her happiness. Would that be enough? Her wonderful little boy. Her new building. And now— the perfect man. Was it all too much for one person to deserve?

  The only thing keeping Mari from splintering away from the broken woman in the chair was Hector. The thought of him. Trapped somewhere. Frightened. Cold. Hungry. Possibly being abused. Possibly worse-

  Bolting from her chair, Marisol finally felt her soul surging back into her body. And it hurt. Everything in her body hurt. But breathing was the worst— each breath twisting a knife through her chest. "I can't sit here. I've got to do something."

  Eyes wide, Sharon stared at her, finally nodding. "Anything, Mari. Just tell me. Tell me what you want to do."

  "I want Luz's file. The one we have here— and the one downtown. Do you know anyone who could get us a copy of that one?"

  Pursing her lips, Sharon slowly moved to her desk, snapping on the computer screen. "I think I know someone who can help us out."

  ***

  "Charlie— just listen to me." His fingers clenched tightly around his phone, Jeff wanted to hurl it against the wall. "I've got eleven solid leads on a license plate. Are you saying you don't want them?"

  It was probably better that his brother-in-law was safely out of reach right now, or Jeff would seriously be contemplating choking him. What good was having a cop in the family if he wasn't willing to help? "So— I give them to you, but you won't tell me who they belong to? We need help narrowing them down. Addresses would probably do that for us."

  Jeff was seething. It was a friggin' miracle. Big Pete had performed a miracle right here on earth. He'd laboriously documented every vehicle that had passed within a two block radius of New Beginnings.

  Hourly.

  For the past four months.

  And now that they had solid information, his dickhead brother-in-law was going all 'strict procedures' on him. "I know about the feds, Charlie. We're living this hell, remember?"

  Dragging his free hand through his hair, Jeff settled back against the building. Big Pete, Hank, his brother, and Harry . . . all stood waiting for Charlie to run the damn plates and give them a corresponding address. It wasn't as though they were planning a vigilante mob. Hell— the addresses alone would help them eliminate half the vehicles on their list. The people who worked and lived in the area and by chance had happened to park near the shelter in the past month. One thing was damned sure— Luz didn't live anywhere nice.

  Once they had a narrowed down list, the plan was to break up into groups and drive to each address. If anything looked promising, they could call the cops to raid the house. Instead, his brother-in-law was feeding him a state police line of bullshit about the bureaucratic mess that occurred when the feds became involved.

  All Charlie's excuses confirmed for Jeff was that the cops would be moving more glacially than he'd previously assumed. Pushing off the wall, he paced the length of the newly poured sidewalk. Not watching where he was going, he brushed past two men, nearly equal to each other in height and burliness. "Sorry," he said absently as he strode past. Barely six feet past them, he exploded, his fury nearly volcanic. "Dammit, Charlie— I love this girl. I love her son. You've got to help me."

  Cursing over his brother-in-law's adamant refusal to fork over the addresses, Jeff hung up, resisting the urge to hurl his phone to the pavement. Slowly turning around, he was surprised to see the two men still standing in the growing shadows. Watching him. Waiting for him. Taking a step closer, Jeff finally recognized one of them. "Manny— is that you?"

  Marisol's brother stuck out his hand. "Hey, Jeff. This is my father, Luis." Jeff turned to face the father of the woman he loved. Their introduction couldn't possibly have come at a worse time. Barely able to function, Jeff knew he was not acting remotely civilized. Wordlessly, he extended his hand.

  Luis Ortega held it, sizing him up in the rapidly approaching dusk. "You're the guy? With my Marisol?"

  "Yes, sir. I'm . . . the guy." The guy who was hopelessly in love with his daughter. With a woman who was inside this very building— falling apart. And there was not a damn thing he could do to help her . . . to ease her distress in any way. Yeah— he was that guy.

  Luis Ortega's face was nearly expressionless, except for his dark eyes, which seemed capable of burrowing deep within him— missing nothing along the way. Marisol had told him a little about her father— in preparation for this weekend. According to Mari's description, Luis Ortega had been tough, strict, loving and loyal. With the exception of his mysterious job, her father was an open book. What you saw was what you got. Judging by the current expression on his face, it was a prickly, brooding book.

  "How's my girl holding up?"

  His facade beginning to crumble, Jeff hesitated. "Not well. She's— holding up. But— we're trapped in a nightmare-" When he heard his voice begin to crack, he knew he'd be better off not speaking. As though his brother could sense the terrible vibe emanating from him, Jake appeared at his side. "Mr. Ortega? Nice to meet you. I'm Jeff's brother, Jake."

  Grateful for his brother's presence, Jeff felt Luis' eyes still appraising him. "Did I hear right? You said you've got license plate numbers?"

  "Yeah-" Jake turned to him. "Did you manage to get anything out of Charlie?"

  Joining them, his cousin Harry quickly explained to the Ortegas how they'd come up with the plate numbers and that once filtered, the lead was likely a strong one.

  "He won't give us the addresses. With the feds involved, he can't risk releasing that information. Says it's a leak and he'd get fired over it. But he promised to let us know as they make any progress." Jeff felt dull, listless. Unable to help Marisol.

  He was surprised a moment later when Luis patted him on the shoulder. "Give 'em to me. I can get the addresses. Then we go check each and every one of them." When Jeff handed him the piece of paper, Luis turned to his son. "Manuel— get my secure phone from the car."

  ***

  "Mari, love— how can I help you? What are we looking for?" Bridget Ortega sat with her daughter, wanting desperately to help. Yet, Mari knew there was nothing that could ever make her feel better. Not until she had Hector back.

  "I don't know, mama. I don't know. I just know I have to look." Marisol poured over the files on the table, as though possessed by demons. Like a bereaved person who suddenly feels the violent urge to scour an entire house to fill the aching void of a loved one's death, Marisol was processing her grief and desperation over Hector by maniacally reviewing data. Everything they had on Luz Covas. Every minute detail. Every absurd, stupid, inconsequential bit of information. Because it was all she had. It was all she could do.

  Her poor mother sat beside her, helpless to console her rapidly deteriorating daughter.

  "Find anything yet?"

  Jenna's soft voice pierced through the cottony thickness of her despair. Like a too-heavy blanket, smothering her, it threatened to suffocate her. "Not much. Lots of notes from DSS regarding her health . . . her fitness— or lack of it." Burying her head in her hands, Marisol felt tears burning the back of her eyes, clogging her throat. "Why they delayed the adoption for so long— I'll never understand."

  Mona Traynor joined them at the table. Behind her, her former husband carried a tray of sandwiches and drinks. While Marisol appreciated Linc's gesture, the thought of food— of anything in her stomach— made it roil with nausea. But the others were likely hungry.

  "What about the car?" Mona's que
stion penetrated the uncomfortable silence. "Would there be anything in a file somewhere that talked about her visits?"

  Her vision clouded, Mari raised her head. "What do you mean?"

  "Like in prison-" Pulling out a chair, Jeff's mother sat down opposite her. "You have to sign in and you have to provide your vehicle information. Would there be anything like that?" The older woman made eye contact with Sharon. "We'd be looking for anything we could cross-reference to a visit."

  "How could Luz even have a car?" Linc entered the conversation. "I seriously doubt she could afford one— given her lifestyle."

  Jenna's indrawn breath was audible. "What if the same person who drove the car today was also the person who brought Luz to her DSS appointments?"

  Sharon's seat scraped back, breaking the deathly silence. "I think you're on to something, Mrs. Traynor. We might even be able to get photo stills— from the parking lot cameras." Most state buildings have mounted cameras."

  Latching on to hope— to the slightest possibility that they could find the needle in a monstrous haystack, Mari released a shaky breath. "How long, Sharon?"

  "I got a few favors I can call in, Sugar. Let me make a couple calls."

  ***

  Pacing the darkened parking lot, Jeff nearly crackled with energy. Four hours had passed. The sun had set. More than anything, he'd wanted to go inside the shelter— to console Marisol. To hold her. Yet, he was also afraid. Of seeing her face. The devastation she must be feeling. And to not be able to help her. It was too much.

  So, he'd remained outside in the dark, telling himself she was surrounded by family, both hers and his. Telling himself they were working on leads. All while praying for something promising he could report to her. All while wishing he could just go to her.

  "Jefferson?" Luis Ortega's subtle accent was unmistakable in the darkness.

  "Sir? Do you have anything yet?"

  Luis approached him, again with those damned eagle eyes appraising him. This was not Jeff's finest hour. Hopefully, Mari's father would not hold it against him.

  "We've got the addresses, but I don't know this area. I want you to review them— make an educated guess on which ones are our likely targets. Let's rank them according to location."

  Jeff accepted the printout, wondering why Luis carried a printer in his vehicle. "Okay— we've only got eleven. These three are out in the county. Not bad neighborhoods. I can't imagine Luz has any friends left who lead normal lives. So, I'd rank these last."

  Through process of elimination, Jeff was able to get the total down to six possible addresses. After consulting with the motley crew in the parking lot, they narrowed the list down to four. Four addresses within the city's limits. Two of those were in the most notoriously violent projects in the city. The other two were in neighborhoods with slightly better economic conditions, but not enough so they could be ruled out as possibilities.

  "So— what's our next move?" Luis stood next to him as they reviewed a map of the city.

  "Each group is going to take an address and go check it out. We'll stay in touch by cell phone. If we can rule one out quickly, that team will provide backup at the next one on the list," Jeff explained. Pointing to an X on the map, he tapped the location. "In my opinion, this one is probably the most dangerous. I don't want any of the volunteers going there. I'll take it myself."

  Nodding, Luis pulled him aside. "You, me and Manuel," he corrected. "We're gonna take that one."

  Jake, Hank and Big Pete stood close enough to hear Mari's father. Pete straightened to his full height. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm goin' to that one, too."

  Manny glanced at his father as some unspoken message passed between them. Manuel nodded. "Right. I'll get your toolkit."

  ***

  "Jeff— where are you?" Marisol could barely contain the excitement in her voice.

  Fumbling with the map, Jeff managed to get the phone to his ear. Jacked up about what they were about to undertake, he was having trouble with what were normally easy tasks. At least Big Pete had the foresight to task Manny with the driving. Jeff was relegated to the backseat where he could cause the least amount of damage. Him being a basket case and all. "What's happening? Is Hector— did she bring him back?"

  "No." Her excitement deflated in the space of a single syllable. "But— we had an idea about Luz and where she might be holed up. Sharon was able to research visitors to the DSS. The parking lot is protected by cameras. Sharon's contact reviewed the film on the dates we knew Luz had appointments with her social worker. He was able to track a vehicle that was used on two of Luz's visits to DSS headquarters."

  "Was it blue?"

  "One time, yes. One time, no," Mari confirmed. "Did Charlie help you with the license plate idea? Because we have a few names and addresses."

  "Uh-" Sensing Luis' gaze on him as he shifted in the passenger seat, Jeff glanced up. Luis gave a slight shake of his head— translating loosely to 'if you give away my secrets, you're a dead man'. "Yeah— uh, Charlie helped us out. Tell me the names you have so we can compare."

  His heart already in overdrive, it nearly stuttered with joy when she relayed the names to him. Carefully exhaling a shuddering breath, Jeff kept his tone neutral. "Okay, Mari. I'll call you the second we know anything more-" He was patient while she reminded him to be careful. Despite knowing that every guy in the truck was listening in, Jeff didn't care. "I love you, too. Remember— don't leave the shelter."

  The silence in the truck was deafening as Jeff ended the call. "Mari has a list-"

  "Jesus, Jeff. We heard all that." Hank's irritable voice broke the silence. "Did you get anything?"

  For the first time in the last five hours, Jeff experienced a powerful sense of hope. "Hell, yeah. We got something. One of the names matches exactly to the address we're heading to."

  Resolve seemed to charge the atmosphere inside the vehicle. But it was Luis' determined expression that sent a twist of warning down Jeff's spine. He would not want to be on the receiving end of that expression. "Manuel . . . vamonos."

  ***

  Underbelly. Seamy. Forgotten. Without hope. Any of those words would describe their location perfectly. Perched on the edge of the weedy, abandoned lot behind a structure that some might have called a house, Jeff inhaled another breath of decaying trash as the smell carried on the summer breeze. There was no 'downwind' from this neighborhood. The stench of rotting garbage and a decaying infrastructure permeated the air they were forced to breathe.

  "Blue car in the driveway," Jake acknowledged. "Does it match the plate number?"

  Big Pete, binoculars to his eyes, strained to confirm the number, the only light a dim glow from the street lamp. "First three digits are right. Damn it, Manny— slow down."

  Lights out, Manuel crept slowly past the condemned structure before circling back around the block to view it from the rear. Sliding from the rear seat, Pete and Hank left the vehicle. As the night slowly came alive with people forced by the stifling heat onto their stoops, Luis wanted them on sentry duty so no one could sneak up behind the truck.

  "How we gonna do this?" Big Pete squatted next to the driver's window. "There's people roaming around everywhere."

  Using a pen light, Luis was busy digging through his duffel. "You, my giant friend, are going to watch our six when we go in the front. Someone needs to guard my truck or it will be on blocks by the time we come out." Pausing in his search, he pointed a stubby finger at the back door, hanging drunkenly from its frame. "Hank will be stationed by the back door." Glancing at the house again, he pointed to Jake. "You will stand at the corner of the house- I want you to watch the windows on the side. No one in or out."

  Hefting his duffel onto the seat between him and Manuel, he withdrew a gadget. "But before we do anything, I want to take a reading on the house." Flicking it on, he waited for the red light to turn green.

  Hank was mesmerized. "What is that?"

  Big Pete's grin was slow with recognition. "That's a damn
homing device." Admiration in his eyes, his gaze locked on Luis. "Infrared?"

  Luis nodded. "We're going to see if anyone is actually in this place before we hit it."

  Sensing Jake's eyes on him, Jeff returned his stare, shrugging. How the hell did Luis Ortega coincidentally have a heat-seeking sensor in his possession?

  Springing from the truck, Luis held the device in one hand as he slowly ran it over the exterior of the house. Without a word, everyone gathered around him. On the tiny screen, they witnessed two splotches of heat in the front corner of the house. "Okay- we have two on the left front of the house. None in the back." Raising the tool, he scanned back and forth across the second floor. Frowning, Luis focused again on the meter. "Right there. Upstairs . . . far right corner— in the back, I think. It's smaller than the two downstairs."

  Jeff's heart leapt all the way to his throat. "Hector," he whispered, not wanting to jinx the hope charging through him. "Please, let it be him."

  Luis took his time, scanning the house again. Jeff was jacked up— to go . . . to bust in— to race up those damn stairs and search for Hector. Yet, he knew they had to be cautious. Controlled. Disciplined. And tonight, he sorely lacked those qualities. The part of him that was forced to remain rational acknowledged real admiration for the degree of patience Luis Ortega was displaying. And the rest of him just wanted to shake the older man.

  "Hold up— look at this," Luis' quiet voice commanded. Watching over his shoulder, they observed a blob of heat enter the house. Tracing their movement, one of the two heat sources left the corner, moving to the back of the house, to the spot where a kitchen would likely be located in a normal house. The red dots huddled together in the kitchen for two to three minutes, before the heat source moved again to the front door and the other returned to the front corner. Five minutes later, the same transaction occurred.