Weaver just looked at him.
“Is she aware she’s being set up for failure?” Troy tried to keep his voice neutral, but some of the anger slipped through. He’d been mad as hell since Elaina had turned to him last night and politely ordered him to leave the crime scene. Searching high and low for her since eight this morning hadn’t improved his mood any.
“You underestimate her,” Weaver said now.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Elaina knows she’s being set up. How could she not? It’s been happening since she joined our office. She’s doing the only thing she can do.”
“Which is?”
“The impossible. Walk into a hostile environment. Provide a profile nobody wants. Track down the origins of a drug that can be obtained by any kid with a computer. She’ll do everything they ask her to, and more, and that’s how she’ll prove herself. And she doesn’t need your help, however much you’d like to give it to her.”
Troy’s gaze narrowed on the agent’s face. He caught the disapproval in his eyes, and something else, too. Disgust.
Weaver thought he was using her.
And maybe he was. Maybe this was about sex and Troy’s perverse attraction to a woman who’d made it clear she didn’t want him around.
Or maybe not. Troy wasn’t sure really. But he knew he was pissed at her, and knowing she was off somewhere on a fool’s errand—alone—when she’d caught the attention of a serial killer wasn’t something he could let go.
“I’ll find her,” he told Weaver.
“She’d be happier if you didn’t.” He opened the door and slid behind the wheel. The car coughed as he started it, and then he looked up at Troy. “But if you do find her, I suggest you stay out of her way. She doesn’t need any more stumbling blocks right now.”
“Stumbling blocks?”
“Oh, you know, like seeing her name on the news, having her professional reputation trashed in the media.” He slid on a pair of mirrored aviators. “Don’t cause problems for her. You won’t like the result.”
Troy laughed. “Are you threatening me?”
“You were listening. Good. Now, do us both a favor and leave Elaina alone.”
CHAPTER 12
In a loose-fitting sundress, Birkenstocks, and a string bikini, Elaina blended in with all the other drug tourists wandering the side streets off Mercado Juarez. And yet four hours into her mission, she had nothing to show for her efforts but a purse full of pills and sore feet.
Elaina scraped the hair off her damp neck and twisted it into a knot. She unzipped her purse and pulled out the crude map the cabdriver had drawn for her in exchange for a generous tip. She’d managed to locate all three veterinarias, but her inquiries had elicited nothing more than blank stares and shaking heads. Ditto her inquiries at the many farmacias she’d tried.
The stench of sweaty bodies and car exhaust wafted toward her as she turned a corner and stepped back onto a busy street. Pedestrians streamed up and down the sidewalks, pausing to haggle over brightly colored blankets and silver jewelry. Elaina passed an ice cream kiosk, a ceramics shop. She passed a rack of Western boots and inhaled the scent of freshly cured leather. She stepped around a little old lady sitting on a blanket in the middle of the sidewalk, her hand-painted crosses spread out around her. The woman called something after her in Spanish. Elaina turned to look and smacked into something solid.
“Oh!” She glanced up at a barrel-chested young man exiting a store.
“’Scuse me,” he said, and tipped his cowboy hat.
She noticed the sign painted on the window. FARMACIA. This place was three times bigger than all the other spots she’d visited. And she’d struck out with the animal places, so why not try?
A group of older couples filed out, probably retirees from Texas stocking up on cheap meds. Elaina held the door open for them and then slipped inside.
A large box fan stirred the air. In contrast to the ovenlike conditions outside, the store’s interior was a comfortable eighty-five degrees. Elaina’s shoulders relaxed as she glanced around to get her bearings. Tables piled with T-shirts. Cheap liquor. Giant coolers brimming with ice and beer. And on the back wall, a long white counter with hundreds and hundreds of little boxes and bottles stacked behind it.
She made a beeline for the counter, mentally rehearsing her lines as she went.
A muscle-bound twenty-something and his girlfriend were hunched over the counter reading the labels on several little white bottles that Elaina guessed contained steroids. She sidled up next to them and caught the eye of an idle clerk.
“Hola.” Elaina smiled at the middle-aged woman, who wore a lab coat but probably had nothing in the way of medical training. “Tiene Viagra, por favor?”
“Sí, sí.” The woman plucked something off the shelf behind her and placed it on the counter.
Elaina smiled. “Gracias. Y tiene ketamina?”
The woman looked blank.
“Er, Ketaset? Ketalar?” She went through the other medical names she’d gleaned from the Internet chat rooms she’d visited last night. Not a glimmer of recognition.
Elaina sighed and took out her wallet.
“Oxies?” asked the woman.
Elaina shook her head.
“Percs? Vicodin?”
She shook her head again, and the woman rang up her purchase. Elaina left the store with a knot of frustration in her chest and another batch of pills she didn’t need.
“You looking for some K?”
She turned around. The couple that had been at the counter was leaving the store now.
“Do you know where I can find some?”
“El Toro,” the man said. “They’re pretty chill about selling it without a script, too. Take a left at the corner.” He slung an arm over his girlfriend’s shoulder. “And if you want something to do tonight, come to Boingo’s.”
“Boingo’s,” she repeated.
“It’s on the beach,” the girl added. “We heard it’s cool.”
“Thanks,” Elaina said. “I’ll check it out.”
They sauntered away, and Elaina headed for El Toro. She’d expected another pharmacy but found a veterinary supply store instead. In the window were several cages containing emaciated dogs, a tired nod to the store’s supposed purpose. She repeated her polite inquiry, and this time, the clerk placed a small glass vial on the counter in front of her.
Elaina picked it up and looked at it. The chemical she held in her hand could put a cat to sleep. Could send ravers into a “K-hole.” Could subdue a victim for murder.
“Esta bien?”
She glanced up at the clerk, a grandmotherly-looking woman with soft brown eyes and a friendly smile. Elaina nodded, and excitement surged through her as she opened her purse.
After paying for the ketamine, she slid a crisp hundred-dollar bill from her wallet, and the clerk’s eyes widened. Elaina unfolded a piece of paper containing twelve mug shots—the top twelve candidates on her suspect list. All fit her profile. All had violent criminal histories. All had traveled to Mexico in the past year.
“Conoce algien de eso foto?” Elaina asked. “Una cliente aqui?” It was the phrase she’d been rehearsing in her head all day but hadn’t had a chance to use. Do you recognize anyone from this photo? A customer here?
She moved the page across the counter, and the woman glanced down at it.
“Sí.”
Elaina slid the hundred toward her but kept her finger on it. The woman cast a wary glance over her shoulder, and Elaina held her breath, praying that whomever she was worried about wouldn’t come waltzing out here.
She turned back to Elaina and started to say something.
A lab-coated man stepped through the curtain. His gaze locked on Elaina’s and instantly turned suspicious.
Elaina glanced at the clerk again, but her face had become a blank mask. Reacting on instinct, Elaina scooped her hundred and her mug shots into her purse, along with her purchase. The man eyed her co
ldly from behind the counter as she left the store.
Elaina wove her way back toward the main strip, more deflated than ever. She’d been so close, and the lead had just disappeared. Maybe she’d go back later. But she had a hunch the woman wouldn’t be nearly as willing to help her.
Elaina sighed. It was now dusk. Her energy was spent. But worse than her fatigue was the feeling of failure that seemed to grow heavier with every step.
All last night she’d stayed awake, cruising chat rooms and Internet sites. She’d learned more about the rave scene than she’d ever imagined possible, including where and how to buy practically any club drug out there. She’d learned that Troy had been right—Matamoros offered a cornucopia of legal and illegal meds, provided someone knew where to look. And Elaina had no doubt their unsub knew precisely where to look.
He’d been here. Elaina felt certain of it. She just needed someone to ID him. Ketamine was available on the Internet, yes, but she didn’t believe the unsub would want to leave a paper trail, not when he could get the drug cheaply and anonymously down here.
She took a right, then a left, weaving her way through all the shops and kiosks. They’d begun to blur together, an endless parade of ponchos and leather goods and brightly colored piñatas.
She stopped short. A familiar image caught her eye. A yellow-and-purple sticker on the window just up ahead.
She approached the dragonfly and stared at it, just to be sure. It was the same design as she’d seen on Dr. Lawson’s bulletin board—a design remarkably similar to the pendant she’d seen in the morgue.
Elaina’s pulse quickened as she peered through the glass window. An Internet café. Young people lounged around low tables and pecked away at computer keyboards. The familiar, high-pitched buzz of a coffee grinder reached her ears.
She stepped inside and smelled the tantalizing aroma of fresh coffee. She wasn’t sure what she was doing here besides taking a break, but she couldn’t just walk by. She needed to know what that symbol meant. And her system was screaming for a jolt of caffeine. She dropped her bag onto a table and sank into a chair.
“Get you something?”
Elaina looked up into the twinkling eyes of a young waitress. She spoke and looked like an American, and her purple braided pigtails made Elaina think of a punked-out Pippi Longstocking.
“An iced coffee, please,” Elaina said.
“Anything to eat with that?”
“No, thanks. But I have a question for you. That sticker on your window. Do you have any idea what it means?”
She followed Elaina’s gaze. “The dragonfly?”
“Yes.”
She shrugged. “Beats me. I think one of our day-trippers put it there.”
“Day-trippers?”
“You know. Backpackers. Hikers. Tourists who like to trip.”
“Oh. Got it.”
“They come over the bridge every day. Some stay. Some don’t. Some of them wear T-shirts sporting that dragonfly. I’m not really sure what it means.” She smiled. “Sure you don’t want anything to eat?
“No, thank you.”
Elaina turned to stare at the sticker. The symbol meant something, something important. She just didn’t know what.
When the waitress came back, Elaina had her photo lineup out on the table.
“Listen, could you help me with something? I’m down here looking for someone. Have you seen any of these guys around? Maybe they’re day-trippers?”
The woman placed the iced coffee on the table and gazed down at the photos. She gave Elaina a wary look. “Those are mug shots.”
“They are.”
“I guess that makes you a cop, huh?”
Elaina didn’t say anything. She just watched Pippi as her wheels turned. To cooperate, or not to cooperate? Elaina could tell she recognized someone, or it would have been a split-second decision.
Come on, Pippi. Give me a break here.
The woman’s eyes slid to the bottom row of faces. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Sure you do. All these guys have been through here recently,” Elaina said, although she didn’t know that for sure. “You’ve probably seen at least a few of them.”
She bit her lip. She darted her gaze around the room.
Elaina held her breath.
“This one guy…” She pointed a black fingernail at the bottom left mug shot, and Elaina’s pulse jumped. Noah Neely. The kid with blond dreadlocks who’d been hanging around the marina that first day. “He was staying at the youth hostel across the street around spring break.”
“Spring break? Of this year?”
“I think.” She glanced around the room again, obviously nervous. A man in a red baseball cap near the door was staring at them, but he looked away.
“I don’t know his name.” She shook her head. “He was in here a lot, though. Cheap tipper, too. I remember that.”
After chugging her coffee, Elaina left the waitress a huge tip, along with a business card. Reenergized, she slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the hostel. Finally, a solid lead. Not only did Neely fit her profile, he’d been present at the marina when the sheriff had brought in one of the victims.
Some perpetrators like to watch the police work. Some even insert themselves into the investigation. Her father’s words echoed through her head, and she felt a renewed sense of confidence.
At the hostel, check-in required a twenty-dollar deposit and no ID.
“Cheets?” the manager asked her.
“Excuse me?”
“Cheets? You want cheets? For your bed?”
“Sí, gracias.”
“Ten dollar.”
Elaina passed him another bill. Then she pulled her crumpled map from her purse and flattened it out on the Formica.
“You know of any veterinarias near here?” she asked. “Besides these?”
He gave her a knowing look. “Ten dollar.”
Elaina handed over another bill. He took a ballpoint pen from behind his ear and drew an X several blocks from the main square. “Here,” he said. “Cheap drogas.”
At last she was getting somewhere. She felt heady with excitement as she stuffed her wallet back into her purse, along with her room key. She suspected she’d have roommates, and she intended to pump them for information.
“Gracias,” she said. “I’ll be back for those sheets.”
Outside, she was once again surrounded by noise and heat. She wended her way through the side streets, trying to follow the map. Darkness was falling. Some of the shopkeepers were shutting down for the day, packing up merchandise and pulling aluminum doors down over their storefronts. Elaina kept walking. Four more blocks to go. The distance between storefronts increased. The sound of traffic near the square diminished. No veterinarias. No farmacias. Not even a trinket shop, just empty doorways punctuated by foul-smelling garbage cans and graffiti.
Elaina’s skin prickled. She wasn’t in a tourist neighborhood or anything like one. She needed to go back.
She turned around and saw a brief glimpse of red in a doorway. She hesitated, then kept going. Gone were the college kids, the backpackers, the sun-browned women with their dresses and straw hats. She gripped the strap of her purse and set her sights on a distant intersection. Cars. Stoplights. If she could just get there—
Ssst. Ssst.
The sound came from behind her.
Ssst. Ssst.
She walked faster.
Ssst. Ssst.
Forget the intersection. There was a T-shirt shop two blocks up. If she could make it there—
A man stepped into her path. Dark. Bulky. A red ball cap pulled low over his eyes.
CHAPTER 13
Elaina’s heart skittered. She tried to step around him, but he blocked her way.
She moved without thinking—upward thrust to the jaw, knee to the groin. A surprised grunt, and he went down. Her brain screamed Run! at the same instant something seized her arm and wrenched it behind her back. He grabbed her arou
nd the waist, and panic set in as her heels scraped over the pavement. He was dragging her into an alley. She bucked and kicked. Her face struck brick. Pain and shock rocketed through her. She saw a glint of metal. Felt the purse being ripped from her arm. Then a hand was in her hair, yanking her head back and exposing her neck. Something cool and hard pressed against her skin.
Her eyes stung. Hands groped her. Too many hands, pulling, tearing. Too many, too many, too many. She heard a shrill noise and realized it was coming from her. Her cheek was pressed against the brick, and then a knife slid into her field of vision. Sour breath in her face. Words she didn’t understand. Something burned at her temple. She tried again to kick, but her heel connected with nothing but air.
Everything jerked backward. She landed on the concrete, and pain zinged up her spine. Grunts, groans, curses. She scrambled to her feet as one of her assailants raced off. Red baseball cap. Her purse in his hand.
“Run, Elaina!”
She stumbled backward, into the wall, and gazed down at the twisting pile of bodies in the middle of the alley. Troy. He cursed and struggled underneath her attacker.
She jumped on the man. She hooked an arm around his neck and jerked against his windpipe with all her might. The guy tried to pull her over, but she tightened her hold. Troy rolled out from under him. The man got to his feet, taking Elaina with him. Troy’s fist smashed into his face with a sickening crunch. Then a flash of metal. He made a swipe with the knife, then another. Troy leapt back, and the man exploded from her grasp. He shot down the alley and disappeared around a corner.
Elaina stared after him, gasping. Her mind reeled. She whirled around, searching for other threats. Trash cans. Doorways. A flutter of movement as a woman ducked into a building and slammed the door.
“Elaina.”
She flinched at the touch and spun around.
“You’re bleeding.” Troy took her arm and towed her toward the noise and lights of the tourist zone. He pulled her into an empty alcove where a bare lightbulb shone down from above a door. She glanced around for any sign of the two men, but they were long gone.
Troy took her face in his hands and turned it. “Shit, he got you.” His thumb moved over her cheek. The skin at her temple burned, and she remembered the blade.
Tracers 02 - Unspeakable Page 16