by Jeff Shelby
“Oh, save it,” she said, glancing at him. “Your pretty boy rep will be fine.”
“I don't care about my rep.”
“Sure you don't.”
“Tell me about her friends,” I interrupted. “Who is she hanging with?”
“I don't know,” Isabella said. “Just...friends.”
“Where does she live?”
“I don't even know. And I seriously don't see how any of this is your business. So she was at the ranch. Maybe she was looking for me. I don't know.”
“So you did recognize her when you saw the picture?” I asked.
She hesitated again. “Yeah.”
“Why didn't you say so?”
“Because of shit like this,” she said, waving her hand in the air. “Because if I said I did, my dad would've locked me in my room for a month and asked me a million stupid questions. She didn't do anything wrong, did she?”
“Tell me exactly when you met her?” I asked.
She sighed again. “This is such bullshit.”
I waited. I could wait her out all afternoon if I had to.
She must have realized this because she expelled another loud breath and glared at me. “Fine. Like three weeks ago.”
I turned to Javier. “When did your uncle arrive?”
Javier looked at me, confused. “My uncle? Arturo?”
I nodded.
He thought hard for a few seconds. “A couple weekends ago.” He counted off on his fingers. “Actually was three weekends ago, so about three and a half weeks ago. But why does that matter?”
“Why does any of this matter?” Isabella said, her words filled with derision and annoyance.
“It matters because your friend Sabrina…?” I said, looking at her and making sure I had her attention. “I think she's involved in whatever is happening to your uncle.”
THIRTY TWO
Isabella finally looked like a teenager instead of a woman ready to hit the clubs on a Saturday night. Her defiant posture had melted away, replaced with defeated, rounded shoulders and eyes that didn't believe what she was hearing.
“Sabrina?” she said. “And Uncle Arturo?”
“I don't know for sure,” I explained. “I'm trying to put things together. Whoever called your father asking for a ransom amount for his release was a woman. That's fairly unusual in the kidnapping game. But the photo was the first thing I thought of when your father told me about the call.” I looked at Isabella. “And now it sounds as if she showed up right around the same time your uncle arrived from Mexico. Feels too coincidental to me.”
“But...I don't get it,” Isabella said, glancing at her brother. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“He's saying she used you,” Javier told her.
“I'm saying maybe,” I corrected.
“He's saying that she started hanging out with you on purpose,” Javier continued. “That she was only friends with you so she could find things out about our tio.”
Isabella's face screwed up with frustration. “I don't even think we talked about him. Why would I?”
“You probably didn't need to talk directly about him,” I said. “She may have just wanted to know where you lived. I assume she knew that?”
Her eyes shifted away. “Yeah.”
“And did she ask at all about your dad? What he does for a living? Anything like that?”
She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Shit.”
“She was using you,” Javier said. “I can't believe you're so stupid.”
“Shut up, Javy,” she said, but there wasn't much anger behind it.
“You didn't know,” I said. “No one would've.”
She didn't say anything.
“So I need you to think,” I told her. “How much did you tell her about your family and the ranch? Did you tell her enough that it's possible that she could be involved in this? Does she know about your family members? Where you live? That kind of stuff.”
Isabella reached behind her head and rubbed at her neck like it was sore. Her shoulders were slumped forward now and she seemed smaller, more vulnerable. “I am so stupid.”
“Told you,” Javier said, shaking his head.
She didn't even bother to throw him a dirty look this time. Her chin was tucked to her chest and she was staring at the ground.
The line of cars continued to snake around the restaurant.
“Yeah,” she finally said. “We talked about that stuff. Probably just because I was complaining about it. I don't know if she just asked me or what. I was drunk a lot of the time I was with her.” She laughed and shook her head. “Maybe that's why she always had beer and weed to share. So I'd run my mouth.”
“Probably,” I said. “It would make sense.”
“So you're telling me that she's part of the group that brought our uncle over and then was trying to get more money from him?” Isabella asked, glancing up at me.
“I'm telling you that it seems like there's some connection,” I said. “It could be a coincidence but based on what you've said and what I know, it seems like she had some role. I'm not sure what it is, though.”
She dropped her head into both of her hands. “Dad is gonna kill me.”
“That's for sure,” Javier said.
“Let's find out what we can before we start worrying about who's gonna do what to who,” I said. “You don't know her last name?”
Isabella shook her head, still cradling it with her hands.
I started to ask another question, but my phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out. It was from a restricted number. I punched the button and answered.
“Mr. Braddock, this is Rebecca Standish,” she said. “I got a hit on your girl.”
THIRTY THREE
I held up a hand to Javier and Isabella and moved a few steps away from them toward my car. “You did?”
“I did,” she confirmed. “Not on her per se, but a relative. Aidan Dixon. He's definitely in the business, as we might say.”
“Sabrina is his daughter?” I asked.
“Sister,” she said. “And how do you know her name?”
“I've made a little progress.”
The line buzzed. “Apparently so. Alright. Sabrina Dixon. Age 24. Sister to Aidan Dixon, age 35. He's in our system as a guy who is somehow tied to an operation. And not a good one.”
“Are any of them good?”
“It's all relative,” Standish said. “There are some operations that run in the way you'd expect a business to. They treat their customers with respect and the transactions are on the up and up. There's no bullshit. The customers pay for a service and the providers provide that service.”
“You're making it sound legit,” I said.
“It's not legit,” she said. “There's nothing legit about it. But, as I said, it's all relative. There are a lot of weeds out there and you have to identify the ones that are the most toxic first. But this industry is like any other. You have some people who are professionals and who have no intent or desire to hurt the people they're transporting. And then you have the human garbage that treats these people as if they are commodities that can be thrown away. It's like gangs and unwritten rules, or organized crime and their internal compass.” She paused. “Even in an illicit enterprise, there are people who do it one way and those who do it another.”
It made sense. I just hadn't put it all together in those terms.
“Okay,” I said. “So Aidan Dixon is a bad guy.”
“Looks like it,” Standish said. “We don't have a ton on him. We popped him one time, but it was for something unrelated, so it didn't deter him much. Most of these guys, they do a good job of building buffers between themselves and the actual operation, so it can be difficult to get them. But we've gotten enough intel to know he's involved. I don't really get a sense from the file as to what kind of player he is. Big, small, or otherwise.”
“Is his sister?” I asked.
“Good question,” she said. �
�We aren't sure. We've tagged her as a known associate, obviously, and what we have seems to suggest she's involved to some degree. I'm just not sure how far in she is.”
“Meaning, she could be a regular player or just, what? Kind of an errand runner?”
“Correct,” she said. “I don't have anything that suggests she's one thing or another. But she's related to him and she hangs around him, so that suggests to me that she's got more than her toes in the water.”
I watched two cars fight for position in the drive-through line. The driver in the car that lost made an obscene gesture to the car that won. The winning driver just laughed and pulled up to the speaker.
“Okay,” I said. “Do you have an address or anything like that?”
“For the girl, I do not,” she said. “And I don't think I'm gonna hand you Dixon's file because I'm not sure you want to go in that far. Until we know he might be involved, I'm gonna keep that from you.”
I understood her reasoning, but it didn't please me.
“You have a line on the girl?” she asked.
“Possibly,” I said.
“Possibly.”
“Just not exactly sure. And, again, I think this is all supposition at this point. None of it is concrete yet,” I told her. “It could be a coincidence.”
Standish chuckled. “Sure.”
I really didn't have any hard evidence. We knew that Sabrina Dixon was the sister of a smuggler and she had been on the ranch. We knew Arturo’s friends recognized her. She had befriended Isabella. We knew a woman made the phone call demanding ransom for Arturo's safe return. We didn't know that Sabrina was the one on the phone. Was it likely? Yes. But we didn't know for sure.
“I'd like more information when you have it,” Standish said. “As a thank you for giving you this.”
“I thought this was a favor for Welton.”
“Meeting with you was the favor,” she said. “Giving you this was all me.”
“Got it.”
“And Mr. Braddock?”
“Yeah?”
“I know you have experience in this...field,” she said. “But I'm gonna just say this so that I know you've heard it. Dixon's not a good guy, but there are probably worse guys around him. If he's in the mix here, you could be out of your depth. You'd be smart to bring me in if you get to that point.”
“Noted,” I said. “Thanks for the call.”
“Look forward to hearing back from you.”
I punched off the phone, dropped it in my pocket, and walked back to Javier and Isabella.
“Was that about our uncle?” Javier asked.
I shrugged. “Not really. More about your sister's friend.”
Isabella looked up.
“Her last name is Dixon,” I said. “And her brother is a known trafficker.”
Isabella looked like she wanted to throw up. “Great.”
“No, it's not great,” I told her. “I think we're kidding ourselves that all of this might not be tied together. So we need to see what we can do to fix it.”
Isabella's knee was bouncing up and down with anxiety. “How?”
“Let's start by getting in touch with Sabrina.”
THIRTY FOUR
“You want me to call her?” Isabella asked, eyes wide with shock. “Are you kidding me? If she kidnapped my uncle, I don't wanna go anywhere near her.”
I held out a hand. “Hang on. Slow down. I'm not asking you to do anything yet.”
She looked rattled and I needed her to calm down before we did anything.
I reached for my wallet and pulled out a ten. “Javier. Can you go grab your sister something to eat and a shake?”
“I can pay,” Javier said standing.
I pushed the bill. “No, take it. If you want something, too, get it.”
He hesitated, then took the money. “Alright. What do you want, Iz?”
“To puke.”
“Fries? Strawberry shake?”
She sighed. “Yeah, whatever.”
He nodded and headed inside the restaurant.
I took his place on the bench. “Do you like her? As a friend?”
She considered that. “I guess.”
“You guess? I think it's either you do or you don't, you know?”
She sighed again. “Man, I don't know. She seemed cool, alright? But clearly she isn't. She was just using me. And now I feel like shit. So I guess I'll say no, I don't like that bitch very much right now.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. You should be pissed. So, hopefully, you want to help your uncle then. Especially if she was involved. Right?”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“How often do you talk to her?” I asked.
“Pretty much every day,” she answered. “We text a lot.”
“You hang out, too?”
She nodded again. “Yeah, a lot of days. She picked me up at school this morning. We grabbed lunch and smoked.”
“She texted you?”
She thought, then nodded.
“What did you guys talk about?” I asked. “After she picked you up, I mean.”
She thought again, running a hand through her long hair. “I don't know. The usual stuff, I guess. I was bitching about school. She was telling me I should just get my GED.”
“Did she ask about your family?”
She blinked a couple of times. “Yeah, actually, she did. She was telling me about the GED. And then she asked if that would be a problem with my dad. Like, would he be pissed about that or would he allow it. I said I was pretty sure he wouldn't like it.” She paused. “Then she asked if everything was cool at home.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her, no, things weren't cool,” she said. “That there was crap going on. She asked about it and I said I didn't want to talk about it. She asked me again and I got a little aggro with her because I'd already told her I didn't wanna talk. She backed off.”
I nodded. “Okay. I think that actually gives us an opportunity.”
“What do you mean?”
Javier made his way back to us and handed her a small bag and the shake. She set the bag on the table and put the straw in the shake. She took a long pull from it, then set it on the table. “Thanks.”
He nodded and sat down on the other side of her.
“What do you mean?” Isabella asked.
“It means it gives you a reason to text her and see if she wants to hang out again,” I said. “Something like 'hey, sorry I was kinda pissed earlier. You wanna hang now and I'll tell you what's up?' It won't look weird for you to text her with that.”
Isabella thought about it. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Or if there's something else,” I said. “If you have a better idea, do that. I don't care what you do. What I want is to get her here or to meet her somewhere else.”
“She probably won't come here,” Isabella said. “She doesn't eat meat.”
“Is there a place you guys go regularly?” I asked. “Some place that wouldn't be out of the ordinary?”
“There's a park,” she said. “Sort of near school. We've smoked there before.”
“Okay. Hold that thought and give me a minute,” I said, standing up.
She shrugged.
I walked over near the car again and called Carter.
“What now?” he said when he answered. “We just talked. Maybe we really are an old married couple.”
“Can you rearrange? I need you.”
“Said I could.”
“I'm still at the In-N-Out. Can you get up here?”
“You must be really hungry.”
“Yes or no?”
“Duh.”
“Okay. Just head this way. I'll text you directions to where we'll be.”
“Not at the In-N-Out?”
“No, but nearby. I'll send you the address.”
“I'll put on some makeup and do my hair, then I'm on my way.”
We hung up and I walked back over to Javie
r and Isabella. She had a fry in her hand but she made no attempt to bring it to her mouth.
“So you think you can get her to this park?” I asked.
Isabella shrugged. “Probably. I'll just see if she wants to smoke.” She started to say something, then stopped.
“What?” I asked.
She dropped the fry back in the bag and chewed on the tip of her fingernail for a moment. “Do you think she really just started being friends with me because of my uncle?”
I could tell it bothered her and that, I thought, was a good sign. It meant that even though she was in the middle of making some bad decisions, she still cared about her family and about the repercussions.
“I'd say it looks that way,” I told her. “I'm not sure at this point, but it seems like that's a pretty good possibility.”
She shifted her gaze to the ground.
“Did she come up to you at the party where you met her?” I asked. “Or how did you guys actually meet?”
Isabella looked back up. “She came up to me. I think she said she liked my earrings or something. But she came up to me.”
I didn't say anything.
“She set you up, Iz,” Javier said.
Isabella nodded slowly. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“But let's rectify it,” I said. “Don't get hung up on what's already happened. Let's see if we can fix it.”
She picked up her phone. It was in a pink and purple case, encrusted with sparkles. She flipped it over in her hand, looking at the screen.
“Yeah,” Isabella said. “Let's get the bitch.”
THIRTY FIVE
The park was fifteen minutes from the restaurant. We took Isabella's car. I didn't want to caravan over there, and I didn't want Sabrina thinking anything was off if she didn't see Isabella's car. Isabella drove, Javier sat up front with her, and I was in the backseat. Neither said much on the way there.
The park was up against a canyon hillside, a large rectangle set next to a subdivision of homes. The large swath of grass was interrupted only by a circle of sand in the middle that housed a swing set, a slide, and a jungle gym-type structure. I could see why it was probably a good place to meet and hang out; it was somewhat secluded and, at night, there probably wasn't much traffic.