Holly Lin Box Set | Books 1-3

by Swartwood, Robert

  He hurried out of the SUV, through the shattered windshield, following the three men who had left him to burn.

  Two of the men raced up the embankment toward the road. One of the men was taller, and he was the first one killed when he crested the embankment.

  Horacio heard a single gunshot and watched the tall man’s head snap back as he fell to the ground.

  The other man raised his rifle, fired off several rounds, but then two heavy rounds punched into his chest sending him somersaulting down the embankment back toward the SUV.

  “Psst!”

  The last remaining man motioned Horacio behind some nearby rocks for cover.

  Horacio started toward the man when an intense pain shot up his leg.

  He fell to the ground, grabbing for his wounded knee, just as he heard the echo of the gunshot.

  The other man ducked behind the rock, waited several seconds, then peeked up.

  A volley of bullets peppered the rock behind which the man hid. There was a beat of silence, and the man peeked up over the rock again.

  Like the man who’d been racing up the embankment, his head snapped back when the shooter released a single round.

  Horacio lay on the ground, looking toward the rocks, then toward the SUV that was still in flames.

  He grabbed for the pistol holstered to his belt. He tried to climb to his feet to run, but the pain was too intense and sent him back down to the ground. He started crawling toward the rocks.

  Up the embankment, several more gunshots tore through the early morning stillness. He heard shouting and then he heard more bullets and the shouting stopped.

  Then, suddenly, besides the sound of the burning SUVs, there was silence.

  Horacio paused. Was that it? Was it over?

  He glanced up the embankment and saw the figure standing there. It held a rifle at its side. It didn’t move for a long moment, but it was more than enough time for Horacio to raise his pistol.

  The figure was quicker, squeezing off a single round.

  Horacio’s other leg screamed in pain as the bullet tore into his thigh.

  He dropped the pistol and went to grab it again, conscious of the fact that the figure was making its way down the embankment. It wasn’t even hurrying, knowing that it had time. All the time in the world.

  Or no—that wasn’t right. The figure was limping, favoring its left leg. Based on the blood soaking the pant leg, the figure had been shot.

  Horacio’s fingers grasped the pistol and he raised it again, but suddenly the figure was right there beside him. The figure bent down and tore the pistol from Horacio’s grasp, tossed it toward the burning SUV.

  The figure wore all camouflage. And a black mask. Only the eyes could be seen, though with the lack of light, Horacio could hardly see them.

  It didn’t matter, though. Horacio’s gut told him this was the Devil. No doubt about it.

  Horacio knew he was going to die, so he figured what the fuck, might as well go out in a blaze of glory.

  “We tricked you, you son of a whore. You thought we were transporting them, but that was just what we wanted you to think.”

  The Devil said nothing. He leaned on his right leg while his left leg continued to bleed.

  Horacio hawked a loogie to spit at the Devil.

  “We outsmarted you, you piece of shit. You’ll never get to them.”

  The Devil set his rifle aside on the ground and stepped close to Horacio.

  Horacio said, “Get it over with and kill me, motherfucker. I won’t tell you shit.”

  The Devil reached for his belt, unsheathed a long knife.

  “You think death is the end?”

  There was something wrong with the Devil’s voice. It sounded muffled, though it wasn’t because of the mask. There was something internally wrong, like the man’s lungs and vocal box had been damaged.

  The Devil crouched down beside Horacio. He held up the knife, and slowly moved the blade so its tip touched the space between Horacio’s eyes.

  “There are some things worse than death.”

  Keeping the tip of the knife pressed against the space between Horacio’s eyes, the Devil used his other hand to pull up the mask.

  Horacio had been prepared for it, but the sight was still enough to make him cringe. Only it didn’t manage to distract him from his true intention—which was reaching for his own knife sheathed to his belt.

  With the Devil so close, Horacio jerked up and plunged the blade into the Devil’s side.

  The Devil grunted, fell to a knee. With his free hand, he punched Horacio in the face, then gripped the knife from Horacio’s hand and flung it away. The Devil rose up, pressing his hand against the new wound.

  Grinning, Horacio whispered, “I won’t tell you where they are.”

  The Devil grunted again and crouched back down, carefully this time, pressing the tip of the blade even harder against the space between Horacio’s eyes.

  “Yes, you will.”

  Thirty-Two

  I don’t have any nightmares, but I don’t sleep well either.

  I spend the few remaining hours of night on Gabriela’s bedroom floor. She’s given me pillows and a blanket, and I lie on my back staring at the ceiling. Carlos’s gun—a nine-millimeter Glock—is only inches away. If need be, I can grab it within seconds.

  Sleep comes and goes, and in the morning when Gabriela stirs, I’m already wide-awake.

  She sits up and looks down at me, frowning.

  “Didn’t you get any sleep?”

  “Maybe an hour or two.”

  “You look exhausted.”

  “I am exhausted.”

  “Is it because you’re on the floor? If you want, you can try to sleep in my bed.”

  “I’m okay.”

  I’m not, though, and it’s obvious. It’s been days since I got a full six hours of sleep. They say the body needs at least eight hours of sleep, and maybe that’s true, but in my line of work, I’m lucky if I can get six consecutive hours.

  Except I’m not in any line of work anymore. Those days are behind me. Now I’m … well, just what the hell am I?

  Gabriela takes a shower in the bathroom down the hall. I lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling, deciding what needs to be done next. When Gabriela enters the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, she tosses an extra towel at me.

  “Are you going to shower?”

  Oh yes.

  Standing under the warm water beating on my skin, I’m half tempted to close my eyes and fall asleep. But I don’t. I’m in and out, as fast as possible, and when I return to Gabriela’s room she has some clothes waiting for me.

  “We’re about the same size. You’re a little thinner than me, but I think these clothes will fit you.”

  I thank her for the thought but tell her I’ll just wear the clothes from yesterday again.

  She shakes her head.

  “Absolutely not. They’re filthy. And there’s even some blood on them.”

  In the end I relent. Her jeans and T-shirt fit just fine, and once I’m dressed and have my hair dry, I head downstairs to find Gabriela has woken her grandmother from her grandmother’s first-floor bedroom. She helps her grandmother into the kitchen. She pulls out a chair at the table and eases her grandmother down.

  Her grandmother smiles at me, as if just seeing me for the first time.

  “Buenos días.”

  I smile and nod and repeat the same.

  Gabriela drifts over to the refrigerator, glances back at me.

  “Would you like breakfast? We normally only have protein shakes in the morning, but we have some eggs and bread if you’d like that.”

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  Gabriela pulls out the milk and sets it on the counter, then reaches up into a cabinet and pulls down three glasses. She unscrews the top off a plastic container and uses a plastic scoop to fill each glass with some protein powder, and she fills those glasses with milk and stirs them with a whisk. She hands
the first glass to me, then takes the other glass over to her grandmother. Her grandmother smiles at her again, and there’s an instant where confusion flashes in her eyes before she blinks it away. Gabriela puts a straw in the glass and holds the glass so her grandmother can drink.

  I sip from my own glass, watching them.

  Once Gabriela’s grandmother finishes the remains of her protein shake, Gabriela rinses the glass out in the sink, sets it aside, and then turns back to her own shake. She drains the entire glass down in what seems like one nonstop gulp. She rinses out her glass, takes my empty glass and rinses it out too.

  I say, “Now what?”

  Gabriela glances at her grandmother, answering me with a low whisper.

  “Now I need to bathe her. Probably change her diaper, too. I’m sorry, but it’s probably going to take a while.”

  I shake my head.

  “No need to apologize. Take all the time you need. I think it’s great what you do for her.”

  Gabriela shrugs and offers up a somber smile.

  “She is the only family I have.”

  Gabriela’s grandmother sits at the table, staring into the distance, like she doesn’t even know we’re there.

  I ask, “Does anybody check in on her when you’re not home?”

  “I’ve hired a woman to check in on her for a couple hours each day. She helps clean the kitchen, do the laundry, that sort of thing.”

  “Have you given any thought about what I said last night?”

  Gabriela pauses, thinking about it, and smiles again. Only this time the smile is brighter.

  “Of course I’m not going to quit. I knew what I was getting into when I started this. It’s scary, but somebody needs to do it.”

  She pauses, looks at me again.

  “What are you planning to do today?”

  “I want to go back to La Miserias.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “I can give you a ride there once I finish here.”

  “I’ll find a ride.”

  Gabriela smiles.

  “You mean steal a ride.”

  “Borrow would be a less sinister word.”

  “I’m happy to drive you, but first let me bathe my grandmother. It won’t take too long, I promise.”

  Thirty-Three

  Carlos was already at headquarters when Ramon arrived in the morning. Ramon found him at his desk, leaning back in his chair, studying a crumpled piece of paper.

  Ramon said, “What’s that?”

  Carlos held up the crumbled item, and Ramon quickly realized it wasn’t a piece of paper but a photograph.

  “This was left behind by the two girls last night.”

  Ramon looked around the room at the other officers at their desks and in their cubicles. He motioned for Carlos to keep his voice down.

  Carlos rolled his eyes, leaning forward in his chair to set the photograph on his desk.

  “I’m pretty sure the Asian girl had it on her. I took it home with me last night.”

  Ramon stepped forward to give the photograph a good look. It was a young woman, barely in her twenties, wearing short shorts and a halter-top and heels. Long hair. A belly button ring.

  Ramon grinned down at Carlos.

  “I bet you did take it home last night, you old pervert.”

  Carlos gave him an annoyed look. He sighed, focusing again on the photograph.

  “For the life of me I can’t figure why she would have this on her. And why it was crumpled like this. This was exactly how she took it out of her pocket.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Well, if she crumpled it herself, why keep it? Why not just throw it away?”

  “Or?”

  Carlos tilted his head back and forth, considering it.

  “Or somebody else crumpled the photograph and it ended up in her possession. In which case the question is again, why keep it?”

  Ramon stared down at the photograph. He wasn’t thinking of the girl in the picture but of Samantha Lu, or whatever her name was. He wasn’t sure yet whether or not he wanted to tell Carlos about her calling him last night.

  Suddenly the large room took on a strange feel. Like everybody froze and held their breath at the same time. Even Carlos felt it. Frowning, the older man stood up from his chair, stared across the room, and whispered.

  “Jesus Christ, he showed up.”

  Comandante Geraldo Espinoza had entered the room and was making his way toward his office. A few of the other officers approached him quietly, offering their condolences, and Espinoza nodded soberly and thanked them for their kind words before moving past them. Finally, only steps away from his office, he paused and turned to address the entire room.

  “I want to thank everybody for their thoughts and prayers. I truly appreciate it. And I know you’re surprised to see me here. But … I think we all mourn in our own ways. For me, I want to catch the bastard who did this to my daughter and those children. Understood?”

  There was a round of nods across the room, a few murmured yes sirs, and that was it. Espinoza stood there for another moment, surveying the room, and then entered his office, closing the door behind him.

  Carlos said, “He looks like he hasn’t slept all night.”

  “I wouldn’t blame him for not sleeping.”

  “I spoke to him on the phone earlier this morning. He didn’t mention he would be in.”

  “Why did you call him?”

  “I stayed up late last night doing some digging. I thought I’d found a connection between his daughter and Miguel Dominguez.”

  “What kind of connection?”

  “To be honest, there wasn’t much. They attended the same school. But for the area that isn’t surprising. Maybe they were friends. Maybe they dated. Maybe they never even knew the other existed. I called Espinoza to see if the name rang a bell with him but he said it didn’t.”

  Ramon grabbed the chair from the desk across from Carlos. He leaned close to his partner, lowering his voice.

  “She called me last night.”

  “Who called you last night?”

  “Samantha Lu. Or whatever her name is.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not.”

  “How did she get your number?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She said she’s not our enemy.”

  Carlos snorted at this, touching the side of his face where he’d been kicked last night.

  “She has an interesting way of showing it.”

  “I know. I told her the same thing. She said she had no choice. That she and the other girl couldn’t be detained.”

  “Did she say what she wants?”

  “She wants to find the Devil just as much as we do.”

  Carlos’s brow creased as he frowned.

  “Why does she want to find the Devil?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because she found the bodies. Or …”

  “Or?”

  “I’m not sure. But there’s certainly more going on with her than we know about.”

  Carlos nodded and held up a finger.

  “Speaking of which, have you checked out La Baliza lately?”

  Ramon grimaced.

  “You know I can’t stand that website.”

  Carlos turned in his seat and moved his mouse to wake his computer. Within seconds he had a web browser up and had pulled up La Baliza. He scrolled down and pointed at one of the stories.

  “See here? This story is about the bodies being found yesterday, and how Miguel Dominguez is a suspect. Christ, look here. They even have pictures of Dominguez’s apartment.”

  Ramon tried to skim the text, but the pictures kept distracting him. One was of the Paraíso Motel, the other of Miguel Dominguez’s apartment. On the surface the picture could have been of anybody’s apartment, but Ramon had been there just yesterday. Had stood in the middle of the place. Smelled the dankness of th
e room. These pictures were legit.

  Carlos said, “Remember our pimp friends from yesterday? They said they followed Samantha Lu to that building. The same building where the landlord was shot and killed and where those narco wannabes got beat up.”

  Ramon forced himself to look away from the computer screen. He fixed his eyes on Carlos.

  “Are you saying this Samantha Lu writes for La Baliza?”

  “My gut says she doesn’t. But remember, when she came out of that building, she wasn’t alone. She was with another girl, who I’m betting is the same girl she was with at La Miserias. Speaking of which, should we tell the boss about what happened last night?”

  “You mean getting our asses kicked?”

  Carlos touched the side of his face again.

  “My wife’s passed five years now. I can’t quite use the excuse that she punched me last night. Yours doesn’t look so bad, by the way.”

  Ramon just nodded. He didn’t want to tell Carlos it was because his wife had touched it up with some of her makeup this morning. It was too embarrassing, though maybe not as embarrassing as being beaten up by a woman.

  Before Ramon could say anything, Carlos’s desk phone rang. Carlos answered it, listened for a couple seconds, then said they would be right down and replaced the phone in its cradle.

  Ramon said, “What’s up?”

  “That was Jorge. He’s ready for us.”

  Jorge was the medical examiner. He worked in the basement, examining the dead bodies that came in every day.

  Carlos pushed his chair back and stood up.

  “Ibarra and Serrano are downstairs waiting for us, too. Let’s hope they also want to act like last night didn’t happen.”

  Ramon stood up and gestured for Carlos to go first.

  “Age before beauty.”

  Carlos snorted as he started toward the elevators.

  “Says the guy wearing makeup.”

  Down in the basement they found the two PFM agents already back in Jorge’s lab. The bodies were laid out on three tables, covered with sheets. Still, the smell of the charred flesh lingered in the air.

  Jorge said, “Now that you’re all here, do you want me to show off my brilliance or just tell you my conclusion?”

  Carlos said, “Which do you think?”