by Zoe Dawson
She exited her room and paused in the hallway. She could already hear Derrick’s voice from downstairs, the fluid, deep tones that sent shivers over her skin. She wanted to wake up to him in the morning, and she felt out of sorts still that he wouldn’t stay with her.
At the bottom of the stairs, she almost ran into Velasco. He reached out to steady her and smiled. She stepped back, enough so that his hands fell away. “Excuse me,” she said.
“No problem, Emma.”
“I would love some coffee,” she said to get him to move out of the way. Derrick and Inspector Reyes were seated at the table with a map of the area spread out before them.
She walked across the room, her eyes on Derrick. He looked good, rested at least. So he had slept. She wished she could just touch him. Even a caress along his broad shoulders would be good, but she adhered to his wishes. He rose and grabbed a mug from a cupboard and poured her a cup, grabbing the half and half from the fridge.
Coming back to the table, he set the mug down.
She took a sip and sighed. She looked at Derrick and got a little lost in his eyes for a moment as his greeting was wordless and private.
He looked down then over to Reyes. “Jorge was just talking about the town and the lay of the land around here. I’ll let him finish.”
“As I told your colleague, Caliche is located about twenty-eight miles from the capital city of Morelia. It’s an aristocratic colonial city, whereas Caliche is a colonial town, which still remains true to its roots. For the most part it’s peaceful, except for drug lords who might like to set up their compound just outside the city’s limits. People around here are very friendly and don’t mix with the cartels. Los Equis likes it that way and makes sure to keep the people around here in line with violence. For the most part the town is peaceful and safe. That’s why they get plenty of tourists and even some retired Americans.”
“Let’s go get some breakfast, then talk to the local police. They might have some information on the Ortegas we can use. But just as a warning, the moment we start asking questions, it could get rough. So we need to be very careful who we talk to,” Reyes said.
“As in, corruption runs rampant?” Derrick said.
“Very much so. They have an endless flow of cash at their disposal—that and intimidation. The threat of violence is real not only to the individual but also their whole families. Some people find it safer and easier to give in to the demands of the cartel.”
They left the house, got into one of the two sedans and drove into town. Emma could easily understand why this area of Mexico was considered the most beautiful country in the state with its panoramas of mountains and lush valleys of trees. “This is very beautiful,” Emma said.
Velasco turned and said, “We’ll get some breakfast at the Grand Hotel, then head to the station where you can ask your questions.”
At brunch, amongst a sizable crowd, Derrick got into a discussion with Reyes, which left her with Velasco once again. “So, Emma, I understand that you are a private investigator in the United States.”
“Yes, I handle many standard cases.”
“How is it that you are involved in this case? It seems a dangerous mission for a beautiful woman.”
“I’m quite capable of handling myself, Agent Velasco.”
“Ah, no, I have requested that you call me Santiago. We will be working close together. This I believe is true. You are capable. Is this because you have been to Mexico before and are good at kidnapping cases?”
“That, and the infant that was taken is my nephew.”
His brows rose. “Oh, that is very personal. It must be a difficult time for you.”
“It is. My sister was injured in the abduction of my nephew.”
“That also is very unfortunate, but the cartel doesn’t care much for life. They are indiscriminate when it comes to protecting their business and keeping their stranglehold over their drug routes into the United States. What could they possibly want with your nephew?”
“I wish I knew. It’s something we are looking to discover.” His personal interest in her might stem from his overt romantic advances but could also be a way to gather information. Derrick said to trust no one. How could they be sure either of these officials were trustworthy? Just because they were assigned by the government didn’t mean they had been uncorrupted by the cartels.
After they finished breakfast, Emma joined Derrick in the backseat of the sedan. “What was that all about?” he said, keeping his voice low.
“The game of Twenty Questions? I don’t know. Maybe he just likes me. Is that so far-fetched?”
“No,” he said warmly, brushing the back of her hand briefly and out of sight of the two officials in the front seat. “It’s not from where I’m sitting.”
Just the touch of his hand made her heart falter.
“We have to keep our guard up.”
“Believe me. I have no interest in Velasco. He’s much too pretty,” she whispered for his ears only.
Derrick chuckled. “Is that so?”
She gave him a cheeky grin. Even with Velasco’s looks, it was Derrick her eyes got snagged on; Derrick who completely swamped her senses whenever he was near her. She worked at getting her composure back. “Don’t worry. I think you’re pretty, too.”
“Well, one of us has to be, in this partnership.”
That made her laugh, and she swiped at his shoulder. They both sobered as they approached the police station. It was on one of the main highways leaving Caliche, an adobe structure with a red tiled roof. Marked cars were parked out front and in the parking lot adjacent to the building.
Once inside and after checking at the front desk, they were ushered deeper inside and into the office of the chief inspector.
He greeted them, and when they asked about the Ortegas, his eyes narrowed. But he gave them a name of a person who might help them. He was one of the stall owners in the marketplace. They thanked him and headed toward the central plaza.
“Stay close,” Reyes said as they exited the car and headed into the dense crowd. In the main square, called La Plaza Grande, there were places to buy ice cream, fresh fruit, vegetables, fish and meats, as well as herbal medicines and local crafts. Just on the fringes, street performers played instruments and some juggled.
The place was packed, vendors lining the square. Their guy was in the back, hawking Catrina dolls, figurines that depicted a woman with a skeleton head and boney hands. One of the dolls was holding a bouquet of marigolds, a Mexican symbol for death. It seemed they had come to the right place.
In Spanish, Reyes said, “Antonio Guzman?”
The man stiffened and said, “Yes, I am Antonio. What is it you want?”
“A few words,” Reyes said. He turned to a woman behind him and said, “Watch the booth. I will be right back.”
He moved off to the side, the crowd still thick. “What is it I can do for you? You smell like Federales.”
“We are officials from the government, but these are Americans. They want to ask you a few questions about the Ortegas.”
Antonio’s eyes widened. “The Ortegas? Are you out of your mind? Why would you go anywhere near them? They will kill you as soon as look at you.”
“We’re looking for an infant boy. Dark hair, nine months old. He would have arrived sometime within the last day or two,” Emma said, her heart in her throat. If he had any knowledge about the baby, it would give them a head start at where to begin looking.
“An infant boy? One of Arturo’s? Hard to believe he’d want anything to do with a baby. He is too busy partying.”
“The boy was kidnapped and taken from the US. These agents are here to recover him. If you have any information, it would be helpful if you tell us now. We wouldn’t want your permit to come under scrutiny.”
The shop owner sighed. “I have heard of the arrival of a baby boy. It’s been hushed up, but I have ears everywhere.”
“Where is he?” Emma asked, taking a step forward.
A gunshot exploded and the man stopped talking as blood blossomed on his forehead, and he fell backward. People started screaming and Emma turned to find a man who looked like her sister’s attacker standing there in plain sight. He smiled, turned and ran.
She couldn’t let him get away. He was the key they needed to lock up Gilberto for good. He would also have information on Matty. She sprinted after him. Derrick called out her name, but Emma didn’t slow down. She chased him across the plaza, bumping into people in general panic. Her eyes on his fleeing form, she cut across the manicured bushes and splashed through a fountain.
He fired at her and missed. She continued after him until he disappeared around a bend. She pursued him and then skidded to a halt. A pickup truck filled with men toting automatic weapons halted at the curb.
Derrick reached her and said, “Come on.” She had no choice, and deep-seated anger settled in her. He gripped her hand tightly. The warmth of it seeped into her, and she banked her anger. They would have another shot at them.
He guided her around a group. Her gaze moved rapidly over the crowd, her senses jumping, and then she glanced at Derrick. His attention was far ahead. She followed it. Men were coming this way, ignoring the festivities, the people. They stood out easily with their Santa Muerte tats on their forearms.
Derrick spun her and had her against the wall in a heartbeat, his body covering hers as he drew his weapon and turned. He fired just as the wall above his head splintered. They dropped, chips of stucco sprinkling over them. He didn’t waste a moment, pulling her along with him, past storefronts and cafés, his pistol tucked to his stomach.
“It was a trap?”
“Maybe? Not sure who ratted us out.”
He barely flinched when a bullet shattered the wood near his shoulder. He didn’t return fire. There were too many civilians. Derrick pulled her with him, his steps so wide she was forced to run hard. They made it to the end of the alley. People were just figuring out that the noise wasn’t firecrackers and were running in all directions as bullets sliced through the air. Sirens sounded in the distance.
“Here comes the cavalry,” Derrick said from between gritted teeth.
A man stepped out in the open, firing straight at them.
Derrick dove to the ground, taking her with him. The impact nearly knocked her out, and Derrick rolled, his back against the wall. He aimed, pulling Emma close. They leaned out to return fire and Emma heard a scream, then the thump of the man going down.
“Not a moment to spare,” she murmured, then saw a shadow flicker. “Derrick,” she shouted and shoved him down, firing off four fast rounds. Bullets shredded the other man’s body and he fell facedown onto the cobblestones.
The sirens got louder, and another bullet whizzed past her, hitting the adobe wall; a chip struck her cheek, stinging. Derrick clutched her.
“Are you all right?”
“Felt the wind on that one,” she said with a shaky tone.
Derrick swore viciously and hauled her back the way they had come. It was as if the shooters had disappeared into the woodwork. Nothing remained except blood and spent shell casings. When Derrick got back to the square, the police were there, taking control and soothing the crowd.
Reyes broke away from the chief inspector, the one who had given them Antonio’s name. Antonio was still lying where he’d fallen, a pool of blood around his head. The woman in the booth was sobbing.
He eyed Emma’s face and reached in and pulled out a handkerchief. Offering it to her, he said, “Are you two all right?”
“Yes, we’re fine.”
“Looks like this might have been an ambush,” Reyes said, looking over his shoulder at Velasco as he conversed with the chief inspector. Emma wasn’t sure which man Reyes was scrutinizing. “There are many corrupt cops. Hard to know who might have set us up. Everyone knows this man is a snitch.”
Emma ran her eyes over the crowd, looking for the man who had killed Antonio, but he was long gone. She squeezed her eyes closed, her fear for Matty escalating. He was in the hands of murderers and Emma could barely handle the pain and frustration climbing in her.
She broke away from Derrick and closed the gap between her, Velasco and the chief inspector. “If you sold us out, so help me!” she said to him.
Velasco’s eyes widened and he stepped back. The chief inspector scowled at her, then said, “Neither of us had any dealings with the cartel,” he said stiffly.
Of course, they would deny it. “Someone set us up,” she replied just as stiffly, anger lining each word. She didn’t say anything else as they went to the police station and gave them a statement. Each of them was taken to different rooms. The injury to her face was superficial, but it bled a lot. When they were released, Emma pulled out the rendition of Matty’s abductor.
She held it up to the chief inspector and said, “Do you know this man?”
His eyes widened. “Come with me,” he said.
With Derrick following, he took her to a set of stairs that led down into the basement. It was colder down here, and Emma shivered. He led them into a room and closed the door. It was like a meat locker. She could see her breath.
He pulled a sheet from a prone body on the table. The man they’d been hunting lay on the table. His eyes were closed, but it was clear he was dead. “We found him at the edge of the plaza.”
Emma covered her face and took a moment to compose herself. Their best lead had died in the battle. When she looked at him again, she realized there wasn’t a mark on him.
“How did he die?”
The chief inspector indicated to two white-coated men to turn him over. “A thin knife was inserted at the base of his skull.”
Chapter Twelve
Derrick watched her startled expression as she stared at the body, pain and anger flickering in her eyes, then she turned to walk away. Outside the cold room, he clasped her arm as the other three men continued up the stairs.
He caught her by the jaw and forced her to look at him, something dark and painful breaking loose in him when he saw how pale her face had gone, when he saw the fear in her eyes. The small, raw wound made him realize how close that bullet had come to her face. “We’re going to find him,” Derrick said roughly. He looked away, his temper cresting at the drug lord for putting Emma through this. Then he looked back at her, a thick ache unfolding in his chest.
“He knew where Matty is. He knew how he is. I’m trying with all my might to keep it together, but I just want to scream.”
Derrick turned to look at the door, the dead teenager behind it now beyond anyone’s reach, including the law and decency. “I know. We’ve got to keep it together. Can’t let the emotion rule us, Emma. Matty’s future rests in our hands.”
Inhaling deeply, he shifted his gaze and looked at her, his stomach dropping like a rock when he saw the stark, distressed expression in her eyes. He stared at her, then exhaled heavily, his anger settling into a heavy, resigned feeling. It was a culmination of how he felt about his own son being just as effectively taken from him. Except, in his case, under the current circumstances, he might never get to know him.
He caught her behind the neck and pulled her hard against him, locking her up in a tight embrace. “Derrick,” she whispered.
“Just shut up and let me hold you.”
She remained rigid in his arms for an instant, then the tension went out of her, and she slid one arm around his back and pressed her face against his neck. As soon as she wrapped both arms around him, he let go of her.
Back upstairs, Emma asked, “What is his name?” She was pacing and Derrick wanted to reach out and gather her close again. But that wouldn’t be appropriate now. At this moment he almost didn’t give a damn. Her voice was strained, and she was hurting. To be so close to the man who had abducted her nephew, hurt her sister and to have him silenced… It was cruel and difficult to control emotions. But he admired her courage as she kept herself together.
“Luis Montoya.”
I’m on it.
“Does he have family?” Her hopeful tone was almost too hard for him to hear.
“Yes, his mother, Gabriela Montoya. She’s been notified.”
“There’s nothing to do at this point,” Reyes said. “Let’s get back to the compound and regroup.”
She glanced at Derrick, but then turned and directed her comment to Reyes. “We can talk to his mother,” Emma said, a stubborn slant to her jaw.
“Not right now. We need to let her pick up the body and prepare it for burial,” Reyes countered. “They have sacred rites to perform and disrupting this will not be conducive to your investigation. If she’s our best lead, then we need to be patient.”
She turned, facing him dead on, her mouth compressing into a hard line. “And in that time, the Ortegas could take Matty anywhere. He’s here. I can feel it. We need to dig.”
“Digging now would net you nothing. The mother isn’t going to talk. Not many people in this area will want to talk. They’re terrified of Los Equis. We need to give her some time to grieve. Then maybe we can make a case for her to talk to us. But storming in now and demanding answers isn’t going to help your case.”
“I disagree. I understand your customs, especially the ones about death. She just lost her son. We can recover Matty alive. That has to mean something to a mother. Just give me a chance to talk to her.”
Derrick said, “Emma. He’s right. Let’s give it some time. Let’s give her a chance to grieve.” She folded her arms across her chest and Derrick walked up to her and murmured, “This is going to get us nowhere. Let’s go back to the compound and we can talk.”
She gave him a disgruntled look but nodded. He could tell she wasn’t convinced, but he completely understood Emma’s need to charge in and get answers. He worried that her judgment was clouding because of her closeness to Matty. It had been his main concern letting her in on this case. “We have to maintain perspective, Emma.”