Bargain Hunting (29 page)

“It’s a younger version of José,” Liam explained. “Taken in 1993 in New York.”

I studied the picture. “How do you know that? Is the information on the back?”

“Look at the sign he’s holding up. See the NYPD and then the number, 933682? The first two digits are the year. The last four are his ID numbers.”

“So how does a criminal from New York named José Garcia become a sheriff’s deputy in Florida as José Lopez?”

“That’s something I was hoping you could work your magic on,” he said to me. “Can you track him, or whatever it is you do on your computer?”

“Maybe. But I can do more on my machine at work.”

Booker spoke up. “I’ve got a contact with the NYPD, maybe he can help.”

“Great,” Liam said. “Can you call him right now?”

“It’s one thirty in the morning,” I reminded Liam.

“Cops work shifts. He could be up.”

Booker had me disengage the alarm so he could go out and speak privately to his contact.

“I also found this.” Liam pointed to another sheet of paper. This one was older, the paper had begun to yellow and disintegrate. I scanned it: JL, DF, CS, MV, AC, SA. Beside each set of initials were amounts. “This is a payout sheet?” I asked Liam.

“I think so. I think that’s probably why Deputy Young was killed. They had to suspect that Young had something on them. Maybe he figured it out and kept this for insurance.”

“If we go to my office, I can run a work history,” I said excitedly. “There has to be some correlation between the gun cage deputy and the gang unit.” I yawned. “Sorry. Adrenaline crash.”

“That’s okay,” he said as he rubbed my thigh. I got a tingling sensation from his touch.

Booker came in and I gave him the code to reset the alarm. “Birth date?” he asked.

I nodded. He just shook his head and gave me a knowing smile. “I know. I’ll have the alarm company reset it when they come tomorrow.”

“The initials fit my former team members except the last one,” Liam said. “Does SA mean anything to you?” he asked me.

I searched my brain for any connection, going over all the names I’d come across during my investigation. “No. Could it be the initials of one of the Latin Bandits?” I asked.

Liam shrugged and raked his fingers through his hair. “What about one of the ex-wives? Could any of them be SA?”

I wiggled my finger across the touchpad on my computer,
bringing it out of hibernate. I quickly read the information I’d e-mailed to myself. “José’s ex-wife’s surname was Aldoña, but her first name is Ina.” My hopes were dashed.

“If José changed his name, maybe she did, too,” Liam suggested.

“Then we take a road trip,” I said. “I need my office computer to do a complete search of the databases.”

Liam looked perplexed. He glanced at Booker whose only response was a tilt of his head. Perry Mason was lying down at my feet as if he didn’t have a care in the world. While I wasn’t ready to join the American Kennel Club, I was growing used to having the dog in the house. Especially now that I knew he was in a perpetual state of readiness.

“I’ll pull up in front of the door,” Booker said. “We can limit her exposure.”

“Thank you for talking
about
me instead of
to
me,” I said. “Besides, the shooter was killed. Doesn’t that mean I’m safe now?”

Liam reached out and tucked some hair behind my ear. “Probably, yes. But the photograph isn’t a good sign.”

“What is it a sign of?” I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know the answer.

Liam met and held my gaze. “A hit for hire. The shooter obviously didn’t know you on sight.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to keep my nerves in check. “But what sense does that make?” I asked. “You’re the one who was on the gang unit. You’re the one they tried to kill at José’s house. So how did I become the target?”

“I’d rather it was me, too,” Liam said.

I reached out and took his hand in both of mine. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Of course I don’t want you being hunted like a dog.” Perry Mason’s ears went up. “Sorry,” I said as I let go of Liam and scratched Perry’s head. “But when I got the creepy e-mail I’d done nothing other than show up at the police station with you. If someone had a problem with that, why not go after Tony? He’s your attorney. All I’d done till then was a few cursory database checks. We’re missing something. I shouldn’t be a target.”

“But you got Santos to spill his guts,” Liam countered.

“Why?” I asked, more for myself than the two men in the room.

“Because he hasn’t seen a pretty woman in five years,” Liam answered.

I shook my head. “He was completely cavalier about it. Tossed it all out on the table. Correct me if I’m wrong, but if an inmate has information about a serious crime, don’t they usually trade that information for something they want?”

Both men nodded.

“Santos thought I was an attorney when he first met me. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but he made mention of getting out of prison early. Maybe he spilled his guts to me because he was about to go to the authorities with what he knew about the police skimming money off gang busts.”

Liam rubbed his face. His brow was strained and I could almost hear his brain working. “So someone got wind of it and had him killed,” Liam said. “But this someone doesn’t know what Santos told you.”

“Right,” I agreed quickly. “Only why wait five years?”

“Because for Santos to talk about police corruption he’d also have to name the names of the Latin Bandits. That’s a death sentence,” Booker offered.

“But they could have put him in witness protection or something. He could have told his story and then been whisked off to Nebraska to work in a hardware store.”

“Right. Jimmy Santos wouldn’t stand out in the middle of a bunch of tumbleweeds,” Liam said with a scoff.

“Tumbleweeds are mostly found in arid parts of the United States, like Texas and—” Liam shot me a glare. I held up both hands. “I’m just saying.”

“Forget SA for a minute. The other initials are JL, José Lopez. DF, Diego Ferrer. AC, Armando Calderone. CS, Carlos Santiago. And MV, Miguel Vasquez. That’s everyone in the unit except Stan and me.”

Liam looked so dejected. All I wanted to do was pull him into my arms, but not with Booker and Perry Mason watching. I had to keep reminding myself that our relationship didn’t have a definition. I didn’t know the rules. Public affection or not? I went with the safe choice and decided not.

“Who did you replace?” I asked Liam.

“I don’t remember his name.”

“Then let’s go to my office. Maybe something will pop up on LexisNexis.”

“Let’s do it,” Booker agreed.

I felt a little like the First Lady. I remained with Liam in the house while Booker pulled up his Explorer. We set the alarm, locked the door, and made a mad dash for the car. I leapt inside, landing half sitting, half lying on the seat with the cup holder
rammed into my ribs. I bet that never happened to Michelle Obama.

It was pitch black out, and thus far, we hadn’t seen another car on the road. I didn’t feel panicked at all. Being surrounded by strapping men with guns can have that effect on a girl.

When we reached the office, I used my key and we went inside, locking the door behind us. Booker decided to stand guard in the lobby while Liam accompanied me to my office. Through force of habit, I made a pot of coffee. I needed a caffeine fix to get my brain to focus.

I logged into the database and searched for a member of the sheriff’s office with a last name that started with an A. The results were impossible. There had to be nearly fifty names on the list. I printed it out. “You go over these to see if you can find the elusive SA while I look through case files.”

The plaintiff-defendant database seemed like a good place to start. I put in José’s name and a long list of cases appeared. He had fifteen years on the force, so this wasn’t going to be a quickie task. Thank God for coffee.

His most recent cases were all traffic-oriented—DUIs, speeding, resisting arrest, nothing major. “How long was José in the gang unit?”

“Eight or nine years,” Liam answered. “I can’t find any officers with SA as a first or a last name. Does this include retired officers?” he asked.

“No,” I said as I narrowed my search to the dates Liam had given me and found another long list of arrests and court appearances. The way the database was configured, I could get the names of the major players involved, like the judge and the
court reporter, as well as a two- or three-paragraph recap of the court proceedings, followed by the disposition—jail time, probation, and community service. I was scanning the fifth report when I noticed something odd. “Every trial José testified in was overseen by Assistant State’s Attorney Garza.”

“I know,” Liam said as he looked up from the list that was alphabetical by last name. “Judges specialize. Some handle only capital cases, others do drug cases, others do traffic, others do misdemeanors, and the low guys on the totem pole get stuck with night court. It helps when a judge knows the players and their attorneys.”

“If Garza only does drug cases, why is he on your case?”

“Probably because it involves the murder of a former gang unit cop.” Liam let the paper fall into his lap. “Unless . . .”

“SA stands for state’s attorney,” I said, finishing the thought.

“It fits,” Liam said. “But Garza has always struck me as a fair guy.”

“Maybe that’s because he wanted you to think that,” I suggested. “We should call Tony.”

“Hang on,” Liam said. “It’s a big leap from Stan to José to an attempt on our lives to Garza. We can’t just make an accusation. Garza is a smart guy. I’m sure he’s covered his ass.”

“Then let’s see if he’s covered his assets.”

I searched every possible database and Internet site out there but couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. No large investments, no sudden windfalls. In fact, he’d lost a decent amount when tech stocks tanked. A house with a mortgage that was in keeping with his government salary. I couldn’t find a thing.

“So what do we do now?” I asked. “Call Tony in the morning and ask his advice?”

Liam shook his head. “The fewer people we involve in this the better. Especially Tony. He’s got a kid to think about.”

His comment reminded me about the breakup of his marriage. As much as I wanted to hate Ashley for making a rash decision, I kind of understood her position. It would be awfully hard to raise a child whose father was in prison when your one skill was doing nails. I tip my manicurist well, but not enough to buy diapers and formula. What I didn’t get was why she would think for a minute that Liam had shot an unarmed kid. My heart ached for Liam. Then it ached for me. I had a sneaking suspicion that I wasn’t in lust anymore. I had entered the scary zone. Not love, but definitely headed in that direction. A very bad thing when all I’d done was spend one night with him. Granted, it was a wonderful night, but really, I was thinking like a stalker. I all but had us married in my brain. Definite stalker behavior.

“So how do we connect the dots?” I asked.

“Carefully and discreetly,” Liam answered.

I woke up to
the sound of Perry Mason whining. Liam was just getting out from under my comforter when I glanced at the clock. It was already after seven.

“Crap,” I said as I quickly stood up, shielding my nakedness with the clothes on the floor next to the bed. “I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Tony told you to take some time off,” Liam said.

“That was before they caught the shooter,” I replied, exasperated, as I made a dash for the shower. I stood under the spray freezing for a few seconds until the hot water kicked in. I moved at warp speed, dreaming of coffee as I rinsed the shampoo from my hair.

Wrapped in a towel, I went to my closet and did the hard thing—finding the right outfit for the day. After some searching I settled on a Kate Spade A-line skirt in bright pink and a simple Burberry white blouse. I’d gotten both items on eBay, and after a trip to the dry cleaner’s, no one would ever know they were preworn. At least no one but me and PayPal. I slipped on a pair of Nine West taupe platform pumps. They were comfortable, probably because I’d gotten them on a 50 percent off red-dot sale.

It was nearly eight fifteen when I emerged with mostly dry hair and full makeup. Booker was sitting in the living room and Liam was in the kitchen. And bless him, he’d made coffee. I gulped down the first cup, then passed him the mug for a refill.

“I’ll follow you to work,” Liam said as he gave me the once-over. The perusal was almost as exciting as his touch.

“And then do what?” I asked.

“I’m a client. We can have a meeting.”

“You’re a pro bono client. Vain Dane will get an aneurysm.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Booker was left in charge of the dog and waiting for the information from New York regarding José. Assuming Garza was the mastermind of the cash-skimming scheme, I was a tad wary of being out in public. I was comforted by seeing Liam right on my tail the whole way to the parking lot.

There was a rental Hummer in the lot, so just as a precaution, I parked as far away from it as possible. Vain Dane was probably halfway to a heart attack already; no need to make it worse.