Caught Up (Indigo Vibe) (23 page)

“Rosa—”

“Is my name Rosa? Hell, everything else is out of whack: Alton’s being nice to me, David’s dead; my father’s acting like he killed Jimmy Hoffa; my mother’s dead; my aunt thinks I’m stupid; and the man I love has betrayed my trust. And you know what? I’m sick of you all. Now get the hell out!” She brushed by him.

* * *

Samson resisted the urge to follow Rosa into her bedroom. Instead, he went into the kitchen, washed his hands, and then rummaged through the refrigerator for something light to eat. Rosa had barely eaten a bite all day. The little that she had eaten, she’d thrown up.

He took a roasting chicken out of the freezer and placed it in the sink. Next, he prepared fruit salad and a toasted turkey, bacon, and tomato sandwich, then placed them on a serving tray. He was glad she was finally ready to consider Ernesto may be guilty, but wished she’d come around in a less dramatic fashion.

He took her running grocery list off the refrigerator, flipped it over on the back and took the ink pen out of the pencil holder on the counter.

I’m sorry I hurt you, but not sorry for pursuing the truth. The way I went about this was all wrong. I should have come to you first. Please forgive me.

He read his words, then lifted the paper to tear it. The wording was awkward, but this was an awkward situation. He lowered the paper.

I understand you need your space and to find your own way. Just know I’m here to support you in all that you do.

Love Always,

Samson

* * *

The events of the past two weeks ran on an infinite loop through Rosa’s mind: secrets, deceit, drugs, betrayal, greed, murder. She looked up from washing the raw chicken in the sink to the early morning sun peeking through the trees. “No more,” she whispered to herself. “I want the truth.”

Ignoring the infinite loop, she massaged the chicken with crushed garlic, then sprinkled it with salt and lemon pepper. She wasn’t sure what to do about Samson. Her rational side knew he had a job to do, and she’d be disappointed in him if he didn’t do it. Then again, her irrational side wanted him to say, “To hell with the job. Alton can handle this on his own.” But, her rational mind reminded her that Samson would ensure no corners were cut. He was honest and would find the truth. In intruded her irrational mind, saying it would blame Samson if Ernesto turned out to be guilty.

“Stop!”

She plopped the chicken into a roaster layered with wild rice and baby carrots, placed the top on the pot and set it into the refrigerator. Her whole life had been a tug of war between Harriet and Ernesto, and now—she sighed—now she couldn’t tolerate being a pawn in any games.
No more games. No more hiding from the truth.

The phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. She grabbed the tea towel off the back of the chair and used it to hold the phone. “Hello.” She trapped the phone between her ear and shoulder, then washed her hands in the sink.

“Hello, darling. It’s Aunt Angela. Before you say anything, I want to apologize about yesterday. I was totally out of line.”

“There’s no need to apologize.”

“Yes, there is. I felt like I’d failed Harriet, then took my pain out on you. I had to blame someone for Harriet’s death, and Ernesto was an easy target.”

“Forget about it.” She ripped a paper towel off the roll and took a seat at the kitchen table. A long uncomfortable pause filled the line.

“Agents Quartermaine and Miles came by our hotel room last night,” Angela said. Thinking he hadn’t wasted any time, Rosa stiffened. “Agent Quartermaine told me everything surrounding Harriet’s death and showed me the call records. He went on to say that I owed you an apology. I’d already come to that conclusion, but it was nice to see someone was looking out for you.” She laughed nervously. “I’d say he has an interest in you that goes further than any investigation.”

“I plead the fifth.” Rosa crumpled the paper towel and tossed it onto the table. “The things you said about Daddy… Do you actually think he set David up or was that your grief?”

“All I know is what Harriet told me. Unfortunately, Harriet and the truth were mortal enemies. I don’t know what to believe. I know that he used to launder money for David. And he did take you from Harriet. In all honesty, at the time I agreed with his taking you. I knew she had a drinking problem, then when you fell from that banister…” her cracking voice trailed off. “Harriet denied she’d been drinking, but… Well, you know how she was.”

“Do you think Daddy’s involved now?”

“I wish I had the answers for you, darling. I know he’s always loved you. All three of them loved you.” The awkward silence returned. “I’m not trying to rush you off the phone, but we have a plane to catch. I’ll call in a few days. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” Rosa hung up, then went into the living room and curled up on the couch with the photo album. Page after page showed a bond between Ernesto and David that Rosa couldn’t believe Ernesto would betray.

The doorbell rang. “Oh, Samson,” she groaned as she placed the album on the coffee table and rushed to answer the door to tell him to leave her alone.

She swung the door open. “Daddy?”

“Of course.” He hugged her. “How are you doing today?”

The security she used to feel when he embraced her was missing. She rested her chin on his chest. There were too many unknowns to feel secure. “I’m fine.” She backed away. “But there’s something I need to ask you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to know the truth. The whole truth. Please, Daddy. I’m begging. Is there anything else you haven’t told me about you and David?”

“There is nothing else. I know this is hard for you, but I’m innocent. Don’t lose faith in me, baby. All we have is each other.”

Her guilt over thinking he’d had a hand in Harriet’s death weighed her down. Ernesto was her father, and he’d earned the benefit of the doubt. “You’ve lost weight. How about I cook you a little breakfast?”

“You sound like Anna.”

“I’ve always liked her.” She winked, then spun on her stocking feet and headed for the kitchen.

* * *

Ernesto grabbed the remote and turned the television to CNN.

“Yesterday was the anniversary of the first color broadcast television show…” said the newscaster. Ernesto tossed his keys. They hit the coffee table with a loud thud and slid into the photo album. A clip of a comedian making fun of CBS for having color shows when individuals didn’t own color televisions at the time had Ernesto chuckling.

“What’s so funny in there?” Rosa called out.

“How would you like to go to a comedy show later this week? I can check around.”

“Sure.”

His gaze returned to Rosa’s new photo album. Thinking Anna had finally sent her the pictures from Rosa’s birthday party, he pulled the album to his side of the table and opened to the first page—Ernesto and David being held by Maria. He frowned. After Rosa found out about David, Anna suggested giving Rosa a copy of his childhood pictures. He’d told Anna no, yet as he flipped through the pages, he could tell she’d disobeyed him. This wasn’t like Anna, and she’d pay dearly.

The next set gave him pause.
How did Anna get these pictures of Harriet and Angela?
Scratching his head, he continued thumbing through the album. Angela could have given Rosa the pictures when she was in town. The smells of bacon, eggs, and brewing coffee were distracting, but not half as distracting as the photos of David with Rosa. There was no way Anna or Angela could have copies of these pictures.

He stiffened.
These are David’s.
He quickly thumbed through the rest of the album and saw page after page of him with his drug contacts.

“Son of a bitch!” he bit out under his breath. Some of the pictures were as recent as a few months. “That fucking bastard!” he continued silently. “He’s ruined everything.” He closed the album and lowered his face into his palms.

“Rosa, I can’t stay for breakfast.” He snatched his keys and headed for the door. “We’ll talk later.” He rushed out past her.

* * *

Frozen in place, holding the serving tray with Ernesto’s breakfast, Rosa’s mind whirled. Ernesto was in such a hurry to escape that she doubted he noticed her standing there. Tears fell from her eyes. She’d heard it all: his fear, his rage. Feeling weak, she set the tray on the kitchen table before she dropped it. Ernesto’s continually asking if David sent her anything screamed, “Pay attention to me!” There was only one logical reason she could come up with for his behavior.
He must think David sent me the album. What did David ruin?

From the kitchen doorway, she looked from the album over her shoulder to the basement door. She didn’t know who the men in the album were. Her old journals gave her Caldwell; maybe they held a few clues to the men’s identities.

* * *

Ernesto pulled his Mercedes into a space at the grocery story parking lot. He wanted to regain control before he did something stupid. Thanking God Rosa was in the kitchen when he’d lost it, he rested his head on the steering wheel.

He knew Rosa would eventually search into the identity of the men in the photos. He chewed on his cheek.
I’ll tell her David thought I had set him up to go to death row, and this must have been his way of getting me back. I just thought these were businessmen. I meet so many people. David must have had pictures taken with the crooked executives I cross paths with. There are so many businesspeople playing both sides of the fence out there. It’s impossible to know who is who.
He felt his mind rambling. He’d clean it up before he presented his case to Rosa.

His mind switched to Samson, wondering if he saw the photos. The photos didn’t prove anything, but he needed to give the DEA something, or even better yet, someone. He grinned as he thought of a way to protect Rosa and get the DEA off his back. He took out a throwaway phone and called in hits on Barry and Jeff Paige.

“Are you sure you want this done now, Ernesto?” his chief of security asked. “Cutting corners could lead to trouble.”

“They’re after Rosa. We have to move fast.”

“I’ll take care of everything.”

* * *

“It’s noon. I’m heading over to Rosa’s,” Samson said as he cleared his desk.

“I’m no expert on women,” Alton said. “But, I think you need to give her some space.”

“She’ll need me near when she starts looking into the men in the photos. She needs my support—” The intercom buzzer on the phone interrupted him. He picked up the receiver. “Quartermaine.”

“Mr. Ernesto Bolívar is here to see you and Agent Miles.”

Samson’s brows rose. “Is his attorney with him?”

“No, sir.”

“Give us five minutes, then send him back. Thanks.” He hung up. “Ernesto’s here, alone.”

Both agents quickly removed or covered everything to do with their case in sight. “What do you think he’s up to?” Alton asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

* * *

Samson sorted through the file of information Ernesto handed them that showed several of Jeff Paige’s connections to the drug trade, solid evidence the DEA didn’t have. According to Ernesto, Jeff Paige was laundering money for David and was the Sierra No. 2 man. Jeff’s alleged intentions were to join the two cartels.

“Why are you coming forward with this information?” Alton asked.

“David told me to give this information to the DEA if the Paiges ever came snooping around Rosa. As you know, Jeff Paige hired Rosa’s firm,” Ernesto answered smoothly, looking into Alton’s eyes.

“But if Jeff is a part of the Martín syndicate, why would he care about Rosa?” Samson asked.

“Because David kept her secret.” He had a far off look in his eyes as he focused on the window behind Samson. “They need to know what she knows. And if she knows too much, they’ll try to silence her. If they find out about my early connections with David, they may think I want in.” Ernesto stood. “I must leave, gentlemen. I have a business to run. If you have any questions, I’d prefer you ask me directly, instead of going through my lawyer. The fewer people who know about this, the better.”

“We understand,” Samson said.

They watched Ernesto leave the office and close the door.

“He just handed us Jeff Paige on a gold platter, lined with diamonds,” Alton said.

“Do you believe Jeff laundered for David?”

“Hell naw! We know the Paiges run the Sierra cartel. Ernesto gave us Jeff, so we’d stop looking at his ass. Hell, I ain’t mad at him though. Now they’ll both fall, and I’ll be running this joint some day.”

“He didn’t seem himself. He usually challenges me with his eyes. Not this time. This time, he wouldn’t even look at me.”

* * *

Rosa sat in the middle of her basement floor, surrounded by the photo album, a notebook and journals. An intensive search had revealed only three names, and one of those names was Caldwell’s.

Banging broke her concentration.
What the heck?
She tossed her notepad and pencil to the side, then went to investigate the noise. She looked out the window above her kitchen sink and saw Samson. Her heart warmed. He was in the backyard, hammering away, building the patio. Sweat dripped from his brow and beaded on his skin. He took a washcloth out of his back pocket and wiped his face and bald head. She wondered how long he’d been out there in the hot afternoon sun.

She poured a glass of lemonade and took it out to him. “I’ll leave the sliding door unlocked.”

“Thanks.”

She returned to the basement and cleaned up her mess, then went into the kitchen and put the chicken in the oven and set the timer. Samson would be ready to eat a real meal in a few hours. She was glad he’d come, and overjoyed he didn’t force himself on her. Somehow he understood that she needed him there for support, not for the solution. Ernesto’s innocence was one question that she needed to find the answer to on her own.

She took her notepad and the photo album into her computer room and continued her search for the truth. A few hours later the oven timer dinged, startling Rosa. Unfortunately, her search had found her next to nothing.