Seeds of Evidence (9781426770838) (38 page)

Kit convened the agents and the leader of the sheriff's ERT under a light outside the tomato processing plant.

“So we have no one in pursuit and no way to track them.” She tightened her jaw, trying in vain to stop the trembling in her gut. She looked at the deputy. “We need to put out an APB for Cienfuegos's car, a white Cadillac Escalade. There are three men together: Hector Lopez, Carlos Cienfuegos, and David
Castillo. David's our confidential informant. He took a shot in the leg as they left here.”

“Where are they going?”

“No clue. We have teams surveilling Cienfuegos's house, and Lopez's apartment and we have put them on alert.”

“We need ground support watching these roads.” Kit pointed out four arterial roads that could provide a way of escape. “Can we get air support?”

“I've requested our helicopter and Maryland State Police is responding from Salisbury as well,” Roger replied.

“How about hospitals?”

“There's only one, in Salisbury.”

“Emergency care centers?”

Chris frowned. “Do you really think they're going to get him medical care?”

Kit grimaced and took a deep breath. “You're right. Besides, if they did, they'd probably just go to one of Carlotta's clients.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Chris, you have some of the suspects' financial records. I need you to contact the banks where they have accounts. Let's see if they use an ATM. Also, credit cards . . . track their credit cards.”

A sheriff's car, lights flashing, came down the road at a fast clip and pulled into the plant's parking lot. The burly sheriff of Accomack County emerged and walked swiftly toward the group. His ERT leader had briefed him on the way over. “Who's in charge?” he asked.

Kit introduced herself.

“This is a bad deal,” he said, shaking his head.

“Who tipped you Lopez would be here?” Steve Gould asked.

“A woman named Maria Salazar. We got her for dealing meth and she's working a deal with the DA.”

Maria? David's friend? “What help can you give us, Sheriff?”

“Everything I got. We want Lopez about as much as you want your man back.”

“One more thing,” Kit said. “Give David's cell phone to Jason, Chris. Maybe Cienfuegos or Lopez's cell numbers are in there, and we can trace those.”

“Gotcha.” Chris looked around. “Where are we going to set up?”

“We're ten minutes from the offsite. Let's go back there.”

At the speed Cienfuegos was traveling, every bump sent waves of nausea rolling through David's belly. He could smell the blood, his own blood. His hands felt sticky with it.

He leaned his head back and tried to think. What could he do? How could he get out of this? His cell phone! He reached for it, but the place on his belt where it should have been was empty.

“Estacionate!”
Lopez said, pointing to a bank. Cienfuegos jerked the car to the right and pulled into the parking lot.

Cienfuegos turned and looked at David. “You have an ATM card?”

“No.”

But Cienfuegos didn't believe him. “Where is your wallet?” he yelled. “Give me your wallet!”

David pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. All it had in it was his fake driver's license and a hundred dollars. Carlos took the money and threw the wallet back at him. Then he looked at Lopez. “Use your own card.”

Seconds later, Lopez jumped back in the car. “$200,” he said. “Let's go!”

Cienfuegos took off again, and that's when David realized they were headed north on Rt. 13, toward Maryland. There
wasn't a lot of traffic at 10:00 p.m. on a Sunday night. If only he saw a cop! Maybe he could signal him.

He was freezing in the back of the car. Shaking. The two men up front were arguing again. David couldn't follow the conversation. Once Lopez turned around and asked him something. He muttered something in answer, and Lopez gave up. Thank God, he gave up. Because all the Spanish had left David's head.

K
IT STOOD OVER THE TABLE AT THE OFFSITE, STARING AT THE MAP SPREAD
out on it. Her mind was working quickly. She fought to keep her emotions under control. She knew she had to find Cienfuegos. David wouldn't last forever with a gunshot wound. Maybe Carlos would dump him somewhere. Maybe he'd signal for help somehow. Maybe . . .

They had to find him. “All right, so we have Rt. 13 running north and south and that's covered, right, Roger?”

“We're getting people there now.”

“They're not in place yet?”

“On the way.”

“Is the chopper up?”

Chris moved by at a fast clip, a paper in his hand. “The bank's playing hardball. I'm going to meet one of the officers at the local bank site. He's not happy about being rousted out of bed. I'll call you if I get anything.”

Kit nodded. “Right.”

“What can I do?”

Kit turned. Steve Gould was standing on her right. The anger had left his face. She thought quickly but before she could respond, her cell phone rang. One of the members of
the surveillance squad at Cienfuegos's house reported that the lights, which had been off, had come back on and there was activity inside the house. Kit clicked her phone off. “Steve, please go to Cienfuegos's house. Something's going on. Maybe he'll show up there.”

“Late model Cadillac Escalade?” he said.

“Yes. White.”

“Gotcha.”

“Here's the address. It should come up on your GPS, but in case it doesn't,” Kit scribbled directions on a sheet of paper, “here's how to get there. I'll call the squad,” she took the paper back out of his hand and jotted down a name and cell phone number, “and tell them you're on the way.”

“Thanks.”

With both Steve and Chris gone, Kit felt a sense of relief. Now there was no one to look over her shoulder. Question her judgment. She stared at the map. “Jen!” she called out suddenly to one of the Norfolk agents.

She came over.

“I need you to go watch the shed at the live oak farm, right here . . . see it? If Lopez is running, he may try to retrieve his stash.”

“Right.”

“Take someone with you!”

David had his eyes closed, fighting nausea and trying his best to withdraw from the fire consuming his leg. But when he felt Cienfuegos suddenly swing the SUV to the right, he had to look. Cienfuegos turned onto a small side road, accelerated, then swung left into a parking lot behind an auto parts store, where a green Suburban sat idling. Cienfuegos threw the
Escalade into park and turned off the ignition. Lopez jumped out of the front seat, jerked opened the door next to David, and said, “Get out!”

Get out? How? David's right leg was immobile.

He tried to use his arms to push himself out but Lopez reached in, grabbed him and pulled him out of the car. Eyes tearing with the pain, David planted his good leg, and lurched to a standing position, his vision darkening momentarily. Then he leaned against the Escalade.

Cienfuegos came around to David's side of the SUV and cursed when he saw the blood left on the white leather seats.

“What are we doing?” David asked.

“Changing cars. That woman, she saw us leave in this one.”

Woman? What woman? Kit? “Look,” David said, “why don't you just leave me here? I'm just going to slow you down, man.”

“He knows too much,” countered Hector.

Before David could answer, they were interrupted by a woman's voice: “Carlos, I want to go with you! You promised!” and before the sound of her voice registered in David's mind, she rounded the vehicle. “David!” she exclaimed.

He raised his head. Maria was standing in front of him. Maria! Her tiny white tank top barely brushed the top of her low-cut jeans and her hair curled around her shoulders in soft waves. But she had a look about her that was different, a hollow, haunted look. Something about her eyes.

“You know him?” Cienfuegos said, his voice sharp.

“Yes,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the wounded man.

“How do you know Castillo?”

Please, please, David's eyes begged her. Don't give me up. Sweat broke out on his neck.

Maria pursed her lips.

“Consuela!”

Consuela? Her name was Consuela? David's head spun.

The woman he knew as Maria turned toward Cienfuegos. “I want to go with you.”

Lopez grabbed her arm, squeezing so tightly his fingertips turned white. “How do you know him?”

“You let me go!”

Cienfuegos motioned with his hand, and Lopez released her. He looked at Consuela. “How do you know him? You tell me the truth or I leave you behind.”

Consuela tossed her head. “His name is David O'Connor. And he's a cop.”

Half an hour went by—the most excruciating thirty minutes Kit could remember. But then Chris called. “OK, we have an ATM withdrawal by Lopez.”

“Where?”

“The Shore National Bank on Rt. 13 near New Church.”

“They're headed north, then.”

“That's my guess.”

Kit clenched her fist. “I'll tell the chopper.”

“You want to go?”

Did she ever. “Yes.”

“Wait for me.”

No sooner had she hung up with Chris than her phone rang again. This time it was Jen, the Norfolk agent watching the shed. “It was so dark and quiet,” the agent reported. “I decided to check the shed. It's empty, Kit. Nothing there. Whatever stash it held is gone. Someone removed the lock, too.”

They'd missed them! “Good work, Jen.” At least she hadn't sat there for hours watching an empty building. “Come back here, quick as you can.”

Chris arrived moments later. “OK, I have an agent working with the banks . . . there's two of them, one for Lopez, one for Cienfuegos. We're live on their ATM cards.”

“Great. Roger is going to stay here and coordinate information. Steve is at Cienfuegos's house. Let's you and I take two more agents and a second car and head north. That way we'll be close when we locate them.”