The Advocate - 02 - The Advocate's Betrayal (34 page)

As JP and Bob ran to the end of the units, the Chrysler picked up speed, its tires screeching on the pavement. JP was in front but Bob was close on his heels.  When they reached Sabre’s car, they were both breathing heavily. JP opened the front passenger door and jumped in. Bob grabbed the back door and flung it open. The Chrysler, just a few yards away, came straight at them. “Drive,” he yelled at Sabre. She shot forward, hoping Bob had made it inside. Bob had one foot in the car, his right hand on the inside top of the door. JP grabbed his left hand just as the Chrysler hit the tail end of Sabre’s car.

“Faster,” JP yelled as he pulled Bob inside. Sabre hit the accelerator and made a sharp turn to her right. Bob’s door slammed shut. The Chrysler veered around the corner behind them. Sabre pushed down as far as she could on the gas pedal. They gained ground. Turning left at the end of the storage rows, she prayed the gate was still open. They all looked up to see about six or seven feet left of open gate.

JP looked back at the car behind them and saw the passenger reach outside the window; the light on the lamppost near the exit showed shining metal in the man’s hand. “Get down!” They all ducked as a bullet shot through the back window and out the front. With her head bent but still seeing the road, Sabre accelerated through the gate, knocking her side mirror off. The gate closed behind them. The Chrysler was still going forward at full speed.

Sabre drove out into the street in front of a yellow Mustang coming from her left. The Mustang screeched and swerved, horn honking, and the driver yelled obscenities. Sabre kept moving, making a right turn to avoid the fence across the street.

She remembered her cell phone, reached down, picked it up, and tossed it in the back seat to Bob. “Call 9–1–1.”

As she approached the red light on Waring Road, she could see in her rearview mirror a car speeding towards them and the Mustang between them. “Oh no!” She let out a deep breath.

JP turned back and looked. “Damn it! They’re through the gate.”

A shot rang out. Sabre’s window was open, and the wind whipped her hair across her face for a second, covering her eyes. She almost missed seeing the Mustang as it zipped past her and ran the red light. It moved faster than her Toyota Camry could ever go. Sabre’s foot reached for the brake.

“You have to go through the light,” JP yelled.

“I…I know, but then I have to turn left. I need to slow down.”

You’ll be fine.” JP raised his voice even louder. “Just speed up when you make your turn. The momentum will carry you through. Go! You can make it.” Sabre sped through the red light and turned left. “Faster,” JP yelled.

Sabre gunned it, her back end screeching as it fishtailed. She fought to control the car, but as she straightened out she overcompensated and hit the gravel on the opposite of the road. With the car sliding sideways, JP fell against her. He braced himself on the console, reached for the steering wheel, and guided the car back on to the street.

“The cops are on the way,” Bob yelled from the floor of the back seat where he had fallen when JP had yanked the wheel.

“They better hurry,” Sabre said under her breath as she turned right on to the freeway ramp.

“We just entered I-8 heading west off Waring Road.” Sabre heard Bob screaming information to the dispatcher. “Where should we go?” He listened for directions and then responded, “We can’t stop, you idiot. They’re shooting at us.”

Sabre heard another shot in the hollow evening air as it pinged off the rear of the car. Her hands held the wheel so tightly her fingers turned white.

“Damn it!” Bob yelled as he ducked, but the bullet had burned across the side of his head. It cut through his hair, leaving a path of smelly, burned flesh about four inches long. The phone tumbled to the floor in the front seat as the bullet lodged in the dashboard. Bob ducked down as far as he could, blood running down the whole left side of his face. “I’ve been shot,” he said, but not loud enough to be heard in the front seat.

JP reached down and picked up the phone. The end of it was completely missing, seared right off. He looked at Bob. Bob nodded.

Sabre drove faster, swerving in and out of cars, driving mainly in the far left lane. The Chrysler followed her from one lane to the other. Almost to I-805, she cut across five lanes to take the upcoming off-ramp headed north. She saw lights from a police vehicle in her rearview mirror and could hear sirens coming from all directions. “I see cops behind us,” Sabre said.

“And over there.” JP pointed to two cop cars going north. “And there.” He pointed to the police cars going east on the 8.

“And look,” Sabre said, pointing toward the 805 South.

The Chrysler continued going west on the 8. Several cop cars with lights and sirens blaring followed it. Three others followed Sabre on to the ramp to the freeway. Sabre slowed down and pulled over as soon as she saw a place large enough to park.

The police vehicles surrounded the car, guns drawn. “Step out of the car with hands up.”

Sabre’s legs shook as she stepped out of the car, barely able to hold herself up. She looked back and saw Bob covered in blood. “He’s been shot. We need an ambulance,” she yelled.

“I need a cigarette,” Bob murmured from the back seat.

40

Sabre shivered from the air conditioner in the waiting room outside Detective Nelson’s office. JP walked up with two cups of coffee. He handed her one. “Decaf with extra milk,” he said.

“Thanks. Where did you get this?”

“I still have some friends here.”

“Bob’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”

“I believe so,” JP said. “The paramedic didn’t think the bullet went too deep, and Bob was conscious when they took him.”

Sabre ran her fingers up and down her coffee cup. “How did you know Luke killed John?”

“When I went to Chicago, Luke was on my plane. He didn’t go to Dallas; instead, he was going home. He didn’t see me, so I followed him to a restaurant called Paceco’s….”

“That’s his last name. His real name is Tony Paceco. He told me that when we were in the storage unit, but I think you were still passed out. I guess he thought I was going to die and it wouldn’t matter if I knew.” Sabre shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“So from there he went to this mansion, which I found out later was called ‘Villa Paceco,’ so now I’m assuming that was his home.” JP paused. “And Sabre, h….”

Detective Nelson walked in. “Come on in, you two.” He led them to his stark office with its beige walls and worn carpet. His desk was cluttered with files except for one corner that held a five-by-seven photo of his wife and two kids. “Have a seat.” He nodded his head toward the chairs. “By the way, I just checked on your friend, Bob. He seems to be doing all right. You’ll be able to see him shortly.”

“Thanks, Greg,” they responded in unison.

“Now, will one of you tell me what happened tonight?”

Sabre described the nightmare in detail. Nelson looked up from his pad where he was taking notes and turned to JP. “So, how did you get there?”

“I was at Sabre’s door last night, Sunday night, to tell her what I had learned about Luke when he knocked me out. The next thing I knew I was tied up and in the storage unit. This morning he brought Bob in. I couldn’t talk to Bob because he had our mouths taped, so I don’t know what happened to him.”

“And what did you learn about Luke that you had to tell Sabre?”

“I learned he isn’t who he said he is. We now know his name is Tony Paceco and he lives in Chicago.” Nelson wrote a note on his pad. Then he picked up the phone, dialed a couple of numbers, and said, “See what you can find out about a Tony Paceco from Chicago.”

Nelson looked at Sabre. “And you say Luke…Tony…confessed he killed John?”

“Yes.”

“Did he admit that to you as well?” he asked JP.

“No.”

Nelson turned back to Sabre, “Did he say why?”

“Just that John took his father, mother, and brother from him. He said John ran off instead of testifying against them, but that he told enough to the cops that they were able to send his grandfather to prison for life and his father for five years. He said his grandfather raised John and that he worked for him for years. He kept talking about how John ‘betrayed’ them.”

“Did he say anything else about the mother and brother?”

“No. I assume he meant they were devastated by it all.” Sabre thought about what else he said. “Oh yeah, and he said, ‘Things are as they should be. John is dead and Betty will pay for it.’”

“So, you think he framed Betty?”

“Yes, although I don’t know why.” Sabre squinted at JP and then at Nelson.

The detective pulled at his shirt collar. “I’m afraid Luke’s confession to Sabre won’t hold up in court.” He looked at Sabre. “You’re the attorney. What do you think?”

“It will, because there’s more. This morning in court, Luke said that when he found John he was holding a rosary in his left hand.”

The detective shuffled through the file looking at the photos. He picked up a photo and turned it so Sabre and JP could see it. “There’s no rosary in his hand.”

“I know,” Sabre nodded. “Betty was holding it when we arrived at her place that night. She said it was John’s from his childhood. I didn’t realize at the time she had taken it out of his hand.”

“And you’re sure you saw Betty with the rosary before Luke saw the body?”

“Yes, she was holding it when we walked in. Luke went to the bedroom, and I spoke with Betty about the rosary. He couldn’t have heard that conversation.”

“So the only way Luke would know about the rosary is if he saw the body before he went there with you,” JP chimed in.

“That’s correct,” Nelson said. The phone rang. He picked up. “What did you find out?” He listened for a minute. “Ok, thanks. And add his name to the APB.” He hung up the phone. “Well it seems Tony Paceco and Luke Rahm are one and the same. He does live in Chicago at the Villa Paceco family home. He was named after his grandfather, Antonio Paceco, well-known mobster in his day. Antonio’s son, Vicentio—Luke’s, or should I say Tony’s, father—wasn’t as well respected as grandpa. He couldn’t seem to keep himself out of jail. He spent several prison terms but they never nailed him for anything really big. He has a reputation for not being the brightest light in the stadium.”

“So where are pops and dad Paceco now?”

“Granddaddy died in prison about ten years ago and Vicentio is apparently dying of cancer. Rumor has it young Tony Paceco may be taking a leadership role. He inherited a lot of the family money from his grandfather. The Paceco restaurants all belong to Tony. That’s about all I know so far.”

Sabre stood up. “Well, Greg, if you don’t need anything else, I’d like to get over to the hospital to see Bob.”

“Sure, I’ll call….” The phone rang, and Nelson picked up the receiver. When he hung up, he said, “They caught the guys who shot at you. They’re bringing them in as we speak.”

Sabre walked toward the door. JP extended his hand to the detective. “Thanks, Greg. Let me know if you get anything out of those thugs.”

As soon as they could no longer be heard by the detective, Sabre asked, “What else did you find out that you weren’t telling in there?”

JP cleared his throat. “Betty isn’t who she says she is, either. I think her name is Edith Underdahl, and she worked as a maid in the Paceco Villa when she was about seventeen. She was pregnant, and her mother had moved her away from Bristol, the small town where she was raised. They landed in the Paceco Villa, and they both worked there. Edith gave birth to a boy who apparently was raised by his father back in Bristol. The child’s name was Neil.”

“Neil? You’re sure it was Neil?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Why?”

“Betty received word from a dear friend of hers who had a son named Neil who was dying. She was visibly upset by it.” Sabre almost shouted. “Oh my God. Neil must be Betty’s son. That poor woman. She should be with him, not in jail.” Sabre took a deep breath and blew it out. “Go on, what else did you find out?”

“According to Edith’s childhood friend, Mary Lou, Edith fell in love with someone in the ‘castle,’ someone she shouldn’t have. She gave her son to his father to rear, and she disappeared. Father and son stayed in Bristol until the boy was about ten, and then they moved somewhere, which may or may not have been Texas.”

“So where did John fit in?”

“I’m not sure, but my guess is he was the one she fell in love with in the Villa Paceco.”

“So, why wouldn’t she tell us all of this? What was she afraid of?”

“Afraid for her own life, for her son’s life, maybe. I don’t know. I guess you need to ask her.”

“I will when I see her tomorrow. There isn’t anything we can do for her tonight. Let’s go see Bob.”

As they walked to the car, JP said, “Sabre, I don’t want you to stay at your condo tonight.”

“I don’t really want to with Luke still out there.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. He confessed to you about John. You are the only one who can testify about the rosary, except for Betty, but no one is likely to believe her since she has an ulterior motive. He has reason to want you dead.”

41

“Hey, honey, what’s with the mummy look?” Sabre said as she walked in the door of Bob’s hospital room. “Hi, Marilee. How’s the patient?”

Bob’s wife stood by the side of his bed, doting over him. “He’s still ornery. The bullet to his head didn’t change his personality at all.”

“Geez, I was hoping it would make him nicer.”

“Real funny, guys. Here I lie with a hole in my head and you make fun of me.”

“Oh, please. Don’t even give me an opening like that, Superman. Besides, you don’t have a hole in your head. Your head was too hard. It deflected right off,” Sabre said. “Is he giving you a hard time, Marilee?”

Bob spoke up. “I just told her she should go home. I’m going to be fine.”

“Don’t listen to him. If you want to stay, stay.” Sabre turned to Bob. “I’m glad you’re okay. You were darn lucky. We all were.” She reached down and kissed Bob on the forehead. “I’m not staying. I just wanted to come by and make sure you were all right and to let you know they caught the guys who were chasing us.”