The Chase (17 page)

C
heeky punched in Froggie’s number. Ever since he’d escaped the
policía
at the hospital, he’d been frozen until the pressure eased up. Cheeky had pulled the gang in tighter, examining his people for signs of disloyalty. He had no more answers than before, and Froggie was the problem.

“Meet you downstairs in thirty minutes.” He clicked his phone shut and headed for the bathroom. Froggie’d screwed up twice. No matter they were
compadres.
Twice was too many times. Cheeky pulled out his .38 and set it on the sink beside his Rolex while he brushed his teeth. He had Froggie’s entire family working at Falcon Lake — illiterate and doing exactly as they were told. It no longer made any difference that Froggie’s parents were his godparents. They all needed to go.

Monika wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his back. “What can I do for you?” she whispered.

“You’re doing it.” He smiled into the mirror after catching sight of hers. She had a perfect body, and he couldn’t get enough of her. “I’ll make reservations for dinner tonight. That place you like downtown.”

“
Gracias.
I’ll wear something nice.”

“You always do.” He turned and kissed her, allowing his hands to roam where they wanted. “I have some business for the next hour or so. Can you take a shower or something?”

“Sure.” She slid her hands from his shoulders and trailed her fingers down his chest.

He picked up his phone and called a man he could trust. “Be here in one hour. Got a job for you.”

When Froggie arrived ten minutes late, the fury in Cheeky grew. He walked onto the patio and Froggie followed. “Where have you been?”

“My girlfriend wouldn’t let me leave.” Froggie’s smile didn’t match his face. “Sorry, boss.
La regué
.”

Cheeky glared and walked to the edge of the patio that looked out onto a manicured lawn and a crystal-blue pool. “You did more than mess up. You failed me. Years ago I thought we were so close that I couldn’t fight you.” Cheeky lifted his gun to the man’s head. “You’ve lost your value.” He swore and pulled the trigger. Pieces of flesh and blood spattered his clothes. He laughed and spit on what was left of Froggie’s face.

An hour later, his new lead man arrived while Monika hosed down the mess on the patio.

“Froggie’s gone,” Cheeky said. “Paulo, you have a promotion.”

“Yes, sir.” Paulo was taller than Froggie and had wider shoulders. He talked with a lisp, but that didn’t stop his fists or his trigger finger.

“His family lives in Falcon Lake. Make them
desaparecen.
”

“Anything else?”

“Kariss Walker.
Ella es propietaria de un Jaguar
,” he said, rattling off a license-plate number. “Find the car and you find her. Follow her and see where she lives.”

“Get rid of her and the car?”

“Not yet. I want to talk to her first.” The
policía
who’d infiltrated them was still alive, and Cheeky needed that man dead. Better yet, he needed both of them as examples of the Arroyos’ power.

Cheeky massaged his left shoulder. He hadn’t used his chain-saw for a long time.

Kariss left the FBI office and climbed into her Prius. The little machine didn’t have the powerful engine of her Jaguar. Yet she felt oddly secure in the hybrid.

Zipping south to downtown Houston, the memories of last Sunday’s clash cut into her heart, raw and relentless. And when those thoughts began to fade, she remembered Jo-Jack. Had he kept a careful watch in every direction in case an Arroyo discovered where he hid? She didn’t want to live like that. Jo-Jack felt the same way.

Her attention flew from one mirror to the other, but traffic was mild. The day glistened with beauty, the sky filled with soft billowy clouds that looked as though they held dreams. Kariss willed her spirit to feel the same whimsical hope.

Once downtown, she made her way to Louisiana Avenue, getting lost twice because the one-way streets kept turning her around. Navigation skills were not her specialty, even with the GPS app on her phone. The high-rise buildings, the different architecture, and the varied people always held her attention. She passed a homeless woman pushing a grocery cart. Such a contrast against the professionals who filed by without giving the woman a second look.

Finally Kariss parked and walked to the building housing Catholic Charities. She strode into the offices and hoped her desperation didn’t seep through the pores of her skin. The woman in charge of foster care was dressed in a light-green suit and flowered scarf. She smiled, and Kariss supposed those in need found the woman easy to talk to. Kariss explained Xavier’s situation, calling attention to Cherished Doe and the father’s frantic appeal.

Sadness met Kariss’s gaze, and the woman hesitated before speaking. “Miss Walker, I’m sure you realize how futile your search is. You have no date of birth. Neither do you have the sex of the child. The father has given you an approximate birthdate, but we don’t know if the mother delivered in Houston or somewhere else or not at all.”

“I know this looks hopeless. But Mr. Olvera has already lost one child, and I want to believe another one exists. The idea that the mother might have disposed of it as well is devastating.”

The woman stood and closed the office door. “If the child is alive and is a girl, the mother could have sold her into sex trafficking.”

Kariss hadn’t considered such degradation. Didn’t want to imagine it. “Delores allowed Benita to starve. She could probably be cruel and selfish enough to sell her child, couldn’t she?” She glanced into the woman’s face. Compassion met her through gentle eyes. “I guess this isn’t a time for naïveté.”

“I’m so sorry. I can see you feel for the father and his plight. The case is sad. Broke my heart when I watched the media reports. But I don’t see a way for us to help you.”

“Are your procedures for abandoned children the same as Child Protective Services?”

The woman walked back to her desk. “Unlike the safe havens in our city where children can be abandoned, our gates are locked at night. A child could be left outside, but I don’t recall it ever happening.”

The familiar sinking feeling settled into Kariss. “What about your housing for pregnant women?”

“There is a possibility within those units. Our women live independently, and we don’t monitor them. If a woman doesn’t answer her cell phone or something is reported that warrants our attention, then we check to make sure everything is okay. Sometimes a woman in our system gives birth then disappears, leaving her baby behind. That’s rare, because we work with our mothers to give them the tools they need to be good nurturers and providers. We help them attain job skills and life aptitudes and teach them how to handle difficult situations. In some instances prepare them to give up their baby for adoption.”

“What happens when a mother in your facility abandons her child?”

“We wait six months and then go to court for due cause. During that time, we do everything possible to locate family members, and the mother might return. Counseling is available for all concerned. After we have exhausted all means to find the child’s family, adoption procedures begin.”

“Do you have records of these children — when they were abandoned, the race, the approximate age?”

“We do. But in Texas, the records are closed.”

“I understand.” Kariss thanked the woman. Just as she’d thought, the search for Xavier’s child had nearly reached an end. “Do you have any other suggestions?”

“I wish I could help you. Please tell Mr. Olvera that if his child was left here, he or she has gone to a good home where a family wanted a baby to love and cherish.”

Kariss forced a smile, disappointment seeping into her emotions.

“At this point, Miss Walker, that’s the best news I can offer.”

W
ednesday morning, Kariss watched Tigo at his desk. He appeared to have worked through the varied emotions of losing Jo-Jack yesterday, so she chose not to bring up the matter. Instead she made her way to the squad board, which was a huge bulletin board, labeled “Operation Wasp,” where the agents could view pics and names of key people in the gun-smuggling case. New information had been added, and she was curious about the content.

Cheeky Lopez’s picture in a glossy 8x10 was posted on the left-hand side of the board labeled “leader of the Arroyos.” Other pics followed — one of them was Froggie Diego, and she shuddered. The gang signs matched. Each pic had the member’s real name and his list of crimes. Empty spots held names like “Bat” and “man with a lisp,” and “woman mule-overseer.” Candy’s and Jo-Jack’s names had been crossed out. A black man by the name of Hershey must be a new informant, but it looked like he might be involved in illegal gun-running too.

Kariss sensed Tigo standing beside her. “Ryan and I have an interview at eleven if you’d like to sit in.”

“Great. What’s the topic?”

“A man claims to have overheard a conversation in a parking garage that might lead to information about the gun smugglers.”

“Where’s the parking garage?” Kariss loved the idea of using this information in her book. She’d been collecting research for what she hoped was an FBI series.

“The Galleria.”

She startled. “Sounds like a strange locale to me. What would Arroyos be doing there?”

“The Arroyos aren’t the only ones involved in gun smuggling. We need to pick apart his story to see if he has other motives. A good reason for you to listen to the interview. No questions. Just take notes and follow our lead.”

“I get it. White-collar crime. Do you think he may be lying or have another reason to make this claim?”

“You’re getting smarter.” He nodded, and for a moment she felt like a little girl who’d just earned a gold star.

“I have two great teachers.”

“How far along are you in the book?”

“One chapter. Lots of notes.”

“That’s one chapter more than I’d have written.”

“My process on this one is a little slow. Weighing the truth. Changing facts to protect innocent people. And weaving in fiction.” She watched Ryan enter his work area. “Wish I could do something for him. He doesn’t drink coffee or tea, and he eats entirely too healthy.”

“Bring him one of your books.”

“Great idea. I have one inside my desk drawer.”

“Go ahead. I need to talk to him about the interview. We’ll swing by to get you.”

She walked back to retrieve the book and realized she needed to make sure she spelled his name right. Her gesture had to wait. Picking up her iPod, she swiped the screen to her word game. She formed a word and added fifteen points to her score …

Tigo tossed a paper clip onto her desk. How long had he been observing her? “What are you playing?”

Pleased with her score, she glanced up. “Word Family. It’s like Scrabble.”

“How many players?”

“Just me.”

He laughed. “What kind of game is that? No competition.”

“It increases my vocabulary.”

“Right. You probably use a website to build your words.”

Her eyes widened, pretending innocence. “Are you insinuating I’d cheat?”

“Just as I thought.” He pointed to her iPod. “Why don’t you play a war game? Wouldn’t that put you into the mood for your book?”

“I like this one. Do you play?”

“No, but I’m aware of the game.”

“I’ll take you on.” She tilted her head. “Unless you don’t think you can handle my skills.”

“Miss Writer, I’ll teach you words you never imagined. I give ‘intellectual’ a whole new dimension.”

“Deal.” She’d show him the importance of a writer’s greatest asset. She pressed New Game, sent an invite to Tigo, and dragged the screen’s tiles into place. Her first word was
divas.
Double word score for eighteen points.

Thirty seconds later he played his tiles —
driven
for fourteen points.

She’d already proved who the better player was.

Arnold Bates arrived promptly at eleven. Dressed in a dark-blue silk suit that must have equaled Kariss’s condo payment, the middle-aged businessman appeared confident. Perhaps too confident. And a bit arrogant … with calculating gray eyes. Perhaps she’d been around Tigo too long and his problem-solving nature had begun to rub off.

Despite Bates’s disagreeable first impression, she hoped he had solid information for the agents.

After Tigo and Ryan introduced themselves, Tigo turned to Kariss.

“This is Agent Jenson. She’ll be taking notes during our discussion.”

Bates reached out his hand, and she grasped it. “Pleasure to meet you, Agent Jenson.”

She hid a smile, appreciating the perk.

The four met in an interview room and took seats at a rectangular table. Tigo, Ryan, and Kariss sat across from Bates. She wished she could ask questions, but that had been forbidden. Did they think she’d interrogate their interviewee?

Tigo crossed his legs and took on an unassuming position. She noted the body language he used to put the man at ease. “Mr. Bates, we appreciate your willingness to come forward with information that has the potential to solve a crime.”

Bates folded his hands on the table. “I feel it’s my civic duty.”

“Tuesday afternoon you called our offices and stated you’d overheard a conversation in the parking garage of your office building on Monday morning.”

He nodded. “Not sure why the conversation took place there instead of a private meeting area. The more I consider what transpired, the more nervous it makes me.” Mr. Bates didn’t flinch a muscle.

She jotted down
doesn’t appear nervous.

“Why don’t you begin by giving us your occupation and why you were in the parking garage?”

Mr. Bates peered at Tigo’s face. Again no emotion. “I run a company out of a suite of offices at the Galleria in the Premiere Building — an insurance company on the tenth floor. Been there four years. I had a meeting over midmorning coffee, which was why I happened to be in the garage that time of day. Normally I’m working.”

“What time was it?”

“Ten thirty-five, on Monday. I remember checking my watch on the elevator.”

Tigo smiled. “What did you see?”

“Two men standing at the tailgate of a pickup. Both dressed casually—”

“What do you mean ‘casually’?”

“Jeans. Button-down shirts. Baseball caps.”

Why was Tigo zeroing in on the men’s clothes?

“Long-sleeved or short-sleeved?”

“Long.”

A peculiar detail for Tigo to note. The temps outside had been nearly one hundred this week. Certainly not long-sleeved weather. Did he think Bates was lying?

“What nationality?”

“Hispanic.”

“What color were their shirts?”

“I don’t remember. White, I think. What does that have to do with anything?”

Kariss would ask Tigo about this later as well.

“Every detail brings us closer to finding the men.” Tigo gestured for him to continue. “What happened?”

“One of them said they were tired of taking orders from a man just because he had money. The other said the merchandise was worth the price and doubled the investment. The first man said the last shipment went straight to Mexico with no hitch.”

“Did they refer to each other by name?”

Kariss studied Tigo’s face. He could win an Oscar for his stoic performance. Ryan appeared intense, his attention on taking notes. They were playing a role for Mr. Bates’s benefit. She quickly noted Tigo’s question.

“No. I would have remembered.” Mr. Bates moistened his lips. “Then I heard what I felt was information the FBI needed. The second man said the shipment of assault rifles from Chicago was expected August 17. The first man said Cheeky asked for a dozen of their best drivers.”

Kariss concealed her recognition of the gang leader’s name.

“Who’s Cheeky?” Tigo said.

“I thought you’d know. Sounded like the man was important.”

“We’ll look into it. Did they say where the rifles would be delivered?”

“Someplace off the Buffalo Speedway. I didn’t hear the rest of it.”

Kariss kept her attention on her notes. This was her city, her home. Not a scene of horrendous crimes.

“Where were you in proximity to the two men?”

“On the other side of my SUV. I was hidden from their view.”

Tigo toyed with a pen, just as she’d seen him do so many times in the past when he was thinking through a matter. “What else was said?”

“Nothing worth repeating. They were hungry. Planned to get something to eat.”

“Did they say where?”

“No. One of them wanted breakfast.”

“Do you remember any other details?”

Bates appeared to ponder the matter. “Nothing I can recall. To be perfectly honest, I was shaken up. One man got into the truck, and the other got into a dark-green SUV. As they drove by, I ducked so they wouldn’t see me.”

“Lucky for you. What make of vehicles?”

“Chevy Avalanche, black, and the SUV was a Lexus.” He frowned. “I failed to get the license-plate numbers. I was afraid.”

Kariss remembered when the sight of two Arroyos paralyzed her.

“No problem. Mr. Bates, you’ve given us valuable information. Was anything else said about where the transfer would take place?”

“No.”

“What language were they speaking?”

“Spanish. I’m fluent.”

“And you’re positive you weren’t seen?”

“Yes. Think about it, Agent Harris. I’m alive to tell you about it.”

No expression on Tigo’s face. “Were the men armed?”

“Not that I could see. I assumed they had weapons since their conversation revolved around them.”

“What about gang signs?”

She’d assumed the two men were Arroyos. For sure she’d be a lousy investigative reporter without the facts.

“None.”

Ah, their clothing and baseball caps would have hidden those signs.

Something about Bates’s story bothered her, as though everything he’d said had been a script. She wondered if her doubts could be her fiction mind on an adrenaline rush.

“Who owns the Premiere Building?” Tigo said.

“Peter Masterson.”

“What kind of a relationship do you have with Mr. Masterson?”

“I pass him now and then.”

“You’re not friends?”

“Only acquaintances. I see him occasionally at social events. We support many of the same charities.”

“Do you have a relationship with any of the other tenants in the Premiere Building?”

“No. I’m a busy man. What does this have to do with the conversation I overheard?” Annoyance dripped from Bates’s words.

Kariss had been under Tigo’s questioning before and could relate to Bates’s irritation. But Tigo always had a plan.

“Clearly we don’t want to take any more of your time than necessary. We need to establish your relationship with those in your building. You’ve relayed valuable information that could be linked to gun smugglers and gang activity. Since the conversation occurred in the parking garage, that could mean one of the tenants is connected to a serious crime.”

Bates stiffened. “I’m not stupid, Agent Harris. I came here because it is as my civic duty. In providing the FBI with what I witnessed, I’m risking my life.” He swallowed hard. “I have no idea who the men may have seen or if their meeting occurred in the Premiere Building. I apologize for my abruptness. The incident has left me a little edgy.”

Kariss noted his reddened face looked more like “furious” than “a little edgy.”

“I understand.” Tigo turned his attention to Ryan. “Should we let him take a look at a few pics? See if he can pick out a face?”

The insurance man from the Galleria couldn’t identify a single Arroyo. He stated they were too far away and had had their caps pulled over their eyes.

After Kariss gave Tigo her notes, she returned to her desk, leaving the two agents alone to discuss the interview. Had Arnold Bates spoken the truth? One thing for sure was he knew a name: the man Tigo wanted to arrest.