Anointed (Vanished Book 3)

by Michael Arches

  “Because I am in a celebratory mood, we will say no more about this, but never ever go against my wishes again.”

  Was that the only punishment Viola would receive? That seemed too good to be true. “Si, Señora.”

  “You are permitted to join the party with me. We have to congratulate Diego, Pablo, and his fighters.”

  Viola wasn’t interested in celebrating anything. “I am not feeling well, Señora. May I go to my room?”

  Carlotta huffed. “Why must you always be so contrary? Your life here would be so much easier if you simply do as I wish. I’m sure you’re bright enough to grasp the concept.”

  Viola had been knocked around enough for one day, so she tried to avoid another argument. “I’m sorry for offending you, Señora.”

  The older woman waved that comment away. “Do as you please. Tomorrow, we will meet early to plan your next group of audits. In the meantime, carefully consider what I have said about cooperation. My patience with you is running thin.”

  -o-o-o-

  Mount Evans Motel, Idaho Springs

  Athena couldn’t say enough good things about Beau. He figured out the meaning of many of the Spanish messages and posts on Facebook from people living at Casa Santiago. Pablo didn’t post often, but some of his fighters did. And they obviously didn’t realize how easy it would be for an experienced hacker like Athena to see the posts they thought were private.

  Some bloody confrontation had just happened. The messages were on the terse side, but the attached pictures made that clear. A middle-aged man named Ricardo was shown bound to a chair, and his face had been smashed in, and someone had fired a bullet into the center of his forehead.

  The photos horrified Athena. Her right frontal lobe throbbed in sympathy with the poor bastard, and her stomach threatened to give up her last meal. She’d barely survived being shot in the head several years ago. But turning away wasn’t an option, not with Viola’s life on the line. Athena took a dozen deep breaths to calm herself before reading on.

  She also found a photograph in one of the newsfeeds showing a woman missing the left side of her skull. How can people post this shit?

  Then Athena saw something that made her do a double-take. She found a photo of a young woman wearing a white monk’s robe. Her skin, hair, and eyebrows were just as white, and her face was eerily familiar. Who was that?

  The answer came almost immediately. What…Viola?

  Athena checked her phone for the young woman’s picture. The kidnap victim’s hair was dark brown in her DMV photo, but her face was unmistakable. My God, girl, what have they done to you?

  Beau was sitting across the room, talking on his phone. She yelled at him, “You’ve got to see this!”

  He hung up and sat next to her on the bed. Thankfully, he also rubbed the small of her back right where it always ached.

  They talked about why Viola looked so odd, but neither of them could come up with an explanation that made sense.

  Finally, Beau said, “On another subject, I worked a deal for our new hiding place in South Park. I’m going to meet the woman who owns the house in a few minutes and collect the key. She says she grew up there and inherited the property from her parents. The ranch includes two sections of land. It’ll cost us a thousand bucks a week, in advance, or three grand a month. Plus, we’ll also have to pay a two-thousand-dollar security deposit.”

  Athena had packed lots of cash—essential for living life on the lam. “Start by giving the woman a week’s rent and the deposit. If we like the place, we can start paying monthly.”

  Chapter 11

  Casa Santiago, near Louviers

  Viola gazed out her bedroom window. The sun was slowly sinking. Down below on the lawn, the party was going full tilt. Laughter, conversation, and loud mariachi music filtered up from below.

  She wasn’t interested in any of that, so she let her attention wander across the perfectly manicured lawn beyond a tall wrought iron fence to the belt of trees and bushes running along the creek. In most places, the greenery was so thick she couldn’t see the water. But in one spot, a massive tree had toppled and opened a gap in the greenery. Through it, she could see a dry field and the mountains that were up in the west.

  After a few minutes surveying the scenery, she turned away. How the hell do I get out of here?

  The grounds were patrolled night and day, so she couldn’t just sneak out her window and away. Nor could she ask for help from the outside. Her room had no phone, computer or other communications device. A tightness in her chest threatened to suffocate her.

  She laid on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Her mind filled with regret over how casual she had been about her own safety. Because she wasn’t a great beauty, she’d stupidly ignored the possibility that someone might grab her off the street.

  She was still beating herself up when a knock came at the door. Company was the last thing Viola wanted. She stayed silent.

  After another knock, Maria opened the door. “Sorry to bother you, but I thought you might enjoy a few things from the party. My brother, Emilio, makes crazy-killer margaritas. And Jean baked some terrific French pastries. I brought you some.”

  Viola couldn’t be rude to anyone who’d gone so far out of her way to be nice. “That’s incredibly sweet of you, but I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. Maybe you can help me eat the pastries?”

  They sat at a table near the TV and chatted about their families. Maria and Emilio’s parents worked for the Santiago family in Las Vegas before the kids received an offer to work for Carlotta in Denver. They’d both been offered good salaries as part of the household staff, and Carlotta had promised that if they did their jobs well for two years, she’d set them up with a business of their own. Maria was thrilled at the jefa’s generosity.

  Viola didn’t have the heart to tell her that Carlotta was desperate to find people she could trust who’d launder her drug money.

  After they finished the party treats, they took turns sipping the margarita. Emilio did have a knack. Viola praised him several times, which made Maria beam.

  “Did you know you’re already well known in Denver?” Maria asked.

  Viola couldn’t imagine why. “Don’t be silly.”

  The personal assistant took out her phone. “After you and Diego cleaned up the pottery warehouse, at least five people posted pictures of you on Facebook and Instagram. Diego told me downstairs that you were supposed to be La Llorona, but that’s ridiculous. You are not evil. Online, everyone is saying they found Santa Muerte in Denver. That makes much more sense.”

  She used the name that Viola had heard at the warehouse. “I have no idea who Santa Muerte is.”

  Maria unbuttoned her blouse halfway and showed off a tattoo of a narrow woman’s face. The eye sockets were dark, and a series of graceful lines covered the face.

  “This is her. She’s an ancient folk saint famous in the Southwest and Mexico. Her real name is Nuestra Señora de la Santa Muerte. She has lots of nicknames, including Niña Blanca. Often, she’s depicted as a skeleton, but she helps people improve their lives.”

  The longer name translated as Our Lady of the Sacred Death, and the nickname meant the white girl. Neither name told Viola much. “She must be special for you to have her tattoo.”

  Maria nodded several times. “Emilio and I are devoted. We pray to her every day, and she’s blessed us with good fortune. It’s a sign from God to see you like this. Would you honor me with a blessing?”

  The strangest feeling coursed through Viola. She was both thrilled and frightened. No wonder that so many gang members died young. They were crazy.

  When Viola snapped back to reality, she noticed that Maria was wearing a crucifix inside her blouse. It covered part of the folk saint’s face. Viola was torn between feeling inspired and creeped out. “Aren’t you Catholic? I’m not sure the priests would like Santa Muerte.”

  The younger woman smiled sheepishly. “Yes, but to
be honest, I feel closer to Santa Muerte than the church. Niña Blanca is much more powerful and accepting than the priests.”

  Maria knelt next to Viola’s chair and kissed the hem of Viola’s robe.

  Because of the church’s feeble reaction to its massive sex scandal, Viola didn’t trust the priests much anymore either. She placed her hand gently on Maria’s head and said an Our Father with her.

  Tears welled in Maria’s eyes. “I will light two candles in your honor tonight.”

  Viola sighed. “Thanks. But I’m neither La Llorona nor Santa Muerte. Carlotta just made me look like this to scare people.”

  Maria shook her head. “God alone decides who will represent Him. Que vaya con Dios.”

  Before Viola could argue about going with God, Maria grabbed the food tray and empty glass then hurried away.

  -o-o-o-

  Mount Evans Motel, Idaho Springs

  Athena kept trying to get Beau’s attention, but he didn’t hang up for a while. When he did, she explained what she’d found on Facebook.

  He sat on the bed next to her again. “I knew I kept you around for something more than your razor-sharp repartee. Where’s Viola now?”

  “No idea. I can tell from the metadata embedded in several of the pictures that they were all taken somewhere in Northwest Denver, not far from here actually. According to Google Maps, it’s a pottery distribution company.”

  She showed him a Street View picture of the place.

  “That’s one of the Santiago cartel’s legit businesses. It’s also a drug distribution center. The Denver cops reported gunshots from the building earlier today, but you’d have to deploy a full SWAT team to get inside. The cartel soldiers there have more firepower than we do.”

  “What if Viola’s still inside?”

  “Not likely. DPD says lots of vehicles came and went all day. Now that we know she’s connected to the Santiagos, we should be able to find her again. What I really want to know is what’s going on with the crazy makeup and outfit.”

  Athena wondered that too. “I’ll keep digging. I might need you to translate more Spanish for me, so don’t wander off.”

  They moved to the room’s small table. Athena showed him examples of the various posts and messages she’d found. Viola’s role was obscure. Some people thought she was a ghost called La Llorona but most seemed to think she was a folk saint named Santa Muerte. As she researched more, Viola’s confusion grew. Why anyone would mix up accounting with ghosts or folk religion?

  Athena and Beau continued to review social media posts until his FBI boss Stephen Yang called. A new crisis had arisen in connection with one of Beau’s cases. He had to leave for a few hours.

  Athena promised not to step outside, even to hobble to the ice machine. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make much progress without him, so she ordered a pizza and a bottle of mineral water while she dove deep into La Llorona and Santa Muerte.

  -o-o-o-

  Wednesday

  Casa Santiago, near Louviers

  The victory party lasted well into the night, but the soundproofing inside the cedar house was pretty good. Viola changed into a pair of silk pajamas Heidi had given her and fell asleep at her usual time.

  She woke up at two a.m. in a cold, jarring sweat. In a nightmare, Diego had been chasing her with a huge, bloody butcher knife. She’d tried to escape down a dark Denver street, but it was blocked by a garbage truck that filled up the entire street. Worst of all, unlike most of her past nightmares, waking up didn’t improve her situation one damned bit.

  She tried to sleep again, but she remained awake until four-thirty when she noticed a steady light shining into her window. It came from an almost-full moon low in the sky to the west. The glowing sphere seemed enormous as it lit up the back of the house and part of the backyard.

  She stood at the window, transfixed. God’s creation contained so much beauty. All the ugliness she’d seen lately had blinded her to God’s daily miracles. She couldn’t forget his blessings, like her mom.

  As the moon sank lower, it illuminated the gap in the trees she’d noticed earlier. Then, something dark crossed the gap. At first, she thought she’d imagined it. But soon, another shadow moved from one side of the gap to the other. It was too large to be a horse or a person. A vehicle? Who’d be driving around in the pasture in the dark?

  The third time it happened, moonlight reflected off a shiny roof. It looked like it belonged to an SUV or van.

  Fear flashed through her. This couldn’t be good. There were only two possibilities. The first was that a lot of cops were about to raid Casa Santiago. While she’d welcome freedom, she’d heard too many stories about police rescue attempts going horribly wrong.

  The second possibility was even worse. Viola had heard about the gang wars fought between competing cartels. Those vehicles might contain Rojas gangsters looking to get even with Pablo and Carlotta.

  If a sneak attack, Viola could end up as a sex slave or dead.

  What to do? Her heart pounded in her ears. If it was a rival cartel, which seemed most likely, the Santiagos needed to fight back. She hurried to the door separating her room from Carlotta’s and rapped loudly.

  In hoarse Spanish, the older woman yelled, “What time is it? I barely got to sleep. This better be important.”

  Viola opened the door, rushed to the bed where Carlotta and Heidi were tangled up in the sheets. Viola told the jefa what she’d seen. The older woman rubbed her eyes.

  Before Viola finished talking, Carlotta held up her hand. “Enough.”

  She opened a drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a walkie-talkie. “Cesar, are you on duty?”

  “Si, Señora.”

  She relayed what Viola had seen.

  “A moment, please,” he said.

  A few seconds later, he said, “We know. Arlo is patrolling the far pasture. He just called to report what you’re saying. We’ve already woken Pablo to defend the compound.”

  The walkie-talkie went silent.

  By then, Heidi was sitting up in bed. “What’s going on?”

  The older woman blew out a deep breath. “We’ve always worried that this could happen. I must go to the barracks to make sure Pablo has everything he and the fighters will need. Viola, we are in your debt for warning us. Remain here. The windows are bulletproof, and the walls are a foot thick, solid wood.” She pulled a long robe over her pajamas and left.

  Heidi rubbed her face. “Holy shit, darlin’. This don’t sound too good.”

  That had to be the biggest understatement of the week.

  Viola couldn’t help wonder whether she’d made the right choice. If the cops were coming, she might’ve put them in greater danger.

  Only time would tell. She and Heidi pulled chairs up to sit in front of Carlotta’s window. They spotted the older woman as she strode across the lawn toward the barn.

  All remained quiet.

  Eventually, Maria came in from the hallway. “Señoritas, are you okay? Do you need anything?”

  “Jus’ waitin’ to see what’s what,” Heidi said.

  Maria turned off the light in the bathroom. “Carlotta says that we need to keep the lights off and stay quiet. There’s some kind of attack?”

  Viola filled her in. The personal assistant dropped to her knees before Viola. “Please, Santa Muerte, save us.”

  Heidi snorted. “She already done did it. If this turns out to be what I think, we coulda all been murdered in our beds.”

  Viola set her hand on Maria’s trembling shoulder. But Viola’s hand shivered, too. She needed to say a prayer, but she didn’t know very many in Spanish. So, she recited the twenty-third Psalm in English. Maria quickly caught on, and while Viola and Heidi spoke in English, Maria recited the psalm in her native tongue.

  The waiting continued. Maybe Viola hadn’t seen what she’d thought. Maybe—

  A shot rang out. All three women gasped. It was darker than before bec
ause the moon had almost disappeared behind the mountains to the west. The sun hadn’t risen yet.

  Dozens of shots followed. All of the shooting seemed to take place on the far side of the creek until a second burst of gunfire loosed from the southeast, near the casa’s entrance.

  None of the bullets seemed to come close to their window, but Viola did notice a lot of muzzle flashes. The din from continuous gunfire was deafening. Men with rifles ran across the backyard toward the front of the house. A large explosion brought down several trees near the creek.

  Eventually, the gunfire petered out. Then it ended entirely.

  Viola thought out loud. “I pray we have won.”

  Heidi gave her a one-armed hug. “We must’ve. If not, bad guys would be pouring across the lawn right now, all jazzed up for rape and pillage.”

  She had a point. Men did run across the yard toward the barn, and they cheered.

  Diego entered the room. “All’s well, señoritas, but it’s a good thing that Viola and Arlo kept their eyes open. Carlotta is telling everyone Santa Muerte saved us.”

  Heidi patted her on the back. “Danged right! Praise the Lord and Santa Muerte.”

  Maria knelt before Viola and kissed her feet. Diego bent over and kissed her on the cheek.

  Viola felt a mixture of joy and guilt. “Do you know who they were?”

  Diego nodded. “At least two other cartels. They were pissed that we took the Rojas warehouse yesterday.”

  That was a relief. At least, she didn’t have the guilt that would come from helping these criminals fight off the police.

  Chapter 12

  Mount Evans Motel, Idaho Springs

  Still alone, Athena received an encrypted email from Roger. Bad news. Someone within DOJ back in DC is looking for you on our local servers. It’s a serious security breach. They’re using a hidden identity, so they’re already violating half a dozen agency regs. Must have some serious computer skills. The cartel has obviously compromised somebody at our DC headquarters. This might be a good time for you to leave the area. Please acknowledge receipt.