Over the Line

by Kelly Irvin

  “He said he had a personal matter to take care of. He was supposed to meet me at our informant’s apartment that afternoon at 3:00. I got there about 2:50, 2:55.” Teeter’s breathing was light, regular. “The apartment was in shambles. The guy was nowhere to be found. Jake either never showed up, or he’d already come and gone.”

  Gabby stopped and ran in place at a restaurant with outdoor tables that lined the street. Eli willed her to stay there. He needed water. And a chair to sit in. Eli hated jock wannabes. If there weren’t witnesses, he’d be tempted to shoot them both. “What was the personal appointment—did Jake tell you?”

  Teeter tugged a water bottle from the belt around his narrow waist and sprayed his face. The enormous biceps in his arm flexed. “He had a meeting with his fiancée and the minister.”

  “The minister?” Gabby stopped running in place and stretched both arms over her head. She actually looked better than she had thirty minutes earlier. “He had a fiancée, and he was meeting with a minister?”

  “Yeah, Reverend Cavazos.” Teeter’s white teeth flashed in a smile for a second. He cocked his head toward the sidewalk. “Gotta keep moving, guys. I understand your father was going to marry Jake and the woman he’d been dating. At least he called it dating.”

  Gabby took off after him. Eli followed suit. No wonder Jake hadn’t mentioned it to her. Talk about courting trouble—having the father of his sister’s ex-fiancé marry him. Not a promising start. Or maybe Jake saw it as a chance to get the two of them together, if not in the same room, the same church. “Sunny Mendez. Jake asked my father to marry them?”

  “He didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend, let alone that he was getting married.” She missed a step and almost fell on the curb. She righted herself before Eli could reach her. “If I find him, I’m going to kill him myself.”

  “Easy.” Eli picked up his pace despite legs that felt like pudding. “We don’t know the whole story.”

  “Don’t easy me! My brother was thinking about marriage and hadn’t bothered to tell me! Or introduce the woman to his family.”

  “Sorry.” The more stressed Teeter got, the faster he seemed to run. “I’m just repeating what he told me. He wasn’t the most forthcoming guy in the world, and I really hadn’t been working with him very long.”

  “Tell us about the operation.” Eli panted. This amount of exercise couldn’t be good for a guy. “Does Sunny Mendez have anything to do with it?”

  Teeter sped up some more. “I don’t know.”

  “An ATF agent is missing, maybe—” Eli halted in the middle of the sidewalk. “Stop. Enough. Just stop. Jake’s missing. Your operation is in complete chaos. What can it hurt to tell us what you know? If we find him, we can ask him what happened and get this all straightened out.”

  Teeter slammed to a halt and turned. It took several yards for Gabby to realize she was alone. Her face red with exertion, or more likely fury, she whirled and jogged back.

  Teeter wiped at his face with a towel tied to his fanny pack. “Sunny Mendez likes to party. Laredo has its version of a party circuit for folks who have lots of money and time on their hands. There’s not a lot to do here, if you haven’t noticed. Jake went with her to some of these soirees.”

  “Jake and a party girl.” Gabby ran her hands through her sweat-soaked hair. “That’s not my brother.”

  “Some of the best parties are hosted by a guy named Luke Donovan. They call him LD.”

  “I assume you’re going somewhere with this.”

  A man dressed in homeless couture staggered between them, bringing with him the stench of stale beer and urine. Teeter paused until the guy stumbled past. “Donovan considers himself Laredo royalty. He’s a transplant from New Jersey who made his money in the import-export business. He’s a decorated Vietnam vet who decided to reinvent himself in a border town after returning from the war. Clothing, jewelry, high-end crystal, art, primitive furniture. He built himself a mansion north of town with two pools, a bowling alley, movie theater, and a dance floor. He gives lavish parties.”

  “The only law broken there is the one of good taste.”

  “He’s living beyond his means. We’ve been going over his financials with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “And Alberto Garza had something on him?”

  “We don’t know. The guy they found dead on the riverbank was Donovan’s godson. Colby Langston. He was a college student at TAMU here in town. His phone was missing, and his apartment had been ransacked. Laptop and desktop missing.”

  Like Jake and Beto Garza. Someone was erasing all electronic evidence collected by these three men.

  “How was Langston related to Garza?”

  “He was another straw buyer. Same facilitator.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s what we intended to find out. We were going to meet Langston to get some evidence from him and bring him into protective custody. Same with Garza. We had two witnesses who said they had something on the facilitator. We figured we could shut down the whole operation, cut off the supply to Nuevo Laredo. Now the informants are both dead, Jake is missing, Laredo PD is trying to pin a murder on him, and whatever they had on the facilitator is gone.”

  “What did they have?”

  “Langston wouldn’t say. He wanted to talk immunity first. The kid was a budding lawyer.”

  Eli moved closer to the storefront. He jerked his head. No reason to block the sidewalk.

  Gabby didn’t seem to notice. She started jogging in place again. “Does it strike you as odd that right when you’re about to blow the operation wide open, your informants are killed and your partner goes missing?”

  “It does.” Teeter leaned over and put both hands on his knees. He heaved a breath. “My gut feeling is that somebody tipped off the facilitator.”

  “You’re talking about somebody on the task force?” A serious accusation—one that could deep-six Teeter’s career. “Do you have proof of that?”

  “Nothing solid. Which is why I haven’t spread it around. But I’m keeping my eyes and ears open. There’s a fortune to be made in gun smuggling, just like drug smuggling. Way more than someone in law enforcement makes.”

  “Be careful who you say that to. Maybe Donovan paid someone off for inside information.” Gabby’s tone had softened. She, too, could see where this train of thought could get Teeter. “On the other hand if he is tied to the cartel, he wouldn’t want Jake around.”

  “He also wouldn’t want to appear concerned about it. Jake said he shook his hand, offered him a glass of champagne, and gave him a tour of the place. He even suggested Jake might consider a position as his bodyguard. A lot more money in it, to quote the man.”

  Maybe the reason Jake hadn’t said anything about his alleged girlfriend was that she was part of his plan. “So Sunny was Jake’s ticket in. He was using her?”

  “At first, I think so.” Teeter’s gaze bounced to Eli. “But he got sucked in.”

  Teeter sounded as if he’d had some experience with love. Eli could relate. “Is it possible that Donovan has Jake stowed away in that mansion?”

  “It’s possible or in one of his warehouse properties, but we don’t have enough evidence—any evidence now—for a warrant for either one.” Teeter must’ve noted Gabby’s fierce response to this statement. “We’re working on it. I’ve told you what I can, but you guys need to stand down. We’ll finish this operation, one way or another.”

  His last words hung in the air. With or without Jake.

  Her expression hard, Gabby cocked her head. “What do you think of Rincon?”

  Teeter shrugged. “Too much of a dandy for my taste.”

  “He has expensive tastes.”

  “Do I think he’s on the take?” Teeter wrinkled his nose. “With Jake missing and Rincon on the warpath to charge him with murder, I’m not discounting him or anyone else for that matter.”

  “What about the witness who supposedly saw Jake drive away from the river Thursday?”

&n
bsp; “An old guy fishing at Dos Laredos Park.”

  “Nothing to do with the meeting?”

  “Nope. He described the vehicle, but he couldn’t describe the driver. He wears bifocals.”

  “Name?”

  “Thomas Benavides. I’ll text you an address, but the guy doesn’t know anything.”

  Sometimes it depended on who asked the questions.

  “Anybody could’ve been driving that car.” Gabby’s sharp tone said she was forcing herself to see the entire situation from Jake’s perspective. And she didn’t like it. “Time isn’t on our side. I want my brother back.”

  “Me too. If you think I don’t feel responsible for not being there for my partner, you’re crazy. We’ll get the people who did this.” Teeter glanced at his smartwatch. “My sister is having a gender reveal party in half an hour. I told her I wouldn’t miss it.” His voice turned hoarse. He paused and stared out at the park across the street. A park filled with kids playing soccer and moms with strollers. “When stuff like this happens—like with Jake—you realize nothing’s more important than family. I’m taking an hour to be with them, and then I’ll be back at the office.”

  He stepped into Gabby’s space. “We’re on this.”

  Eli caught Gabby’s gaze. He shook his head. Let the man go. “We want the same things. Go be with your family.”

  “They understand what the deal is.”

  “Keep us in the loop.”

  Without answering, he swiveled and began jogging back toward his apartment complex.

  “Let’s go.” She took off after him.

  “Gabs, wait. Where are we going?”

  She glanced back but kept moving, forcing Eli to keep up.

  “To talk to your dad. Sunny never mentioned she was supposed to meet Jake at the church that day. We have to find out if they showed up, if your dad talked to Jake that day. That way when we talk to Sunny this afternoon, we can confront her about her lie of omission. We need to know why she didn’t tell us about that meeting.”

  “Gabs, stop running.”

  “No, what—?”

  “He’ll be getting ready for tomorrow’s services. He’ll be at the church and the door will be locked.”

  A walk replaced the running in place. “Right.”

  Saturdays were sacrosanct for Xavier Cavazos. A day of preparation and prayer.

  “We’re not that far from the witness’s neighborhood. Let’s pay him a visit.” Like it or not, a visit to the Cavazos homestead was now on their list, but Eli had no intention of entering the inner sanctum of his father’s church during that visit. “Then I’ll talk to Sunny, give her a chance to explain. Then we’ll stop by the house. We’ll see if what she tells us matches what my dad knows.”

  “What do you mean, I’ll talk to Sunny? You mean we.”

  “You’re not going.”

  “Why?”

  “The bad guys are looking for you. We just got shot at. We don’t know what Sunny Mendez’s involvement in this is. You’re not walking into an ambush.”

  Gabby picked up her pace again. She wasn’t even breathing hard. “I’m going. It’s not up to you.”

  “No. Not when we don’t know who we can trust. Let me do this one.” Eli grabbed her arm and headed in the opposite direction of Teeter’s run. This traipsing around in the open was over. “You’re in danger, and you’re not walking into any more danger. Not on my watch.”

  “You’re not the boss of me.”

  He jerked to a stop and got in her face. “You have a death wish? Don’t do this to Natalie. She may have lost a brother already. You know that even if you don’t want to face it. You want to help? Take care of your sister and those kids. Be smart. Use your head.”

  She backed up a step. The anger drained from her face. “You get one stop without me. Mendez’s ranch. After that, I’m all in. You got that?”

  “I got that.”

  A temporary truce.

  Chapter 21

  Thomas Benavides’ house was the mirror image of those found in Laredo’s sister city across the border. Tiny, shotgun style, a pale-turquoise paint peeling from the sun-drenched wooden walls, it sat between pink-and-yellow houses. Gabriella beat Eli through the wooden fence gate and up the steps to the concrete front porch. The windows were covered with wrought-iron bars. Wind chimes and bird feeders hung from both post oak trees in the front yard. The neighborhood was six blocks from the border and about three from Dos Laredos Park. The front door stood open. A screen door kept out mosquitoes and flies. The voices of Spanish language telenovela actors drifted through open windows. She knocked. The screen door rattled. No one responded. She rapped again. Nothing.

  The exquisite smell of meat cooking on a mesquite barbecue pit reached Gabriella’s nose. They hadn’t stopped to eat. Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. “Backyard?”

  Eli nodded. He tromped down the steps and led the way through neatly trimmed, if sparse, grass to the backyard. An elderly wizened man with a white stubbled chin and a bald brown head stood at an enormous barbecue pit—the kind made from a black barrel and often pulled by a pickup truck to a family pachanga at a local park. At first impression it seemed that Yoda lived in Laredo. He wore a white T-shirt and baggy black pants. A German shepherd as grizzled as his owner unfurled from his spot in the grass. A low growl hummed in his throat.

  Spatula in hand, the man turned. He was about Gabriella’s height and weighed no more than she did. His dark eyes widened. The spatula dropped. Both hands popped up, palms flat. “No vi nada.”

  The dog’s growl turned into a bark.

  “Chico, cállate!”

  The barking ceased, but the dog stood at attention beside his owner.

  “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to scare you.” Gabriella frowned at Eli. He eased back a few steps. She introduced herself. “Do you speak English?”

  He nodded. A matching woman pushed through the back door. She had a can of Coors in one hand and a tortilla basket in the other. She was every bit as wizened as her husband, but her eyes were brilliant blue and her hair silver. She wore a flowered housedress and flip-flops. She halted without speaking.

  “Your wife, Señor Benavides?”

  He nodded. He still hadn’t moved.

  “I’m looking for my brother. You may have seen him.”

  He shook his head vigorously.

  “Can we sit down for a minute?” Gabriella pointed to the picnic table, from the looks of it also homemade. “We just want to ask a couple of questions, and then we’ll leave you to your lunch.”

  “You like cerveza?” The woman held up the can. “Beer?”

  “No, but gracias.”

  His face grim, Mr. Benavides nodded, but he picked up the spatula and went back to the fajitas on the grill. His wife settled the beer on the table. Her flip-flops smacking on the cement patio, she disappeared into the house.

  “You told the police you saw an SUV leaving the riverbank on Thursday afternoon.”

  “I didn’t see anyone.”

  Gabriella dug a photo from her purse. She approached him with great care. The dog’s growl reverberated. Mr. Benavides shook his finger at him. “Enough, Chico, or I’ll make you go inside.”

  Chico dropped his wiry body into the grass and laid his head on his paws, but his gaze never left Gabriella. She extended the photo of Jake, Natalie, the kids, and herself in front of the Christmas tree. They were being silly. Natalie had stuck her fingers up in rabbit ears behind Jake’s head. Jake stuck his tongue out. The kids both had their mouths open. Gabriella’s eyes were closed. “That’s my brother.”

  Mr. Benavides didn’t take her offering, but he studied the photo with obvious care. He shook his head and began flipping the fajitas. The pungent aroma of green pepper, onions, and jalapeños grilling mixed with that of the beef. “I can’t help you.”

  “He’s missing. I’m afraid for him. What if he were your son? Wouldn’t you want someone to step forward and tell you what they saw?”
r />   His lips pressed together in a thin line.

  “Do you have children?”

  A quick, hard nod.

  “Can you imagine how my parents must feel?”

  Another nod.

  “Please, I’m begging you.”

  “The man was un rubio, un guero.”

  Blond. Light skinned. A gringo.

  “What kind of car?”

  “Black Chevy SUV.”

  Jake’s latest vehicle. “Was he driving?”

  Mr. Benavides shook his head. “They stuck a black hood over his head.”

  “What did they look like?

  “Ejército. Army uniforms.” He shuddered. “Big guns.”

  “Did you hear shots fired?”

  He nodded and stabbed the meat with a grill fork. He moved pieces to a foil-lined pan.

  “Did they see you?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you so afraid?” Eli spoke for the first time. In Spanish. This set off a tidal wave of Tex-Mex. Gabriella’s Spanish wasn’t bad, but in his excitement Mr. Benavides spoke so rapidly she could only make out about half of it, mostly the English words that cropped up.

  He was fishing. He heard shots and crept through the trees until he reached an opening. When he realized what was happening, he stayed out of sight. He waited until they were gone to approach the man’s body facedown in the mud. Dead.

  One of the policemen came back later and told him to keep his mouth shut. Not to talk to anyone.

  “Detective Rincon?”

  Mr. Benavides shook his head. “I don’t know his name. He never said. He came after dark. After we sleep. Pulled me out here. Spoke in my ear. Left in dark.”

  “You’re sure he was a policeman, not ATF?”

  Mr. Benavides crossed his heart with an index finger gnarled with age and arthritis. “If police don’t protect you, who will?”

  Who indeed?

  “We won’t tell anyone we’ve talked to you.” Gabriella stuck the photo in her purse. “You don’t have to worry.”

  “I don’t worry. My wife worry enough for both of us.” He speared several succulent-looking fajitas, dropped them in a corn tortilla, and added a generous dollop of pico de gallo. “You take taco with you. You go.”