“No problem. Glad to help out our brothers and sisters in law enforcement.”
“Been in Midland long?” I asked and sat back down.
“A few months. You?” She remained standing in front of me. Her mirrored sunglasses kept moving, checking out the area.
“Forever.” I said. “Born here. Tried to leave right after high school, but Midland pulled me back.” I leaned back on the bench and propped my boots on a rock in front of me. “Where are you from?” Let her stand if she wants; it won’t intimidate me.
“Boston, originally. Family moved us to Dallas about ten years ago. This is my first assignment outside of there.”
I thought I noticed a weird accent. Bah-ston and Texas combined.
“I sort of have a reputation,” she said. “A pretty good one. This assignment’s important. In fact, I’m undercover. You and I meeting is not the smartest idea. Let’s make this count.”
Wow, is she wound tight. Fine. Axe the small talk. “My captain wants me to get our department up to speed on your investigation and offer to help any way we can.”
“I’ve got it covered.”
I waited. She stood. She finally gave up and sat next to me.
“Don’t really need any help.” Since she didn’t rise to my gentle West Texas inquiry, I adopted a firmer approach. “You could help us and read me in on exactly what your department is doing in our town.”
“Fine.” Her leg bounced. “Big picture? We’re investigating a drug ring with cartel ties. They run drugs from Mexico through to Canada, and we are pretty sure your town is a major link on their highway.”
“And?” Momma didn’t raise no dumb blonde.
“I’m here to infiltrate,” she shrugged. “If I find the connection, we move in and take them out.”
“You the only agent here?”
“Need-to-know basis, officer. Sorry. I can tell you I have several people sitting surveillance on a couple of key suspects. But we’re in the early stages of our investigation. Our agents are still working on their methods of transport, the players involved, the timetables.”
“So, you pretty much know zip.”
She frowned. “What we do have is a pool going for whoever cracks the case first; fifty bucks buy-in.” She brushed a leaf off the bench. “I intend for it to be me.” Still no eye contact.
“Let’s start with who you’re checking out,” I said. “This is my town. I grew up here. I know most of its bad players.”
Nothing.
“Fine. I’ll start. Drugs in Midland are old news, ever since we hit oil in the Permian Basin. We don’t have the manpower to completely shut it down. I will say the gangs keep to themselves, mostly. Take care of their own business. Until recently. Someone did a drive-by on a gangbanger birthday party. Killed a college boy. Kind of woke everyone up. Naturally, no one saw or heard anything.”
Finally she turned to me and took off her shades. “What gang?” She stared at me hard. “Wouldn’t be Los Demonios, would it?”
“Los Demonios? That’s who you’re investigating?” Every cop in Midland knew that gang, and I knew plenty. Maybe if I share a little, she’ll do the same. “We’re investigating the murder of a civilian, an older woman, in one of our housing projects. I’m worried it could be them. She wasn’t involved in drugs, far from it. But bangers come and go all around those apartments. Maybe she pissed off one of them. Thing is, her death looked nothing like a random accident. Whoever killed her made that very clear.”
“What apartment complex?” She focused on me like seeing me for the first time.
“Chaparral. It’s to the east, near the—”
“I know exactly where that is.” She glanced at her phone again. “We have eyes on several complexes in town. Chaparral is one.” She stood, and I joined her. “I’ll be in contact, okay? Soon as I get something that might help you.”
“Harper, we need to know what you’re doing. Chaparral means something to you. Tell me why.” So far she’d told me nothing. “I want to stay out of your way, and I certainly don’t want you in mine.”
She smiled at me and turned to leave.
I offered one last parting shot to her retreating back. “This is a small town. Actually I have one of the fringe gang members in a class I teach. Would you be looking at a Junior Alvarez, by chance?”
She froze. “Shit.”
“I take it you know Junior.”
“I might.” She put her shades back on and sat down. “I might have an interest in Mr. Alvarez.” She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead.
Whoa. Seems I struck a nerve. Interesting.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Junior
“When I moved to Midland, I didn’t know anyone. I saw a bunch of vatos in the park near where I live. Long story short, I got to know them. Most are long-time gangbangers and hard core. Miguel is in charge, and he’s a smart MF. Fingers in all sorts of businesses. Says he has plans for me.”
“What is his full name?”
“Miguel Castillo. The gang is known as Los Demonios.”
“I have heard of it. Continue.” Mr. Sanchez, elbow on the table, tapped his temple with his finger.
I looked at the ceiling willing myself to recall past events. “Several months ago, when I didn’t answer Miguel’s calls or texts, he sent a bunch of assholes to my apartment.”
Sanchez waited a beat and said, “Tell me more about the encounter. Specifics please.”
“While I worked at the computer lab in school, they broke into my place and trashed it. When I got there one dude had his dick out and his paws all over my neighbor, Patricia. I clocked him and sent them all packing. I got her to promise not to report it. Did the asshole a solid. He left royally pissed and didn’t see it that way.”
“What is his name?”
“Freddie Medina. Has a huge tattoo on his forehead that says Fuck You. Not the smartest dude.”
“That individual has been through our offices before. One of my junior attorneys handled his case. I will make a note to check his files.”
“That’s the one time I know of where Freddie and Patricia met. I embarrassed his ass. Interrupted his fun. He bugged out mad at her and me.”
The lawyer glanced at his watch. Thin, gold, nice. “I am due in court soon. They are going to book you, Junior. That is how it is done. Remain quiet, comply with their requests. I will see what I can do to get you out on bail. Do not count on it, however. You are a flight risk and unfortunately, have no convincing ties to Midland.” He closed his briefcase and clicked it shut. “Sorry, son. Stay with me. We will work extremely hard to see justice is not blind to you.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s more than anyone has ever done for me. Please thank Grace for me and tell her not to visit me in here.”
“Sorry, Junior. I love my daughter, but that is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. She is her own woman these days. I have learned not to tell Grace what to do, merely to make suggestions. You must know, in her you have made a friend for life. You are stuck with us Junior, like it or not. I happen to believe she made the right choice. We will get you out of this mess. Trust me.”
We shook hands, and he left.
A guard came in immediately and led me out of the interrogation room in handcuffs back to a holding cell.
He shoved me inside. I pushed my hands through the bars, and he un-cuffed me. Behind me, a blond guy reeking of puke and booze lay snoring on the concrete bench. A fresh pink lump rose on his forehead and patches of bare scalp oozed red where clumps of hair had been yanked from his head. Poor bastard must have pissed someone off. I sat as far away from him as I could. Next door I heard a woman clanging the cell door and slamming against the padded walls.
The cold concrete on my back brought me back to the first time I sat in a cell, incarcerated at twelve years old. Scared shitless then, I remember my whole body shuddered with fear and relief. I’d killed a woman in self-defense and the jury found me innocent, barely. They set me free
, but a woman ended up dead, child abuser though she was and the system became my parents.
If they unsealed my juvie jacket, I’d see the inside of a gas chamber for sure. I closed that file in my mind. No good going there. I’d been let loose back then and the woman’s death ruled justified. Yeah, and pigs can fly given the right motivation.
A portly deputy came to the cell carrying a threadbare towel. “Junior Alvarez?”
“Yes.” I stood.
After a shower, they issued me a robe and plastic slippers and led me to a desk in the middle of the intake area. A gray-haired nurse who won’t see eighty again, pointed to a chair in front of her desk. She stood slowly and creaked over to me carrying a thermometer. I opened my mouth, and she gently placed it under my tongue. It hung there while she hooked me up to a blood pressure cuff and clipped a plastic thingie on my finger. She wrote all my vital statistics into her computer. Put it all away.
“Mr. Alvarez, I have four pages of questions about your health. Shall we begin?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you have any allergies?”
“No.”
“Are you on any medications?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Have you sustained any injuries that need to be attended to today?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Ever have any broken bones?”
“Nope.”
“Get all your childhood vaccinations?”
“Yes, ma’am. In juvie.”
“Do you have or have you had diabetes, heart disease, nervous conditions?”
“None of those.”
The questions kept coming. Some duplicates of ones I answered earlier. She asked if I knew today’s date and our president’s name. “Abraham Lincoln?” I said. She scowled and clicked away at her computer keys for several seconds. “Deputy Rodgers, take the prisoner to be photographed and pick up his uniform. Thank you, Mr. Alvarez. The deputy will show you the way.”
Photographed, fingerprinted, and my information updated in the database, they led me to an area with shelves of uniforms, all different colors, sealed individually in plastic bags. I’ve been in enough jails to know that each color meant something. Brown or blue meant low-level threat. Medical is green. Orange is mental health. Yellow is for snitches and people in protective custody, and Red is for the big one. Extra violent, murderer, and lockdown risk. Don’t want to think what stripes mean. Those guys are mean mothers.
I got issued blue scrubs. Apparently, I’m a low-level threat. In a weird way I felt insulted. I gave back my robe. Midland Jail has the latest duds for inmates. Hell, we look like doctors on TV.
I followed the guard to my pod. Wonder who my celly will be? Sunlight poured through the bars on the windows. I counted about one deputy to sixty inmates. They’d painted the pod pastel blue. How soothing. I’d blend right in. The cell door clanged open, and I entered to find, standing in the cell expectantly, none other than Chigger. I thought he lived in Mexico by now.
“Dude, I heard you were on your way.” A feral smirk creased Chigger’s puss. “Welcome, homeboy.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Kailey
I climbed the stairs to Heather’s lab. Fluorescents in the ceiling hummed. She bent over a microscope but raised up when I knocked.
“Kailey! You’re back.”
“Yep. Raring to go. What’s been happening since my banishment?” I walked over, and we hugged. “You look great.”
“I’m happy to see you. You’ve been missed. Shinto has been a wreck without you. Just a sec, I need to get this email sent.”
I wandered over to a spinning centrifuge. “Did you get all the Patricia Keystone evidence cataloged?”
“Couple of weeks ago. Shinto and Allen did a bang-up job.” She tapped the Send key and smiled. “How can I help?”
“I’d love to see the results.”
Heather stroked a few more keys and said, “All yours. Check your inbox.”
“Can you summarize for me?”
“Didn’t Shinto tell you? They found a ton of evidence, all pointed to one guy. They arrested him. Slam-dunk case.”
“I love when that happens. Who’d they arrest?”
She screwed up her face. “I’m sure Shinto or Allen will fill you in. Heck, wait, hold on.” She shuffled through a stack of file folders, peeling back tabs with her forefinger until she found one near the middle. She flipped open the folder to the cover sheet stapled to the front. “Says here the guy’s name is Junior Alvarez. Put the bracelets on him in mid-pose at a drawing class. Apparently he’s some sort of model.”
“Thanks, Heather. You’re the best lab rat I know.”
I left, with my stomach in a twist, though I had no good reason why. Junior? A ton of evidence?
That didn’t track at all with my image of the guy in my class at Midland.
What the hell do they have on you, Junior?
Chapter Sixty-Five
Junior
The door to our cell clanged shut. “I got the bottom bunk, Junior, bum knee.” Chigger patted his left leg.
The power games begin. “Screw that, Chigger. You’re on the top bunk.” I stepped in close, towering over him. He backed up and bumped against the sink bolted to the cinderblock wall.
“Worth a shot, man.” He snapped his fingers nervously. “I’m guessin’ Freddie did his number on you like he promised, eh?”
I sat on the bottom bunk. “What do you mean? Talk to me.”
“You know he’s had a hard on for you ever since you started hangin’ with us, right?”
“I know he’s an asshole. Otherwise I don’t care about him one way or the other.”
“Should’ve taken notice, bro.”
“Talk.”
He sat next to me. “What’s it worth to you?”
“How about not punching your lights out for starters? If the information is specific and there’s proof, I’ll even protect your sorry ass in here. Maybe even get my attorney to help you with your case.”
Chigger jumped to his feet. “You are a dead man in here, boy. All I gotta do is say the word.” He preened like a bantam. “How about I protect you?”
I leaned back against the wall, staring him down, ready to kick him in the balls.
He puffed out his chest. “Do me a solid and get your attorney to work with me, maybe I’ll cut you a break.”
I pushed off the wall, and Chigger shrank backward. I waited a beat. “Done,” I said, and stuck out my hand. “What are you in for?”
Chigger relaxed and we fist bumped.
“This is what I get for doing a favor for a friend. After the robberies, I went Mexico, then I made one last run for Miguel. He likes that Mexican coke. Said his regular supplier ran into problems moving product. So he tripled my fee, and I took the bait.” He spread his arms. “Here I sit like the fish I am.”
“Tough break, man.”
“The toughest part? I shot a cop back in the day. Before you met me.”
“In Midland?” I said.
He nodded. “Pendejos haven’t connected the dots yet. It’s only a matter of time. I gotta get out of here. If they give me bail on the drug charges, I’m beatin’ feet faster than frijoles through a Tijuana tourist. Back to my honey in Baja. I run that town, man.”
“Yeah, you're a giant, Chigger.”
“Seriously. You oughta come down sometime. I could have you covered in chicas and blow. No more Miguel or friggin’ Midland ever again.”
“I hear ya. Now, tell me more about Freddie.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Kailey and Shinto
I found Shinto working a speed bag in the police gym. “Shinto.” I came up behind her.
She whirled around and grabbed me in her sweaty bear hug, gloved hands crossed behind my neck. “SHE’S BACK.”
I gritted my teeth. “Um, I left Heather’s lab . . .”
“Yes?”
“Whose shitty deductive prowess fingered Junior Alvarez for th
e Patricia Keystone murder?”
“We've got the evidence.” Shinto cocked her head. “It’s overwhelming, Kailey.”
“Did you ever think maybe a little too overwhelming?”
“What’s your deal with Alvarez? You still sweet on that loser?”
“Think, Shinto. Remember what was done to that poor woman? Some sick fuck tortured her, raped her. He sliced off her breasts, Shinto. I intend for him to burn in hell. No way Junior Alvarez did that.”
“You psychic now?”
“You met him. Tell me you think that young man in our class is so twisted he stabbed her twenty-seven times.”
“Allen seems pretty convinced.” Shinto picked at the Velcro ties on her gloves.
“Allen couldn’t find the murderer in a Nancy Drew novel. With apologies to Nancy.”
“We have the evidence. The captain chewed on our ass. The mayor chewed on his. Allen wrote his report, and I signed it.”
“You signed a fairy tale.”
“My stomach’s been sick ever since I watched Allen question Alvarez.” She kneaded her midsection as if to confirm it. “But what are you going to do?”
“We’re going to go over it again and again until we find the evil son of a bitch who really savaged that poor woman. I want to watch them strap his ass to a gurney and shove the needle in. Wish they could gas him, zap him, shoot him, and hang him. I would really prefer a nice, botched hanging to tell you the truth.
Shinto grinned. “I have missed you, girl.”
“Same here. Believe me. First thing on my agenda, I’m going to talk to Alvarez.”
“He’s lawyered up.”
“Don’t care. He knows things he’s not telling. I’d bet my badge on it.”
“Cool your jets. I’ve got a better idea. You get the pizza, I’ll get the beer. We’ll huddle at my house and comb through the files and photos separately. A little girl-on-girl action. So to speak.”
“I could use some food.” My two granola bars from this morning had long since disappeared.
West Texas Dead: A Kailey and Shinto Mystery Page 20
