She peered closely at the pommel end and carried the knife over to a wall of cabinets. She searched the cabinets and came back to the work table with a selection of hasps, a drill, and a set of bits.
“When we get the end off, the rest should slide free, especially the handle washers and the finger guard. The tang is our pot of gold. If there’s any blood hiding in this thing, it’ll be on the inside of the finger guard and on the tang.”
“How the hell you know all this shit, Heather?”
“A father and two brothers. All hunters. All knife freaks. I’ve reconditioned more knives than I have pairs of shoes.”
She clamped the knife into a vise and matched drill bits to the rivet size. While she screwed a bit into place she said, “You can be my sous chef. Rustle us up some swabs and tubes. If we get lucky, we’ll want to be crystal clear about what we find on this thing and where.”
Heather worked, and I filmed the whole process on my iPhone.
“Good idea, assistant,” she said. “Let’s show ’em how it’s done.”
When the knife and all its pieces and parts lay disassembled on the table, Heather looked over at me and grinned. “Score one for late-night TV.”
“We got blood?”
“Enough for several DNA samples,” Heather said. “We’ll run the lot. See if we, or Junior, get lucky.”
“How fast?”
“Damn, you don’t want much, do you Kailey? Definitive DNA will take more than a month.”
I groaned.
“Dallas is backed up,” Heather said. “I can get us a preliminary taste here in a few hours. Depends how quickly the computers find a match. It won’t be admissible, but it’ll give us a pretty good predictor for your investigation.”
“Oh, my god. Heather, I could kiss you.”
“Please don’t. Shinto would have both our asses.”
Chapter Seventy-One
Junior
I paced, waiting for Elizabeth, planning my approach to get at the truth.
Her red BMW pulled to the curb and honked. I jumped in and smelled hot leather upholstery and peppermint Altoids.
The idling car didn’t move.
She leaned forward without talking, switched off the ignition, and sat tapping her thumbs on the steering wheel. Her red fingernails and lipstick matched the car perfectly. If she meant to distract me, she was doing a good job. The car closed in on me and got hotter by the second without the AC blasting.
“Junior, what is this all about?”
“I miss your cupcakes.”
“Bullshit, what’s really going on?”
“Fact, it reminded me how much I miss your cupcakes when I got kidnapped and taken to Officer Elliot’s house by Officer Carmichael.”
She stopped tapping and stared out the windshield. When she turned to me she bit down on her top lip. “We need to talk,” she said. “But not here.”
“Let’s go inside my apartment.”
“No.”
She cranked the ignition and revved the engine. “I’ve got a better idea.”
She squealed away from the curb like Dale Earnhardt, careening around corners until we skidded to a stop in front of her apartment.
She opened the door and got out, retrieved her purse without saying a word, and headed to the front door. I followed. She unlocked it, tossed her keys in the bowl, and pointed to the dining room. We sat across from each other, and she put her purse on the table between us.
“Yes?” I said. “I don't smell any cupcakes.”
“Get your mind off your appetites, Junior.”
“Hard to do with you looking like that.”
She opened her purse and dumped out its contents. A nine-millimeter Glock in its holster, an expandable baton, handcuffs, and a small leather wallet stood out in a sea of feminine crap.
“Tell me what you see.”
“Kinky sex toys.”
She picked up the wallet and tossed it to me. “Open it.”
A gold badge topped by an eagle with Drug Enforcement Administration Special Agent Harper Salazar in blue jumped out at me. Her picture opposite it showed a stern, all business Elizabeth. The shiny gold DEA on the ID left no doubt about it.
“Last I heard impersonating a Fed is a felony, Elizabeth.” Not great, but the best I could come up with while I processed the information.
“Read the name on the badge.”
“So you want to lock me up too, Officer Salazar? Get in line.” I stood. “Have a nice day, Harper.”
I headed for the door and heard the slide on the Glock rack once. It stopped me.
“We aren’t through here,” she whispered. “Please sit down.”
I remained standing, but turned around.
“I’m on the job, Junior. Undercover.”
“Congratulations.”
She tapped the gun barrel on the table absently. “I guess you might say things got a little out of hand with us.”
“Tell you one thing, honey, you’re good at your job.”
She looked me straight in the eye and said, “I don’t regret what we did. Do you?”
“You’re the one with the gun. I’ll say whatever you want me to.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” She set the gun on the table. “It wasn’t all about the job, Junior.”
“You sure fooled me. Here I thought my mojo was killing it.”
“Your mojo did fine. Until you went and got yourself arrested for a crime you didn’t do. I needed Kailey’s and Shinto’s help to get you out of jail.”
“You Fed dudes must have a lot of juice.”
“Enough. I want you to know, Junior, I never meant to let it go this far. You are a good guy. Plus, I can’t lie, the sex was fantastic.”
“Something about a woman in uniform with a gun gets me hot.”
“No uniform, Junior. I’m undercover, remember?”
“I remember undercovers.”
“Be serious.”
“I am. Serious as a murder charge.”
“I’m working on that.”
“Can we work on something else in the meantime?” I went to her and planted a kiss on those bright red lips. She pressed into me, and I picked her up. She wrapped her legs around me as I made my way to her bedroom, kicked the door open, and threw her on the bed.
She bounced right back up and came at me, pulling at my clothes. Our mouths joined once again. I wanted to devour the woman. My hunger grew more desperate when she grabbed fistfuls of my shirt and yanked it over my head. I reached for the buttons on her silk blouse.
“Uh-uh.” She pressed her palms against my chest. “It’s a Dior. I’ll get this, lover.”
She unbuttoned while I stepped out of my shoes and pulled down my pants. Her silk blouse fell away and she wriggled out of her tight skirt. Her red thong and bra glowed fiery against her creamy mocha skin. The lacy cups of her bra swelled full when she bent over to unbuckle the straps on her stilettos. I touched her arm. “Leave ’em on.”
I stood and pulled her up, pushing her none too gently against the wall. I covered her mouth with mine and stretched her hands above her head. My cock bumped against her flat stomach. She moaned and snaked her tongue into my mouth.
“Baby, I need you.” I grunted. I gripped her hands in one fist while my other hand wrapped itself in her thong and ripped.
“Fuck me, Junior,” she whispered in my ear. “Hard.” She jumped and wrapped her legs around my waist again. I felt her hunger, hot and wet. I dropped my hands to her ass and dug my fingers in, pulling her to me as I thrust forward. I slid deep into her, and she groaned into my mouth, matching each of my thrusts with one of her own. Our mutual desires found their rhythm, pushing hard then harder, fast then faster.
We staggered to the bed, still joined. She fell back, and I lay down on top of her. The drive became unbearable and release would come only if I pounded harder and deeper. I did and I did and I did.
Afterward we lay sweating and breathing fast, bed covers tangled around u
s.
Her body shuddered against mine, and I raised up on an elbow to look my lover in the face. Only then did I notice the tears.
“Hey. Hey, now. Elizabeth . . . Harper? Or?”
“Call me by my real name, Junior. Please, I’m Harper.”
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No, no.” She sniffed and turned her head to the side. “It’s me. I’m such an idiot.”
“I doubt that very much.”
“This is unexpected. You. Me. Acting like this. I’m a damn professional, and see what I’ve got myself twisted up in?”
She rolled out of bed and plucked a tissue from the bed stand. She stood unselfconsciously naked, blowing her nose.
I thought it might have been the sexiest thing I’d ever witnessed.
Two showers later and a change of clothes for her, we sipped cold Lone Stars out on her tiny condo patio. Nothing like an icy beer after steaming hot sex, all of which was great, but I hadn’t gotten a single answer to any of my questions. Might as well go right at it.
“Tell me one thing Harper.”
“Just one?”
“What are we doing here? The two of us?”
“Isn’t it usually the woman that leads with that, Junior?”
“I don’t mean—”
“I know what you mean.” She dangled her beer bottle between two fingers. “For one thing, I need your help.” She took a sip. “For another, I care about you, and I’m worried for you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re hanging with some very bad people.”
“Los Demonios.”
“They’re cartel, Junior. Your buddies Miguel, Freddie, Chigger, Dog, Yolanda.” She drained her bottle and set it on the cement next to her chair. “I’ve had them all under surveillance for weeks. I’m here to bring them down.”
Shit. “You really do your homework.” A week before, I thought all she did was bake cupcakes.
“You think it coincidence your cellmate at County turned out to be Chigger?”
“You?”
“Me. Chigger and I . . . let’s say the boy isn’t the sharpest machete in the field. He tells me what I need to know, but he’s still in lockup. I need eyes and ears inside the gang.”
I caught her drift. “Sorry, sweet thing. You know what I think of you. I hope you do, but I’m no snitch.”
“I’m not asking you to rat out your buddies.”
“Then what? By the way they’re not my buddies.”
“I need some arm candy. Take me around the gang, let me hang out. I’ll do all the heavy lifting. You stand around looking pretty.”
“Can I think about it?”
“Take your time. I’ll need your answer in oh,” she consulted her iPhone, “four and a half minutes. Give or take.”
“What happens in four minutes?”
“You’re taking me to a barbecue. At Miguel’s. I’m sure they sent you an invitation.”
“I’ve been a little preoccupied. Jail and all.”
“Think of the entrance we’ll make. Badass felon and the hot chick with a hard-on for bad boys, crashing a cartel party for a few cold cervezas and barbecued ribs.”
“I am kind of hungry.”
“Then it’s settled,” she said.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Kailey
Heather swabbed every newly revealed surface of the knife; the tang edges, faces, inside the guard. Each surface got its own swab, and she placed that swab in a separate vial tagged with date, time, and a number. “Now comes the hard part,” she said as she fitted them in a specially designed Styrofoam box destined for the lab in Dallas.
“What’s that?”
“The wait.”
“Where are you sending them?”
Heather tapped the label on the box. “Institute of Forensic Sciences, Medical Examiner’s Office and Crime Investigation Lab in Dallas. Why?”
“I may know someone I can call there for us. Maybe push our samples to the front of the line.”
“You want to solve this case before Christmas? Do it. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Those guys in Dallas think the world revolves around—”
“Hey, Derek. It’s me.” I put my cellphone on speaker.
Heather leaned against the lab bench, watching me with raised eyebrows and a bemused smile.
“Took you long enough to call me.” Even through the tiny speaker his voice sounded pissed.
I tried to sound upbeat. It wasn’t hard. The sound of his voice made my heart beat fast. “How you liking life doing forensics in the Big D? I saw they posted you there after our forensics stretch.”
“How the hell—?”
“Your Facebook page, darlin’.” I smiled. I couldn’t help it.
“I put that up for you,” he said. “Hoped you’d see it.”
“Could have called and told me,” I said. “The direct route always works best.”
“Wasn’t sure . . . the way we left things . . . if you’d want to hear from me . . . I don’t know.” He mumbled something unintelligible. “I didn’t call you. My bad.”
Silence.
“Anyway, to answer your question, Dallas beats prowling the crime-ridden streets of Nacogdoches any day.”
“Thought you said your home was a pretty quiet place.”
“Too quiet. I like it here fine. Enough about me. How’s your mom? Bet she loves having her big-deal daughter home again.”
“Um, I friggin’ hate Facebook, so you wouldn’t know. My momma passed last month.”
“Oh, Christ, Kailey girl, I am damn sorry to hear that. I know you and she were close. I have to ask. It’s a stupid question, I know ’cause everyone asks it . . . anything I can do?”
“Actually, that’s kind of why I’m calling.”
“Anything. Name it.”
“I’m sending you a case.”
More silence. Throat clearing. “Not exactly what I meant.”
“You said, name it. So . . .”
“I’m still new here, Kitten.”
“Come on, people love you everywhere you go.”
“People?”
My turn to be silent. “You don’t want to open that up again, do you Derek?”
“I never closed it, girl. Don’t suppose I ever will.”
“Can you help me or not? It’s a murder case. Messy one. I need to nail the son of a bitch, or a good man’s going to pay for it.”
“Don’t think I like the sound of that ‘good man’ business.”
“Jealous?”
“Should I be?”
I laughed to make a joke out of it. “You’re the only man for me, babe.”
“You said that once before. A couple times.”
“Can I send you this or not? Derek, if you’re not going to help me, I can go another way.”
“Send it. Put my name on it. I’ll see what I can do.”
Click.
Heather looked at me with her head cocked.
“He hung up,” I said.
“I’m shocked. At the way you sweet-talked him and all? Christ, Kailey.”
“Put his name on the label before you send it,” I said, and headed for the door.
“Kailey? KAILEY!”
“What? I get us the in we need and—”
“His name?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Sergeant. Derek . . . uh . . . shit wait a second.” I scrolled through my cell contacts. “McCormick.”
“You’re sure?”
“Shut up. We weren’t big on last names.”
“But big on other stuff?”
“He’ll help us. Derek is, um, he’s that kind of guy.”
Chapter Seventy-Three
Junior
Harper and I pulled up to Miguel’s house.
Harper pulled down the vanity mirror, touched up her lipstick and smacked her lips once, twice. “Look okay?” she said.
“Crap, woman. I’m only human. You didn’t get enough back at your place?”
She laughed and blew me a kiss. “Hold on, I need to share this moment with my crew. Don’t say anything stupid, I’m wired.” She dipped her chin and spoke to her cleavage.
“We’re on our way to the barbecue. Everyone in position? Start the recorders. Am I coming through?” She nodded and touched a finger to her right ear. “I’ll check in by midnight. If you don’t hear from me by two, come in with major prejudice. Harper out.”
“Ready?” she said.
“As I’ll ever be.”
She opened her door and stepped out. I followed. The sound of Los Lobos’s “La Bamba” fought to be heard over the loud background murmur and occasional shrieks of a crowd having a fucking good time. The smell of smoky-sweet barbecue and reefer carried on the warm, Midland night air. The scent of night-blooming jasmine met us on our way to the front door. Somewhere a dog barked.
I peered sideways at the woman next to me. Couldn’t friggin’ believe she was with me. She wore painted-on white pants and a see-through blouse that looked more like underwear than a shirt. Her bra, hot pink with sequins, matched her large dangly earrings. Her stilettos were fuck-me high.
Harper pirouetted without a wobble on those heels. “Like it?”
“Holy shit. Where you hiding your badge, much less your gun?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
“Why’d you have to be so damn sexy? Like a woman in heat, not one recently laid, and laid well, I might add.”
She kissed me on the cheek. “That’s what I’m counting on, lover.” She grabbed my hand and tugged my arm tight around her waist. She pressed into me, and I could feel she was wired, mentally and physically.
Better watch what I say.
“Junior, whatever happens, you need to know how much you mean to me. Watch yourself. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Then you shouldn’t have dressed like that. I’m going to be fighting vatos off you all night.”
“You sweet talker, you. Whatever happens in there, I’m yours and you’re mine.” She stretched up and bit my earlobe. “Remember that and don’t worry,” she whispered, “I’ve got your back.”
West Texas Dead: A Kailey and Shinto Mystery Page 23
