by Paul Knox
It had been four days and still no word.
Jessie felt like she was in some kind of terrible horror movie—the kind she never watched. She didn’t like suspenseful films. Harry Potter was the deepest she dove into mystery or the occult. She searched her memories for her favorite comedies.
She liked to laugh. And cry. But a good cry. She looked forward to one of those good cries when this was all over.
Jessie wasn’t giving up.
She thought about that razor in the bathroom—and her plan. When Lucky came back, she’d get it. She might fail, but what did she have to lose at this point?
Four days and no word. She might never see Zaki again, might never feel the embrace of her husband. Lucky barely talked to her and when he did, it was reluctantly. He got no pleasure from having her here. It was just a matter of time before her welcome would be worn.
And then…
She’d been fed bland oatmeal. One, single time. Her lips were split and peeling, and her mouth so dry, that the importance of her life in this situation was blaringly trivial.
Jessie was a pawn to distract from something.
That had to be it. With all the different thugs in and out of that house, and the plastic bag rustling while Lucky was here, she knew there was something much more important happening than simply her abduction.
From what Tommy had told her about the cocaine operation he was taking down, she guessed this was all some sick, twisted part of that.
Jessie was being kept as a distraction.
She wasn’t important to anybody.
Eleven
“That name…I don’t remember a Don Rico. Red Vines?” Raymond offered a large tub of licorice.
Reece shook her head.
Raymond pulled a few ropes from the tub. “However, I did overhear one of my old clients speaking to someone about an ‘El Hijo Rico.’”
“El Hijo means the son in Spanish.”
“I thought the word for sun was sol?”
“Other son. Never mind. And?” Reece listened closely on the black leather couch, waiting for the next clue in her investigation.
“The client was an old white guy with a 70s mustache. The very first time he bought Levamisole from me he made a call, asking about a transporter guy named El Hijo Rico. He had asked how much—I assume cocaine—El Hijo Rico could bring him.”
“What was the name of this white guy?”
“He went by the name of Lucky.”
“Lucky was his name?”
“That’s what he went by. He wore a straw hat—one of those mystery-looking hats.”
“A fedora?”
“Sure. It wasn’t old farmer straw, it was nice—Panama style. And he always wore a Hawaiian shirt. Funny-looking guy with a funny name. Although, I’d say when you find him, he’s going to be very unlucky.”
Raymond shifted in his chair uncomfortably before nervously biting into his licorice. “You will find him, right?”
“It’s just a matter of time. Do you have any contact information?”
“No. He’d call me from different numbers when he needed me. But I remember that first conversation clear as day. Dealing with these criminals always put me on edge.”
“Lucky asked about El Hijo Rico, he didn’t talk to him directly?”
“No, I guess it was the person who connected Lucky to El Hijo Rico. A middleman. I remember that Lucky had asked for twelve kilos.”
“Twelve? That’s over twenty-five pounds of cocaine. That’d be worth almost a million dollars to a distributor. And probably over two million by the time it hit the street.”
“That’s why I remember it so well. It blew my mind. And scared the bejesus out of me.”
“Who was the middleman, Raymond?”
“Somebody named Knight.”
Reece deflated, feeling her stomach drop like a rock. After all this time, the investigation led her back to him?
Raymond eyed her. “You look like you know him.”
“I do.” Reece didn’t want to elaborate that M. Knight worked for her father, Sandy, at the Galaxsea club. Reece had been itching to lock M. Knight up for a long, long time. She’d always suspected he was dirty.
“You’re telling me that M. Knight is connected to the Columbian cocaine operation?”
“I never met him, but I can tell you what I heard. You’re not going to make me testify though, right? I’m trying to stay hidden from…well…”
“From Diamond. I already know, Raymond. And unfortunately, she knows you live here. She gave me your address.”
“She knows I live here?” Raymond jumped up and started pacing the room, wide-eyed. “Oh, no. Oh, no. That’s not good. You don’t know this woman. She’s bat-shit crazy, off her rocker.” He dramatically threw his hands out. “This. Is. Not. Good.”
“I think she’s calmed down, Raymond. She went to jail for a little stint, too.”
“She was in jail for less than a week!” He took another bite from his red vines and frantically chewed.
Reece stood and handed Raymond her card. “If you see her lurking, call me directly. I’ll talk with her. I think she’s just hurt. She’s alone in her home. It must be awful to lose a son.”
“Oh, no, has it really come back to this? After all this time, I thought I was free from the craziness.”
Reece also felt like she’d never be free from the craziness. What if Sandy was behind Jessie’s abduction? Why was Sandy always somehow distantly involved in these heinous crimes? What was her father capable of?
“Thank you for your help, Raymond. I’ll be in touch.”
Soon, Reece drove her Jeep away from Raymond’s home. Too unnerved to get far, she parked just down the street. She needed to place a call, immediately.
Reece loathed the fact she now dialed her father, Sandy.
“Reece, so nice to hear from you. You never called me back about lunch. I do so wish we could meet and you’d give me a chance to explain everything. I trust everything is going well—”
“I don’t have time for this, Sandy. I need to speak with M. Knight. Is he there?”
“Mr. Knight? Why, yes, he’s right here on the computer doing some calculations for me on our expense reports. He’s quite good at Excel. I highly recommend—”
“Put him on the phone.”
“Of course, Reece. Do come visit me at Galaxsea when you have the chance. It’s better than ever with all the new renovations we’ve done.”
“Now.”
“Certainly. Good day.”
“Sup.” A new, lower voice spoke, which Reece recognized immediately.
“We need to talk. Stay there. I’ll be there in two hours.”
“What chu wanna chat wit me for, Ms. Detective?”
“Cocaine.”
“I’m not saying I don’t know ‘bout ‘caine, but I don’t know ‘bout ‘caine the way you wanna talk ‘bout ‘caine.”
Reece’s rearview mirror reflected a vehicle quickly turning onto the road, coming from the opposite end of Raymond’s street. This new vehicle stopped in front of his house.
Reece was still trying to decipher what M. Knight had said, and barely noticed the Kia Sportage.
“I’ll meet you at Galaxsea in two hours. If you’re not there, I’ll have a warrant for you out so quick you won’t be able to find a toilet without a deputy sitting on one, waiting for you with cuffs. Are we clear?”
The occupant of the newly parked vehicle exited her Kia and approached Raymond’s home, going up to his front door.
M. Knight continued. “I’ll be here, Ms. Detective. Don’t chu worry. I ain’t got nothin’ to hide.”
Just then Reece heard a gunshot.
“Oh, crap,” Reece whispered.
“Huh?” M. Knight asked.
Reece threw down the phone, grabbed her gun and jumped out.
◆◆◆
Diamond’s focus was all tunnel vision. She hadn’t noticed anything except the numbers on the outside of Raymond the Monste
r’s blood-money house. 417 was the address, but it had looked like 666 to Diamond.
He wasn’t getting off easy this time.
Moments earlier, she had removed a small handgun from the case next to her on the passenger seat.
She wasn’t a particularly good shot. In fact, until this moment, she hadn’t shot it for over twenty years.
After banging on his front door, she yelled, “You stole my baby from me! Open up, you murderer!”
“I’ll call the cops!” came a frantic response from inside.
“The hell you will!”
That’s when Diamond took her first shot. The recoil surprised her. She almost dropped the gun and fell over. But her adrenaline surged. She wasn’t about to quit now.
The bullet splintered right through the front door. A man’s scream could be heard all the way down the street. It was a loud, full-bodied scream of terror, not a wounded scream of a hurt man.
Diamond shot again, this time at the deadbolt. She’d seen plenty of movies. She had to bust the lock to get inside.
“You’re gonna meet your maker, and he’s gonna send you down to Satan’s flames where you belong!”
◆◆◆
Raymond Miller was a doctor, not a soldier.
“Damn it!” he yelled as he raced to his man cave. In that spare bedroom, he had a shotgun from thirty years prior, when he and his father had tried duck hunting a few times.
As he loaded two, decades-old shotgun shells, fumbling with them like a toddler playing marbles, he both cursed at and prayed for Detective Reece Cannon.
The next thing he knew, he heard his front door being opened and footsteps inside. A third shot fired, thundering through the hallway.
Raymond panicked. He couldn’t see what he was aiming for, but hoped a shot would scare Diamond enough to make her flee.
He aimed at the closed bedroom door to his man cave and fired.
The blast from the shotgun sent it backwards, hard, slamming into his face and breaking his nose. Blood immediately started gushing down his face, mixing with the tears he was now crying from pain.
He slumped to the floor, dropping the gun and attempting to grab his face, washing his hands in blood.
“I’m going to die,” he whispered.
Twelve
Reece Cannon sprinted after Diamond, hurtling into Raymond’s home only seconds after her. Diamond had already popped a third shot, which ripped through the couch that Reece had been sitting on moments earlier. Diamond continued her advance, heading for the other end of the home.
When the loud boom sounded from a back bedroom, both Diamond and Reece instinctively ducked.
“Diamond, drop your gun, now!” Still crouched low, Reece aimed at the elderly woman, hoping with every cell in her body that Diamond would drop it, and Reece wouldn’t have to shoot.
Diamond stood, confused, and inched away from Reece.
A crack shot, Reece could easily target Diamond’s hand from across the room. But a bullet from her Glock would rip the woman’s aging flesh and shatter the bones in her hand, severely crippling her grasp, probably messing up the rest of her life.
“Please, Diamond. This isn’t worth it. It’s over.”
Diamond looked at Reece and then back towards the hallway, dazed and disoriented. “He killed my…only baby.” Then she dropped the small gun and fell to her knees, sobbing.
Reece yelled to where the blast originated. “Raymond! It’s over. Drop the gun, leave it on the ground and come out, slowly, with your hands up!”
A bloody mess emerged from the back hallway, his face completely disfigured.
“She shot your face?” Reece pulled out her phone and started dialing 911.
Raymond was sobbing, too. He choked on his words. “I think my shotgun broke my nose.”
“Get some ice, wrap it in a towel and hold it on your face. Sit down on the couch and lean forward so you don’t choke.”
It took close to half an hour for backup deputies to arrive. The Santa Rita Foothills didn’t have a police force or hospital; they were too small a community.
Raymond’s fancy rug was definitely ruined. His couch didn’t look any better.
But finally, the closest deputies showed. Raymond’s girlfriend had arrived, too, and the bloody man opted to get a ride to the hospital from her.
The deputies handcuffed Diamond and put her in the back of an official SUV.
“Go easy on her, guys.” Reece grimaced, watching a puffy-eyed Diamond sit inside.
The two deputies next to Reece, said in almost unison, “We will.”
What Diamond did was far from legal or right—and might have crossed the line into crazytown—but it was hard for Reece not to sympathize with her lonely pain.
Fifteen minutes later, Reece was back on the phone with M. Knight, telling him she’d be later than expected.
Then she braced herself for a conversation she’d avoided for long enough. A conversation that might not be pretty, that is, if Sheriff Landy had seen the news.
“Reece? What the hell did I see on the news this morning?” Landy’s compassionate tone was no longer present.
“We’re running out of time. I made a judgment call. If anything happens to Jessie, I’ll take full responsibility. I need leads.” It surprised Reece he hadn’t seen the report yesterday. No wonder she hadn’t been suspended today.
“You’re damn right, you’ll take the blame. If you disobey my direct orders again, I’ll have your badge. Understand?”
Reece rolled her eyes and scowled at her phone. “Yes, sir.” Arguing wouldn’t get her anywhere.
“Good. Well? Find anything out?”
“Remember Galaxsea? I have a lead on M. Knight.” Reece filled Landy in on her meeting with Raymond, including the Diamond catastrophe.
“Finally have something on M. Knight? Good, check him out. If he talks, let me know. But if I hear you talking to that reporter again, it’s over. We’ll find her—without the entire state of Arizona finding out. We’ll let the public know after we have Jessie back.”
Next, Reece called Penny and asked her to find anything on the name El Hijo Rico.
The drive to Galaxsea was filled with notions of continuing her dialogue with Kevin Kelvin without Landy finding out. Not for the dinner and company she hoped for, but to keep the news rolling.
There was somebody out there who had information and didn’t know it was important. Someone who had seen something. With enough views, it was only a matter of time before that person came forward. Reece needed Kevin to get the story—the facts—to that one person.
◆◆◆
“Sandy’s not here?” Reece asked.
“He had somethin’ come up. He’ll be back before we open for the night. But didn’t chu wanna speak with me, anyways?” M. Knight sat on an empty barstool.
Reece didn’t sit. “Figures. He’s good at leaving. Real good at that. Does he know what you’re up to—selling cocaine?”
“I ain’t sellin’ nothin’.”
“I just spoke with someone who claims you know how to obtain twelve kilos of cocaine, direct from Columbia.”
“Now who would go and say somethin’ like that?”
“Someone who I can get to testify in court. You better start talking—unless you like sleeping in a holding cell.”
“Listen, I’m not admitting anything, but I knew ‘bout that stuff in the past. I’m all straight now, and work here at this respectable establishment. Sandy pays me good money. I don’t need a side hustle.”
“There’s a woman who’s been abducted. I have reason to believe that Columbians are involved somehow—and you know, or used to know them.”
“Sure. I got a name for you. Santiago Rojas. He’s a bad dude that does anything for the right price. He was all about ‘caine and prolly snatches people, too.”
“Santiago—” Reece was interrupted by her phone ringing. “Excuse me.”
Reece stepped away, to the other end of the bar. “Penny? Wha
t do you have for me?”
“I think I found the address of that fellow El Hijo Rico.”
“El Hijo Rico lives here in Tucson?”
“It’s a three-month lease, and the apartment is under the fake name Jose Garcia. I found it because El Hijo Rico has a WhatsApp account, and the IP address most commonly used to access it comes from that apartment. Not the brightest criminal, to be sure.”
“WhatsApp?”
“Apparently he has a mother and aunts and other family in Columbia that he keeps in touch with. Criminals still have family.”
“That’s amazing, Penny. Your investigative skills never cease to amaze me.”
“Shall I text you the address?”
After hanging up with Penny, Reece turned her attention back to M. Knight. “We’re not done.”
“Why’s it look like you’re ‘bout to leave then?”
“Because I am. If you’re involved in this, I’ll find out.” Reece raced out. While running to her Jeep, she phoned Ethan.
“What’s going on, boss?”
“I got the address of El Hijo Rico, apparently an unknown relative of Don Rico. I need you to meet me there. Now.”
Thirteen
Even with all the air purification, the casino smelled of smoke. The roof was painted to look like the blue sky and the lights inside were bright. Lucky could easily forget if it was day or night.
With all the dings and bells and the electronic-video-game sound extravaganza, he might as well have been in the middle of a large city—not on an Indian reservation at the edge of civilization with cactus and tumbleweeds surrounding all sides.
It just so happened that at this moment, late afternoon on Tuesday, Lucky wasn’t so lucky.
“I don’t think you have enough chips to stay in this game, sir.” The poker dealer said.
Lucky looked around. He sat at a private table with the highest of the high rollers. Unscrupulous people, they all had their hands in criminal activities. These individuals were Lucky’s power players, exclusively, when the money was right.
Today, the money had been right.
