The Witness (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Style, Linda

Glancing around, David walked over to Alex. “You want to know where to find Tommy?”

  Alex nodded.

  “He hangs with the Pistoles.”

  The news caught Alex by surprise. Tommy couldn’t be more than twelve, but then Alex knew most gangs allowed younger boys, the gang wannabes, to hang around so when they’re ready they’d know the drill. “And where do I find the Pistoles?”

  David shrugged. “Talk to a guy named Marco.”

  The name sounded familiar. Then he remembered that Crista had asked if he knew a Marco Torres—or had heard anything about him. Now that he knew there was a connection between Marco and Tommy, it was important to find out. “Do you know where I can find him?”

  The boy shrugged again. “He lives in the hood.”

  Alex knew he wasn’t going to get specifics, but he was happy he had the tie-in. “Thanks, David. I appreciate it. Hope to see you tomorrow.”

  “Can’t. I’ve got other plans,” David said, then turned and sauntered back inside.

  Alex doubted the boy had other plans. He knew the kid wasn’t about to be beholden to anyone, and if he shared a dinner with Alex, he’d feel as if he owed Alex something. Boys like David didn’t want to owe anyone anything. Sad.

  He started his SUV and drove away, wondering what to do with the information he’d just been given. He really needed to talk to Tommy before he mentioned anything to Crista. But he had no idea how to get in touch with the guy named Marco.

  CRISTA PACED the floor, checked her watch and then went to the window. Diego should have been there by now. They were supposed to be at Alex’s in twenty minutes and she hated to be late. It would be just like Diego to change his mind and not let her know.

  Five more minutes. She’d give him that, and if he didn’t show, she was out of here.

  Glancing around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, she remembered the flowers she’d bought and went to the kitchen to retrieve them from the refrigerator. Calvin was safe at Mrs. McGinty’s for the afternoon, and Crista was relieved that the woman liked the bird enough to take him in. After what had happened to Calvin, she didn’t want to leave him alone. If it was Trini trying to get even with her, or some gang member who didn’t like her asking so many questions, new locks wouldn’t stop them.

  But who was she bothering and why? If she had that information, she might also have a suspect in the shootings.

  She glanced at her watch again. Diego’s five minutes were up. Late already, she gathered her things, locked the door behind her and flew down the stairs. As she reached the front of the building, a loud squeal of tires sounded outside.

  She jumped back, remembering the last time she’d heard the screech of rubber. Her adrenaline pumping, she cautiously opened the door and saw Diego getting out of a beat-up van. He’d made it. Relief swept through her—until she saw Marco at the wheel.

  “Hey, chica,” Diego said when he reached her.

  He seemed to be in a good mood. Too good. Almost as if he’d had one drink too many or was high on something. “C’mon, let’s go or we’ll be late,” she said.

  Marco waved and smiled as he drove off. Crista’s stomach knotted. If she’d had any doubt that Diego was involved with the Pistoles again, she didn’t anymore. Why else would he be hanging around with Marco? But she wasn’t going to get into that right now and spoil what she hoped would be a wonderful day.

  They walked to the parking lot in back of the building. Getting into her Jeep, Diego said, “Nice ride.”

  “It’s ten years old.” Her apprehension about sharing Thanksgiving with Alex’s family and bringing Diego along left her patience paper thin. She turned the key in the ignition, shifted into gear and pulled out and into the street.

  “Yeah, but you gotta admit, a ten-year-old set of wheels is a whole lot better than no wheels.”

  “Okay, you got me there.” She grinned, relaxing a little. She liked when Diego joked around.

  “So are you and this Del Rio guy getting it on?”

  “Diego!” Crista swerved and nearly drove up on the curb. “I’m working with him. Trying to solve a case.”

  He nodded. “Uh-huh. You have Thanksgiving dinner with many people on your cases?”

  “He’s very traditional. Having lots of people around makes him happy.”

  “Does he make you happy?”

  He was teasing her, but still, her nerves skittered under her skin. When she was around Alex, she felt happier than she did most of the time. But how would Diego know that, or even suspect?

  “It’s business, Diego. But since he invited me…us…I thought it would be fun to do something different. It’s better than being alone.”

  Diego’s eyes seemed to soften. She guessed he knew all about being alone. Even in prison with hundreds of people, it had to be very lonely.

  “So. You’re going to be your most charming self today. Right?”

  He looked over at her. “You want little brother to make a good impression?”

  “That would be nice. But mostly, I don’t want them to regret inviting us.”

  They arrived exactly five minutes late and as they drove up to the house, Crista noted a gray sedan parked close by and a man sitting inside. The security guard Alex had hired. He’d told her what kind of car the man drove so she wouldn’t think it was someone else.

  Alex and Sam greeted them at the door, and inside, the scent of turkey and stuffing and all the delicious foods that went with Thanksgiving filled the air.

  Crista introduced Diego to both Alex and Sam. Alex hung up the coats while Sam led them into the living room. “We gots more people here today,” Sam said, her excitement evident as she skipped from the foyer.

  Entering the living room, Crista was surprised to see Ramon, Julio and Richard. She shouldn’t have been. Big extended families joining in holiday festivities was part of the Hispanic culture.

  Alex introduced Diego to the others, after which Crista said, “I think I’ll go into the kitchen to see if I can do something to help.”

  “I’m sure Elena will appreciate it,” Alex said and winked at Crista.

  She felt her stomach flutter like a teenager. Heat rose in her cheeks. Embarrassed by her reaction, which she was sure everyone in the room noticed, she was relieved when Sam said, “I’m going to help, too.” She took Crista’s hand and led her from the room.

  The kitchen counters were filled with plates of food, squash blossom quesadillas, sugared fritters, pumpkin and pecan pies. Crista was swept back in time to when her own grandmother had fixed holiday meals for their family. They might have been poor, but on holidays, they always celebrated. At some point, she’d blotted those memories from her mind. It did no good to pine.

  “Bienvenido a nuestro hogar,” Elena said, welcoming Crista to the Del Rio home, and then she gave Crista a big hug.

  “This will be the best Thanksgiving ever.” Sam danced around the center island. “I set the table before. Do you want to see?”

  “Of course,” Crista said. “And then I’d like to do something to help your grandmother.”

  “Here,” Elena said in Spanish, handing Sam some napkins. “You can put these on the table.”

  Crista and Sam rolled the napkins and placed them inside napkin holders decorated with turkeys. “I picked these out,” Sam said proudly, her dark eyes shining.

  “And you did a fine job.” The child’s self-confidence was delightful, and she had to give Alex a world of credit for making his daughter feel so secure. They went back into the kitchen where Elena already had the turkey out of the oven and was scooping stuffing from the bird into a bowl.

  “Here, let me help with that,” Crista said in Spanish, and while the two women worked, Sam left the room to join the others.

  “We’re happy you could come today,” Elena said. “It’s good to have the house filled again. Alejandro spends too much time alone.”

  “From what I can tell, he works very hard.”

  “He works too much. He ne
eds to enjoy life while he’s able. He needs to socialize more, maybe find a good woman who will take care of him and the little girl like Marissa did.”

  “Marissa was your daughter.” Crista knew that from the information she’d gathered on the family when investigating the case.

  Elena nodded. “She was a good daughter. A good wife and mother.”

  It sounded as if Elena was warning Crista that if she were interested in Alex, she’d have a whole lot to live up to. “I’m sure she was.”

  “She stayed at home to care for her family.”

  Oh, yes. A confirmation of what Crista had already thought to be true. Alex held traditional values and beliefs, and she was sure any woman he married would have to feel the same. “I admire people who can do that. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them.”

  Elena went about her work and without looking at Crista, she said, “A woman should be married and have a family. You just haven’t found the right man yet.”

  That last part was true. She hadn’t. But even if she found the right man, got married and had a family, she doubted she’d give up everything she’d worked for. “You’re right, Elena. I haven’t found the right man and I don’t think I ever will.”

  Elena glanced at Crista out of the corner of an eye. “Some people don’t recognize what’s right in front of them. They’re too busy going in other directions and they ignore the obvious.”

  And sometimes the obvious is all wrong.

  “A person must be open to many things. Otherwise the heart goes unfulfilled.”

  This was getting much too deep for Crista, and she had a sudden urge to bolt.

  As if Elena understood what was going through Crista’s head, she changed the subject. “We can put the food on the table now and Alex will carve the turkey.”

  Crista’s father had always carved the guajolate, she remembered. Why had she forgotten that? Had the horror of her mother’s remarriage wiped out everything that was good in her life? She was pleased that she’d come, glad to be reminded that there had been happy times in her past.

  As they passed dishes around the table and stuck forkfuls of food into their mouths, the boys laughed, verbally sparred with each other and talked sports with Alex and Diego. Diego teased Sam, who seemed intrigued by him. Crista gazed across the table at the odd mixture of people sitting with her. How different they all were—separated by age, education and background. But listening to all the talk and laughter, the differences seemed to disappear. Their common link was that they all wanted to share the holiday with someone, to feel a sense of family. Alex had given them that.

  When they finished dinner, Elena banished them all to the enclosed garden to wait for dessert. Ramon, Julio and Richard declined, saying they had to leave, so Elena sent dessert home with them. Diego, who’d been talking to Sam about her drawings, went to a separate table so he and Sam could draw together.

  Sitting at the round tea table with Crista surrounded by a plethora of plants, Alex nodded toward Diego. “He likes kids.”

  Crista’s heart warmed watching them. “He does. He’s always been good with children. But he’s been away for so long, I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

  “Why?”

  “We didn’t see each other when he was in prison. He didn’t want me to see him there, I guess.”

  He nodded his understanding. “He really seems interested in art.”

  “He’s an excellent artist. His paintings are beautiful. I’d like to see him do something with his talent, but I’m afraid he’ll never leave the barrio and never be able to put his talent to use.”

  “He doesn’t have to leave the neighborhood to put his talent to use,” Alex said. “He could do something right there and help himself as well as others.”

  “You mean something like what you’re doing.”

  “Absolutely. I have an art program that could use a teacher.”

  “You’d take someone who’s been convicted of a felony?”

  “I see the whole person. I look at the future, not the past.”

  A wonderful philosophy, if the person wanted to change. If he didn’t— “I can’t answer for Diego. But he’s very proud and because you know me, he’d probably feel as if his sister was pulling strings for him.” What she really wanted was for Diego to leave the barrio altogether. There was too much temptation for some people.

  “Does he sell his paintings?”

  “Not that I know of, but he could. I wish he would.”

  “Maybe I can look at them. Hanging paintings by a local artist at the center when it’s finished would be wonderful. We couldn’t afford to pay much though.”

  “Again, I can’t answer for Diego.”

  As they were talking, Elena came to see if they wanted coffee or tea, so Crista went back to the kitchen with her to help. She didn’t know how she was going to eat any more, but when she saw the pies and even some rice pudding, Crista decided she’d manage.

  Crista and Alex spent the rest of the evening in comfortable conversation, laughing and joking. Alex had a great sense of humor, Crista discovered. Diego spent most of the time drawing with Sam, who seemed to adore him. And before Crista knew it, it was eight o’clock and Sam’s bedtime.

  As Crista was getting ready to leave, Alex took Diego aside. She assumed it was to talk about Diego’s paintings. When they finished and Diego had stepped out the door and gone to the Jeep, Alex stopped Crista. “I learned something interesting yesterday, and I’d like to talk to you about it.” He leaned closer. “But I’d prefer to talk privately. It’s about the case.”

  “When?”

  “I can come by in an hour, if that’s okay.”

  She looked at her watch. “Sure. I’ll be waiting.”

  CRISTA DROPPED Diego off at a neighborhood bar, and tried not to be judgmental about him hanging with the wrong people. “I really enjoyed the day,” she said, wanting to give him a hug, but knowing it was too soon.

  “Me, too,” he said, and then he was gone.

  Picking up Calvin was next on the list. At Mrs. McGinty’s, she knocked on the door and waited. Remembering the woman was a little hard of hearing, Crista knocked harder.

  “Come in. It’s open.”

  Going inside, Crista found Mrs. McGinty hovering over Calvin, cackling and cooing and making strange noises that she apparently thought parrots made.

  “He hasn’t uttered a word,” Mrs. McGinty said, then poked at the bird between the bars. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s a moody bird. He only talks when he has something to say,” Crista joked.

  “Well, that’s okay. I get moody, too, sometimes.” Mrs. McGinty shuffled across the room and lowered herself into a battered recliner in front of her television.

  Crista picked up Calvin’s cage and walked toward the door. “Thank you so much, Mrs. McGinty. I really appreciate this.”

  The woman waved a gnarly hand. “I like that bird.” She coughed and settled into the chair. “Oh, there was a phone call for you, too,” she added absently.

  Crista stopped half in and half out of the door. “A phone call? Here at your place?”

  Mrs. McGinty nodded. “A man. He said something about giving you a message.”

  How would anyone know to call Mrs. McGinty to leave Crista a message? How would anyone even get the number? And why wouldn’t they just leave a message on her machine?

  “What did he say?”

  “That was the odd part. He said you’d know.”

  Crista felt a sudden chill. Whoever this sick person was, he knew she’d brought Calvin to Mrs. McGinty’s. Which meant he was watching her—and probably knew her every move.

  “Thank you,” Crista managed and then rushed back to her apartment. Inside, she double-locked the door, gently lifted Calvin out of the small cage and put him into the larger one that was his home. Her thoughts churning, she closed the cage door and then noticed the message light flashing on her phone.

  Filled with apprehension, she forced h
erself to go over and push the button. A strangely distorted voice said, “Hi, sweetheart. Sorry you’re not home, but don’t worry. I’ll call back.”

  Her whole body tensed. No name, no message. Just a voice that sounded like Donald Duck on oxygen. She didn’t think it was Trini. He’d never bothered to disguise his voice in the past. He’d always wanted her to know it was him. To scare her to death. But if not Trini, then who? A knock on the door caused her to nearly jump out of her skin.

  Then she remembered that Alex was coming over, and relief swept through her. But she peeked through the security hole just to be sure before she opened the door.

  “Hi.” Alex stood with one arm against the door frame and, wearing a black leather jacket over a white dress shirt and black jeans, he looked sexier than any man had a right to.

  “Hi. C’mon in,” she said, trying to maintain her composure. “I just barely arrived myself. I had to pick up Calvin from the lady down the hall who was watching him.”

  He came in and sauntered toward the couch. “I thought birds were fairly self-sufficient. Give them food and water and they’re fine for days.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know about other birds. But Calvin…he likes company.” She didn’t feel the need to tell Alex why she’d really taken Calvin to Mrs. McGinty’s. It had nothing to do with her investigation of his case. And if she told him as a friend, then she’d have to tell him that it might be her ex-husband. She didn’t want Alex to know all the ugly details of her life.

  There were reasons to think it was Trini and also reason not to think it was him. Trini would know that if she suspected it was him, she’d slap him with a restraining order faster than he could say the words. She doubted Trini was stupid enough to do something that could get him thrown back in the slammer. But on the other hand, he was a vengeful sort. He’d want to make her pay for humiliating him in front of his friends.

  “Please, sit,” Crista said.

  Alex dropped onto the couch and she sat opposite him in the pumpkin chair again, just as she had the first time he’d been here. “So…you said you’d learned something that’s pertinent to the case.”

  “It might be. Or it might not. I just thought you should know.”