She set the dishes on the counter, made tea for herself, and opened her laptop. She checked the map for the third time, confirmed that the other vehicle was ready, and then kicked her bare feet onto the seat of the chair next to her. The money she would make today was more than Patrick Snider earned in a year, but money was not a consideration for Señor Cortes. She could have charged him twice as much, even three times as much. But then she would have had to watch her back.
The tea relaxed Sahrina, calmed her and kept her focused. When she finished, she set the cup next to the other dishes and went to the bedroom. She pulled on a pair of dark blue jogging pants and a loose-fitting top that matched. Then she slipped her feet into a pair of size six running shoes purchased at Walmart, something she would never consider for herself under normal circumstances.
With her hair tied in a ponytail, a pair of dark green shades covering her eyes, and a bandana wrapped around her forehead, no one would pick her out of a lineup if it came to that. It would only come to that if she made a mistake, and El Terrible didn’t make mistakes.
She drove to Hermann Memorial Hospital in Memorial City and parked near the back of the lot. Fewer than a hundred yards away, a Honda minivan waited for her, the keys in a magnetic holder under the rear bumper. She retrieved the keys then climbed into the van, started the engine, and drove to where she would meet Marissa’s bus. She turned onto Gessner Road, headed south, then turned right onto Memorial Drive. The original plan had been to nab the young girl from the daycare center, but after close surveillance, Sahrina had determined that killing the president would be easier than snatching a kid from daycare. Hijacking a bus, however, was another story.
A few miles later, she caught up with the bus. It was a mini-bus, not much more than an oversized van. She turned her blinker signal on and moved into the left lane. A car in the right lane moved ahead and in front of the bus. The passenger signaled Sahrina as they passed. After a few stops to pick up kids, the bus turned left onto Dairy Ashford. Sahrina followed it for half a mile and waited for it to come to a halt at a four-way stop on a street with little traffic. The man in the other car pulled into the intersection, blocking it and the bus. She got out of the van, stepped quickly to the driver’s side of the bus and shoved a gun against the window, by the head of the woman behind the wheel.
“Don’t move. Open the door.”
She looked at Sahrina, eyes wide, brow furrowed. “What do you want?”
“No one will get hurt if you follow instructions. If you don’t, I start killing kids. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then open the door and let the man in.”
The driver looked to the side, where Sahrina’s partner stood. She opened the bus door and let him in. He held a gun pointed at the driver.
“Marissa Snider,” he said. “Bring her up here.”
The driver was large and past the age of motherhood, but all women seemed to have a nurturing quality in them, no matter the age. “What do you want her for?”
“Get her up here, or a bullet goes into the kid closest to me.” He put the gun into his left pocket, but the barrel was visible pressing against the fabric. “And give me your phone.”
The driver eyed him, but she gave him the phone, and then turned toward the back of the bus. “Marissa, come here, darlin’. This man would like to speak with you.”
A small, thin child with curly brown hair stood and walked to the front of the bus. She stared at the man. “Who are you?”
“I’m here to take you to see your father,” he said. “He’s been hurt.”
“Daddy? What happened?”
“He’ll be all right, but he wants to see you.”
“Why didn’t Mommy come?” she asked.
“Your mother went to pick up Trish,” the man said. “She’s going to meet us.”
Marissa reached out and took hold of his hand. “Let’s hurry. I don’t want anything happening to Daddy.”
He took her off the bus, handed her over to Sahrina, and signaled to the other man in the car, who then drove off. The man got back on the bus and instructed the driver where to go. Twenty minutes later, the bus pulled into a hospital parking lot and came to a stop near the back, under a string of old oak trees.
The driver turned toward the man with the gun. “What do we do now?”
“Wait for instructions,” he said. “In a few hours, I’ll let you leave. No one will be hurt.”
***
Sahrina put Marissa in the back seat, buckled her in, and drove back to Memorial City, where her other car was parked. She switched cars and drove to her house.
“Where are we going?” Marissa asked. “I thought we were going to see Daddy.”
“You’ll be able to see Daddy soon.”
“I’m scared. What if something happens to him?”
“Don’t worry, dear. As long as your daddy does what we say, everything will be fine.”
Chapter 41
Another Day at School
I drove into the station feeling upbeat. Tip planned on stopping by the safe house in Jersey Village on his way in, partly to get a feel for the neighborhood but also to map out the route we’d take when we transported the Sniders. I dialed Julie’s number.
“Connie, I hope you’re having a great day.” Julie was always in a good mood. I wondered how she did it, especially with two kids and no husband, although the no husband part might explain it.
“I’m having a fantastic day. What’s up?”
“Everything’s a go for the house. We’ve got two officers reporting for duty this afternoon. They’ll stay until relief arrives.”
“Where did we get the uniforms?”
“Captain Cooper assigned them from another division.”
“Good. I don’t want anybody knowing about this.”
“You may want to call the captain,” Julie said. “I heard she’s having a tough time with the FBI.”
“Shit! Okay, thanks, Jules. I’ll give her a shout.”
I decided to wait to see Coop in person, since I only had about five miles to go, and besides, a Bruno Mars song that I loved was playing on the radio.
Within ten minutes, I was walking in to see the captain. She was planted behind her desk, wearing a scowl.
“I hope you’re better than I am this morning,” Coop said.
“Julie said the Feds were giving you trouble.”
“Sons of bitches. It’s all politics with them.”
“What’s the problem?”
“They won’t approve anything until they talk to Snider, and I don’t mean Mrs. Snider.”
I shook my head. “I assume you told them what Carlos and his men did to her.”
“They don’t care one bit about that. All they want is to nail Carlos on money laundering. If Patrick Snider can’t hand him to them wrapped up pretty for that, it’s a no go.”
I plopped into the chair across from her desk. “If that’s the way it’s going down, we need to tell the Sniders. Unless we can assure them that they’ll get witness protection, there’s no way I’m letting her press charges. Carlos will kill them.”
“I doubt she’d even consider pressing charges if we can’t protect them,” Coop said. “And I can’t say I blame her. But don’t give up yet. Renkin is putting pressure on the Feds. He’s even got the mayor helping.”
Coop’s phone rang. She punched the button and put it on speaker. “Chief, we were just talking about you. I’ve got Detective Gianelli in my office. Did you hear anything?”
“Is anyone else there with you?”
Coop’s eyebrows raised. “No, just the two of us.”
“We’ve got a problem, Captain. A school bus is missing out on the west side.”
West side. I tensed. “Where?” I asked. “Where on the west side?”
“It’s a bus from a daycare off Memorial,” he said. “By Dairy Ashford.”
My body shook, and my heart felt as if it would stop. There had to be a lot of daycar
e centers in that area…
But what are the chances a bus from one goes missing today?
“What school?” Coop asked.
“Oakwood,” the chief said.
“I’m going to check on the Sniders,” I said. “It may be her kid.”
Coop slammed her hand on the desk. “Damn! I didn’t think of that. Hold on a minute, Chief.” Coop looked up at me. “See what you can find out and get back to me.”
I rushed out while she was still talking to Renkin.
Herb was staring at a spreadsheet as I rounded the corner. “Herb, find out what school the young Snider girl attends.”
“What?”
“Never mind, goddamnit.” My voice packed more impatience than I wanted it to, but right now I didn’t care.
“What’s the matter?” Julie asked.
“I’m not sure yet, Jules. Maybe everything.” I thought the situation through and knew I couldn’t call Cathy Snider without answers. “Julie, get the number for Oakwood Preschool on Dairy Ashford. See if Marissa Snider was on that missing bus.”
“A bus is missing?”
I nodded. “I’m afraid it’s her.” But the voice in my head said, I know it is.
I was on the phone with Tip when Julie got back to me, confirming my worst fears. “Goddamnit!”
“Tell me,” Tip said.
“That fucking Carlos. He did it, Tip. He took their youngest girl.”
“I thought she drove the kids to school,” Tip said.
“Only sometimes. This is a fancy daycare; they have buses for pre-K students.”
Tip’s jaw clenched and the vein on the side of his head bulged. “Cortes is gonna pay this time. I promise you. He’s gonna pay.”
“I have to call Cathy,” I said.
Tip said, “I’ll be in shortly,” and hung up.
I stared at the phone for what seemed like hours, afraid to pick it up, knowing what I’d hear.
***
Cathy Snider emptied the dishwasher, folded the laundry, and dusted the furniture in the dining room. She didn’t know why she bothered; they’d be leaving in a matter of hours. Maybe it was her way of hanging on, hoping—pretending—that she’d be back some day.
“Fat damn chance of that,” she said as she grabbed another dust cloth before heading to the living room.
Fifteen minutes later, Cathy finished dusting and went upstairs. It was time to tackle Trish’s cave. She opened the door, spent five minutes picking up clothes from the floor and under the bed, then set about straightening drawers. As messy and disorganized as this room was, it was Trish’s, and she loved it. The move would break her heart.
A phone rang, and Cathy realized she had left her cell downstairs. A tinge of panic set in, and she rushed down the steps. She grabbed it on the fifth ring. “Hello?”
“Cathy, it’s Detective Gianelli.”
***
I heard panic in her voice. My instinct was to hang up. Run. Hide from her. Because I knew what was coming. “Cathy, I don’t want you to panic, but something has happened.”
“Is it Patrick? Is he all right?”
“It’s not Patrick. We don’t know if anything’s happened, but Marissa’s bus never got to school this morning.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Her pain came through the phone. I could almost feel it.
“Did they hurt her? Is she—”
“Mrs. Snider, that’s all we know for now. We have every available unit searching. We’ll find them soon. I promise.”
“You promise? You promised things would be all right. You said we had nothing to worry about.”
I’d never said those words, but that didn’t matter. Whatever I had said must have implied as much. That was my job—to make her feel safe so she would testify.
What a piece of shit I am.
“I understand how you feel,” I told her, “but right now we have to stay calm.”
“My daughter is missing. How the hell do I stay calm?”
I didn’t want to raise my voice, but I had to get her attention. “Cathy, listen to me. Where is Trisha?”
“At school. God, she’s at school. I’m going to get her.”
“No. Give me the phone number and name of the school. We’ll send officers to get her. And call Patrick. Tell him not to leave the office or talk to anyone. We’ll send officers for him as well.”
She was crying nonstop.
“Cathy,” I said, trying to get her attention. “Cathy, listen. The same goes for you. Don’t call anyone but Patrick or me. And don’t leave the house. I’ll send a patrol car for you.”
All I could hear on her end was sobbing. She sounded like a broken woman.
And it’s all because of me.
I wanted to scream. To cry. To kill Carlos. But most of all, I wanted to know how they knew to take the Snider girl. How did they know the Sniders were turning on them?
Somebody leaked it. It had to be.
Chapter 42
In the Dark of Night
I was sitting at the desk when Delgado walked in. He grabbed the chair from Tip’s desk and pulled it close to mine.
“I hope you did some good with El Terrible. We didn’t.”
I shook my head. “It’s like this woman has disappeared. I know Houston’s a big city, but Roberts has had her face plastered on the news and in the paper. Every cop in the city has her photo—but we’ve got nothing.”
Cruz walked in. “What about the FBI? Did we run the picture through face recognition?”
I nodded. “Nothing. And Tip circulated it through both Harris County and the constable’s office. No one ever saw her.”
“Makes sense,” Ribs said. “If she is El Terrible, even if she’s operated here before, I doubt anyone would know her.”
I looked up at Cruz. “I’m assuming you struck out at the hospital?”
“We questioned everybody again, this time with the photo. Nobody remembered seeing her.” He took a sip from a bottle of water and said, “How can she walk into the hospital, sneak into the ICU, stab a patient—and then walk out without being seen?”
“What’s going on with the Sniders?” Ribs asked.
“I’ve got officers picking up the older daughter and Mrs. Snider. And I just got word that the father is on his way in.”
Charlie signaled me from his desk across the room.
“What’s up, Charlie? You got something?”
He stood and walked toward me. “The bus came in. Everyone on it is safe.”
“Yes!” I pounded my fist into the other palm.
“Not so fast,” Charlie said. “The Snider girl is missing.”
“Son of a bitch.” It was all I could think of to say, so I said it again. “Son of a goddamn bitch.”
“The driver said that three people intercepted the bus, two men and a woman. The only thing they wanted was the Snider girl.”
“Where has the bus been?”
“They made them stay in a parking lot until just a few minutes ago.”
“Okay, get all the details. And get someone down there to talk to that driver. We need descriptions of the kidnappers and any of their cars. Anything.”
Delgado grabbed his keys from the desk and stood. “Charlie, give me the address. Cruz and I will question the driver.”
Tip charged in as Delgado and Cruz were leaving. I heard the conversation from the hall. “Anything?” Tip asked.
“Kids are safe,” Ribs said. “But the Snider girl’s gone. Connie will fill you in.”
“Where are you going?”
“To interview the bus driver,” Ribs said.
A few seconds later, Tip walked in. “I just saw Ribs.”
“I heard. What he didn’t tell you is that the rest of the Snider family will be here any minute. And I’m sure they’ll want blood.”
“I’m sure they will.”
I looked around, made sure no one could hear, then whispered to Tip. “We need to talk. Somebody leaked this. Nothing else explains it.”
Tip nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”
Patrick Snider arrived at the station first. I wanted to hide, but I found the courage to face him head on. “Mr. Snider, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this.”
He stared, eyes narrowed and full of disgust. “How sorry you are? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
I led him to my desk. Tip sat close by. “We’ll find her,” I said.
Snider shook his head. “I didn’t want to do this. I told Cathy not to do this, but you convinced her.” He pointed his finger at me, reminding me it was my fault. “You assured her it would be all right. Now look.” His voice cracked, and he lowered his head.
His words hurt, as they should have. He was right. Even if I didn’t say it in so many words, I had assured Cathy that things would be all right. And now look what’s happened.
A uniformed officer brought Mrs. Snider and her older daughter to us a few minutes later. Hysterical wouldn’t begin to describe her, and, even though I wasn’t a mother, a small part of me understood. Carlos Cortes had already taken too much from this woman. For him to do this was something God should forbid.
Tip gathered the family and took them to an empty interview room. When he returned, we went to see Coop. Julie was keeping her up to speed, so Coop would know where we stood on things; in fact, she was on the phone with the FBI when Tip and I walked in.
“Agent Nash, y’all don’t know me—yet. But I don’t give a rat’s ass what hoops you have to jump through. I have half a dozen dead bodies, and now a young girl’s been kidnapped. I know that doesn’t mean much to you, but let’s not forget that we’re dealing with a major drug dealer, so unless you want the Houston Chronicle and every major paper in the country wondering why the FBI would be protecting the leader of a drug cartel, I suggest you find a way to get this family into the program.”
Coop’s face scrunched up, and her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. I had only known her a short time, but Tip had warned me that if Coop lapsed into her East Texas drawl, it meant that somebody was pissing her off. FBI or not, I wouldn’t want to be Agent Nash right now.
Bullet From Dominic Page 22
