by Chris Niles
“Gran, though, she’s a tough bird. She practically goaded me into it. I think she’s proud to have a frogman in the family to brag on. I don’t get up there to see her as often as I’d like, but I call her every Sunday, even if it’s just a quick minute just to hear her voice and to let her hear mine. And since I taught her to text, we’re pretty much in constant contact. She sends me funny memes, and I send her pictures of the wide open ocean.”
“That sounds nice. Like you get each other.”
Tony pressed his knee against the bottom of the steering wheel and rubbed his eye with his left hand, keeping hold of Kate’s hand in his right. When he grabbed the wheel again, he glanced over at her. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at reading people. I get it from her.”
Kate listened to the air conditioner’s low drone, her hand wrapped in Tony’s.
Chapter Twelve
Gloria Rojas Restrepo’s gaze darted toward the ceiling, then she sneaked a quick glance at her watch, all in the split second before her father’s attention turned the corner of the large conference table and slid past her on its path around the room.
She needn’t have bothered hiding her impatience. To her father, in this room, she was invisible. But to the other men in the room, to her adversaries, to these piranhas, not one bit of flesh could be exposed, even for a second.
“Juan Carlos? How’s your progress on finding markets in the second-tier cities?”
“I’m ready to open up Boston. Giving up on Minneapolis and Baltimore for now, but Charlotte and Austin look promising. I’ve got meetings in the next couple of weeks with possible distributors in both cities.”
“Excellent, excellent. Coco?”
Gloria looked across the table at her third cousin. He faced his uncle, but his left eye drifted blindly around the room. When they were children, she tried to defend him against the bullies. She encouraged him to wear a patch. But her father pulled her away as the neighborhood boys’ teasing turned to beating. “Do not indulge his weakness, girl. Let him grow strong. Learn to fight back for himself.”
Coco answered slowly. “The r-r-raids against the sa-sa-safehouses…” Gloria allowed her mind to drift. She already knew Coco’s report. She’d expended the last of her patience to help him practice it before the meeting. The many beatings he’d endured before he learned to fight back had left him — left his mind — scarred. But once he learned to fight, he held nothing back. Coco was a brutal enforcer, and putting him in charge of security for their production was a perfect slot for him.
As Coco stumbled through his update, the other men at the table tapped their pens and fidgeted in their seats. Javier, a thick-set man with dark eyes and a darker soul, pulled out his phone, his finger rapidly swiping back and forth, left and right.
Papa. Pay attention. The man is trolling for women in the middle of your meeting.
But Gloria knew better than to call her father’s attention to Javier. His golden boy could do no wrong. If anyone else showed this disrespect, they’d disappear, and turn up days later with three broken ribs and a swollen face. But not Javier.
Her father had no living sons. Only Gloria remained. And every day, she looked into his eyes and saw the ghost of her brother. She watched her father light a candle for him. Say a rosary for him. Pay his way out of purgatory. All while Gloria stayed alive and took up the work he’d left behind while Javier filled the son-shaped hole in her father’s heart.
“Now, the couriers.”
Gloria’s attention snapped back to the table as her father continued.
“I accept that some loss is inevitable, but we must reduce our rate of loss in-transit.”
She leaned forward. Opened her mouth. But her father’s voice boomed over hers.
“Javier. I need you to look at this.” Gloria felt the heat rise up in her chest. This was not Javier’s problem to solve. It was her responsibility, and she was handling it. Then a small voice rose from her right.
“Unc-c-le Ernesto, I c-c-can help Gloria with new security pr-procedures?”
Gloria’s cheek twitched into a small smile as her cousin stood up for her. Just as Javier had slipped into her brother’s place with Ernesto, Coco filled that emptiness for her. She nodded toward Coco.
Then her father turned away from Coco — ignoring his offer — and back to the men across the table. “You men are my legacy. I will not be here forever. I need for my wife and daughter” — Ernesto finally glanced down the table to Gloria, waving toward her like she was a prop — “to be protected and cared for when I am gone.”
The men around the table all nodded their heads, sincere expressions plastered on their faces. All except for Coco. He stared at Gloria, his body slumped forward but his eyes and nostrils flaring and his pale cheeks growing red.
Not now, cousin. Gloria shook her head as Ernesto turned the discussion back to the business.
Her jaw tightened as she examined the men her father had chosen to operate on his behalf. The Rojas cartel’s advantage wasn’t her father’s strength against the other cartels, although without it they’d have been devoured long ago. No, where Ernesto Rojas Solarte shone was in operating his business like a businessman. When times were flush, when the cartels were honoring their truces, the other leaders bought flashy cars and flashier women. But not Ernesto. No, he invested in the business. He invested in the loyalty of key employees and authorities. He looked for new sources of product, new markets, new avenues to protect the business and prepare for the inevitable times of war and famine.
When she was a girl, her father loved to tell the story of Joseph, son of Jacob. He taught how Joseph’s wisdom and prudence brought him power when all the other nations around him were starving. But what Gloria remembered of that story was how Jacob’s brothers had sold him to the slave traders. How he’d landed in prison on a false accusation and did nothing to defend himself. To her, Joseph was a chump. She would have smashed that bitch’s head in with a rock, then headed back home to do the same to all eleven brothers.
Around the conference table, the men were growing impatient. Each one was strong. Shrewd. But none of them understood her father’s business the way Gloria did. Yet here she was, watching them position themselves, establish alliances, align themselves in support of Javier, who was quickly becoming the heir apparent.
Not on Gloria’s watch.
No, while Javier made phone calls and asked questions and prepared a report, Gloria would take action. She had a missing shipment. Not only was she prepared to find it, she was ready to send a message to every other courier in the organization. No one steals from the Rojas. She was holding up her rock.
With a few taps on her screen, she booked a first-class seat on the next non-stop to Miami. Gloria Rojas Restrepo was many things, but she was no chump.
Chapter Thirteen
Two hours later, Kate and Tony rolled into the parking lot of a run-down Circle K in South Miami Heights. The red paint along the edge of the curb was peeling, and beneath it, chunks of concrete were crumbling from the salt air. Near the center of the first parking spot, a four-inch hunk lay on the faded blacktop.
Kate glanced up at the darkening sky then at her watch. Behind thick black bars embedded deep in the concrete across the plate-glass windows, four rows of waist-high shelves cut through the center of the store. A spiderweb of cracks burst across one window, with a small, perfectly round hole in its center. Kate pointed at it. “We may want to consider having this conversation in the morning.”
Tony grinned. “You might. But we’re here now. If it becomes a problem, then I’ll work the problem. I got you.” He winked at her, pulled open the door, then waved her inside the brightly lit convenience store.
He went straight for the cashier. As Kate headed toward the bathroom, she turned back, watching over the low aisles as he leaned on the counter and spoke through the small hole in the thick plexiglass barrier. She relaxed and pulled open the door to the women’s room.
Moments later, muffled shou
ting made its way through the locked door and over the sound of running water. She inched the bathroom door open with her foot then peered down the hallway into the shop. She could only see a narrow strip down the front of the store. The shouting originated deeper inside.
“Drop it, man.” Tony’s low, even voice carried up the hallway.
“You drop yours.” The unfamiliar voice sounded shaky. Desperate.
Unpredictable.
“You don’t wanna do this.” As Tony tried to talk the man down, Kate crept through the door, then gently eased it shut without a sound. She pressed her back against the wall, inching down the hallway until she caught a glimpse of the intruder’s reflection in the splintered glass window.
He was a shorter man, dressed in a red flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off, a dirty red trucker cap perched on his head and the butt-end of a short-barreled shotgun nestled between his right arm and his ribcage. He was spinning wildly between his objective — the plexiglass encased cash register — and his only possible hostage — a retired Navy SEAL.
Kate allowed herself a brief snicker. Today was not this poor man’s best day.
She silently spun around, face to the wall, and crept closer to the corner, continually checking the reflection to be sure the man’s back remained toward her. As she reached the corner, she spotted Tony in the reflection, then inched forward until he was in her sightline.
He stood with both hands wrapped around the grip of his pistol, its barrel steady, sighted on the man in flannel. “You’ve got one chance here. And I know you’re gonna make the right choice.”
Kate nodded and quickly scanned the aisle. She slipped off her flip-flops, crouched down low, then ran across the cold tile floor to the chip aisle. As she neared the end of the row by the counter, she quickly peeked over the upper shelf, then dropped back to the floor. She could only hope Tony caught her position.
“I don’t want to have to hurt you, man, but I’m not gonna say this again.” Tony’s voice remained calm. Steady. “I’m gonna count to three, and we’re both gonna put these things down. Then we can talk about this like men, okay?”
“I dunno…”
“Look, my finger’s not on the trigger. And I will put mine down if you lower yours. On three.” Tony paused. Kate listened to the robber’s sharp, shallow breaths as he waved from side to side.
“One.”
The man’s rubber-soled shoes squeaked against the smooth floor.
“Two.” Tony’s voice was even. “Yeah, see, I’m putting mine down…”
Kate inched to the end of the aisle and balanced on the balls of her feet.
“Three!”
At Tony’s cue, Kate launched at the man’s back and tackled him, aiming her weight at his shoulders and curling her lower leg to catch him behind his locked knees. As she flew through the air, she spotted Tony diving low toward them.
The shotgun blast rocked her skull to the side and a sharp ring pierced the thick, muffled silence in her right ear. The robber landed on top of the gun’s barrel with a thud, with Kate perched on top of his back like a cat.
He screamed. Fueled by adrenaline and pain, he shoved upward, flinging Kate off. She rolled to the tile as Tony charged into the rising man, the momentum carrying his target directly into the sharp corner of a shelf, then dropping the man into a heap as the shelf full of Twinkies cascaded down around him.
As Tony tugged the screaming criminal away and secured his hands, Kate pushed herself up and spotted a dark burn the shape of the gun barrel across his flannel shirt.
Kate scrambled to the clerk. “Are you okay?”
The man trembled, curled in a corner below the counter. Kate looked to her right, where the plexiglass was pocked from the shotgun blast, but stood unbroken. In the center of the front aisle, what five minutes ago had been a display stacked with cases of warm beer had become a tattered fountain, with pale yellow streams of foam spraying from a pile of shredded cardboard and aluminum. Thick suds oozed across the floor toward Kate’s bare feet.
The clerk uncurled his body then pulled to his unsteady legs as the sound of high-low sirens swooped into the parking lot and the red and blue strobes pushed through the tinted front window. “Thank you.” His voice shook.
“Everybody hands up where we can see ’em!” Two uniformed cops burst through the doors, weapons drawn. Kate shot her hands high in the air.
Tony took a step backwards, still holding the intruder’s wrists. “My forty-five is on the floor near the cooler. His shotgun is there in the puddle of beer, and I’ve got a thirty-eight in a holster at my back.”
The first officer scurried across the shop collecting weapons, while the robber thrashed under Tony’s tight grip. Then the second cop produced a set of handcuffs, secured the man’s wrists, then dropped him back into the pile of sweet snack cakes. He turned to Tony.
“You on the job?”
Tony shook his head at the short, stocky cop. “Retired Navy.” Then he nodded toward Kate. “She’s with me. She’s the one who tackled him and got him down.”
Kate felt her cheeks flush, and she shook her head.
“Well, we’re gonna need statements.”
The next hour was consumed as Kate told her story to three different cops. Then after they hauled the guy away, she helped the rattled clerk clean up the beer-soaked Twinkies and shredded cardboard.
He leaned on his mop. “I can’t thank you enough. You don’t have to help me. You’ve already done more than I could possibly ask. You saved my life and my store.”
“This is your store?”
“Yeah. My normal guy called in sick, so I came in to cover his shift. That happens a lot.”
Tony slipped up beside them, his phone in hand. “You recognize this woman?”
The man lit up. “Of course. Shelby Ellis. She comes in here all the time with her boy. How do you know her?”
Tony’s face darkened. “She was spending a few days down in the Keys and, well, yesterday, she disappeared.”
“Oh, no. What about Eddie?”
“He’s okay, he’s safe and staying with a friend of ours. He’s licensed with CPS so we were able to…”
“Have you talked to his nanny? Kelsey?”
“Not yet, but she’s on our list. She’s up the way off of Old Cutler Road, right?”
“I’m not sure where she lives, but sometimes she brings Eddie in to get a treat while Shelby’s away.”
“Sounds like you know them pretty well. You ever know of Shelby taking off without telling anyone? Or you know of anyone who might want to hurt her?”
“Oh, no. Shelby loves Eddie more than anything. She’d never run out on him, and she’s so nice, I can’t imagine anyone wanting any harm to come to her…”
Tony pressed his lips together. “Do you think we might be able to take a look at your security footage? Something was up with her, and this is the last place we know she was at before…” He took a deep breath. “We just really need to find her.”
“Security cameras? Sure. Of course. After what you did for me, you can have anything you want. Free beer for life.”
Kate laughed. “You show us the footage, and we’ll buy all the beer in the place.”
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Kate clutched the tall paper cup and yawned, wrapping her hands around the corrugated cardboard sleeve as she dodged a giant red sphere embedded in the concrete edge of the sidewalk. A white and red plastic bag dangled from her arm.
“God, I’ve missed Target.”
Tony shoved a bright red shopping cart toward his truck. “The K-mart on Roosevelt has been fine for me so far, but you know what I miss from the mainland? Costco’s rotisserie chicken. Used to go through three of those a week by myself.”
Kate stopped, the already hot blacktop burning the soles of her feet through her thin flip-flops. “But you get Dion’s. That’s a trade-up if I ever saw one.”
“Dion’s? You mean the gas station? They sell chicken?”<
br />
Kate stared, astonished. “You haven’t had Dion’s chicken yet? Dude, you haven’t lived…”
Tony pressed his key fob, and the truck’s tailgate slowly opened as they approached. “I live just fine. I eat Chuck’s food and drink his beer, and all is right with the world.” He heaved a long, skinny box containing Kate’s new shelving unit into the truck’s bed.
Kate flung her bag on top of it, beside her backpack and Tony’s, then climbed into the cab while gulping her cooling coffee. “I feel a little guilty detouring to shop when we’re supposed to be looking for Shelby.”
Tony pulled out into traffic, and his jaw tightened. “Let up on yourself, okay? We’ve been through this. The stop took ten minutes, Kate. Her apartment is right around the corner, and we need to wait ’til after all the neighbors have left for the day.”
“I feel like we should have looked harder for her keys.”
“It’s not a big deal, I’d just prefer to not have too many witnesses lurking around.”
“Where did you learn to… never mind. I probably don’t want to know all the skills you’ve picked up along the way.”
“Ha. I’m not all that interesting. Most of the time we just blew the lock and kicked in the door. That’s why they call us door-kickers. Real creative. But it’s good to have more tools.” He pulled the truck in between two faded white lines and killed the engine. “Here we are.”
Kate climbed down then gently shut the door. Side-by-side, they climbed the stairs to the third floor.
“Three-oh-two.”
Shelby’s apartment was on the top floor along the back of the building, overlooking a small lagoon lined with thick seagrapes. A tall, white heron stood motionless at the water’s edge, its gaze fixed directly on Kate.
Tony reached for his pick set, then froze. “Kate, look. We aren’t the first ones here.”
The dark green trim around the doorframe was splintered, and the door swung open when Tony pressed on it.
