by Kristen Lamb
“And no one can tell the difference?”
I shook my head. “The wealthy buy a lot of them. Only way to tell moissanite from a real diamond is to use a hardness tester. Can even fool jewelers. Diamond thieves with nimble fingers have been known to swap loose stones. Trade fake ones for real ones. You won’t see a jewelry store around that doesn’t have a hardness tester. They check the diamonds before returning them to the case or vault.” I’d learned this from the kind owner of the pawnshop who’d felt sorry for me. Gave me a hundred dollars more than he should have for my ring.
“What’s the point of buying a fake when you have money for the real thing?”
“Safety.”
“Safety?”
“A lot of the wealthy have replicas made. Keep the real rocks in a safe and wear the fakes in public. Discourages thieves from sawing off your arm to get your ring.” I let out a cynical laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, that line about Catholics.”
“What line?”
“I think I know why Heather’s been hooking up with Thoolen. Her boy’s so straight-laced he refuses to have sex before marriage. That’s what she whispered to me. Anyway, heard that line before.”
“From who?”
“Phil. Swore he was a die-hard Catholic. Wanted our wedding night to be special. Was one of the things I liked about him. Made him…honorable?”
Sawyer chuckled. “I grew up Catholic. Trust me. Most of us are closet bad boys,” he said and stroked my leg.
“Maybe, but Phil was already married, and then he had escorts to help keep the loneliness at bay.”
“There is that.”
“Duped me. But we grow up. Often the hard way.”
The girl Phil met believed in true love, the sacredness of pinkie-promises and that she could accomplish anything. Now? She didn’t believe in anything.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” Truth was I’d wanted to forget Phil. Yet, he’d become the sole thing that kept me going, which felt like a cruel joke.
I spotted a drug store and remembered the strange pill in my purse. “Pull over, please. I need some water.”
Sawyer obliged and I shoved through the front doors and wove through aisles of magazines, diapers and hair clips back to the pharmacist counter and rang the bell for assistance. “Excuse me, can I get some help, please?”
An old grizzled man in a white coat peeked out from behind a row of pills. “What can I do ya for?”
I knew that was old country slang, but that was the last thing I wanted to hear. I scooped the pill out of my purse and set it on the counter.
“Found these scattered outside my home. Someone dropped them. Can you tell me what it is?”
The old pharmacist plucked up the pill and studied it with a magnifying glass. “Luraquil.”
“Which is?”
He grimaced. “Poison. Get it out of yer yard. This is a high dosage. Can kill a pet or a kid with a quickness.”
“What’s Lur..?”
“Luraquil. Used to treat folks who’ve had a psychotic break. Great med if a person’s crazy but—”
“If a normal person ingested this?”
“Would be bad. Make a healthy person bonkers, especially this stuff. Mexican knock-off. Can buy it over the border cheap.”
“Thanks,” I said and ducked away then purchased a large bottle of water. What the hell was that doing in our yard? Was Heather suffering more than I realized? Hiding that she was breaking apart by running to Mexico for meds? I couldn’t imagine what it must have taken to be a bondage play toy in hopes of escaping The Cactus Flower.
As I climbed back in the Suburban, Sawyer’s cell phone rang. His expression was dark as he listened. “It’s him. Want me to swing by? She’s here, but she can stay in the truck,” he said, his glance cutting to me. “Text the rest to me,” he said. He hung up and accelerated.
“What’s that about?” I asked, and heard his phone ping from incoming text messages, one after the other. He ignored the alerts and kept driving, his eyes on the road.
“Remember Tito?” he finally asked.
“How could I forget? What about him?”
“Local rancher, um, found him. Angel called and asked for an ID.”
“Angel?”
Sawyer nodded. “Intercepted a call. He’s at the scene.”
We sat in silence while he sped toward the crime scene. He eased onto the shoulder behind a cluster of DPS cruisers and a coroner’s van. Once parked, Sawyer scrolled through the texts and his face darkened. There was a stretcher outside waiting for the body. I reached for the door handle, but Sawyer stopped me. “Stay here.”
“Why? I hauled Cunningham’s corpse out of a water trap. This can’t be much worse.”
“It is. And this is different. Very different.”
“Dead is dead,” I said.
“No. This guy’s…” He pressed his eyes closed. “This guy’s in pieces.”
“You think The Devils? That Ed might have—?” I shuddered.
“Doesn’t fit them. If he was beaten to death with pipes, sure. But this is the work of Los Espectros .”
“How do you know?”
“From the neon green poster board under his decapitated head, basically saying Los Espectros Was Here. ”
“Oh. Yeah, I’ll sit tight,” I said. Sawyer left the keys in the truck and the engine running so I could have AC and music.
A few minutes later, Angel hiked up the wash, Sawyer behind. They motioned for me to roll down my window. “What did this Tito say when he attacked you?” Angel asked.
I chewed my bottom lip and thought hard. “He said ‘ Don’t even think of effing with us. Do your job or I’ll kill you, too. Los Espectros don’t play. ’”
“Anything else?”
“Then something about killing me like the other guy and liking the smell of my blood.”
Sawyer stepped up to the window. “You think he mistook you for someone else, though.”
“Um, clearly. Everyone knows I haven’t been in a drug cartel since freshman year.”
He gave me a dirty look.
“Of course, it was mistaken identity, and that’s what you get for asking a dumbass question. According to the people around me, everyone looks like me. Heather, freaking Daphne.” I stopped cold.
“What?” he asked.
“I figured it out.” The world began to spin. “No, no, no.” My hands shook as I fumbled for my phone. “Please still be here. Please, please, please.” I scrolled down my incoming calls until I found it. “Oh, thank God.” I nearly sobbed.
“Romi, what’s going on? Who are you calling?” Sawyer asked, but I rolled up the window and locked the doors.
“Please pick up. Please,” I murmured, then I heard a rough voice answer.
“Little Sister? That you?” I heard loud music in the background. Sounded like a bar.
“I need you. Please meet me. Can you?” Sawyer beat on the window, but I held up my finger to my lips to silence him, then mouthed Trust me.
Sawyer paced, hands jammed in his pockets.
Ed hesitated. “I don’t know, baby. I’m a bit busy.”
“Tell them it’s a booty call, that you need to carve off a piece before I have to go to work.”
“Come on, baby. Been trying to see you for ages, and you call now? Maybe I’m busy.”
“I need you, Ed. Now.”
“Whoa, talkin’ like that will get you everything. You’re going to do what to me?” I heard men laugh in the background.
“You are at The Hog’s Nest, right?”
“I like the way you say that, baby.”
“I’m going to meet you behind the abandoned Conoco. It’s a mile away from you. North of the bar. Come alone. It’s about the information you want.”
“Two girls? Almost twins? How can I say no to that?” The jeering grew louder and I heard Ed shout something about not sharing.
&nbs
p; “Half an hour. Make sure you aren’t followed,” I said, ignoring Sawyer pounding on the window.
“Your way, baby, but bring some beers and wear my favorite panties, the cherry-flavored ones.” Cheers erupted from the back. He hung up and I scooted over to the driver’s seat.
“What are you doing? Romi?” Sawyer shouted through the glass. I cracked the window. “Don’t follow me. Too dangerous.” I threw the truck in gear and floored it, watching a seriously pissed off Sawyer yelling in my rearview.
A moment later my phone rang. I answered as I drove. “You stole my truck?”
“Borrowed. I’ll be back in less than an hour. Work the scene. You’ll barely miss me.”
“I’m sending the DPS after you.”
“Don’t. You’ll get me killed. I think I know what’s going on but you have to trust me.”
“Fine. You have an hour. But that truck has GPS. You aren’t back in an hour and I’m coming for it and your hide.”
“Fair enough.”
“What did you figure out?”
“Can’t talk about it on the phone. Send someone to locate Claire Barrington and make sure she’s okay.”
“Claire Barrington?”
“Yes, she built a new house. Shouldn’t be too hard to find. Text me the address when you do.”
“You sure she isn’t back in Dallas for her husband’s funeral?”
“No, I’m not sure. That’s what I need you to find out. Also find out where Daphne Idensloph lives. She needs to be accounted for.”
“Why?”
“Can’t tell you now.”
“There’s a .45 under your seat, in case. You ever shot a gun before?”
“I am from Texas. Have to go. See you in an hour.” I hung up and my hands trembled as ugly raw fear writhed in my stomach. This was so much bigger than some computer virus, or Verify and if my theory was right?
I was as good as dead.
Chapter Twenty-One
I flipped off the headlights as I cruised around the back of the abandoned gas station. Little Ed hung deep in the gloom, leaned against the back wall, hot-boxing a smoke. When I parked, I tucked the .45 in my purse. I was still afraid of Ed, but even more afraid of who might be following.
“Make it quick,” he said, voice gravelly and low like the coming of a storm. His eyes scanned the landscape to make sure we were alone.
“I will.”
“I know your boyfriend’s a fed. You wearing a wire?” His eyes scanned me.
“Of course not. And he’s not my boyfriend,” I said.
His face was unreadable in the pitch that hung beneath the awning.
I felt my insides twist. What if I was wrong? If Ed really was just another member of The Devils, then I had to simply trust that if he hadn’t put a bullet in me yet, and I offered no real reason to do so tonight. But, if I was right? Everything I once thought to be true was a lie. Neither option was appealing.
“We alone?” I asked.
“As far as I know,” he said. “No guarantee it’ll stay that way.”
Every flicker of light and shadow made me jump. Every rustle in the nearby grass was a killer in wait. My muscles tensed, senses heightened to the point of overload. I swallowed hard. “You were going to meet my mother, Ilsa Lachlan. But she never showed, did she?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“All right.” Voice shaking, I plowed ahead. “I think it’s fair to assume you’ve done time.”
“Done my share.”
“Ever run across a disgraced cop? Anthony Folken? Was busted in a major sting by Internal Affairs in Dallas for selling seized narcotics. Maybe he sold them to your crew?”
“Maybe. Name sounds familiar. Maybe we shared a cell.”
“All right. Did Folken ever tell you of a woman he was supposed to meet? One who never showed?”
He pressed his lips into a hard line. “No. Not a talker and I was good with that.”
I ignored his deflections. “She had something big, but ended up dead. Who killed her?”
“No clue.” He blew out a long plume of smoke. “People die all the time.”
Ed wasn’t giving me anything to work with, but I had to trust my instincts. “I think maybe you know Tony Folken. I believe my mom stumbled on how Los Espectros was running guns and drugs through the area. She uncovered what Los Espectros has been hiding from even The Devils.”
“Keep talking.”
“I’m thinking someone high up in Bisby was involved, because she didn’t trust the local cops. She knew Folken from high school, and that he was a cop in another city so she trusted him.”
“Dumb move. Trust no one.” He tossed the spent cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his massive boot.
“I’m guessing she insisted on meeting Folken in person, but then never showed. He never knew what she had, only knew she hadn’t run off with another man because he was fairly sure she was dead.”
“Happens. Los Espectros is no one to cross. Even The Devils. We know our place.”
“What I’m thinking is mass amounts of guns and drugs are coming from the area only no one can’t figure out how.”
He shook his head. “Nah. Guns run south, drugs and people go north.”
“Fine. Whatever. But Los Espectros still has to have a way of running whatever north and whatever south. I’m also guessing that Los Espectros is tightening its grip on the area, expanding its dominance from northeastern Mexico and using The Devils to aid in distribution. Only no one knows how they’ve grown so strong so fast and The Devils aren’t high enough up on the food chain to know the big picture.”
He hesitated then nodded as he lit another smoke.
“Nope.” He drew on the cigarette, making the end glow red, the only light in the surrounding dark. “We’re just well-armed errand boys. Someone else is running the big action. If we want any play we shut up and do what we’re told.”
I hesitated. Not knowing if I wanted the answer to the next question, I said, “Is Los Espectros after me?”
“You’re being set up. Know that much.”
“Why’d they kill Tito?”
“Because he was a dumbass who shot his mouth off one too many times. Tito was a message to all of us. We all got this text.” He showed me a picture on his cell phone and the contents of my stomach rushed forth before I could stop them. I braced my hand against the wall as I vomited. When I finally calmed enough to regain some composure, Ed handed me a bandana to wipe my mouth.
“You good?” he asked.
I nodded. My skin was cold and clammy and my throat burned from acid. “Let me see it again.” Ed handed me his phone and I studied the image. A pile of hacked up limbs, a torso and then an eyeless head with an X carved in the flesh sat on a piece of poster board, a collection of knives stuck in it like a human butcher block.
Ed took the phone away. “Want you to know what you’re playing with. Forget me. Forget your mom. Move on and live your life or it will end slowly and badly.”
“I’m afraid I might not be able to do that.”
“Why?”
“Long story and we’ve taken enough time. Short version is someone stumbled across my mom’s necklace and her purse in a field.”
“Why do I care?”
“Purse had been emptied, but I found something inside. Something you’ve been searching for, something you need.”
“What?”
I shuddered. “The keys to the kingdom.”
I left Ed in the parking lot and took an old network of fire roads that looped around through the backcountry. It was a longer route back, but less likely I’d be spotted. The roads were rarely used except to fight wildfires. They were now overgrown with weeds and prickly pears making it almost impossible to see if I was still on the path or had driven off into scrub. Several times, I had to stop, back up and get out with a flashlight to distinguish what was road and what was brush. No moon tonight. Impenetrable velvet darkness obliterated the world beyond my headlights.
No one would be able to tail me unless they were using a drone with night vision.
I couldn’t believe I remembered my way after all this time. Finally, I turned onto FM 1313 and returned where I’d left Sawyer. Once parked, I slid over and let him back into the driver’s seat but left the .45 in my purse hoping he’d assume I’d returned it under the seat.
He fumed as he drove. Tension crackled in the air, and I was afraid to speak. Finally, he said, “Claire is alive and tending to funeral arrangements in Dallas. We have Daphne’s address but a patrol officer says no one is answering the door even though her car is there.”
“Can they kick in her door? Check out the house?”
“No, we don’t live in North Korea. She could be out with friends, and I imagine she’d be rightfully angry if we kicked in her door without a warrant. Is there something you want to tell me?”
