This time her eyes met his. “So? Are these the same tattoos as the ones on the men in the sedan?”
He wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say, but he had no doubts about what he’d seen. “No. They’re totally different.”
Chapter Thirteen
Melissa gathered her hair and lifted it off the back of her neck, some tendrils already damp with sweat. The sun hovered low in the sky, just barely over the mountains in the west. But its heat beat down, the thin air doing little to mitigate its rays. Pine rose on the hillside, its sharp spears thrusting skyward, its clean smell nearly covering the odor of stale beer wafting from a nearby Dumpster. Cigarette butts littered a patch of gravel that formed an employee parking lot.
They’d parked down the street and walked just to be safe, not sure what they’d find. The spot on the outskirts of the metro area wasn’t rural, not in the way that Nick might define rural. But it felt isolated to her. A lot of pine forest and dry hillsides dotted with houses and the occasional cluster of businesses. And she found it a little strange that Detective Marris had designated it as the place to meet.
She supposed she should be grateful he’d agreed to meet them alone at all. She’d made him agree not to take Nick and Jason in on the material-witness warrant. He didn’t seem overly concerned about looking the other way. He didn’t seem to care at all. But she had to wonder if he chose the meeting spot so no one would see them together.
Marris climbed out of his unmarked car and strode across the lot, shoes crunching on gravel. A tall, beanpole of a man, Marris had the friendliest smile she’d ever seen. But underneath his sunny exterior, Melissa had always sensed a will that was hard as diamonds. Jimmy had respected Marris. She’d found it impossible not to follow suit.
Marris greeted Nick and kidded around with Jason for a couple of seconds, then he turned to her. “So what you got for me?”
She offered him her cell.
He took the phone and studied the image. After a second or two he looked up at her, peering over his sunglasses. “Is this a quiz?”
“Please, Ben. It’s important.”
“I sure hope so. I didn’t come all this way to be quizzed on trivia. It’s a picture of José Sanchez.”
“His tattoos. What can you tell me about them?”
His gaze flicked to the phone and back to her. He paused as if waiting for her to deliver some kind of punch line. “Most of them are pretty standard for a member of the Latin Devils. Is that what you’re looking for?”
That was precisely what she was looking for. “Do all Latin Devils have tattoos like these?”
“Some of them.” A teacher’s tone replaced his suspicion that she was trying to punk him. He pointed to the digital image. “Especially these on the side of Sanchez’s head. See these lines and the devil’s tail? Each member gets these when they’re initiated.”
“So if someone doesn’t have those tattoos, they don’t belong to the Latin Devils?”
“Nope.” He glanced up. “Are you going to tell me why all the questions?”
“Because that’s what José Sanchez told me. That all Latin Devils have these tattoos.”
His brows arched. “So he can actually tell the truth. Who knew?”
Melissa glanced at Nick. He’d been standing on the edge of the conversation, watching Jason who was now exploring a collection of pine saplings at the edge of the parking area.
Nick nodded to her and cleared his throat. “The men who shot Detective Bernard had different tattoos.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Ben Marris narrowed his eyes on Nick. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about that. I noticed the tatts in the police sketch, they were different. I was wondering if the artist got the tatts mixed up. Or if you just didn’t remember.”
“I remember lines, but they were different. And no devil’s tail. They aren’t like these.” Nick pointed to Melissa’s phone.
“So that would mean the Latin Devils aren’t the ones who killed Jimmy and Essie?” Melissa looked to Marris for a verdict she knew was coming. A drip of sweat trickled down her back.
“Appears not. No.”
“Are they tatts a different gang might wear?” Nick asked.
Marris gave his head a brief shake. “Judging by what I saw in the sketches, they’re not part of any gang.”
Melissa frowned. She wasn’t following him. “What do you mean?”
“Just that. They’re not Latin Devils. And they’re not anything else, either. Not any gang I know, and I know them all. The ones operating in this area, anyway. My guess? They’re wannabes. Guys who play at being in a gang. Guys who want to appear tough but don’t really belong to anything.”
She mulled that over in her mind. “Are they just kids?”
“Maybe. You see that kind of thing in the suburbs sometimes. Guys who are working up the nerve to try the real thing. Or they could be just operating in their own interest. Hard to tell.”
Nick held up a finger. “But if they’re kids, there might be missing person reports for the two killed in the mountains. Right? Parents missing their sons?”
Marris tilted his head to the side. “Maybe.”
Melissa didn’t want to think of the two who had died in the crash as someone’s son, someone’s brother, some lost kid trying to find his way. Thinking of them as gang members had been easier. As if they weren’t real people then. As if gang members didn’t have parents or siblings or anyone to mourn them.
Her face felt hot, the skin tight. “Have you told anyone about the tattoos? Who the kids might be?”
“I included the apparent discrepancy in the tattoos in my report,” Marris answered.
A report Calhoun had probably seen. A report he’d apparently ignored, or at the very least, hadn’t studied closely. “Have you talked to Cory Calhoun directly?”
“About the tattoos? I’ve talked to him plenty.”
“What did he say?”
“What could he say? I told you on the phone, Calhoun’s on a witch hunt. He’s ignoring facts left and right.”
He didn’t have to tell her that, after she sat through the meeting last night. But now things were different. Now they were unraveling Calhoun’s theory. “Can you take this to Seth Wallace? Tell him about the tattoos? Calhoun’s story doesn’t hold together if it isn’t the Latin Devils who killed Jimmy. Maybe more of it doesn’t hold together, either. Maybe none of it does.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me. Calhoun is more concerned with revenge than anything else.”
Nick’s eyebrows flicked upward. “Against who? Jimmy Bernard?”
“You got it.”
Melissa frowned. She’d had plenty of misgivings about Calhoun, but she thought his attitude was based on ambition. He’d smelled Jimmy’s blood in the water and wanted to be first in line for the feeding frenzy. It hadn’t occurred to her there might be more to it. “What kind of grudge?”
“Jimmy wrote up Calhoun years ago, back when he was Calhoun’s supervisor in the P.D. Don’t remember what Calhoun did—not important—but the whole thing hurt his career. It was the reason he jumped at the D.A. job.”
It made sense. The way Calhoun was shoehorning facts to fit his Jimmy-is-dirty theory had the vehemence behind it that fit best with a personal grudge.
“And then there’s Seth Wallace.”
“Seth?”
“A guy like Calhoun brings up the possibility of dirt in the police department, and a political animal like Wallace is going to do one of two things. He’s going to either sweep it under the rug, or if he can’t, he’ll crucify anyone he can find and call it the even hand of justice.”
Melissa thought of Seth’s reaction to Calhoun in his office. The investigator had little evidence to back up anything he was saying, yet Seth let him continue anyway. At the same time, he ordered him to keep the investigation quiet as death. Covering himself both ways. “So what are you saying? We shouldn’t point the tattoos out to Seth?”
>
“No we should. You should. But don’t expect him to do a whole hell of a lot about it. Not until he has definitive proof that the investigation is crap, the story leaks to the press, or he wins the election.”
So in the meantime, the P.D. was out looking for the two remaining Latin Devils who shot Jimmy and Essie, and yet they didn’t really exist. Melissa glanced at Nick, at Jason playing at the edge of the parking lot.
In the meantime, Nick and Jason had nowhere to go.
WALKING BACK TO THE TRUCK, Nick couldn’t explain the strange prickle at the back of his neck. He twisted around to look behind them. Pine and a few golden shocks of aspen mixed with a smattering of houses and businesses lining the street. Cars buzzed along the nearby highway. A normal day happening all around them. Yet he felt nothing close to normal.
Maybe it was that meeting with Detective Marris. Or the strained silence that had fallen between Melissa and him since their discussion the night before. But whatever it was, he wanted this unsettled feeling to stop. He wanted to know what was coming next.
He glanced at Melissa. She looked straight ahead as she walked, but he could feel she was aware of his stare. “Some of the things Detective Marris said. They don’t add up.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged, trying to put his misgivings into words. “Maybe four kids from the suburbs would know how to shoot assault rifles, I don’t know. God knows if they were any good at shooting, I wouldn’t be here. But…”
She glanced his way. “It seems like a stretch.”
“Exactly.” He let out a breath. Maybe that was his problem. The strain between the two of them. A brief glance from her, an acknowledgment of his hunch, and his chest felt less tight. The unease at the back of his neck lessened ever so slightly. “Besides those guns are expensive.”
“It would depend on the family the young men came from.”
“Which at the very least should give the police another lead when it comes to identifying them.”
“He also said they might not be affiliated with any group.”
“That theory makes more sense to me. But it begs the question of why they are involved in this at all.”
She nodded an encouragement to go on.
“How did a few wannabe gang members decide to pick off a police detective on the street in broad daylight? Why would they do it? And how did they know he’d be there?”
“The leak.” The skin around her eyes looked tight. Lines dug on either side of her mouth.
“It’s hard for you, isn’t it? To think someone in the system is behind this?”
“The whole thing is hard for me. I still want to believe it never happened.”
“What if it wasn’t Jimmy who was the target? What if it was the woman who was also killed?”
“Essie?” She shook her head. “She’s a victim’s advocate. She’s only been with the D.A. for a few months.”
“What if she’s tied to the men in the car? What if they knew where to find her because she told them? What if it’s something personal?”
“You’re saying it has nothing to do with Gayle.”
“We just assumed it did.”
“Everyone assumed it.” She looked straight into his eyes, her face alive, the air almost vibrating around her. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that possibility before. I can’t believe it didn’t even occur to me.”
“Sometimes it helps to have an outside point of view. Of course, we don’t really know—”
“But it’s worth looking into.” She nodded, her step a little faster, a little spring to it that wasn’t there before.
His chest swelled a little at the thought that he’d had some role in putting that spring there.
She looked up at him. “Thanks for your help…with the tattoos and the ideas.”
“You don’t have to thank me. You know that.”
“No, I do. Last night, you offered to help and I…” She shook her head.
“It doesn’t need to be more than it is.”
She pressed her lips into a hint of a smile. “I know. You said that last night, too. And I appreciate it.”
He smiled back at her, but he had no idea how he managed it. Because although he said what was between them didn’t have to be more, more was exactly what he wanted.
She broke the eye contact first and jammed her hand into her bag. “I need to call Seth.” She pulled out her cell phone and punched a few buttons.
Nick hugged Jason’s little body tighter against his shoulder and focused on the road ahead. The truck was only a short distance away. He had to start thinking about unlocking the doors and strapping Jason into his seat. But even so, he found himself holding his breath just a little, waiting to hear the mellow tones of Melissa’s voice as she talked on the phone.
Instead he heard the burned rubber screech of tires on pavement. A scream ripped from Melissa’s lips.
Nick looked up just in time to see an SUV barreling straight for them.
Chapter Fourteen
Nick didn’t stop to think. Clamping Jason tight to his shoulder with one arm, he grabbed Melissa with the other and dove for the ditch.
An engine roared behind them, bearing down.
Nick let go of Melissa and shot out a hand to break his and Jason’s fall. He crashed to rocky dirt. The force of his fall shuddered through his arm and into his body. Rock jammed into the heel of his hand. Something cracked. His arm gave and he collapsed to his side, barely avoiding smashing Jason between his body and the ground.
Jolted awake, Jason cried out in his ear.
The sound of the engine roared above them. It sounded bigger than an SUV. A Hummer? A damn tank?
Nick scrambled to get his feet under him. The rocky soil was parched and loose, sparse grass slick as ice under his boots. He reached for the spot where Melissa had been and grasped nothing but air. “Melissa!”
“Here.”
He followed the voice. He could see her blond hair, glowing against the green backdrop of young pine.
The engine revved from above. Gravel sprayed under tire treads.
His boots found purchase. He scrambled forward, reaching with his free hand to help Melissa. Pain razored through his arm. He lurched forward, dizzy.
She was beside him. Helping him. Pulling him.
His vision cleared just as they hit the edge of the trees. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, through the tangle of brush at the edge of the forest and into the cool, sparse understory.
Behind them the engine’s roar sounded different. Spinning around, he peered through the trees. A red SUV bumped back onto the road. It bolted down the street and disappeared.
“Daddy!”
He held the little body tight. “Jason. Buddy. Are you okay?” He pulled back to examine his son.
Except for a few scratches on his arms, he seemed fine.
Nick scanned Melissa. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and leaned hands on knees, trying to catch her breath. Hair clung to a scrape on her cheek. But underneath it all, she still had that fierce hold on control he’d witnessed the moment he met her. She looked up at him. “You’re hurt.”
Jason reached for Nick’s free hand. “You need a Band-Aid.”
Nick glanced down at his hand, hanging limply at his side. Blood oozed from scrapes and cuts on his palm, but that was the least of his problems. Now that the adrenaline of the panicked moment was draining away, a bone-deep ache pulsed up his arm.
“It’s broken, isn’t it?” Melissa reached out like Jason had, stopping short of touching him.
“We need to get back to the cabin.”
“You should go to a hospital. Have it set.”
“I’m fine. Might Jimmy have some kind of first-aid kit?”
“I can guarantee it. But a hospital would be better.”
“Can’t be helped. We need to get to the cabin. We’ll decide what to do from there.”
Melissa slipped one arm around his back and the other around
him and Jason both. “You saved my life.”
He looked down at her. He wished he could raise his hand, smooth Melissa’s silken hair back from her cheek, cradle her sweet face and claim her lips. Let her know that everything was okay. As long as she and Jason were alive, unhurt…everything was fine.
For the fourth time in as many days, he’d come too close to losing those he loved. Jason and…
The realization shuddered through him like the shock waves of a bomb.
That was it, wasn’t it? Jason wasn’t the only one he loved. Despite having been down this path before. Despite knowing she would never be happy spending her life with him. Despite promising himself he wouldn’t go there. He’d fallen for Melissa Anderson.
Now what the hell was he going to do?
MELISSA WAS STILL SHAKING when she finally got in touch with Seth on the drive back to Jimmy’s cabin. She’d let Nick drive, giving into his insistence despite what she was sure was a broken arm. Now she watched the lines of pain etching his face in the dashboard’s glow as he steered with one hand, the other lying still in his lap, her cell phone clapped to her ear.
Not knowing how long service would last in this mountainous terrain, she filled Seth in on her visit with Sanchez, her meeting with Marris, and Nick’s observations about the shooters and the possibility of Essie being their real target. But despite showing strong interest in Nick’s alternate theory, Seth’s main focus seemed to be Marris.
“What did the detective tell you?”
“A few things. About Calhoun. About his history with Jimmy. About how his whole investigation might be based more on revenge than evidence.”
“That’s funny.”
“Funny? I’d call it a lot of things, but funny isn’t one.”
Seth chuckled, though she hadn’t meant the comment as humorous. “You don’t know what I know about Marris.”
She’d had enough revelations about other people to last the rest of her life. She wasn’t sure she could handle another. She took a deep breath. “What is it?”
A Rancher’s Brand of Justice Page 13
