Deep Extraction

by DiAnn Mills

  “This is a delicious kitchen,” she said, running her fingers across the granite on a huge island with gray barstools.

  “Thanks. The only things I use are the fridge, coffeemaker, and microwave.” He opened a cabinet and pulled out two huge mugs. He poured them each a cup of the brew and handed one to her.

  He stood so close she could smell his intoxicating, woodsy scent blended with the coffee in his hand. “Did you do the landscaping for your home?”

  He nodded.

  “You are one talented man, but I see your heart is with the US Marshals.”

  “I’ve missed the challenge and the satisfaction of law enforcement.”

  “Thanks for having my back.”

  “Same here. We’re a good team.”

  Sensing color rising in her face, she struggled to change the subject. “Your home is huge. Do you mind me asking how large?”

  “Forty-five hundred square feet.”

  “For one man?”

  “I plan to one day fill it with kids.”

  “Your poor wife.”

  “She’ll want kids too. Are you applying for the job?”

  She warmed, and his full lips turned upward. She’d thought about it—more than once.

  “Your face is a cute shade of pink.” He leaned forward, coffee still in hand. He kissed her lightly, feathery soft, gently inviting her response, and she kissed him back. With her mind whirling, she stepped back.

  “I won’t have to ask if you kissed me.” He planted another one on her nose. “I’ll remember.”

  “Me too.” Awkward.

  His smoldering eyes captured her. “Where are we going?”

  What dare she say? “Can we table ‘we’ until this case is over?”

  He chuckled. “We could be a dangerous duo.”

  “We already are.”

  She ignored the implication. Time to handle why she was there. “I suppose you should fill me in about Mrs. Aznar. Does she need medical attention?”

  “No. They’re mostly bruises. She asked for you. Thought we were a husband and wife team.”

  Tori slid him a sideways glance. “But you corrected her. Was she sexually assaulted?”

  “No, ma’am.” Mrs. Aznar stood in the kitchen, her left eye a purple mass, her swollen lips seeping blood. “I just feel better talking to a woman.”

  “I brought you clothes.”

  “Thank you. I want to shower later if it’s okay. Can I have a cup of coffee before we talk?”

  Mrs. Aznar repeated what she’d relayed to Cole and Manny hours before. The investigation hadn’t taken them to Austin. Where were the missing pieces?

  Tori reached across the table and touched the young woman’s arm. “Is there anything your husband, Preston Ustach, or César Vega may have said that could help us?”

  She slowly nodded while staring into her cup. “After Mr. Moore was killed, Preston and Jose were at our trailer. Preston said the person who’d killed Mr. Moore had computer knowledge, but he also believed the Hermanos de Pistoleros were behind it.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “A few days before the bombing, he saw some of them on motorcycles.” She shrugged. “They were on a road near the rig.”

  “Are you saying Preston wasn’t aware Jose’s cousin was part of the gang?”

  “No. After Preston left, Jose said he was ashamed of César. Didn’t want anyone at work to know they were related. I asked more questions, but he started drinking and told me to shut up. Said he’d made awful mistakes. Wanted me to leave and take Sofía to my parents’. I refused. The next day Preston was killed. Jose . . . he cried like a baby.” Mrs. Aznar wept. “Then someone killed him. Had to be César.”

  Cole scooted back his chair and stood. “The gang doesn’t have computer skills. Most of them barely finished the eighth grade. They’re violent hired guns. Our mastermind could be from Austin.”

  Tori looked at him. “One person pulling the strings on both crimes or separate crimes . . . like you’ve expressed before. But I’m not buying it. Who despised Nathan enough to destroy both him and his company? We have to find César Vega.”

  WEDNESDAY MORNING, shortly after seven, Tori and Cole drove to a women’s shelter and made sure Mrs. Aznar would be taken care of before leaving to join her family in California. A BOLO was issued for César Vega.

  While Max was at the doctor’s office, Tori and Cole drove to the garage where Vince Greene worked.

  “Are you sure you left nothing out about Mrs. Aznar?” she said, compassion building for the woman.

  “You have it all. Every time I think about the beating Vega gave her, I want to find him myself.”

  “I’m a step ahead of you on that one. He could have killed her.”

  “How’s Sally?”

  “Tried talking to her about God, but the conversation didn’t go anywhere. Can’t blame her with all she’s been through.”

  “We can only love on her and not give up.”

  Tori pushed ahead. “I’ve noticed something about myself. My left wrist, the one I rub out of habit?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s a freckle, but in my mind it’s melanoma. I thought with my new faith, the concern would dissipate, but it hasn’t happened.”

  “I noticed you hadn’t been touching it as much. God doesn’t have a time limit. We have much to discuss and explore.”

  She stared out the windshield. “Our fears or us?”

  “Aren’t they one and the same?”

  She laughed lightly to shake off the nervousness. “Considering I wanted nothing to do with you or God, I guess you’re right. I look forward to the future, but I’d rather face a firing squad.”

  He shot her an irresistible grin. “I’ve got your back.”

  At the mechanic’s shop, Greene stomped toward them from behind a ’67 Mustang. “Why are you bothering me again? Because unless you’re here to tell me Nathan Moore’s killer’s been arrested, you can keep right on going.”

  “Good to see you too.” Cole stuck out his hand, but Greene failed to shake it. “We have two pics for you to possibly identify.”

  “Why didn’t you show them the other time you were here?”

  “Didn’t have a reason then.”

  “Nothing more?”

  “No.” Cole scrolled through his phone until he came to Franc Lawd.

  “Never saw him.”

  Then Jose Aznar’s pic.

  Greene claimed not to recognize him either. He dragged his tongue over his lips. “Should have told you this the other day. I was scared with my record and all. But Moore called me right after the bombing of one of his oil rigs. Said he wanted me to follow someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Ann Krantz.”

  Anita. “Did you agree?”

  “Yep. She and I work the same hours, so it was easy. I kept an eye on her until the day he was killed. All I saw was she stayed to herself.”

  Nathan had suspected Anita of being dishonest about something, so he hired a man he could trust. Hadn’t kept Nathan alive.

  Tori grabbed the grilled chicken salads from the front seat of her car and made her way to Mom’s door. Time they talk like mother and daughter, discuss the tragedies of their family, and move on. With everything that had happened over the last eight days, she’d vowed to treasure every moment with Mom, beginning now.

  The case had nearly exhausted her, and she didn’t sleep well at Sally’s. This afternoon, she, Cole, and Max planned to reread every report since the bombing. Brainstorm. Find what they were missing. Piece together snippets of conversations.

  Before Tori rang the doorbell, Mom opened the door.

  “We are about to have a first. My daughter here for lunch on a weekday at eleven thirty.”

  She groaned and hugged her. “Mom, am I that bad of a workaholic?”

  “Not today. Come on in.” They moved into the kitchen.

  While Tori unpacked the salads and set a separate bag in the freezer, Mom place
d silverware and blue-flowered napkins on the table. A frosted pitcher of iced tea rested between them.

  “What’s the monumental occasion?” All lightness vanished from Mom’s face. “Are you okay, honey? Is your arm infected? Max doing all right? Cole?”

  If not for the serious reason why she was there, Tori would have teased her about being a helicopter mom. “I’m very good. I admit to having an ulterior motive for lunch, but it’s nothing bad.” She planted a kiss on Mom’s cheek.

  Mom touched her heart. “Okay, Victoria, curiosity stole my appetite. Best tell me.”

  “Have a seat. This will come as a shock.” She took her mother’s hand. “Before Kevin died, he made me promise I would seek God. I agreed only because I loved him. My church attendance has been every other week out of respect for him. There’ve been Sundays I’ve listened and Sundays my mind has wandered. The past few days have proved to me God exists and is looking out for me.” A thickening in her throat brought reality to watering eyes. “I could have been killed on Saturday when Cole and I were attacked by the gang for hire.”

  Mom covered her mouth with her free hand. “I try not to think about the danger you’re constantly in because it’s your job. I realized the seriousness of the shoot-out on Saturday when I saw you and Cole.” She stopped. “When did you make the decision?”

  “In the ER waiting room before y’all arrived. No harps or trumpets, but I feel like a bag of rocks has been lifted from my shoulders.”

  Mom swiped at a tear. “Kevin asked me to search for God too, but I couldn’t make the commitment. Now I will.”

  “So glad, Mom. This doesn’t mean the next time I’m in the middle of a firefight, I’ll walk away alive. This proved to me who Kevin trusted.” Tori smiled. “Now let’s eat.”

  “If Kevin were here, he’d pray.”

  “I will.” And she did. “For dessert, I brought cookies and cream ice cream—with gold sugar sprinkles.” Kevin’s favorite mode of celebrating.

  The hour and a half she’d taken for lunch passed quickly—a rarity. Mom wanted to attend church with her this weekend—a first. They hugged good-bye, and Tori promised to call later.

  “One more thing,” Mom said. “Is the US Marshal a special guy?”

  “Why?” Warmth crept up her neck.

  “I saw the way you two were looking at each other.”

  Laugh it off, Tori. “So you’ve turned detective?”

  “In this instance, I have the facts.” Mom giggled and covered her mouth. “I like him. Go for it, Victoria.”

  ALBERT TRIED TO REACH James for the third time Wednesday evening. Where was he? Desperation and the ticking clock for Erik kept him pacing the hospital room. He threw a paper cup of water against a wall.

  Erik slept, his breathing a pitiful wheeze. After Erik was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia, his doctor had admitted him to the hospital, but the antibiotics weren’t doing the trick.

  Albert watched his son sleep. If only he’d waken and be healthy and ready to go home. How much longer would his precious son be able to fight the disease taking over his body?

  “Albert?” James answered on the fourth ring. “What’s going on?”

  “Erik’s in the hospital—St. Luke’s.” He explained his son’s condition. “I have only one option to save him.”

  “Then do what you must to rectify the damage done to your son years ago.”

  “I plan to this evening. If I fail, I want to thank you for supporting me.”

  “You’ve been a good friend. If need be, I’ll be there for Erik.”

  “Thank you.” He drew in a heavy breath and ended the call. Staring at his dear son, he kissed his forehead. Hot tears fell onto Erik’s face, and Albert brushed them away. “For you,” he whispered. “My love, my heart. Any sacrifice.”

  Albert left the hospital and got into his car. His plan had been rehearsed for days, and yet he regretted what must be done. He’d given Sally an opportunity to handle Nathan’s obligations, but she’d refused.

  He contacted her on his cell. “Mrs. Moore, this is Albert Weiman. I’d like to stop by and chat for a few minutes. Erik’s in the hospital with pneumonia, and I’m not getting the answers I need. I thought with your nursing background, you could help me understand the medical terms.”

  “Mr. Weiman, I’d be happy to do what I can. My skills are a little rusty, though. When would you like to stop by?”

  “Now, if you’re home. I’m about to leave the hospital.”

  “That’s fine. I just baked banana bread.”

  Albert chuckled at the irony of it all. Serve him banana bread while he held her and those boys at gunpoint. He patted his pants pocket to ensure the slip of paper with his bank account number was intact.

  He pulled a .38 from the glove box and placed it in his jacket pocket. He’d stop at Starbucks for all four bodyguards and Sally Moore. The bodyguards’ drinks would be laced with a generous dose of Erik’s sleep medication. Those cups would be marked with Thanks. How could armed guards refuse an old man who brought coffee? He wasn’t worried about Sally Moore’s sons. With their mother as hostage, they’d behave.

  At the Moore home, he delivered the coffee to the man and woman guarding the exterior. “I appreciate what you’re doing for Mrs. Moore,” he said and smiled at their gratitude.

  He returned to his car for the remaining coffees, carried the cardboard container to the front door, and rang the bell. Sally answered the door. She’d lost weight since he’d seen her. She was about to lose more than a few pounds.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Moore.”

  “Call me Sally. Come on in.” She stood aside for him to enter.

  “I brought coffee for the adults. Here are the ones for the inside security.”

  “How considerate. They’ll appreciate your kindness.”

  “Theirs have a thanks on them. Yours has an M for Moore and mine has an A because I added sugar and cream. Oh, there’s an extra one in case anyone else in the house would like one.”

  “My boys don’t drink coffee.” She took the cardboard container. “I’ll deliver these. Have a seat in the living room, and I’ll be right with you.”

  He inwardly sighed relief. She soon returned and sat in an adjoining chair with her coffee cup in hand. She removed the lid, and steam circled from the top.

  “Where are your sons?”

  “Upstairs watching a movie in Lance’s bedroom. They’re doing a Star Wars marathon.”

  He smiled. “Nothing better than brothers being together.”

  Erik typically responded to the sleep medication within ten minutes, but Albert estimated it would take fifteen for the bodyguards. He and Sally talked on about Erik’s problem with bacterial pneumonia.

  A crash startled Mrs. Moore, filling him with anticipation.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I need to check on that noise.”

  He set his cup on an end table. “I’ll go with you.” He stood without waiting for her to object.

  In the kitchen, two men were sprawled on the floor about six feet apart. One must have fallen asleep and the other had attempted to assist him before the drug hit.

  Albert pulled his weapon from his pocket and aimed it at Sally. “Don’t say a word. You and I have a little business to take care of. It’s time you took care of your financial obligations.”

  TORI CROUCHED on the steps and listened to Albert demand Sally sit in the living area. She’d heard the crash and started down the stairs, but the man’s threats stopped her. She made her way down the hallway and peered around the corner. Albert and Sally weren’t positioned in front of a window for anyone to take a shot.

  Tori clutched her weapon. Why hadn’t Sally told him that Tori was in the house too? Too late now. Sally’s back was to her, and a shot at Albert could prove deadly to her friend. The two bodyguards lay on the floor, hopefully not poisoned.

  The boys’ safety took precedence. She crept back up the stairs, then texted Cole from outside Lance’s door.
r />   Albert Weiman has Sally hostage in kitchen. Protection detail in house unconscious or dead.

  The boys?

  Safe @ moment. Impossible 2 get 2 Weiman from my angle.

  Sit tight.

  She rapped lightly on Lance’s door. “Boys, please, we have to talk now,” she whispered. When Lance opened the door, she touched his mouth and shook her head. He let her inside, where she told them about the situation downstairs.

  “Cole is handling it. In the meantime, I need your word you’ll not move from this room.”

  “You’re talking about our mom,” Lance said, his nostrils flaring. “You can’t ask us to do nothing.”

  “There’s something you can do, and it’s what Cole would recommend. Pray.” She secured their attention. “Lock the door behind me. Promise?”

  The two frightened teens agreed, and she slipped back downstairs. A SWAT team and negotiator would be in place within the hour. But she feared it wasn’t soon enough. Albert must have a specific agenda. As she’d concluded the morning he knocked on her door, the man must be mentally ill. His voice rumbled low from the kitchen.

  “Nathan Moore destroyed my son’s life, and now you’re going to pay his debt.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Tell me what happened.” Sally’s gentle tone might talk Albert down.

  “You know the story. Why lie? Erik and Nathan had been friends since high school. Competitive with sports and grades. Didn’t you question why they parted ways?” He waved the gun in her face.

  To Sally’s credit, she remained calm. “I asked Nathan about Erik. He said they fought because both had feelings for me.”

  “Why did you stop seeing my son? He loved you. Would have done anything for you.”

  “Nathan told me Erik was interested in another girl, and I saw them together.”

  “That’s a lie. Erik met with her to discuss what to buy you for your birthday.”

  Sally sighed. “Then I’m guilty of believing Nathan.”