by DiAnn Mills
“Take deep breaths, sir. No need to be nervous. You’ll feel a little prick.”
It was no prick.
“Sensitive, huh.”
Tigo nodded. A lot of good it did.
“Now, before we get started, understand that if this root canal can’t be performed, we’ll need to extract the tooth. Your dentist will handle an implant.” No smile. No understanding.
Tigo nodded. It was an upper-right molar, and he didn’t want to part with it. “How long have you been practicing?”
“About six years.” He leaned against the side of the counter, looking like one of the kids in Tigo’s neighborhood who threw hoops.
Tigo continued to take deep breaths.
“So what’s your nine-to-five?”
No way would he tell him he was an FBI agent. “Desk job.”
“All right.” He chuckled. “I read your file, Agent Harris. Let’s get this done.”
While Tigo leaned back with his mouth open, vulnerable to the world, he had plenty of time to ponder the many questions about the gun-smuggling case. The Arroyos were growing bolder and were at war with the Skulls, a rival gang, and rumors had surfaced that they planned to take over the city with the help of a Mexican cartel. They wouldn’t make such boasts without those who supplied the weapons, those with means to hide their illegal activities in the heart of Houston.
When Tigo considered the rising crime along the border towns, his determination increased. Although his and Ryan’s case looked minuscule in the whole fight against drugs, gun smuggling, sex trafficking, and whatever else bad guys dabbled in, crippling the Arroyos had far-reaching effects. He wanted to nail the gun and ammo suppliers along with making gang arrests.
A huge undertaking, but not impossible.
An hour and a half later, which really was painless after the novocaine, the dentist ripped off his gloves. “Done. Your dentist will see to positioning a post in the root canal, build up the tooth, and take impressions for a crown. Call me if you have any problems.”
Problems? How fast could he run?
CHAPTER 19
Tuesday morning, Tigo drove with Ryan to Peter Masterson’s office building at eleven a.m. Two agents were posted at the back exit in case Masterson decided to leave his ninth-floor office suite before the interview. He’d been arrested for murder in January, but he’d been released when the only witness died of an apparent overdose. He also dabbled in gun smuggling, according to Jo-Jack. Again no proof. But Tigo had an ace in his back pocket regarding the murder charges — a new witness who would reopen the case.
Masterson’s secretary insisted they must have an appointment, and he was booked solid for the next two days. Tigo knew a hidden closed-circuit video feed allowed Masterson to sit in his plush office and observe the conversation.
Tigo smiled at the secretary. “Tell Mr. Masterson that Special Agent Tigo Harris and Special Agent Ryan Steadman from the FBI are here to see him without an appointment.”
The blonde, a long-legged beauty, gestured for them to sit down, then excused herself.
“Don’t be long,” Tigo said. “We know how to find him.”
Tigo wasn’t in a mood to deal with her or Masterson. The wealthy businessman had shot and killed a gun dealer from El Paso who’d taken him for several hundred thousand dollars. Masterson’s girlfriend witnessed the murder. She went to HPD, and they arrested him. Two days later it was Masterson’s girlfriend who’d been found dead.
But Tigo had a new angle. A witness had contacted the FBI. Said he’d been afraid to step forward after viewing the media reports on Masterson’s connection to his girlfriend’s death. But his conscience kept pestering him. Although the testimony was filled with holes, Masterson might be persuaded to assist the FBI in closing down the gun smugglers in exchange for leniency on the murder charge. His list of assets, including an overseas account, ensured him enough cash flow to buy whatever he wanted — except the FBI.
The blonde returned. “He prefers to have his attorney present.”
Ryan walked to the door that led down the hall to Masterson’s office. “He only needs his attorney when he has something to hide.”
She picked up the phone and informed Masterson of the persistent FBI agents. Stiffening, her gaze bore into Ryan and Tigo. “Mr. Masterson will see you. I’ll escort you to his office.”
Ryan opened the door leading to the man’s office. “We know the way.”
Tigo thanked her and closed the door behind them. No doubt Masterson had cameras at the back of the building and knew he couldn’t escape the questioning.
Masterson stepped into the hallway, dressed in one of his own tailor-made suits, another one of his enterprises. He was also a major stockholder in several offshore oil companies, including one near Africa. Everything was legit, which infuriated Tigo even more.
Masterson smiled and unbuttoned his suit coat. “What brings the FBI to my office today?”
“We have a few questions about some of your friends,” Tigo said.
Masterson gestured the two into his spacious office, sparkling with glass and chrome. “I have many friends, gentleman. Please sit down. Can I get you something?”
“No thanks.” Tigo said. He and Ryan took chairs facing the office door, and Masterson seated himself between them. “We’ll get right to the point. We hear you’re doing business with the Arroyos.”
“Since when does Cheeky need info about oil and gas? If he has concerns about tax evasion, then he can make an appointment like my other clients.”
Tigo laughed. “He needs to make sure he can fulfill his orders.”
“I fail to understand what this has to do with me.”
“It’s simple,” Tigo said. “We want Cheeky Lopez. You two conduct business together on a regular basis, and we want to make an exchange.”
“I’m not interested. Neither do I know what you’re talking about.”
“Think real hard,” Tigo continued. “We have enough evidence on you to tuck you away for life on murder charges.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Your lady friend wasn’t the only one who saw you pull the trigger that night.”
Masterson shook his head. “You can do better than that.”
“You think we’re bluffing? The shooting occurred in the parking lot of the Hyatt at three a.m. on January fifth of this year. You might have thought you were smart using a silencer, but a man on the second floor saw the whole thing. Plea bargaining is the name of the game. You choose. Work with us in bringing in Cheeky and his boys or grow old in prison.” Tigo shrugged. “Or death row.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I? You’re willing to risk your life to protect Cheeky?” Tigo stood. “I thought we could work out a deal. Better call your new girlfriend and tell her you won’t be home for dinner because you’re going to jail.”
“This conversation ended when you walked in. Trump up murder charges on someone who’s guilty, not me.”
“Tell you what. I give you until noon tomorrow to think about your future.”
On Friday, Kariss left a note for Tigo that she was meeting her sister for lunch on Westheimer then heading home for the weekend. He probably didn’t care how she spent her hours, but out of courtesy she’d keep him in the loop. After all, his quick thinking at the hospital had saved her life. What she hadn’t written in the note was her meeting later with Xavier. The fire in Tigo’s words about the man a few days ago still burned inside her. The idea of him telling her to leave the situation alone only spurred her on. She’d agreed to meet with Xavier because of his desperate situation. If another child existed, no matter how remote the possibility, then Kariss needed to help.
A twinge of fear sliced into her heart, but she mentally kicked it away. Earlier today she’d wondered if her zeal to help Xavier was a crash course in getting herself killed, since the search for Delores was predominantly on the side of town Kariss should avoid at all costs. Which brought her to a conclusion: Tomorrow m
orning, she planned a shopping excursion — for a handgun, complete with a training course on how to use it. She needed information about how to obtain a permit, and she had no clue what kind of handgun best suited her. Something small that would fit nicely inside her purse.
Kariss cringed at the thought of owning a weapon. Worse yet, what if she had to use it? But that was the very reason she needed to do research about the best one for her situation. Sort of like buying a car … or a new laptop.
She’d considered googling how to buy a handgun, but that might put her on the FBI’s radar. At least that’s what her writer friends claimed. Whether it was true or not, she didn’t dare risk the wrath of Tigo.
Asking her family for advice meant an endless drill by the entire Walker family, a force that left her scrambling for other options. Rather than lie, she’d keep them out of it.
The members of her online writer’s group were scattered all over the country. None of the participants were from Texas and knew her state’s laws regarding owning firearms.
She wished there was an app for those needing gun information. But that wasn’t the case. So she’d resort to hands-on shopping. She’d written about guns but hadn’t researched what might be the best one for her.
If she was going to run with the big dogs, then she needed to learn how to bark.
Vicki was seated in a booth when Kariss arrived at The Cheesecake Factory. She looked healthy, her cheeks rosy. And happy, which Kariss didn’t understand.
“You look amazing,” Kariss said. “Don’t you have morning sickness?”
Vicki moistened her lips. “Every day, but it usually only lasts until ten-thirty.”
“Considering the circumstances, I guess that’s a blessing.”
“Wyatt didn’t think any of my news was a blessing.”
The hostess handed them menus, and the server took their drink orders, giving Kariss a few moments to think about her response. She should be more compassionate about her sister’s condition, but disappointment in Vicki’s dependence on her ex-husband settled in. “Why tell him?”
Vicki startled. “Because he’s the father.”
“As in he might come back?”
“In my dreams. I’ve wised up a little. He needs to prepare his bank account for child support.”
“I’m glad you’re seeing the light. Sis, you don’t need him. I’ll help you raise your baby.”
Vicki took a sip of water and swiped beneath her eye. “Thanks, Sis. I’ve thought this through. I could eliminate him from the equation. Struggle through the financial aspect of raising this baby. But why make my child suffer because of my stubbornness? One more time he’d be given a license to live responsibility free. It’s time he realized his actions have consequences.”
Vicki had grown a smidgen smarter.
“I understand your reasoning, but I wish you would have reconsidered. What are you going to tell the child when he asks why his dad doesn’t see him? Because you know Wyatt is much too social to get involved with a kid,” Kariss said.
“Maybe Wyatt will want to be a father. Can’t predict the future. In any event, I’m the mom, and I’ll handle it the best way I can.”
Kariss propped her elbow on the table and cupped her chin. “I’m thrilled that you’re going to have a baby. I just wish the father weren’t such a jerk.”
Vicki laughed. “So do I. Yet God has given me a gift, and I will rejoice in it.”
“Sounds like you went to Wednesday-night church.”
Vicki nodded. “Need all the help I can get. Wyatt and his new family weren’t there. It ought to be interesting when I start to show. I may need to change churches to keep the gossip down. Hey, how about going with me and the parents this Sunday?”
“Why? Are you planning to tell them then?”
“Yes.”
Kariss moaned. “Have I become your backbone?”
“You can write it off as research for your next novel. You know, get into the emotive conflict thing with your characters.”
She was already there in many respects. “Okay. I’ll do the church and lunch thing on Sunday. It’ll be good to see Mom and Dad.”
“I appreciate this. Once the news is out, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.” Vicki patted her tummy. “The way I’ve been eating, I’ll soon have a bump.”
“And we’ll be planning a baby shower.” Kariss forced enthusiasm into her voice. “In fact, when we finish here let’s look at baby furniture. I’m buying.”
“You can’t go through life paying my way. I have money saved to take care of furnishing a nursery. And I want to wait until I find out if it’s a boy or a girl.”
“All right. What about maternity clothes? Do you have any?”
“Not yet. I figure Emma and Melanie have some I can borrow.”
“Wrong there. Both of them ended that part of womanhood. I was at Mom’s garage sale when they deposited them. So, please, can I indulge my best friend?”
“We can look.”
Kariss touched Vicki’s arm. “I hope you one day meet a guy who’ll jump through hoops to prove how much he loves you and my little niece or nephew.”
“I only want one man, and he doesn’t want me.”
Kariss looked at her like she was crazy. “Your hormones must have kicked in.”
Vicki’s eyes flooded, then the dam burst. The months ahead would be very hard.
CHAPTER 20
Friday afternoon, Tigo and Ryan planned an extended lunch break to the southeast side of town. A gun shop owner there had had multiple arrests for illegal gun trade, but he also had a smart attorney. Tigo had tried on more than one occasion to get an indictment, but nothing ever stuck. The FBI also suspected him of building hidden units into vehicles to smuggle drugs and guns across the border.
The two agents walked to Tigo’s truck, complaining about the one-hundred-degree heat and exchanging stats about the temps attributing to the city’s crime.
Ryan opened the passenger side of Tigo’s truck. “What makes you think Hershey is going to cooperate with us?”
“I found out a few things about his oldest daughter that we could use as leverage.” He slid inside his truck and turned on the engine.
“Like what?”
“She’s a nurse at MD Anderson, specializing in pediatrics.”
“I don’t get it. Has she been arrested?”
“No. She turned away from her family’s lifestyle when she was sixteen. Walked into a police station and said she wanted out of her neighborhood. And that was seventeen years ago. Two days ago I learned about a problem at the hospital involving stolen analgesics.” Tigo flipped on the AC. “HPD arrested an orderly. Cut-and-dry case, but Hershey doesn’t know that.”
“And you’re sure she’s not involved in illegal activity?”
“The last time we checked, she’s clean.” Tigo drove out of the parking lot. “Worked hard to get out of her daddy’s spotlight. Changed her name.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“Yep. She doesn’t have a thing to do with Hershey. Neither will she associate with him to help us.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“That he’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”
Ryan turned the AC vent his way. “If it’s been seventeen years, I doubt the Arroyos know about her. Hershey’s gun shop’s only been in business for ten.”
“Right, and I’m thinking Hershey’s proud of her achievements. She’s the only one of her family who doesn’t have a record. Wouldn’t want anything to spoil her career.”
“If the Arroyos knew about her, they might put a little pressure on him. Squeeze him for more guns or to cut them a deal on building out units for their vehicles.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Tigo said. “Going to bring up the firefight at the medical center last week. The shooter got away, but you shot him in the side. The Arroyos have their own doc-in-a-box and personal pharmacy, but someone has to get them what they need. I’m going to mention
her as a suspect for supplying them with meds and see where it goes.”
“Got it. By the way, Kariss’s ticked at you again.”
Tigo didn’t need a reminder. “She doesn’t handle reality very well.”
“Is this about getting her to abandon her research in view of the shooting?”
“Some of it. Xavier Olvera is on a campaign to find his other child. When I told him there wasn’t anything we could do without evidence, he went to Kariss. I strongly insisted she not get involved.” Tigo paused. “Why would she keep a second child when the first one cramped her style? My guess is she aborted it.”
“Gilberto or Xavier will kill her if they get to her first.” Ryan sighed. “Wouldn’t blame either one of them.”
“I’d sure like to know where she’s hiding.”
“Kariss’s passion for protecting children will get her into trouble if she isn’t careful.”
“I’m afraid of the same thing.” Tigo studied Ryan. “I don’t dislike her. She’s persistent, and because of her dogged approach to Cherished Doe we have answers. I give her credit for sticking to the case. And after the shooting, she displayed intelligence and control in a tough situation.”
“But she’s not a trained agent. She’s only writing about a case.”
“Don’t remind me. The problem is she wants to tag along on all our investigations, and she knows that’s impossible. She’s already in a precarious situation with the Arroyos, and now she wants to be a Girl Scout and help Xavier. Linc’s instructions state that she’s to stay away from danger. My call. But it seems like we’re walking a tightrope here. I thought she’d be safe at the hospital when Jo-Jack was shot, and look what happened.”
“I agree. Bothers me too. I checked her file. She took a few risks while working as a news anchor. Good for law enforcement agencies, but a dangerous approach. Remember the drug deal that Linc closed? She not only reached out for public support but also convinced the ex-wife of a dealer to lead Linc to the stash.”
“Think about it, Ryan. What if she attempts to help Xavier where he’s living with his brother? The search involves the area of town where the Arroyos live and work. That’s why I was so rough on her. She needs to climb into her fancy Jaguar and take a vacation — and I told her so.”
