by DiAnn Mills
Suffocating heat stole her breath. Nikki coughed harder. “Lord, save this baby.” Kariss still couldn’t remember if her plea was uttered or if it was a silent banner meant to reach heaven’s gates. All she could think about was protecting Nikki from the flames. The ceiling creaked and gave way. Something struck her head, and Kariss passed out.
When Kariss had awoken in the hospital, her parents surrounded her bed. Her back felt like someone had lit a match to it, and her throat burned.
“You’re going to be okay,” her mother said. “Don’t try to talk.”
“How’s Nikki?” She didn’t care about herself.
Her mother stroked her cheek, like she did when she was a child. Kariss’s heart thumped. No, please, not little Nikki.
“Honey, she didn’t make it.” Tears flooded Mom’s eyes. Dad took her hand on the opposite side of the bed.
Nikki, my little angel. Pale-blue eyes mirrored the sky and a mass of thick, blonde hair hung to the middle of her back. That’s when I hit the Mute button on God.
Kariss attempted to shove aside the haunting scene. How many times had she told herself it wasn’t her fault? She’d done her best. No one blamed her.
She stiffened her resolve and touched her back where the scar served as a reminder. She placed her trembling fingers on the laptop. Would the overwhelming guilt ever end? Wasn’t there a way to redeem herself?
Chapter One
Who can ever forget the laughter of a child?
Chase it away, Kariss. You can do this thing. It won’t bring Nikki back, or Benita, but it can bring awareness.
She raised her chin, closed her eyes, and returned to her story. She could do this.
While waiting for Tigo and Ryan, Kariss finished the first chapter of her novel, knowing she’d return to it several times before the book was finished. She’d massaged the facts of the case and begun a fictionalized version of Cherished Doe.
The title didn’t grab her.
The hook was lame. But she had four hundred pages to travel alongside her characters before correctly penning that crucial first sentence.
She could not, would not, give up on writing this story.
Tigo and Ryan arrived late morning. Tigo wore a frown, and Ryan’s forehead crinkled like a man ten years older. They’d missed an interview in which Kariss was supposed to tag along, unless they’d conducted it before they arrived.
Tigo stood before her desk. Something akin to deep concern emitted from his eyes.
“What’s wrong? Is this about the missed interview?”
“We can handle that tomorrow. This is about Jo-Jack.”
She didn’t like where this was going. “You found him.”
“We did. Living out in the middle of nowhere. Infection had set into his abdominal wound, and he died before the ambulance arrived.”
How many had to die before this ended? “I’m sorry.” The memory of the two shooters in the surgical waiting room made her shiver. They’d ultimately been successful in eliminating Jo-Jack, and now they were trying to find her. “Were you able to talk to him before he died?”
“No. He was afraid. In intense pain. Had no will to live.”
She understood giving up. This morning, she’d wanted to pack up and head to the West Coast. She’d write a book that pleased her publisher and her readers.
But a man had just died. If she slithered into the past, then she had no more gumption than Jo-Jack.
She met Tigo’s eyes. A man who faced danger like she shopped for lipstick. He was wired so differently from anyone she’d ever met, and he lived in a world foreign to hers.
“I’ve done enough reading about the gun-smuggling problem to understand how important this case is to you. I know Houston is Mexico’s largest gun supplier, and I can only imagine the lives that have been destroyed because of it.”
“Cartels in Mexico recruit gangs to help them purchase and transport guns and ammo across the border. They also prey on the innocent.”
“You mean they threaten people if they don’t help them?”
He nodded. “Kids, desperate fathers who need to provide for their families, and single women are used as mules to drive the weapons into Mexico. The gangs can’t do it. They need people who don’t have a police record.”
“But how do huge shipments of weapons and ammunition get across the border if they’re driven in regular vehicles?”
“Several cars and trucks are used, often equipped with hidden compartments, and this method is safer for the gangs. Smaller shipments reduce the likelihood of getting caught. About three months ago, we stopped a car filled with semiautomatics stored in the floorboard. That vehicle was driven by a pregnant woman.”
“Aren’t weapons available in Mexico? I mean, the cartels are carrying on war there.”
“Not the kind or the amount the cartels want. An assault rifle that sells for a grand here sells for two to three thousand dollars there, depending on who has to be paid off en route.”
She saw the determination in his eyes. No wonder he wanted to get past finding Delores Olvera. The gangs and gun smugglers had become his passion just like she wanted to help Xavier locate his child.
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to bring in whoever is responsible.” She moistened her lips. “That sounded like a computer-generated answer. I mean you have the skills to stop them. You and Ryan risk your lives so the rest of us are safe.”
Tigo offered a slight smile. “You must be in the writing mode. Ryan and I aren’t the only ones chipping away at this case. We’ll get there.” He left her work area, then retraced his steps.
“Your CHL workshop is Saturday, right?”
She nodded.
“I might go too.”
“The gun shop owner told me various law-enforcement types often speak to the group about their experiences.”
Tigo crossed his arms over his chest. “Not so sure my stories would be entertaining.”
Kariss knew different.
He walked back to his cubicle. No doubt losing Jo-Jack to the Arroyos’ vicious methods of keeping themselves clear of the law had to weigh on his shoulders. Tigo must have determination in his DNA — that and compassion. The latter was a trait he didn’t reveal often, but she’d seen it and felt it.
After lunch, she planned to visit Catholic Charities. Her call to Child Protective Services had nearly defeated her, but she hoped today’s meeting would offer more hope.
The problem was the five-year span during which Delores could have given up her baby at any time. The likelihood of an infant being immediately adopted in comparison with a toddler loomed over her. She called Gilberto and asked to speak to Xavier.
“Miss Walker, it’s a pleasure to hear from you.”
If only she had something to encourage him. “I’m driving to Catholic Charities this afternoon, and I have a few questions.”
“Anything, Miss Walker.”
“Please call me Kariss.”
“Thanks. I’d ask to join you, but I have a few people to see. I appreciate all you’re doing to help me.”
“I’ve done nothing yet but give you bad news.” She formed her words for what she needed to ask. “Did you and Delores discuss any names for the new baby?”
“For a boy — Gilberto after my brother. That’s what I wanted. But considering what she did to Benita and my family, I doubt if she’d have used his name. We didn’t talk about a girl. Why?”
“Sometimes when parents abandon their children, they pin a note onto the child’s clothing indicating a name. Not much to go on, but I wanted to ask before I had my meeting this afternoon.”
“I’m trying to remember if she ever mentioned a girl’s name. Benita is her grandmother.”
“What was her mother’s name?”
“Delores hated her mother.”
“Your mother’s name?”
“Delores, like my wife. I’m sorry. If I remember a name, I’ll call you.”
The search tipped into the hopele
ss arena, but she refused to sink there again. The logical side of her said to give up, but something urged her on, as though she hadn’t looked in the right place. The thought kept her awake at night, and she couldn’t imagine how Xavier felt. Optimism had to rule. Catholic Charities might provide wonderful information.
“How are you holding up?” she said.
“Okay. I’ve been going to every apartment in the complex to see if they remember Delores. Most of them have never seen her. It’s been too long. People are friendly and sympathetic, but that doesn’t give me any answers.”
“What will it take for you to give up?”
“Someone in this city knows about my child. I don’t want to think about going back to Mexico until I find the truth. And my time is running out. I don’t know how long your government will let me stay here. But I hope it will be long enough for them to find Delores.”
“I hope I learn something today. I’ll call after I return from my appointment. Xavier, if Catholic Charities doesn’t provide answers, we still have one more option through newspaper archives. If nothing turns up there, I’m fresh out of ideas.”
“You do what you think is right. But I can’t give up. I told Agent Harris that I’d talk to the man who claimed to see Delores at Walmart. See if he’d talk to the FBI.”
“Maybe he has more information.”
“He’s afraid because he’s illegal. If he’ll tell me about Delores, then I can give the information to Agent Harris.”
Xavier’s tenacity wove a fresh path of resolve in Kariss. Although the question of what was the best outcome for him often stalked Kariss’s most noble intentions. If Delores had deliberately allowed Benita to die, then what kind of abuse could she inflict upon another child?
Taking a deep breath, she realized that someday she needed to explore the Bible again. Who was God really, and did He care what happened on this chaotic planet?
CHAPTER 30
Cheeky punched in Froggie’s number. Ever since he’d escaped the policía at the hospital, he’d been frozen until the pressure eased up. Cheeky had pulled the gang in tighter, examining his people for signs of disloyalty. He had no more answers than before, and Froggie was the problem.
“Meet you downstairs in thirty minutes.” He clicked his phone shut and headed for the bathroom. Froggie’d screwed up twice. No matter they were compadres. Twice was too many times. Cheeky pulled out his .38 and set it on the sink beside his Rolex while he brushed his teeth. He had Froggie’s entire family working at Falcon Lake — illiterate and doing exactly as they were told. It no longer made any difference that Froggie’s parents were his godparents. They all needed to go.
Monika wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his back. “What can I do for you?” she whispered.
“You’re doing it.” He smiled into the mirror after catching sight of hers. She had a perfect body, and he couldn’t get enough of her. “I’ll make reservations for dinner tonight. That place you like downtown.”
“Gracias. I’ll wear something nice.”
“You always do.” He turned and kissed her, allowing his hands to roam where they wanted. “I have some business for the next hour or so. Can you take a shower or something?”
“Sure.” She slid her hands from his shoulders and trailed her fingers down his chest.
He picked up his phone and called a man he could trust. “Be here in one hour. Got a job for you.”
When Froggie arrived ten minutes late, the fury in Cheeky grew. He walked onto the patio and Froggie followed. “Where have you been?”
“My girlfriend wouldn’t let me leave.” Froggie’s smile didn’t match his face. “Sorry, boss. La regué.”
Cheeky glared and walked to the edge of the patio that looked out onto a manicured lawn and a crystal-blue pool. “You did more than mess up. You failed me. Years ago I thought we were so close that I couldn’t fight you.” Cheeky lifted his gun to the man’s head. “You’ve lost your value.” He swore and pulled the trigger. Pieces of flesh and blood spattered his clothes. He laughed and spit on what was left of Froggie’s face.
An hour later, his new lead man arrived while Monika hosed down the mess on the patio.
“Froggie’s gone,” Cheeky said. “Paulo, you have a promotion.”
“Yes, sir.” Paulo was taller than Froggie and had wider shoulders. He talked with a lisp, but that didn’t stop his fists or his trigger finger.
“His family lives in Falcon Lake. Make them desaparecen.”
“Anything else?”
“Kariss Walker. Ella es propietaria de un Jaguar,” he said, rattling off a license-plate number. “Find the car and you find her. Follow her and see where she lives.”
“Get rid of her and the car?”
“Not yet. I want to talk to her first.” The policía who’d infiltrated them was still alive, and Cheeky needed that man dead. Better yet, he needed both of them as examples of the Arroyos’ power.
Cheeky massaged his left shoulder. He hadn’t used his chain-saw for a long time.
Kariss left the FBI office and climbed into her Prius. The little machine didn’t have the powerful engine of her Jaguar. Yet she felt oddly secure in the hybrid.
Zipping south to downtown Houston, the memories of last Sunday’s clash cut into her heart, raw and relentless. And when those thoughts began to fade, she remembered Jo-Jack. Had he kept a careful watch in every direction in case an Arroyo discovered where he hid? She didn’t want to live like that. Jo-Jack felt the same way.
Her attention flew from one mirror to the other, but traffic was mild. The day glistened with beauty, the sky filled with soft billowy clouds that looked as though they held dreams. Kariss willed her spirit to feel the same whimsical hope.
Once downtown, she made her way to Louisiana Avenue, getting lost twice because the one-way streets kept turning her around. Navigation skills were not her specialty, even with the GPS app on her phone. The high-rise buildings, the different architecture, and the varied people always held her attention. She passed a homeless woman pushing a grocery cart. Such a contrast against the professionals who filed by without giving the woman a second look.
Finally Kariss parked and walked to the building housing Catholic Charities. She strode into the offices and hoped her desperation didn’t seep through the pores of her skin. The woman in charge of foster care was dressed in a light-green suit and flowered scarf. She smiled, and Kariss supposed those in need found the woman easy to talk to. Kariss explained Xavier’s situation, calling attention to Cherished Doe and the father’s frantic appeal.
Sadness met Kariss’s gaze, and the woman hesitated before speaking. “Miss Walker, I’m sure you realize how futile your search is. You have no date of birth. Neither do you have the sex of the child. The father has given you an approximate birthdate, but we don’t know if the mother delivered in Houston or somewhere else or not at all.”
“I know this looks hopeless. But Mr. Olvera has already lost one child, and I want to believe another one exists. The idea that the mother might have disposed of it as well is devastating.”
The woman stood and closed the office door. “If the child is alive and is a girl, the mother could have sold her into sex trafficking.”
Kariss hadn’t considered such degradation. Didn’t want to imagine it. “Delores allowed Benita to starve. She could probably be cruel and selfish enough to sell her child, couldn’t she?” She glanced into the woman’s face. Compassion met her through gentle eyes. “I guess this isn’t a time for naïveté.”
“I’m so sorry. I can see you feel for the father and his plight. The case is sad. Broke my heart when I watched the media reports. But I don’t see a way for us to help you.”
“Are your procedures for abandoned children the same as Child Protective Services?”
The woman walked back to her desk. “Unlike the safe havens in our city where children can be abandoned, our gates are locked at night. A child could be left outside, but I don’t recall it ever
happening.”
The familiar sinking feeling settled into Kariss. “What about your housing for pregnant women?”
“There is a possibility within those units. Our women live independently, and we don’t monitor them. If a woman doesn’t answer her cell phone or something is reported that warrants our attention, then we check to make sure everything is okay. Sometimes a woman in our system gives birth then disappears, leaving her baby behind. That’s rare, because we work with our mothers to give them the tools they need to be good nurturers and providers. We help them attain job skills and life aptitudes and teach them how to handle difficult situations. In some instances prepare them to give up their baby for adoption.”
“What happens when a mother in your facility abandons her child?”
“We wait six months and then go to court for due cause. During that time, we do everything possible to locate family members, and the mother might return. Counseling is available for all concerned. After we have exhausted all means to find the child’s family, adoption procedures begin.”
“Do you have records of these children — when they were abandoned, the race, the approximate age?”
“We do. But in Texas, the records are closed.”
“I understand.” Kariss thanked the woman. Just as she’d thought, the search for Xavier’s child had nearly reached an end. “Do you have any other suggestions?”
“I wish I could help you. Please tell Mr. Olvera that if his child was left here, he or she has gone to a good home where a family wanted a baby to love and cherish.”
Kariss forced a smile, disappointment seeping into her emotions.
“At this point, Miss Walker, that’s the best news I can offer.”
CHAPTER 31
Wednesday morning, Kariss watched Tigo at his desk. He appeared to have worked through the varied emotions of losing Jo-Jack yesterday, so she chose not to bring up the matter. Instead she made her way to the squad board, which was a huge bulletin board, labeled “Operation Wasp,” where the agents could view pics and names of key people in the gun-smuggling case. New information had been added, and she was curious about the content.
