by Peg Brantley
“After Honduras, I went back to my town for a few days, but it was lost to me. Hell, Darius, I was lost to me. I packed up a few things and literally walked across the border. Dual
citizenship made it especially easy. The next place I stayed for any length of time was Aspen Falls.”
“Damn, Mex. I’d imagined a few things, but I hadn’t come close.”
“My pride, my honor, was
responsible for the deaths of the people I loved. I sacrificed them for an ideal.”
“Sounds more like integrity to me.”
“Pride, honor, integrity. It doesn’t matter. Whatever it was got my family killed.”
“I don’t know how you’ve held it together.”
Mex shrugged. “Well, sometimes it’s not so good, as you’ve seen over the years. And now there’s this.”
Darius waited. When Mex didn’t speak he said, “This what?”
“One of the leaders in the cartel I refused to bow down to is a man named Vicente Vega. He came to see me last night to ask for my help.”
Ten minutes later, Mex had brought Darius up to speed about the missing young girl and the fear for her life.
Darius didn’t hesitate. “I want in.”
* * Mex wondered if Darius had gone off the deep end. This man had the family Mex once had, and yet he was saying he was ready to leave it. Again. “Are you crazy? You just got home.”
“Pamela will understand. She will. When I tell her about this—well, I know I can convince her. This isn’t like the last one, Mex. You’re involved. I need this. I know a good story when I see it, and this one is begging for a book. And with my research connections I can be a huge help.”
“You need to think about this. I’m willing to sit down with you after it’s over and give you everything you need to write the great true crime story of the year.”
“Not the same.” “Talk to your wife. I can always use your research connections without you being with me.”
“Not as good and you know it.” “Check the contents of the lockbox. Make sure there is somethng inside other than my passport and will. Don't open anything. Just confirm that there's something there. Respect my honor. Then talk to Pamela. Get her blessing. After you have it, call me.”
* * Mex walked into his empty house. The house he’d built to forget his past life. The house he’d built to commemorate the dreams he’d had with his dead wife. The house he’d built to forget the intense pain. For a while, the project did keep his mind off his loss. But it didn’t last. As it turned out, forgetting was a temporary thing.
God, the emptiness as he walked in about killed him. He needed a dog. Or even a cat. Or a guinea pig. Something.
The light on his landline phone flashed. He punched in the code for his messages.
Sedona. “Call me.”
He thought about his sister. He paid all her expenses. Bought her the condo she lived in. Was free with the cash he gave her to spend however she wanted, all thanks to his early dot com investment and the investments that followed. She was all he had left in the world. His lifeline to his past and his promise of a future.
He punched in her speed dial number.
She didn’t answer with hello. Instead he heard, “I was worried.”
“About what?”
“You said you were going to help Vega.”
“That’s right. I am.”
“Have you talked with him again?”
“I have.”
“Teo, I think you are making a mistake.”
“We’re talking about a little girl, mi hermana. Dia Vega Arroyo may have the name of her father, but she also carries the name of her mother. And in the end, she’s only una niña, an innocent child.”
“Surely the great Vicente Vega has options. There is no real need to bring you into this.” She paused. “Have you considered that maybe this is some kind of trap? Some kind of new way for him to get to you? Or me?”
“Sedona, you know I love you. You’ve always been here for me. You are all I have left in this world.” He hesitated.
“But?”
“But nothing. That’s all the truth. The rest of the truth is that I have entered into an agreement with the father of a missing young girl. And the father has thus far kept his end of the agreement.”
“Don’t trust him, Teo.”
“Darius is helping. At least a little. If he tells me that it looks like Vega has kept up the most important part of our agreement, I’ll begin looking for his daughter. If it’s a sham—and you know Darius can smell nine out of ten bogus situations—then I won’t worry about walking away and forgetting we ever had an agreement.”
“When did Darius get back?”
“Recently.”
“And was he successful in his latest pursuit?”
“Not this time.”
“Maybe there’s something wrong with his sense of smell. You should think about that, mi hermano.”
CHAPTER SIX
He’d been about to go take a leak. Between the boredom and his bladder, this wasn’t a job he loved at the moment. His cell phone rang. “Yeah.”
“Do you see her?”
“She’s still in her condo.”
“Fuck.”
“Chill. According to her
neighbors, her shit is to leave sometime in the next half hour. Quit raggin’ on me, will you?”
“I just want this to happen.” “I ain’t never let you or Mr. Vega
down, have I?”
“Do not let this be the first time.” “Unless you let me go take a piss,
it could happen.”
The line went dead.
Fine. One more job for the heir
apparent. But first… Just as he finished his business, he saw her walk out of the building. Perfect timing. And not another soul in sight.
He met her at the corner. He pulled out his polite voice. “Excuse me, miss?”
He watched as she looked in his direction. What she saw was what she was supposed to see. Nicely dressed. Engaging. Handsome in a blond and preppy kind of way. Everything about him shouted trustworthy and well… at this point, harmless. Give him a little time between the sheets and the harmless shit would go to the curb. That too, was part of the vibe he’d worked on over the years. Women loved bad boys.
“Yes?”
“I was wondering, could you tell me how to get to the library?”
Experience had taught him that asking direction were the safest kinds of questions. And the library? A sudden inspiration.
“The library? Let’s see…”
Before she could come up with the directions, he placed the chloroformed towel over her mouth and after a brief struggle, began to walk-drag her down the walkway to his car. He opened the backseat and dumped her in, prepared with an excuse of taking care of a drunken friend if anyone had seen him. He looked around. All clear.
Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turned the keys in the ignition, checked for traffic, and pulled out. Only then did he take out his cell phone and press the two numbers to connect him to Vicente Vega’s son.
“Hey, VV. Got her. We’re on our way to the motel.”
“Just make sure no one sees you. We can’t let this get away from us now.”
“How many jobs have I done for your family?”
“Exactly none where the life of my sister was in the balance.”
“Yeah, okay. No problem. I’ll let you know when we get there.”
VV’s normal intensity had taken on a new edge in the last couple of days. Somehow the bitch in his backseat could mean the difference between Dia being saved or not. He liked Dia. VV was kind of a whack job, but still the boss’s son. He always made sure to remember that, even when he wanted to smack the kid upside the head and make him think straight for a change.
He wondered if the boss knew what was going on but lacked the courage to ask.
Yesterday he’d checked into the motel. One of those dumps where no one looked at anyone else. Th
e side entrance made it perfect to move in and out without anyone noticing—even if he was carrying some dead weight through the door. He’d made sure to get the room closest to that entrance.
He pulled into the nearest parking spot. Checked to make sure the bitch was still unconscious. Then he slipped through the side entrance and opened the door to his room.
Less than ten minutes later he’d bound his prize to the crappy chair that sat in the corner, a gag over her mouth ensuring she wouldn’t shout holy hell when she came too.
He took out his cell phone and call VV. “We’re here.”
“Good.”
“What do you want me to do now?”
“Keep her there and keep her quiet. I have a call of my own to make.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The messenger had dropped the videos off three hours ago. Mex watched all of them twice. Dia had, at one time
anyway, been a totally happy little girl. He watched her at birthday parties, weddings, and other family gatherings. A lot of the focus of the videos seemed to be on her brother, but Dia truly brought light and laughter to all of the events. She and her mother. Mex confirmed with Vega that these were everything that belonged to him. If there were other videos, they were in the homes of others. It was telling of the family dynamics that no videos had been made after the death of Guadalupe Arroyo de Vega.
The first time through the footage was hard. The love and laughter and feeling of family cut into his heart. And Vicente Vega, somehow a part of these videos even though he was rarely seen in one, was part of the group responsible for Mex’s lacerated life.
Mex absorbed everything without taking a single note. Notes were flat reports of an event. Instead, he’d always preferred to work as if he were a participant—even more than a witness. It didn’t matter if it was a homicide or a fraud scheme or a runaway. He liked to figure out a way to be there in his head. Understand the dynamics. Inside every case there was something that was off, and when he figured out what, the solution wasn’t far. He already knew from watching these videos that Dia being a simple runaway didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. Not yet. He pushed the rewind button.
A rumbling in his stomach made him realize he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
His cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He didn’t recognize the number and almost didn’t answer. “Anderson.”
“Mr. Anderson, this is Vicente
Vega, Jr., and I have some information you need.” Mex sat up. If the caller really was Vicente Vega, Jr., that meant he was Dia’s brother. Could he know something that could lead Mex to his sister? “I’m listening.”
“It’s in your best interest to accept my father’s offer and find my sister.”
“I—”
“You said you were listening, so listen. Listen carefully. If you ever want to see your sister alive again, you will find mine.”
Mex felt his skin go cold. Spots filled his vision. “What are you talking about?”
“Sedona is now under my control. Whether she lives or dies however, is up to you.”
“You don’t understand. I’d already agreed to find your sister.”
Silence.
“Did you hear me, VV?”
“How did you know what people call me?”
“I’ve been around a long time, son. And you need to let Sedona go. I’ve spent the last several hours working to find out what happened with Dia.”
More silence.
“Okay, Mex Anderson, here’s the new deal. If you want to see the lovely Sedona again, you won’t just find out what happened to Dia, you will find Dia. And you will not, under any
circumstance, tell my father that his agreement with you has been amended. If my father finds out that we have spoken, your sister’s life is over. Do you
understand?”
Mex knew a loose cannon when he ran across one. And Vicente Vega, Jr. was one of the loosest cannons he’d ever heard. “I do.”
“Whatever you report to my father, you will also report to me. Am I clear?”
“Perfectly.”
“I want my sister home, Anderson. I want her back where she belongs.”
“How do I know Sedona is alive? You will need to provide me with proof of life whenever I request it.”
“As long as it isn’t excessive.”
“And what happens if Dia left of her own accord?”
“You will still need to make sure she is brought home. She is too young to make these decisions on her own. Anything less than you bringing her back to our home is not satisfactory. Anything less than satisfactory will result in your sister’s death. Are you willing to sacrifice your sister because of your failure?”
Sacrifice. Images of his family flipped through his head like a deck of cards. His own sense of right is what had cost each one of them their lives. He had sacrificed the people he loved because of his asinine integrity. Sedona was all he had left.
Mex took a breath. “I will find Dia.”
“You will do more than find Dia, Mr. Anderson. You will bring her back home—alive. If you don’t, you won’t be happy with the repercussions.”
* * * This isn’t right. Sedona’s sense of smell confused her—stale, with some
underlying mold. This was not her home, nor was it Teo’s. The sounds were wrong too. She heard a muted television and the sound of a lighter flicking. As her awareness grew so did her
confusion. She tried to open her eyes. A heaviness pushed against her eyelids and kept them closed. Then she smelled the tobacco.
Sedona tried to suck in some air through her mouth and gagged. Raw terror roared through her veins.
Questions screamed in her head. Where was she? What happened? Why? She pushed against the pressure that kept her eyes locked down. One thing at a time. Shallow breaths. Stay still. Don’t let whoever it was know she was awake.
Breathe. Steady. Find her strength. The most important thing in her life at this moment was to open her baby blues. Well, her baby grays. It was as if her very existence depended on her being able to see this strange smelling world. As if vision would answer all of her questions. She almost laughed aloud when the word “focus” came to her.
A slice of a room appeared at the bottom of the cloth that covered her eyes. Brown. Lots and lots of brown. She could make out a bedspread almost coming into contact with carpeting. The legs of a dresser. Plain. Nondescript.
Shit. Reality hit Sedona in a series of images. She was in a hotel room. A gag over her mouth was tied almost unbearably tight in the back of her head. The steady throbbing in her ears
promised a headache at the very least. Her hands and feet were trussed. She was mute and immobile.
Why was she here?
Her mind flashed to Vicente Vega. Why, after all this time, would he want to kill her? If it was Vicente, then why wasn’t she already dead? It would not be Vicente.
A plume of cigarette smoke pushed into her face. “Ah, there you are.” The voice loomed over her like a hovering aircraft. A rough jerk removed the cloth that covered her eyes.
“Where am I?” She muffled the words through the gag.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Who are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Sedona sat in silence while she considered her situation. She did her best to take stock.
She opened her eyes wider. “Thirsty.”
“Damn. You have good looking eyes.”
She resisted the impulse to close them. “Thirsty,” she repeated.
The man stuck the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and squinted through the smoke. He gave a little nod before he rose and walked the few steps to the bathroom. When she heard water running, she tried to loosen whatever bound her hands. It didn’t work. The water stopped and the man held a dirty glass in his hands, which were none too clean either.
He sat the glass down on the rickety table near her chair, and reached behind her head to loosen the gag. “
Don’t make me regret I gave you water.” An ash dropped from the cigarette and rolled down her face.
When the rag slipped out of her mouth Sedona swallowed. “Will you untie my hands, please?”
“Nope.” He held the glass to her lips and tilted it up.
She took some of the water and let the rest run down her chin. “Why?”
“Because I’m not gonna fight you. You’re a lot easier tied up.”
“That’s not what I meant. Why did you take me?” It suddenly occurred to her that maybe this guy was after Teo’s money. Damn. She knew that was it. Her life was being threatened because her brother had made a lot of money in a couple of internet investments. Thank God he didn’t care about it. Thank God she was all he had left.
“I took you because I was told to take you, lady. Now shut the fuck up or I’ll stick the rag so far down your throat you’ll never talk again.”
Had they contacted Teo yet? Was he getting the money together? How much had they asked for?
CHAPTER EIGHT
The bar was more crowded than usual this afternoon. The day laborers who hadn’t found work would sit for hours nursing cheap beer and eating peanuts.
Juan, busy taking an order, nodded his head a couple of times in the
direction of Mex’s booth. Good, Mex thought. Darius is here. He held up two fingers in Juan’s direction and hurried to the back of the bar.
Mex had called Darius Johnson from his house and asked him to meet him right away. He also asked the newspaperman to bring everything he could dig up on Vicente Vega, Jr.
“Hey, man.” Mex slipped into the booth. “Sorry for the short notice.”
“I couldn’t search and print and get here, but here's what I've found.” Darius swiped his index finger across the tablet screen he'd brought and spun it around to face Mex.
Juan brought two cold beers and a bowl of peanuts to the table. Mex was too engrossed in the information to acknowledge him.
“Thanks,” Darius told the barman. “Could we get some nachos or something? I’m starving.”
“Beans and tortillas work for you?”
Darius nodded, but Mex looked up from the tablet. “Would you bring me a couple of burritos? Beans and tortillas won’t make a dent.”
