The Sacrifice

by Peg Brantley

  The Diviner barely looked at the cowrie shells splayed before her. She realized she had only a moment to keep his attention. “The direction I gave you before holds true. You are on the verge of destroying a significant enemy and sending a message to all of your other enemies. You are perfectly placed to assume your rightful position as the leader of the largest and most

  formidable drug cartel in all the world. Your strength will be compounded while the other is weakened beyond recovery.”

  “So the sacrifice is as you’ve foreseen?”

  “All the elements are as I’ve foreseen. If they are to differ, it is your doubt that will make it so.”

  “I don’t doubt you, Diviner. If I did, one of us would die.”

  She straightened her back and rose from the mat in one fluid move. “You need to travel to Honey Island soon.”

  “I have other matters to take care of first. The girl will keep.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Based on the directions Mex checked on the Internet, the Vega property was about thirty minutes out of town—longer if they were stopped for any reason. That would give them some time to question the driver.

  “What’s your name?” Mex asked in Spanish. Darius also spoke the language fluently, so Mex wasn’t worried about him not understanding.

  “Arturo Gonzales.” The driver had obviously been given instructions to cooperate.

  “Have you worked for Vicente Vega long?”

  “Twelve years.”

  That meant he had been an

  employee while Dia was growing up and her mother was still alive. “Have you always worked exclusively for Vega, or do you

  occasionally spend time with the rest of the family?”

  “My primary responsibility has always been to Mr. Vega. But I was assigned to drive the late Mrs. Vega, may she rest in peace, from time to time. And whenever I was with Mrs. Vega at least one of the children was always with her.”

  “What was she like with the children?”

  “She was loving and attentive. Nurturing. Almost…”

  “Almost what?”

  “Mr. Vega often thought she was too soft with the children.”

  “His was a firmer hand?”

  Gonzales gave an almost

  imperceptible nod. “He deals from a place of strength in all aspects of his life. His children would become strong only through firmness and a certain aloofness. Mr. Vega made sure the entire staff was aware of his position. The only person who paid him no heed was his wife.”

  “Did that cause any problems?” Darius asked.

  “Vicente Vega is a hard man who demands obedience. There were some arguments between them, but in the end he always indulged her.”

  “What do you think happened to Dia?” Mex asked.

  Silence.

  “Well?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  “I didn’t ask you what you know. I asked you what you think.”

  “What I think is that my opinion hardly matters. What I think is that I need this job, and you should do yours without bringing me into things I know nothing about. Things I think nothing of.”

  “Well, then. It seems like we’re done for now. Mind if we talk later?”

  The driver rolled down his window and spat. “Can’t stop you.”

  After a few more minutes they pulled into an entrance, armed guards on either side. A visual of the car and driver weren’t good enough. Gonzales stopped and gave a code word— probably one that changed daily. Mex thought about living this way and felt grateful for his comparatively idyllic life in Aspen Falls.

  The guard waved them through.

  They drove up a short hill, then descended onto a circular drive. The main house was magnificent, Mex thought, if you like formidable. Another armed guard stood at the door.

  Mex was not impressed—he’d seen this all before and then some. But Darius was eyeing the weaponry, his right elbow surreptitiously pulled into his waistband, confirming the position of his stowed Glock. Damn. Mex caught his eye and shook his head. They didn’t need to get all jumpy and ready for action. They were here as friends of the family. More or less.

  Gonzales pulled the car to a stop, but didn’t put it in park. Clearly he was not going to open their doors. Fine. Mex and Darius got out and stood in the portico. As soon as they’d closed the car doors, Gonzales pulled away. As the limousine left the covered area, two other guards appeared, standing close and tight to the newcomers.

  “Lift your arms. Now. Over your head.” The man next to Mex spoke loudly. “Both of you.”

  Within seconds their weapons were removed. “You’ll get these back when you leave the compound.”

  A man dressed in khakis and a polo shirt stood at the front door. “Please. Follow me.”

  Mex and Darius entered the building, the two guards following close behind. The ornate decor made Mex want to cringe. He’d learned a lot from both Maria and Sedona, and this was like overdosing on frosting.

  He glanced at his friend. Darius kept his eyes in front of him, giving no clue as to what he was thinking.

  Good. Apparently Darius’s background was kicking in. As a

  journalist who always went after the big story, his job had taken him all over the globe and thrown him into questionable situations, but Mex had never seen him in action. Maybe the man simply had innate survival skills. Something. Until this moment, Mex hadn’t been

  completely sure how the journalist would respond under stress. He breathed a little easier.

  Mex followed Darius into a large dining room. Darius stopped dead in his tracks and turned to shoot an accusing look at Mex. “Why didn’t you tell me there were this many people to talk to?”

  “Would it have made you happy?”

  The casually dressed man nodded to them. “These are the immediate household staff. They are all prepared to speak with you.” Fourteen pairs of eyes trained on them.

  “It’s going to be a long night,” Darius whispered.

  * * Mex stood and stretched. He and Darius had taken only one break since they began the interviews. They’d walked outside and paced the estate grounds for a few minutes in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Darius rolled his head on his neck and Mex could hear the pops from across the room. They were exhausted.

  “We have one more interview to go. Tomorrow we’ll talk to Dia’s friends.” Mex didn’t sound hopeful.

  “We need something, Mex. All we’ve got is a loving mother who died, a distant father, a brother who stands ready to step into the shoes of his father, and a succession of nannies with the last one apparently aiding and abetting a runaway.”

  “Find out what you can about the nanny.”

  “I’ve already got my sources on it.”

  Mex nodded, put his water bottle to his lips, and emptied it in one long pull. “You ready?”

  “Let’s get ’er done.” Darius walked to the door. He opened it and signaled for the last staff member to enter.

  “Thank you for waiting,” Darius said. “We appreciate your patience.”

  The middle-aged woman nodded. “No problema. I am not expected anywhere.” She settled herself at the table.

  “Can we get you something to drink?” Darius asked.

  “Not right now.”

  Mex sat across from the woman. “How long have you worked for the Vega family?”

  “Almost two years.”

  So, she’d begun working around the time Dia’s mother had died. Mex was hopeful.

  “And do you know why we’re talking to you?” Mex had asked this question fourteen times tonight, and it felt obvious. Stale.

  “Dia is gone and her father wants to know who is responsible.”

  Mex nodded. A little more direct than they’d heard from the others, but essentially the same. “Do you have an opinion? Why do you think Dia is gone?”

  The woman’s eyes scrunched to small slits. “After talking to thirteen others, you hav
e received no ideas?”

  Mex felt a chill propel through his body. They might have something here. “We’re not here to tell you what others have said. Tell us what you think.”

  “People must pay for their sins.” The woman folded her hands on her lap.

  Pious. Mex could play pious as well as the next guy. “I agree. There is such a thing as atonement in this life.”

  The woman looked at him, her eyes shining brightly. “And Dia is at the age of reckoning.”

  “Did she make a bad choice?”

  The woman crossed herself. “There are wrong people involved here.”

  “Wrong people?”

  “Miss Dia was suggestible.”

  “And these wrong people

  suggested what?”

  “They led her away from the God her mother loved.”

  “Explain that to me.”

  “There are people who take any religion and twist it.”

  “Are you saying that Dia got involved in some kind of religious group? A cult?”

  “Dia got involved with her nanny. Her nanny was involved with a religion that could charm a little girl who had lost her mother.”

  “What religion?”

  “There are a lot of practitioners who follow the good ways. There are others who make their own way.”

  “What religion?” Mex pushed back into his chair, forcing himself to stay out of the woman’s face—where he really wanted to be.

  “Some call it Yoruba. But most know it as Santeria.”

  “You said something about people who twist a religion. Twist it how?” Darius asked.

  The woman cast a long stare in Darius’s direction. “Personal gain. The desire for power changes hearts.”

  Darius met her gaze. “Sometimes it’s changed hearts that create the desire for power.”

  The woman continued to look at Darius, but her eye twitched and she blinked. Then she dropped her eyes.

  “Pilar is a practitioner of

  Santeria?” Mex asked.

  “She is. But I think that it’s her boyfriend who has turned her to a darker way.”

  Mex looked up. “Do you know his name?”

  “Luis Alvarez. He has people in the U.S. The gulf part.”

  Darius cleared his throat. “What do you mean by ‘darker way’? Is there something specific you can put your finger on? Something that might help us find Dia?”

  The woman grew visibly smaller. Curled into herself. Mex thought she looked like one of those scared rabbits who sat in the middle of the sidewalk, still as statues, as if they didn’t move, they’d be invisible.

  Damn, I need to get more sleep.

  Mex reached out and touched her arm. “Please. Anything. Help us. We need to find Dia before something terrible happens to her.” If something hasn’t already happened, he thought.

  The woman popped a bit as she uncurled. “I believe this boyfriend, Luis, is connected in some way to another cartel, and that cartel uses Santeria to protect them.”

  “Protect them how?” Mex asked.

  “Keep them safe from the law, from their enemies.”

  Mex fell silent.

  Darius, his voice just above a whisper, asked, “And how do they do that?”

  “With sacrifices greater than goats and chickens.” The woman barely got the words out before she strangled a cry and buried her head in her hands. She’d clearly said all she could.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Awareness flooded Mex in an

  overwhelming wave. Dark room. Monterrey. Cold, wet pillow. Face awash in tears. He’d had another dream he couldn’t quite remember now that he was awake. The dream might be gone from his memory, but the sadness lingered. It burrowed, made him want to stay in bed. The same sadness followed him every day of his life. Some days, he could stay ahead of its shadow. On others, the darkness poured into his skin and there was no escape.

  Today was one of those days. He tried to fall back to sleep but knew he wouldn’t succeed. Mex shoved the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed. Damn. All he wanted to do was lie back down and pull the blankets over his head.

  But there was a missing little girl he’d promised to find.

  Mex pushed off the bed and walked into his bathroom. Without flipping on any lights, he reached into the walk-in shower and turned on the water. Then he went to the Nespresso and popped in a pack without bothering to check the flavor. At this point it didn’t matter. Caffeine was caffeine. And to have whatever flavored coffee ready for him when he stepped out of the shower made life a little more bearable— especially since he’d made a personal commitment and had to function on some level. He swallowed a couple of pills.

  More than anything, he wanted to be in Aspen Falls. In his bedroom. Alone.

  He pushed aside the crushing weight of depression and stepped into the shower. He was under the water for two minutes before he registered the fresh tears adding to the liquid flowing down the drain. He allowed himself one horrendous, awkward cry, then rinsed out the shampoo, washed off the soap, and reached for a towel.

  His sister’s life and the life of a young girl depended on him. He had to keep moving. He had to care.

  Fifteen minutes and two cups of coffee later, Mex walked into the still dark common area of the suite. About to knock on Darius’s bedroom door, he changed his mind. Let his partner sleep a few minutes more while he bought a paper. They didn’t need to show up at the school this early. Vega had made arrangements with the headmaster and they were to be given free rein. He’d grab a paper and some pastries and then haul Darius into the program.

  The door pulled open. “Hey, man.” Darius rubbed his eyes. “I’m ready.”

  “Yeah, you and the sandman.”

  “No, really. Are you ready to roll?”

  “Roll?” Mex snickered at Darius’s attempt to be hip. A tiny sliver of darkness turned to gray.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Take a leak. Grab a shower. Have some coffee. We’ll roll after I get back.”

  Mex thought some fresh morning air might help. But he’d forgotten that Monterrey was a major city with major cars and major pollution. He hit the sidewalk and whatever energy he’d managed to conjure up vanished in one breath.

  Damn.

  He walked to the Starbucks he’d been to yesterday, grabbed a paper and a couple of muffins, then made his way back to the hotel. On the way, he spotted a man who seemed out of place.

  He shook his head. He’d hoped they would fly a little more under the radar, but it wasn’t really a shock.

  They were being watched.

  Who was behind the eyes? Vega was naturally suspicious. Was it him? Was he keeping tabs? The Mexican Federales might have reason to watch Vega’s activities, but why waste their resources on him? Could the watchers be connected with the disappearance of Dia Vega?

  Or could they be another part of Vega’s cartel responsible for the deaths of his family?

  Mex forced himself through his suspicions and continued to his hotel. They already knew he was here, where he was staying. His one-up was knowing they—whoever they were—were watching.

  When he walked into the room, he tossed the muffins on the coffee table. Darius was out of the shower, dressed, and enjoying some coffee while he watched an international news program.

  “We’ve got at least one tail.”

  Darius reached for a muffin. “Not surprised.” He took a healthy bite. “You got a plan?”

  “Play it tight and get out of Dodge.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Well, how about this—don’t get killed.”

  “Are we still good to talk to Dia’s friends?”

  “Yeah, but I’m gonna take those myself. I need you to dig into this Santeria thing. Use your news sources. Get us some information. And dig up everything you can find on the nanny.”

  “Do you think the girl is still alive?”

  Mex didn’t answer.

  * *

  Mex pushed away fro
m the table and watched the young man saunter out of the conference room. This was the eighth friend of Dia’s he’d talked to and they all said pretty much the same thing. While Dia had every reason to run away because of her father, she could never have done so without help.

  He wondered about the role of Santeria. Had Darius been able to find anything?

  And what was happening to Sedona? Mex shook his head. Couldn’t think about that right now. He had to believe that by focusing on saving Dia, he’d save Sedona.

  Vicente Vega had instructed the headmaster to provide him access to Dia’s friends. Mex knew that there was a good possibility the parents of several of the children at the private school were also involved, at least

  peripherally, with the drug cartels. Vega’s prominence apparently held more sway over the educator than the parents of the other students. Mex’s main concern was the presence of people connected to rival cartels, especially La Familia. It was a risk he felt they needed to take.

  Mex tried to impress on each of the kids that this was a sensitive matter and they should not discuss any of what they talked about with each other or their parents. In the United States there would be no way of pulling this off without parental permission. In Mexico, even if such a law existed, Vicente Vega could make justice truly blind. Asking the kids not to talk to their parents made Mex uncomfortable, but it was necessary. Being followed was one thing, but details of questions he was asking were quite another. Although the kids assured him they would keep the nature of their discussion confidential, Mex figured he and Darius had three hours maximum to get a strong enough lead to make their next move.

  He grabbed his phone and called his partner. Voicemail.

  Mex stuck his spiral notebook in a pocket, followed by his phone. He loved the notebook for interviews because it kept him focused on the conversation. Kept him tight. Gave him something to do with his hands. But he’d learned that recording the question and answer sessions on his phone was a good idea. Insurance.

  He stood and stretched. Tried Darius again. Voicemail. “I sure as hell hope you got more than I got this