by Peg Brantley
He didn’t even know for sure that he was following anyone connected to Luis Alvarez, let alone Alvarez himself. It was just a damned guess. But it was the best damned guess he could make.
Frustration pushed his patience to the limit. Sedona was being held against her will. He tried not to imagine what might be happening to the only surviving family member he had in the world.
Where the hell were they going? Based on the highway signs, and
assuming he was able to see, about now he’d be looking out over Lake
Ponchartrain.
When the sedan neared the Slidell exit, Mex hoped this was the destination. He was tired. Hungry. And really needing his meds. But they passed Slidell. Shit.
And then all hell broke loose. A tanker truck, driving too fast for the conditions, had to brake suddenly to avoid hitting a stalled car. Even though it was in the far right lane, the back end swung in front of the other traffic lanes and forced every driver to apply their brakes. Hard. The driver of a red SUV, following too close to the Volvo in front, managed to pile into it, further spreading the chaos. A rusted and battered Chevy pickup tried to avoid hitting them and skidded sideways onto the shoulder.
Beyond the shoulder were dense trees. “Damn it!” He hit the steering
wheel hard, then sat helpless while the
sedan sped ahead of the accident. The
multiple accidents effectively closed
down the highway. There was no way he
could follow them beyond Slidell.
Assuming of course, they were worth
following.
But he felt in his gut they were. Sedona, don’t give up on me now. Mex maneuvered into the median
to bypass the accident that way, but the
strip of land had barriers that stretched
between the east and westbound lanes
where there was a bridge. Heavy traffic
heading toward New Orleans meant he
couldn’t try to go the wrong way on the
highway either.
The heavy rain had turned the
median into a mini-swamp. When Mex
tried to pull up onto the west bound side
his left rear tire sunk into the mire.
Great. Just great.
Emergency responders were
already making their way through the
jumble of vehicles. Mex got out of the
SUV and stepped carefully back to the
other side of the median. A tow-truck,
trailing behind the police cars and fire
engine edged toward the median. Mex
flagged him down.
“You stuck?”
“I just need you to get me onto the
shoulder.”
“I got cars to tow, buddy.” “It’ll take you ten minutes. I’ll pay
you cash.”
“How much?”
“Hundred dollars.”
“I ‘spect I’ve got a minute or two
to spare ya.”
Twenty minutes later Mex was on
his way back to New Orleans with
nothing to show for the last hour.
CHAPTER TWENTYSEVEN
Cade spoke quietly into her phone. “Thanks. I owe you.” A plate of crawfish sat on the table, prepared the way only the chef at Boudreaux’s could prepare them. Because the chef knew which of the three sauce choices was her favorite, there was an extra bowl. Cade loved this place for more than the food. They loved her. Accepted her. In the past, they’d taken care of her when she had no place else to go.
Some nights she felt more weary than others. And tonight was one of them. How much longer could she do this? She’d been working with families in the middle of pain and guilt for years. She’d been successful more often than not, but it was the nots that haunted her. Theirs were the voices she heard when she tried to sleep at night, the tears of their loved ones waking her up in the morning. Her failures. Her losses. Her battered spirit bound with history.
Cade checked her watch. Straight up seven. Mex and Darius should be here any minute. She signaled the waitress. “Three private brews, please, Maddie. And something crunchy. Surprise me.”
The waitress moved to another table and Cade saw the handsome black man walk in, looking around for her. She didn’t need to raise her hand before he saw her and moved to join her. She couldn’t help but glance at the entrance to watch for someone else to walk in. When he didn’t she had to work to hide her disappointment—from herself.
She rose to greet Darius. “Hello, Mr. Johnson.”
Darius looked at his watch before giving her a brief, if awkward, hug. “Darius, please.” His tone was pleasant enough, but something didn’t seem right.
After sitting, Darius looked at her. “Mex is kind of tied up. He’s following a lead on Luis Alvarez.”
“A lead?”
“Well, it could actually be Alvarez. He doesn’t know.”
“And by ‘following’ you
mean…?”
“Literally. We found a family member, his grandmother, who
apparently keeps in touch with her grandson via a drop site. When we tested it, we got all the right answers. It’s active and now in play. Mex
couldn’t give up that lead.”
“I understand.”
“Have you found anything?”
“I just got off the phone with one of my sources,” Cade said. “Luis Alvarez has more family in the area. They’ve lived here for years. On the secretive side.”
Darius’s eyes flickered. It looked to Cade like the journalist knew a subplot when he heard one.
“Secretive?” Darius asked.
“Most of his family are your ordinary, routine folks. Just like our maiden aunts and widower uncles. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah. Boring.”
“Pretty much.”
“Except?”
“Except a sister of Luis Alvarez thought she could showcase some brutality and make a difference.”
“I’m not following you.”
“The less boring members of the family, the people who are particularly secretive, are involved in Santeria. Luis’s youngest sister didn’t like the animal sacrifice her family indulged in and blogged about it.”
“So she outed them.”
“In a big way.”
“And she thought that would make them stop?”
“She did. She was fifteen at the time and naive. That was about four years ago. The family, and Luis in particular, have been on the authority's radar ever since.”
“Where’s the sister now?”
“Believe it or not, college in New Hampshire.”
“Why Luis? Why now? Why is he so high up on the cop’s radar?”
“The local cops have reason to believe he’s involved in the La Familia cartel. It matches the information Chase gave us.”
“Damn.”
The way Darius said that word gave it double meaning if Cade had ever heard it. “Look, Darius, I barely know you. But something is going on. Do I need to know what it is? Is our working together likely to be jeopardized
because of something that’s happened? Is Dia’s life?”
Darius’s body tensed and his eyes snapped to Cade’s. “Once again, I’m not following you.”
“I don’t want to get in your business but if it impacts mine, you have to come clean.”
He took a swallow of beer and seemed to consider her request. Another swallow. He nodded. “You’re a pretty wise woman, Cade LeBlanc. Mex could do worse.”
In spite of herself she felt her face get hot.
“What do you mean?”
“Only an idiot could miss the clues. You two are dancing around romance like it’s a snake that might bite.”
Cade cleared her throat, putting an end to the topic.
“Do you know my wife is
pregnant?” Darius asked.
“Congratulations. What does that have to do with what
we’re doing here?”
“This afternoon when she went to get our mail out of the box she found a headless chicken. A note was pinned to the carcass.”
Cade barely blinked. “What did the note say?”
“It said ‘Bring your husband home or your family dies’.” Darius fidgeted with his napkin. “I’m booked on a flight later tonight.”
“We must be getting close for them to step up and make these threats. The timing sure sucks. Is there
someplace your family can go to be safe?”
“I’m not going to put my family in jeopardy. Not for you, not for Dia. Not even for Mex.”
“But you’ve got to know your turning tail and running is not going to save them. There’s only one way to kill a snake and that’s to cut off its head. And in our case, I believe the head will be severed the moment we save Dia.” She took a breath. “Have you told Mex?”
“Not yet.”
“How the hell is he supposed to finish this without your help?”
His tone was tight. Controlled. “I’m not going to try and make you understand. Obviously your family is not a target. Mine is. Do I feel good about this? No fucking way. Do I have a choice?”
Darius stood up and shoved his chair into the table a little too hard. “I will not sacrifice my family the way Mex sacrificed his.”
Soc Au’ Lait! What the hell? Cade watched him storm out of the crab shack before she could tell him the rest of what she’d discovered.
* * * Darius immediately regretted his words. Cade had dug just enough that his fight or flight response was all messed up. He felt like he’d let Mex down in more than one way. Betrayed him twice.
Mex would understand that Darius had to protect his family. He knew that. Even so, he felt like crap leaving in the middle like this. He also hated leaving the possibility of having a first-hand account, a great story, in the New Orleans mud. Boots on the ground was huge, even if the ground was slippery. Still, compared to his wife and children, there was no contest. Family had always come first to him and this was no exception.
What Darius’s journalistic side wanted to know was why his family had been threatened. What had he turned up that would create such a reaction? What was he close to discovering?
On his way back to the hotel, he called Pamela for the fifth time since she’d called him that afternoon. “Just checking.”
“We’re fine. Everything is normal. I know it was horrible, but maybe I overreacted. Do you think? I mean, maybe they wanted me to freak out and there’s really no threat at all. Maybe we just fell into some kind of trap. And here you are, leaving Mex to go it alone and leaving the possibility of your big true crime book in the dust. All because your hormonal wife went over the edge.”
“Honey, first of all, you didn’t overreact. You found a frigging headless chicken in with the electric bill. I can’t even imagine. Second, Mex can handle himself. There’s a woman we met here who seems to know her stuff and I’m pretty sure she’ll be able to watch his back. And third, I’m not letting the book go. It just won’t all be first hand.”
“Have you told Mex you’re leaving?”
Why does everyone ask him this? “Not yet. He’s chasing down a lead. I expect he’ll be back here before I need to leave to catch my plane.”
“A little short notice.”
“Can’t be helped. And not your fault.”
“I love you, D.J.”
“Back atcha, P.J.”
After he hung up, he tried to think about what else he could do for his friend before he cut bait. Darius forced down his feelings of guilt. He’d take a look at them later. Not now. Not when his family had been threatened.
Back in his room, he packed the last of the things for his flight back to Denver. From there he’d catch a
commuter to Aspen that would put him home about two in the morning.
His phone rang. “Johnson.”
“Mon cher.”
Darius tugged at his collar. The caller was a local contact he’d used for years. A beautiful local contact he’d used for years. He’d searched her out to see what she could dig up on the Alvarez family. She wasn’t subtle in
broadcasting her interest—in a
decidedly unprofessional way—despite him explaining that he wasn’t available.
“I have some interesting things to share with you.”
The double entendre couldn’t be missed. “You know I’m happily
married.”
“Then why did I even tickle those thoughts?”
“Because I’m a man. But Deirdre? As gorgeous and delectable as you are? Ain’t gonna happen. I love my wife. I value my marriage.”
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
Well yes, he could. But that wouldn’t get him anywhere. “What do you have for me?”
“Aside from my luscious body and insatiable sex drive? Aside from the things I can do for you—to you—that you’ve never even dreamed of?”
“Yeah, aside from those.” Damn, this woman was over the top.
“Too bad. We could have made some fine memories, you and me.”
Darius held his comment. She’d gotten the picture. He wasn’t interested.
“Okay, fine. Be that way.”
For a brief moment, Darius was afraid she was going to hang up on him. Then he heard her sigh.
“Luis Alvarez’s involvement in Santeria eventually exposed him to the local arm of the La Familia cartel. It was a match made in hell, if you know what I mean. He convinced them that through the power of Santeria—and his power as a priest—they could find protection from law enforcement and their rivals.”
“We kind of figured that out.”
“The protection ritual must be strong. Powerful.”
“We get that.”
“It requires human sacrifice.”
Darius fell to his bed. Shit.
“But he was recently assigned a new challenge. One that, if he fails to meet it, could mean his death.”
“What’s the challenge?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come to me?” Her emphasis was on the word ‘come’. “Or would you rather me come to you?”
“Deirdre, you are a temptation. Another moment in time, another situation, (another man, he thought), things might be different. But for now, what was the new challenge Luis received?”
“La Familia, Luis’s cartel, is making plans to take over the SenoraCiento cartel. Luis’s challenge is to protect his people and assure victory through the strongest and most powerful ritual he’s ever attempted.”
“How do you know this?”
“I am a woman with many contacts, mon cher. You should know that. Have I ever given you inaccurate information? Have I ever been wrong? Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?”
“What in the world would Santeria practitioners consider stronger than human sacrifice?”
“Therein lies the challenge.”
Darius already had the answer: a human sacrifice that was also a child of the rival drug cartel.
CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHT
Mex wanted a shower. And a drink. And some good news from Darius. All the way back from Slidell he’d cursed his bad luck and the good luck of the driver of the sedan in which he was sure Luis Alvarez was riding. But he felt in his bones that he’d been close. Not far from Slidell. After all, Alvarez, or someone close to him, had made it to the drop.
He let himself into the hotel room, threw his keys down and stripped off his clothes, dried mud still clinging to both his boots and his jeans. He was tired. The depression clawing at his
consciousness like it had never clawed before. He badly needed to decompress. To find some hope.
The shower’s warm water flowed over his head, a soothing element for his soul. Could he just stand in here for hours? Days? Until everything was fixed and he could emerge from this cocoon of liquid gold into a world with
compassion and ready justice? Death would happen when a person was
ready to move on—not before. He’d know where Dia was and be able to extricate her without incident. And having done so, Sedona would be freed. All would be right with the world.
He turned the water off and reached for a towel. As he dried off, the real world began to reinsert itself. The disappointments, the cruelty, even the horror. But the healing waters of a warm shower had fortified him. He could handle this. He would find Dia. He would free his sister. He was feeling better than he had in months. Now, for that drink and Darius who should be back from his meeting with Cade.
Mex drew on some clean jeans and knocked on the connecting door, shoving it slightly open. “Hey, Darius! Let’s go get a drink and catch up.” He pulled open the dresser drawer and grabbed the t-shirt on top. “I swear I was following Luis Alvarez from the cemetery but there was a friggin’ accident just past Slidell and I lost him.” Mex pushed open the door and walked into Darius’s room.
Darius stood over his bed, his carryon open and almost packed. Mex watched as his partner stuffed in his shaving kit and zipped the bag closed. Darius nodded to a bottle of Mex’s favorite scotch sitting on the dresser. “We need to talk.”
Mex tried to smile, but he knew he wasn’t pulling it off. “Looks like it.” “My family has been threatened.” “Threatened how? Because of
what we’re doing?”
“My wife doesn’t get threatening
phone calls while at the grocery store
with our kids as part of her normal
routine. And oh yeah, when she goes to
collect our mail, she doesn’t usually
expect to see decapitated animals in
with our bills sporting a note pinned to
the carcass talking about killing her
family. And yeah, I sort of figure there’s
a connection.”
“Anything else?”
“What the hell else should there
be, Mex?”
“I get that you’re upset. Really, I
do. But we’re so close. I know we are.” “Which is exactly why this has
happened.”
Mex moved to the bed and sat. He
closed his eyes and put his head in his
hands. What was he doing? How could
he be so driven? “First a little girl, and
