by Peg Brantley
Cade stopped talking and Mex glanced in her direction.
“I was too late. When we got out to the shack, we found my sister’s body. She’d slit her wrists just like she’d slit all of the throats of sacrificial chickens and goats over the years. Delphine bled out and died, and she died all alone.”
Mex wanted to touch her. Make contact. He didn’t. He maneuvered the SUV into a parking space on the street about a block away from their
destination. “Did she leave a note?”
“She did. Maybe one day I’ll tell you what it said.”
“I’m sorry.” Mex thought about how impossible it was for anyone to escape loss. “You ready to do this?”
“I’m always ready to do this. Are you?”
“I’m good at fights, verbal and physical. I’m good with guns. I’m good at figuring people out. My instincts are top notch and I can appraise a situation fast. I’m even acceptable at undercover work where I need to be deceptive. I can lie with the best of them, as long as I’m pretending to be a bad guy. I’m not so good as a religious crusader who needs to conduct himself in a certain way when what I really want to do is muscle myself in the door.”
“Then you need to stay quiet and let me do the talking. It appears I’m a better liar than you.”
* * * Cade took deep breaths as she and Mex walked up to the front door of the house next to their target. In through her nose, out through her mouth. She became calm and centered. Rather than go straight up to the home they believed might house Dia’s kidnapper and maybe Dia herself, they’d begin one house over in the event someone spotted them.
“I’m thinking of this as a practice house,” Mex said.
“They probably practice, but that’s not what you mean, is it?”
Mex fell silent. Good.
Cade reached out and pushed the doorbell. She didn’t hear it ring and looked at Mex. He shook his head. She pulled open the screen and knocked on the door. Again.
She heard someone approach the door and hesitate. There wasn’t a peephole, but there was a window that was mostly covered by some white lacy fabric. Cade resisted the urge to look directly into the window.
The door cracked open. “Yes?”
The woman was in her latetwenties, on the fast track to looking fifty, and obviously suspicious.
Cade heard a child crying somewhere inside the house. She reached for one of the brochures she’d gotten at the hotel, making sure the logo of the swamp tour company was hidden.
“Hello, ma’am. We’d like a moment of your precious time to talk about something important.”
“I don’t have time to talk to you about anything, important or not.”
Mex stepped into view.
The woman’s eyebrows crawled up to her scalp line when she saw him. “Well, I suppose a moment would be okay.” She pulled the door open and stepped out onto the tiny stoop. The crying grew louder.
“I’m afraid this isn’t a good time for you,” Cade said. “Your child needs you. Would it be okay if we returned a little later?”
“Both of you?”
“Yes, of course.”
The woman patted her hair and brushed some crumbs from her blouse. “Yeah, that would be okay.”
Cade knew she was thinking about fixing herself up to make a better
impression in an hour or so. Too bad she’d be all dressed up with no place to go. And no door to answer.
Mex smiled and nodded. “One question, ma’am.”
“Yes?”
“I see you’re wearing a cross. Are you a Christian?”
The woman’s hand rose to touch her necklace. “I am.”
“Are all of your neighbors? What I mean is, is there someone we should be sure and talk to?”
Just as her hand had risen
involuntarily to touch the cross around her neck, her gaze darted to the house next door. “Um, I couldn’t say for sure.”
“Well, thank you, ma’am.” Mex and Cade turned to leave.
“Today? You’ll come back today?”
Mex gave her a little salute.
“Do you always have that effect on women?” Cade asked once they got to the street.
“Seems like I do, at least some of the time and with some women. Others, not so much.”
Cade was impressed. Aware and honest. Most men would either not have a clue or feign ignorance. “Your
question was a good one. We got the confirmation we needed about the house next door.” She looked at him. “I’m gonna have to unpack my bullshit meter when I’m around you.”
“Well, it wasn’t something that would hold up in court.”
“Good thing we’re not going to court.”
They turned up the sidewalk leading to the house owned by the relatives of Luis Alvarado. It looked like all of the other houses in the neighborhood—someone had made lackluster attempts at maintenance that resulted in nothing beautiful, but also nothing butt-ugly. Cade figured in another five years, the houses would simply be five years worse for wear.
Mex spoke quietly. “Remember, unless we see an immediate threat to Dia’s life, we check out what we can and pull away to plan. We’re not even sure this is where she’s being held. Hell, we’re not even sure Alvarado has her.”
Shit. Cade stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Give me a little credit, cowboy. I’ve been in this rodeo before. Worked it and won. You getting cold feet? Want to go back to the neighbor’s house?”
“Just want to make sure you don’t go all G.I. Jane on me.”
“I’d much rather make love than war. You agree?”
“Sorry. Guess I do.”
Cade moved to the front stoop and Mex followed. She hoped he was a little cowed but seriously doubted it. He wasn’t the type of man who could be easily chastised. Mex Anderson was a strange mix of more things than just his name.
This time when she punched the doorbell they could hear it ring inside the small home. They waited.
Cade hoped they weren’t too late. She’d been there before. She didn’t know if she could handle a second loss so close to the young man who had committed suicide.
Please, Dia. Be safe. Be ready for rescue. Just be. Cade realized she’d thought of the little girl by her name.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Mex’s training kicked in as they
approached the front door. He wanted to kick some ass, grab the girl, get Sedona back, crawl home to bed—dream of a certain Cajun—and be finished with this business. But he knew none of that was possible. At least not now. If Dia was here, any impulsive move on his part could kill her. And if Dia died, his sister was as good as dead. Then he might as well be too.
He needed to treat this as
reconnaissance. Fact gathering. No more. Still, he confirmed the weapon in his shoulder holster by pressing his arm closer to his side. There would be no more people sacrificed in his life if he could help it. He was ready to die to make sure that didn’t happen
Mex pushed everything aside as Cade pushed the doorbell. The sound would easily carry through the house. He listened for footsteps. They waited five seconds. Ten.
Nothing.
Cade looked at him and he nodded. She pushed the bell again and knocked on the screen door. The door swung open, an older woman standing rather defiantly in the doorway. “Yes? What do you want?”
“Hello. My name is Sarah, and my friend and I are hoping you have a couple of minutes to talk about spiritual things.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Spiritual? What kind of spiritual?”
Mex stepped in. “Well, to be honest, before we even get to that, we’re thirsty. Do you think we could get something to drink? We’d be grateful.”
The woman looked at him and considered her response. “I guess. Wait here.”
They could hear cupboard doors being opened. A faucet turned on. She came back with two glasses of water.
Mex drank deeply. “Thank you.”
The woman nodded.
“Rosa.”
“Nice to meet you, Rosa.” He handed back the empty glass. “Do you think we might come in for a quick moment?”
“I don’t think that would be—”
“Please. My friend, Sarah, suddenly felt unwell as we walked up your sidewalk. Can you just let her sit for a minute? Then we’ll be on our way.”
The young woman shifted her eyes to Cade. “I suppose. But just for a minute. I have things to do.”
Mex smiled at her. “As do we all. Thank you so much for your kindness.” He put his hand on Cade’s elbow and guided her into the house.
“Just don’t talk any of your religious beliefs to me. I have my own and I don’t have time to argue with you.”
“I promise. Not a problem. We won’t say a word to you unless you ask us a question. She just needs a place to sit for a minute, then we’ll be on our way.”
Mex and Cade found themselves in a tiny living room to the right of the entrance. They could clearly see into the dining room with a hallway that
presumably led to bedrooms to the left. There was another room off the dining room.
He was pleased when he saw Cade swallow the rest of her water. She sat down and lifted the glass to their host. “Would you please?”
The woman took Cade’s glass and walked the few steps through the dining room to what Mex assumed was the kitchen. While the woman was out of sight, he took careful note of everything he saw.
A typical living room and dining room told him nothing except that the family was ordinary. There were no signs of Santeria, no signs that the people who lived here were anything other than your regular neighbors. The only thing slightly out of place was a backpack on the dining room table. Could be any teenager’s backpack. Justin Bieber? Okay, a pre-teen girl’s backpack.
“Here.” The woman handed Cade another glass of water.
Mex was almost amused when he saw Cade shake slightly when she took the glass. Good show, woman.
“Do you have children?” Mex did his best to make the question come out smooth.
“Oh, no. It’s just me. I have a sister and nephew in N’awlins and two cousins, one in Slidell and one in Baton Rouge, but I live alone. I haven’t seen any of them in six months or more.”
Other than the obvious subterfuge, the simple amount of communication would have put Mex on high alert. Who would volunteer this much information to a total stranger?
Mex rose. “My partner is
obviously unwell. Would you mind if we came back at another time to talk to you?”
“You can always try. I might not be here.”
“That’s okay. We kind of believe that whatever happens is God’s will.”
“Ah. Well, maybe you should just skip this house. We’re good with what we believe.”
Mex noticed her switch to plural. “Are you believers?”
“You could say that.”
Cade handed the glass back to the woman. “Thank you. Would you mind if I used your bathroom?”
Rosa narrowed her eyes. “I guess not.”
“Where, um…”
Mex watched the woman evaluate which visitor she trusted the least. Not surprisingly, he won. She would stay with him while Cade used the restroom.
“It’s just down that hall, second door on the right.”
They both watched Cade walk down the hall and Mex decided a little diversion was in order.
“How long have you lived here?” “Thirty-two years.”
“Thirty-two. I don’t know anyone who’s lived in one place that long. Did you ever think about moving?”
“Nope.” The woman edged a little closer to the hallway, trying to get a view.
Mex needed to get her attention away from that hallway and Cade.
“Could I please ask you for another glass of water?”
Mex followed the reluctant woman into the kitchen. He looked out the windows to the backyard. There was a lot of space, but no other outbuildings. Mex wondered where they got their chickens to sacrifice.
“Wow. Did you ever have a garden?”
“A long time ago. Now it doesn’t seem worth the time.”
“I know what you mean.”
Before Mex had to come up with another weak diversion, Cade appeared in the doorway.
She nodded to their hostess. “Thank you for your kindness, but I need to leave.” She looked at Mex. “Will you take me home?”
* * Cade sidled next to Mex as they walked down the sidewalk. “Dia’s not here.” “Did you see the backpack?”
“I’m not saying she was never here, but she isn’t now.”
“How do you know?”
“Other than the backpack, there is nothing, I repeat nothing, in that house to say there is an extra guest. Not even anything to say there’s anyone staying here other than the woman we just met.”
“So where’s Dia?”
Cade shook her head.
Mex pulled out his phone. “We need to confirm that the backpack could belong to Dia.”
Thanks to caller ID he didn’t need to announce himself. “Does Dia have a backpack?”
Silence. “I think I remember seeing her with one.”
Damn. “Vega, are you shitting me? You don’t even know whether your daughter uses a backpack?” Mex wanted to knock some sense into this absent father.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m pretty sure she does. What’s this all about?”
“Find out from someone who would know what it looks like and call me back.”
Mex thrust his phone into a pocket, jaws clenched and eyes
narrowed. His entire body stiffened and he wanted to hit something.
The pair climbed into the rental in silence. Mex had fired it up and pulled away from the curb before Cade spoke. “Why are you so angry?”
Mex sniffed and considered a smart retort. He backed off. Drug cartels. Cults. “Doesn’t the very thought of Santeria drill you? I mean, your sister and all?”
He was gratified that she seemed to consider her answer. “I could easily let it consume me. Make me so angry that all I felt was anger. But if I let that happen, what good would I be? Who could I help?” She paused. “I
consciously choose, every day, to honor my sister’s memory. To make her death matter. To—through Delphine—make a difference and give someone else a chance.”
Mex was about to tell her about his family when his phone rang. “Yeah.”
“She has a backpack. It features a young singer. A Justin Bieber.”
Vega pronounced the teen idol’s name as “Hue-steen Bee-ay-bear”, but Mex knew he had a match. With a sudden wash of compassion for the father he said, “I don’t have her, but the backpack confirms a good lead. Thank you. I’ll bring your daughter home, Vega. I just hope you’ll appreciate her when that happens.”
Mex clicked off his phone and scratched his chin. “We need to check the house again to make sure Dia isn’t there. Maybe they move her during the day. If she isn’t at the Alvarez house, where is she?”
“We know she must be close. We must be missing something—some connection. I cannot allow another young soul to be sacrificed to this insanity.”
Sacrifice.
“I know about Delphine—your loss.” Your pain, he thought. “You know about mine.”
“Can you tell me how you’ve dealt with it? Are you ready to talk about that part?” Cade’s voice sounded sad and soft and hopeful.
“It hasn’t always been pretty, but I wouldn’t have mentioned it at all if I wasn’t ready to share it with you.”
Mex spent the next thirty minutes telling Cade about his diagnosis of depression and the efforts to find the best medication to address his situation. He talked about the sad days and the angry days, and finally the support he received from the Depression Center at the college. “For the first time, I had a place to talk about the things that brought us together as a family in laughter and love, and the final thing that brough
t me to my knees in tears and guilt. The center saved my life, and I speak at their fundraisers whenever asked. We’re trying to take the “D” word out of the closet the same way we did with cancer and the “C” word.” She never
interrupted him. Not once.
“And Vega? Why help him now?” Cade asked when he’d fallen silent. Spent.
“I wish I could tell you that first and foremost it’s the girl but that wouldn’t be true. Vega promised me information on who gave the order to murder my family.”
“And then it’s the girl?”
“Yeah. Then it’s the girl.”
On the way back to the hotel, Mex felt the cloak begin to fall over him. The dark cape smothered his feelings and blocked out the world. He both hated and welcomed it. Anger and
decisiveness were replaced by
hopelessness and apathy. Sharp and painful awareness became blurred into drugged feelings of depression.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was a chemical trick of his brain, but he didn’t care.
He was tired of this battle. Tired of doing what was expected. Tired of struggling every day. Tired of always feeling bad. He knew it was treatable. But even that idea left him tired.
He thought about the young girl with her entire life ahead of her. Kids made stupid choices every day. None of this was her fault. If he didn’t help Dia, who would?
He thought of Sedona.
Even though his medication had worked in the past, lately it seemed less effective. He needed to get back to Aspen Falls and see his doctor. In the meantime, he’d fight these dark feelings. Do what needed to be done. There wasn’t time for him make himself a priority.
The glaring fact was that Dia’s backpack was in the home of Luis Alvarez’s relative and Dia wasn’t.
Where the hell was she? Could they get to her in time?
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The Diviner settled into her chair at the dinner table. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off the young girl since they’d been introduced. On one level she understood what role the daughter of Vicente Vega was to play in the future of her client—her patron. On another level she wondered what she might do to protect this young soul. She guessed it wasn’t up to her.
