“Yeah, set it up.”
Too many times I’ve seen protective custody infiltrated or plagued with incompetence, but sadly I’ve got no choice here.
“I’ll have someone put that in motion right now.”
“Thanks, Tanner.”
“Anytime.”
The crime scene tech digs multiple slugs out of the passenger door. The round missed me by a centimeter.
I snub out the cigarette on the bottom of my boot and toss it in a nearby trash can. I stroll up to the Forensic guy. “What have you got?”
“44 magnums and 5.45x39. Standard full metal jacket it looks like.”
Radomir really wanted both of us dead, that’s for sure.
“See if you can get the prints off of those slugs and spent casings.”
“Will do, Agent Lobos.”
I kneel next to the body of Deputy Roth. “I’m sorry this happened to you, but you can make damn sure I’m gonna burn these assholes down.”
I head over to the Medical Examiner, examining the body of the dead shooter. “Let me know when you get a positive ID on the stiff.”
“When I run the prints and DNA, I will get back to you soon as I can, Agent Lobos. Who do you think they were?”
“The heat’s turning up on Radomir, so I’m guessing this was his hitters.”
“I see. Well, good luck on the case.”
Tanner walks up to me and leans in close. “It’s best you get out of here, Lobos. The press is on its way; this case has taken a nosedive into purely personal for you now, or that’s how a judge and an attorney will see it. The media will no doubt bring up your past with this town, destroying your credibility.”
“Yeah, I need a drink anyway. Get a ride back to my car?”
“Sure, come on, I’ll have a patrolman to give you a lift.”
***
He parks next to my Charger. “Have a good day, Special Agent Lobos.”
“Yeah, you too, kid. Watch yourself.”
The uniform looks like he joined the force right out of high school. I climb into my car and head to the nearest bar.
The Tiki hut is crowded with beach tourists knocking back drinks, and some are eating. These places usually have damn good fish sandwiches, but food is the last thing on my mind, I just want a stiff drink. I park myself on a stool and order a double of Scotch on the rocks. I gaze at the horizon, pondering my recent life choices. Should’ve listened to my gut and stayed in Tampa, but no, I had to be the good damn sister and help her brother. Why am I still here now that my brother is dead? I could leave right now and return to Tampa, and no one will fault me for it. However, if I leave, Roth’s death will go unpunished, and the Russians will continue to lure people to their deaths. I can’t allow that.
I take a sip of my drink and wince as the warm drink singes my throat on the way down. Though there is a wrench in my plans, thanks to Gabriella. On the plus side, she has no intention of keeping Radomir alive. That saves me some paperwork and eliminates any conflict of interest with my brother’s involvement, so win-win in my eyes.
I gulp down my drink and order another and glance up at the TV hanging above the bar. The news reports on Deputy Roth’s death calling it a professional hit, saying she returned fire, killing one of the shooters. I knock back the drink chomping down on a piece of ice and take a brief drag from my smoke.
Nice bullshit story you wove, Tanner.
The reporters interview eye witnesses or assholes who want their five minutes of fame. Humans are parasites.
I stroll onto the beach, tears sliding down my cheek as I open up my cell and call my father. “Hey, dad.”
“Devora! Is good to hear from you.”
“You may change your mind in a minute.” My voice shaky.
“What’s wrong, baby girl?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just gonna say it. Raul was murdered.”
“I-I what?” his voice becomes brittle.
“He was involved in a case I was working on.… He got mixed up with the Russians. They’re the reason his music career blew up.”
“Oh, my god. My son.” His voice shatters.
“I’m sorry to tell you like this, dad. I really tried to save him, but Raul is the one who killed the mayor and my former partner Donovan.”
“Donovan? I thought you were done with the DEA.”
“I temporarily rejoined the DEA to help my brother, but turns out he was too far gone to help.”
“Devora, where are you?”
“I’m at a Tiki hut on South Beach across from the La Palma Hotel.”
“Stay there. I want to see you… I need to see you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, dad.”
“Good, stay there.”
I hang up the phone and slump down on the beach, doubling over, crying as if someone shoved a knife in my gut and twisting it. “You ruined our family, Raul. Your life choices will shatter us,” I mutter.
***
I sit at the bar and order another drink because I spilled mine, crying over my scumbag brother’s death. An average height man with short black hair with a blue denim shirt, and dark jeans with a salt and pepper goatee marches toward me. He places his hand on my back and hugs me. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.”
I cry hysterically against his chest. My father’s embrace pulled every ounce of sadness from my heart I buried.
I glance up at him. “Dad, I put you and our family in protective custody. I worry the people who killed Raul will come for you guys.”
“Who killed Raul?”
“Some cartel bitch named Gabriella Trevino.”
He closes his eyes and sighs. “I moved us out of Mexico to get us away from the cartel, and yet those devils seem to have followed us.”
“Cartel was in America long before we moved here.”
“I know, but it feels like we never left Mexico.”
I notice the fishing rods. “Why are your fishing rods in the back of your truck?”
“I thought we could talk somewhere more peaceful and fish. I have a case of Cerveza to share as well.”
“I can’t go fishing, dad. I have to catch these guys.”
“Those evil men can wait a day. You need to stop and catch your breath, so come fish with your old man down at the docks.”
Going fishing with my dad is not a bad idea. Tanner wanted me to lie low, anyway.
Lobos Residence
My home hasn’t changed. It’s still the same Pepto-pink house with the dock across the street with my dad’s boat still docked there. He’s taken good care of it. It’s still shiny new, like he just bought it. He used to take us out on it every Saturday afternoon when we were kids; sometimes, we would fish on it or just grill out on it. He hands me a fishing pole as we stroll across the street and down to the docks. He reaches into his cooler and passes me a Modelo Cerveza. “You remember how to fish, don’t you?”
“Of course, just never had time.”
“Well, Mija. Now you do.” he baits his hook and cast it out in the water.
I bait my hook and pop the cap off my beer. “Have you told mom what happened yet?” I flick my wrist and cast the line in the lake.
“Yeah, she’s taking it badly.”
“He was always the baby among me and my sister. So I don’t doubt she’s taking it doubly hard.”
“So give me the rundown on this case, Devora.”
“Pop, I can’t go into details on this. You were Miami PD. You know the deal.”
He lowers his head. “Devora Lobos Sandoval, I am your father first, and it’s because I am a cop you owe me a professional courtesy.”
Ouch, he’s going to play the cop and the dad card.
“What do you wish to know?”
“I want to know how you came to know your brother was mixed up into all this.”
“I was sitting in a bar minding my business when my old boss from the DEA strolled in and showed me files on my brother revealing he was mixed up with the Russian
mob’s drug ring, and they also suspected he was mixed up in their Black Market Organ trade. To make a long story short, I rejoined the DEA and came down here to get him out of whatever shit he was in.”
“Then what happened?”
“Turns out Raul was not as innocent as I thought. My brother killed the mayor and shot my partner in the head.”
He closes his eyes and gazes at the lake. “I just can’t believe all this. It feels like I am in a fucking nightmare.”
My arms wrap around my dad, and he puts his arm around me and kisses me on the top of the head. “I’m sorry, dad. I tried to save him, but he was just too far gone.”
“I know you did everything you could, baby girl. It’s not your fault things played out the way they did.”
“Raul was our inside man in Radomir’s organization, but the Trevino Cartel killed him to hurt the Russians. Raul was the Russian’s cash cow, and Gabriella Trevino took that away from them. So this case has put me smack dab in the middle of a mob war between Russians and the Mexican Cartel.” I pick up my fishing pole. “Here I was thinking the Moonlight Killer case was a shitstorm.”
He reels his line back a few inches. “You’re a clever woman, Devora. You’ll crack this case.”
“There’s something else I should tell you: Trevino Cartel forced me to stay out of their way, or they will kill you and mom and Izzy and my sister. So I told my director to put you in protective custody. They’ll be here soon.”
“Devora, I’m not going anywhere. Your mom and I been through this when I was trying to shut a Marijuana cartel here in Miami during the Reefer Madness.”
“Now it’s considered medicine go figure. All those people spent half their lives in prison, and later the state de-criminalizes it.”
“Goes to show you don’t look at enforcing laws as a holy crusade.”
“Exactly. You do the job, nothing more.”
I let out a sigh. “This lake always had a shortage of fish.”
“We do seem to catch more fish when we take the boat out to Bay of Biscayne.”
“Pop, you need to accept the protective custody. These guys are heavy duty; some of their sicarios look like ex-Special Forces.”
“Not gonna happen, Mija. I didn’t cower to them in the eighties, and I am not cowering to them now.”
“You stubborn jackass.”
“Now you sound like your mother.”
“Will you at least keep a gun on you at all times?”
He taps the back of his waist. “I got one on me right now. My Beretta 92FS and I have a 12 gauge leaned up against the door and a Glock 21 next to my bed.” He glances at my holster. “I see you’re still carrying that 226.” His tone critical.
“By your tone, I take it you don’t approve?”
“The Sig is okay, but I don’t care for its design.”
My dad has always been a Beretta fanboy, not that I’m hating on the Beretta; it’s a fine weapon, just too bulky for my taste.
My cell rings and my ID said Medical Examiner’s office. “What’d you got?”
“I identified the shooter Vlad Orlov, former Spetznaz. His back is also covered in prison tattoos, so he’s definitely a madman within the Russian Mob. You’re lucky to be alive, Agent Lobos. This prick was a real pro.”
“Yeah, well, he did something stupid and turned his back to me when making his tactical withdrawal, so not much of a pro.”
“Also, they identified the other shooter by his prints. Grigori Kulikov, also former Spetznaz.”
“Thanks.”
“Any time, Lobos.”
I hang up the phone and dial-up Tanner. “I got a hit on the two shooters. The dead one is Vlad Orlov, and the one that’s still breathing is Grigori Kulikov. Both are former Russian Spetznaz.”
“I will put out an APB on Kulikov, and when we pick him up, I’ll set up an interrogation and call you.”
“Good. I want to shake that bastard and see what falls out.” I hang up the phone.
“Everything okay?” My father asks.
“Yeah, everything is fine. We’ve gotta hit on the two shooters that killed Deputy Roth.”
“And?”
“Both of them are Ex Russian Spetznaz. My director put out an APB on the one I didn’t kill.”
“Good, the investigation is producing suspects finally.”
“Either way, this suspect will not break easily.”
“You’re clever, Devora. I’m sure you can make him spill his secrets.”
His pole bends. “Hey! I got one.” After a few moments of fighting, dad reels the fish in and holds up a big ass catfish.
My eyes widen. “That’s not a fish. That’s a sea monster.”
“Yeah, back in the day, we would eat him, but not these days too much shit in the water now.” He cuts the hook out of the fish and tosses it back in the lake.
“Yeah, you eat fish out of the water these days, you might start glowing.”
“Look, uh, I kind of told your mom you would stay for dinner before you left.”
“Way to throw me under the bus, pop.”
“Hey, I know you and your mom have not seen eye to eye, and you’ve had your feuds. You two need to stop this anger you have toward each other.”
“I wasn’t the one who turned me into the black sheep of the family.”
He raises both his hands up. “Listen, your mother wants to make amends. Will you at least give her a chance to do that for me?”
“I guess I can do that for you.”
“Thank you. It will mean a lot to her after Raul.”
We collect our fishing poles, and I follow him to the house like I’m marching to my execution.
Chapter 18
My childhood home is the same set up when I was a kid. TV is still sitting against the front window and a red leather couch facing the TV. My dad’s old study where he poured over his cases still has the old record player Chet Baker was one of his favorite jazz musicians to listen to while he worked cases. The only thing new about his office is the shiny new laptop. He finally got rid of that bulky desktop computer. Dark green carpet is lined throughout the house except for the kitchen; the kitchen is laden with rose-colored tile.
My mother steps into our dining room wearing a red sundress and her long black hair done up in a bun. She hugs me, sobbing. “Oh, mija, our Raul is gone.” She takes a deep, shaky breath.
I force myself to reciprocate her hug, fighting back tears. “Me too, mamá. It was so awful what they did to him.”
“Come on, baby. Let’s eat; you have to be starved, and your health is probably a wreck from all those food stands you eat at while working.”
“Comes with the territory.”
“Ugh, well, around here, we eat actual food, not the trash they sell in those death shacks.” She hands me a plate of chicken and steak tacos with a corn tortilla and yellow rice.
“Gracias, mamá.”
“De nada, mi hija. So how is your work in Tampa?”
My brow furrows. “Don’t you want to ask me how Raul got mixed up in this?”
She lets out a shaky sigh and briefly lowers her head. “My baby boy is dead. The how won’t change a thing. Now how is your job in Tampa?”
She’s in the denial stage of grief, so I won’t press her.
“The job’s going good. I just recently solved a big case up there, the Moonlight Killer’s case. I’m sure Izzy has chewed your ears off about it.”
She takes a bite of her food. “Yes, she keeps talking about what a hero her tía is.”
I laugh. “Izzy needs a new standard for heroes.”
“Don’t be modest, Devora. What you do is a great service to the community.” She points her fork at me. “You’d do well to realize that.”
Who the hell is this woman, and what has she done with my mother?
She takes a drink of her wine. “Devora, I want to say I am sorry for all the horrible things I’ve said to you in the past. It was wrong of you to commit adultery on your husband,
but so was I to call you a filthy whore; in fact, what I said was worse than you cheating on your husband.” She slumps her shoulders and cries to the point she is gasping.
Okay, now I am worried. She’s apologizing to me?
“Mamá, it’s okay. Water under the bridge.”
“Mija, a mother, should not say such horrible things to their child, and I regret it took losing Raul to realize that.”
My father stands and hugs her. “Shh, it’s okay, Luciana. Devora never was mad at you, mi amor.”
“He’s right. I wasn’t mad. I was just frustrated with you.”
She reaches over, gripping my hand. “I love you so much, Mija. I will never again allow myself to say such a hurtful and disgusting thing to you. Let this be a new page.”
I stand and hug her and kiss her on the cheek. “Mom, it’s totally okay. I still love you.”
She smiles. “Would you like another cerveza, Mija?”
“Sure.”
She returns from the kitchen and sits the cerveza on the table, and pops the cap off. “There you go.” She sits and gazes at the family photo on the bookshelf; tears run down her cheeks. She rests her hand on her head and breaks down again. Dad scoots his chair closer to her and wraps his arm around her; she lays her head on his shoulder, wailing.
Goddamn you, Raul. I hope your precious fame and glory was worth it, you selfish prick.
My cell cuts through my mother’s bawling. “Go ahead, Tanner.” I step into the living room.
“Lobos, we caught the bastard he’s waiting for you at Miami PD HQ.”
“Where’d you pick him up?”
“You’re gonna love it. The dumb ass went out and got drunk and rear-ended a patrol car at an intersection. Detective Sanz of Homicide is holding the fort till you arrive. He’s at four hundred northwest second avenue.”
“I know I used to be part of the Homicide Bureau, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. Anyway, get down there ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.” I hang up my phone and return to the dining room. “I hate to eat and run, but they caught the shooter in that Sheriff Deputy murder.”
The Harvesters Page 10
