Salazar spread his hands. “Then I will make her disappear.”
He vied for control of the discussion. This was his chance, and he wouldn’t pass it to Salazar. “We’re talking about the United States.” He turned from his father to Salazar. “Whatever you may have gotten away with before, you can’t just make American police officials disappear without bringing on a substantial manhunt. Especially when they’re leading a high-profile task force. Your usual tricks won’t work.” He injected a bit of condescension as he finished. “I have a better way.”
Hector leaned back, steepling his fingers. “And what is that?”
He realized any plan would have to include Salazar to gain his father’s approval, so he adjusted his strategy as he went. “Salazar will be involved. In fact, he plays a critical part.” He hazarded a glance at Daria and Carlos before turning back to his father. “We’ll leave for Phoenix within the hour. Salazar has to come on the plane with us, there’s no time to send him overland using the coyotes. He’ll have to go in disguise with a fresh identity. Once we land, I’ll get everything in place for tonight.”
Hector touched his tented fingertips to the point of his goatee as the silence stretched. Adolfo could sense him weighing his need for revenge against his desire for his firstborn son to prove himself ready to lead.
Finally Hector appeared to come to a decision. “Give me the specifics.”
“I want you to trust me.” Adolfo imbued every syllable with as much determination as he could muster.
“As I told you before,” Hector said, cold steel beneath his soft tone, “you will never be the head of the family empire while Detective Cruz breathes.”
Again, his fate intertwined with that of Veranda Cruz.
She’d cost his family the life of his brother Bartolo and millions in intercepted drug shipments. Now her very existence threatened his honor and his future. Bitter resentment heated his blood. He would drag the puta to her knees, publicly humiliating her before taking her life. But first, he had to convince El Lobo, not known for his patience, to wait a bit longer.
He squared his shoulders and met his father’s fathomless eyes. “You saw what I did with the task force’s raids. Will you trust me with this task as well?” Getting no response, he plowed on. “I promise you three things.”
He held up his index finger. “Tonight will be the worst night of Veranda Cruz’s life.”
Another finger went up. “Tomorrow she will be dead.”
He raised a third finger. “And no one—not the police, not her family, not the public—will give a shit.”
24
Still fuming from her interview with Kiki Lowell, Veranda marched into the Fusion Center searching for Sam. She wanted to vent, and he was her confidant. Her mentor. Her partner. She scanned the room. Without SAU and the other tactical personnel, the quiet hum of activity filled the mostly empty space. A handful of detectives hovered near their stations. No one from her task force was in sight.
Perplexed, she asked one of the nearby computer forensics investigators where she could find Sam.
The pale detective tore his eyes away from his computer screen to blink at up at her. “He’s in the break room with the Homicide squad, the Feds, and the muckety-mucks. I heard shouting.” He grimaced, turning back to his work. “Not going anywhere near there.”
She left the main area and traversed a short hallway toward a makeshift cantina in the back of the building. She heard Sam’s resonant baritone before she got within ten yards of the doorway. Giving in to curiosity, she stopped in the hall to listen.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Sam said. “We have serious resources here right now. We’ve got to keep up the pressure.”
“But the stated purpose of Operation Scorpion Sting was to end the gang war,” Agent Gates said, sounding exasperated. “And it’s over now. There’s no war when only one side is left. We should stand down the Fusion Center immediately.”
Veranda’s anger from her interview with the reporter morphed into humiliation. She was responsible for the partial failure of the operation … and the total success of the Villalobos family. Thanks to the operation, Adolfo had no competition in Phoenix, the cartel’s US distribution hub.
“And what message would that send?” Marci’s question dripped sarcasm. “That we’re okay with a Mexican drug cartel running Phoenix?”
Agent Tanner’s retort carried down the hall. “Isn’t that what they’ve been doing for years?”
Everyone shouted at once, and she couldn’t make out any particular words, other than some choice expletives. If the young FBI agent was correct, she’d already lost the battle. Maybe even the war. She gritted her teeth and forced her racing thoughts to stop. She would retrench, find a new strategy, and forge ahead.
Still standing outside the door, she recognized DEA Agent Craig Wallace’s voice. “Look, we’re at a disadvantage now, that’s all. I’ve worked with Detective Cruz when she was in the Drug Enforcement Bureau. She won’t let a setback stop her. Let’s hear what her next plan is before we throw in the towel.”
“Who decides when we’re finished here?” Tanner asked.
“Do you two have someplace else you need to be?” Irritation sharpened Sam’s tone. “Because I’m sure we can manage without the FBI.”
“We’re staying,” Gates said. “But how long can our Mexican counterparts continue with us?”
Agent Lopez’s slightly accented words were forceful. “We were not given a time limit. We can stay as long as the Fusion Center is open.”
Agent Flag from Homeland chimed in. “Same here.”
Not wanting to eavesdrop any longer, Veranda let her shoes strike the tiled floor loudly the rest of the way down the hall and through the open break room door. Everyone turned.
“Detective Cruz.” Agent Gates’s overenthusiastic greeting had the air of someone who had been talking behind her back. “How did your interview go?”
“Fabulous.” Veranda scowled. “The reporter promised I’d be the lead story at five. She seemed genuinely shocked I wasn’t overjoyed about it.”
Sam looked sympathetic. “We were…discussing our next move. Now you’re here, I’m sure we all want to hear your thoughts.”
She lifted her chin. “We sink our teeth into the Villalobos cartel. We’ve got them on the run. Now we’ll press our advantage. If we can keep them off balance, they’re more likely to screw up.”
“I agree,” Lieutenant Diaz said. “But how?”
“Everyone not directly involved in the SSS investigations will gather intel. Adolfo Villalobos needs money, so he’ll have to bring in some product to sell. The suspected brothel locations run by Carlos were also empty, so we’ll try to find out what happened to his women. They’ll probably have to advertise for new clientele in the sex trade underground.”
Meeting several skeptical expressions, she spoke from her experience in narcotics enforcement. “Bottom line is they can’t run the cartel in a vacuum. Money is their lifeblood, and they need customers to get it. Whether it’s dope, sex, guns, or gambling, they’ve got to get the word out.” She clapped her hands together. “That’s their weak point, so that’s what we target.”
Gates quirked a brow. “This sounds like a routine organized crime case, not an investigation in need of a Fusion Center and full-time task force.”
“Let’s give it some time.” Tim Fitzhugh from the US Marshal’s Office eyed Veranda as he spoke to Gates. “If we don’t gain any traction, we’ll know soon enough.”
Diaz addressed the team. “The chief and mayor have expressed their support of Detective Cruz. She stays in charge of the investigation until further notice.” He added with a note of finality, “We’ll follow her lead.”
She looked at his chiseled profile, unsure why her lieutenant had been so uncharacteristically willing to take her side.
T
anner snorted. “Because that’s been working so well.”
Tony Sanchez from her Homicide squad got in Tanner’s face. “If you weren’t a federal agent, I’d punch you in the mouth.”
Marci’s upper lip curled into a sneer. “I think I’ll do it anyway.”
“Enough,” Diaz said, stepping between his detectives and the agents. “We’re on the same side.” He rested a hand on his hip and blew out a sigh. “No one got much sleep last night and we’re all tired. I’m ordering everyone to go home, see your families, eat something, rest.”
He called out to the group as they turned to leave. “All of you will report to the lounge in the Hyatt Regency downtown at nineteen hundred hours this evening. That’s not a request.”
She had no idea what her supervisor was up to, and she read confusion on the faces of her companions as well. She looked at Diaz over her shoulder. “Why?”
“We’ll do a little team-building. Relax and unwind together. Then we come in first thing tomorrow morning and start fresh—working as a cohesive unit.” He paused for emphasis. “No more bickering.”
Now she understood. Management 101. Create an opportunity to bond on neutral turf in a social setting. As she walked out, she doubted any amount of socializing would bring the group together.
25
Veranda inhaled the scent of fresh cilantro garnishing the menudo as she gently laid the paper bowl on the card table and sat down next to Sam. “I have this nagging feeling we’re missing something. The cartel is always one step ahead of us.”
She had invited her partner to share a quick bite at the family food truck before going to their respective homes for some rest prior to Diaz’s mandatory love-in downtown. Anxious to share her concerns, she needed a private moment to confide in her most trusted ally.
“Let’s talk it through.” Sam scouted the other card tables scattered throughout the restaurant parking lot. None of the other customers paid them any attention. “What was the first sign of trouble?”
She paused to consider, spooning a bit of fragrant red broth into her mouth. “When Roberto Bernal took out Castillo before we could meet.”
Sam nodded. “There’s no way they should’ve known that meeting was even happening, much less when and where.”
“Exactly.” The tripe and garlic from her mother’s menudo churned in her stomach as she forced herself to confront the truth. “I didn’t want to admit it back at the Fusion Center, but the evidence does point to a leak.” When Sam offered no response, she leaned toward him and voiced her worst fear. “The traitor would have to be on our department because the Feds weren’t involved in the investigation when the Castillo shooting went down.”
Sam pushed his half-finished plate of enchiladas away. “What else?”
“The cartel knew about the search warrants ahead of time. Sergeant Hearst and the others from Public Affairs don’t think so, but what if Adolfo was the one who tipped off that reporter about the op?”
“Why would he do that?” He quirked a brow. “It would shorten the amount of time he had to relocate.”
“Hear me out.” A glimmer of understanding floated just out of sight, like an indistinct shape drifting in a heavy fog. “Adolfo’s in charge, so I need to think like him. He wants to take over the family empire someday. He’s the eldest son, but no one takes him seriously. He’s viewed as weak by rival cartels and even by his own family.” Her words quickened as her thoughts coalesced. “But I don’t believe he’s weak at all. He’s brainy. Doesn’t like to get his hands bloody, but thinks tactically, like his father.”
“So he has some sort of strategy that’s getting the cartel ahead of us.”
“Yes.” Her confidence grew as she mulled it over. “But what strategy could it be? Adolfo’s stealthy. He never leaves fingerprints.”
Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “None of your insight matters if you can’t figure out how he’s getting the inside track on our investigations.”
“You’re right.” Her shoulders slumped. “Without a mole, how would he know what we’re up to?”
They lapsed into silence.
“Listening devices?” she offered with a half-hearted shrug.
Sam shook his head. “Techs swept the Fusion Center before we moved in. And there’s no way they could plant bugs at HQ.”
“I’m grasping at straws here.” She spooned up a slice of onion from the menudo. “It’s frustrating when I don’t have enough information to get the full picture.”
Her mother and her tío Rico stepped down the retractable folding steps from the food truck. Sam waved them over. “Rico, what do you put in these frijoles to make them taste so good?”
He grinned. “Lard.”
Sam clutched his chest. “Oh hell, I can feel my arteries clogging now. Wish I hadn’t asked.”
Grateful he’d lightened the mood, Veranda teased her partner. “Don’t worry about the lard. I have relatives who are over a hundred years old, and they eat this food every day.”
“Must be my gringo genes. I’d be huge if I ate like this all the time.”
“It is not your genes.” Veranda’s mother leaned down conspiratorially. “I will tell you our family secret.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll bite, what is it?”
Lorena stood tall as if delivering a proclamation. “Stop eating as soon as you are satisfied, but before you are full.” She drew her brows together. “Do not look at me that way, Detective Stark, I speak the truth.” She swept a hand out to encompass herself and her brother. “We are about your age, and we are healthy.” She shrugged. “We also work sixteen hours a day, mostly on our feet.”
Sam scooped up some beans with his fork, holding them at eye level. “Okay, so you make this food so delicious it’s more addictive than crack, then you tell me I have to push away from the table?”
Lorena flushed at the compliment to her cooking. “Yes, you do.”
Veranda tilted her head as she considered Sam. “I don’t know why you’re worrying, Sam. You’re in great shape. Especially for a man of your advanced years. Hell, you could be in a Geritol commercial.”
Sam shifted his gaze to Lorena. “Do you know your daughter shows no respect for her elders?”
Lorena chuckled softly. “I know my daughter not only respects you, but likes you very much. I can tell by how much she teases you.”
Tío Rico nodded. “It is the way of our family. We tease the ones we love, the others we ignore. They are not worth our time.”
Sam stroked his mustache as if giving the matter deep thought. “So I should be flattered by her digs about my age because it means she thinks I’m all that and a bag of tortillas.”
Lorena laughed. “Exactly, Detective.”
Veranda gave them a sardonic look. “You three go ahead and talk about me like I’m not even here.”
Sam spread his hands. “Hey, I’ll take any opportunity to get dirt on my partner, especially if she’s taking shots at me.” He smiled. “But I’m not ignoring you. In fact, I’ll answer your comment about my physical condition.” He indicated his body. “I have a secret to keeping this dapper appearance.”
She widened her eyes and leaned forward. “Fly fishing? Walker races? No wait, what is it the old people do in the park at sunrise? Oh yeah, Tai Chi?” Her impishness was rewarded when Sam gave her a rare laugh.
“Yoga. I do a minimum of twenty minutes every day, and my wife and I go to classes three times a week.
He had caught her by surprise. “Sam Stark, grizzled Homicide detective, in yoga pants and a tank top?”
“You can do yoga in your skivvies, you don’t need fancy clothes.” He glanced up at Lorena and Rico again. “You see what I mean?”
“I see appreciation and friendship in her eyes when she looks at you,” Lorena said. “You are very special to her.”
She let her
mother’s words speak for her.
When Sam turned back to her, his gray eyes had softened. “I suppose I’ll keep her as my partner. Don’t know who else could handle the abuse.”
Veranda, uncomfortable with overt displays of sentiment, changed the subject back to safer territory. “Speaking of fitness, I’m heading to the gym this afternoon for some therapeutic kickboxing. Nothing like beating the crap out of Jake to relax me.” She tapped her chin, thinking about her instructor. “Of course, this could be one of those days he beats the crap out of me.”
“Ay, mi’jita.” Tío Rico rolled his eyes. “Only you could relax by fighting.”
Lorena shifted her weight, jutting out a hip. “This is why my oldest daughter has no husband.” She jabbed a finger at Veranda. “And why I still have no grandchildren.”
“Mamá, I told you. I’ll settle down when I’m ready. I have … things to do first.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Her mother crossed herself. “That horrible Villalobos cartel.”
Like an evil incantation, the mention of the name cast a pall over the group, dissipating all traces of humor from their conversation.
Guilt tugged at her and she lowered her gaze. “Someone has to stop them.”
“Let it be someone else.” Lorena’s gentle hazel eyes grew moist. “Look at Agent Esteban Lopez. I remember when he was a young man. So shy and kind. He made to fight against Hector, and you see what happened? More than thirty years later, he is still trying to arrest him. And all that time, Hector has grown stronger and richer.” Her voice trembled. “It is because Hector is … is … evil.”
She heard the fear in her mother’s voice and wanted to take it away. “No Mamá, it’s because Hector finds ways to cheat justice.”
“I am so scared for you, Veranda.” Lorena gave her a watery smile. “But I’m also proud.”
Phoenix Burning Page 19
