“War on drugs is a vicious cycle, I’ll give you that. I know I won’t be able to stop people from shooting, snorting, and smoking that poison. But hey, I guess I should be thankful to people like you; you give me job security.”
She points her finger at me and laughs. “There is that sharp wit again.”
I stand up. “Stay away from my case.”
Her bodyguard standing next to her yanks out a chrome Beretta with a suppressor.
A tall, beefy glass of water steps in front of me, ready to rip me in half. “Make your move, Man Mountain.”
She waves her hand. “Let her go, Carlos,” she says.
He steps aside, and I head back to the car, feeling the bullets are going to rip into my back any second, but instead, her voice calls out.
“Lobos!”
I stop and turn around, wearing a scowl on my face. “What.”
She rises from her chair and crosses her arms, staring daggers at me. “This is my last warning. Leave Radomir to me, and you shut down the Harvesters and get out of my city. Don’t make me regret letting you walk away today, or I promise you, it will not have a happy ending.”
“What, you gonna kill me if I don’t be a good little girl?”
“That was the plan after all your loved ones, of course, but now I see you don’t give a shit about life. So I will just take your loved ones from you and let you live with your mistakes. Do your loved ones a favor, Lobos. Work the Harvester case and leave Radomir to me, please.”
“I’m going after Radomir, regardless. If you want him gone, I suggest you pick up the pace.”
***
I’m heading down the road back to the FBI HQ to link back up with Munroe when I get a call. “Go ahead, Munroe.”
“We found Doctor Shaddix.”
“Let me guess, you found him dead?”
“Dead as fuck. Somebody filled his ass full of holes.”
“Give me the address, and I’ll be right there.”
Chapter 26
Shaddix residence
Munroe’s examining Shaddix’s body. The victim is sitting on a white leather couch with a hatchet buried in his face. Killer had some personal issues with the victim, making it look more like Radomir trying to silence them and sending a message to other would-be snitches. The house is trashed; the victim likely put up a fight before meeting his demise. An assassination turned sloppy, but the killer still accomplished his goal.
“Lobos,” Munroe calls out. “Look, we have a bullet hole in the backdoor.”
“Shaddix saw his attacker coming and tried to defend himself and failed.”
“When you do bad shit karma bites you in the ass in the end,” Munroe says.
“Not always. That’s why we have law enforcement.”
I spot a revolver lying on the floor with the cylinder open and spent casings scattered all over the floor a few feet away from the body. They’re several bullet holes throughout the living room. I point at the grouping of bullet holes in the walls. “The victim and shooter traded shots with each other before the killer closed the distance, and a scuffle ensued, ending with a hatchet being planted into the victim’s skull.”
A crime scene tech digs the bullet out of the front wall, and another tech digs out rounds from the wall near the backdoor. “Forty-five ACP jacketed hollow point rounds up here.”
“Three-fifty seven rounds back here,” the other tech says.
“Someone definitely heard that cannon slinging lead,” I say.
I step outside and flash my badge at the patrolmen. “Special Agent Devora Lobos DEA. Were you the responding officer?”
“That’s correct, Special Agent Lobos.”
“Did the neighbors report any gunshots?”
“Oh, hell yeah. That young couple in that house there said it was like a damn Michael Bay movie next door. The shooter was gone by the time me and my partner arrived.”
“Their names?”
“Tristan Coen and Sean Coen.”
“Thanks, officer.”
I head next door and knock on the door. Two young Caucasian men answer the door. One is slender, and his posture is very feminine. The other is built like a lightweight boxer, conveying a more masculine demeanor. “Excuse me, sirs. Special Agent Lobos DEA. You reported the gunshots?”
The feminine guy points over to the house. “That’s right. It sounded like a damn Michael Bay movie next door, so my husband called nine-one-one,” he says with a thick native Floridian accent.
“Did you see anyone fleeing the house after the gunshots stopped?”
The big guy shakes his head. “No, but my husband Tristan may have.”
Tristan sighs. “I don’t know how much help I can be, Agent Lobos. I didn’t see his face.”
“Any detail could help, sir.”
“Well, when I saw him fly out the front door, he was clutching his stomach.”
Some of that blood could be the killer’s.
“What was the shooter wearing?”
“Black T-shirt and blue jeans and black shoes.”
“Height and weight estimate?”
“Oh, he had to be six foot easily, and a swimmer’s body type.”
“Do you know anyone who would’ve wanted Doctor Shaddix dead?”
“No. He was a nice guy, always kept to himself. He came to our wedding reception a few years back. No, ma’am, you won’t find a nicer guy than Doctor Shaddix. So it’s baffling why anyone would want to kill him.”
Sean puts his arm around his husband. “Mr. Shaddix was a very outgoing and a nice guy. People round here loved him.”
It’s sickening to listen to these two gush over him like he’s the second coming of Christ, but to be fair, they don’t know what he really is. I wager when that gets out, he won’t be the local Mr. Rogers for long.
“Can you tell me anything else about the shooter?”
“I didn’t see his face, but he was wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans, and he had brown hair, and he looked like a white guy.”
“Was he driving anything?”
“I saw him speed off in a black four-door Mazda it looked like.”
“Which way?”
“He was headed back toward Miami.”
“Okay, thank you for your time, gentlemen.” I step off the porch and return to Munroe. “The couple in that house said the shooter fled the house wounded, and he was heading toward Miami. The shooter was said to be six foot and athletically built brown hair Caucasian.”
“That’s a break. If the shooter bled in the house, we should be able to get a DNA match.”
“I’ll call the hospitals in the vicinity and see if they had anyone with a gunshot wound to the stomach check in to the ER.”
“Alright, let me know if you get in anything.”
“Will do, Munroe.”
***
After forty-five minutes of calling all the hospitals in the area, there’s nothing. I should’ve known the suspect wouldn’t be stupid enough to go to a hospital. That would lead us right to him. The only hope now is to wait on the blood tests to come back.
Munroe exits the house and turns to me. “Anything?” she pushes the button on her key chain, unlocking the vehicle.
“No. I should’ve known he wouldn’t be stupid enough to check into a hospital.”
Special Agent Munroe shrugs. “Eh, always best to check. Sometimes we get lucky, and they turn stupid.”
“Blood results are going to take a bit. Can I offer you something to eat?”
“Sure, I could eat.”
“No vegan shit this time.”
“Oh, I gave that diet up. It was screwing me over in my PT exams.”
“Welcome back to the human race, Special Agent Munroe. But what about those poor animals you were going on about?”
She shrugs. “Circle of life.”
We climb into the car. “So what can ya go for?”
“I’m in the mood for Cuban food. Let’s head over to Little Havana and grab us a plat
e.”
“Sounds good to me.”
NW 7th street, Little Havana
Café Alejandra never has a crowded dining area simply because the bulk of its business revolves around takeout orders. The place hasn’t changed much since my High school years. I used to come here all the time after school and order a Cuban sandwich; however, I don’t recognize none of the staff. The place has always been family-owned, so I’m guessing this is probably their children or other family members. The server brings our Cubans and Café Bustelo, a famous Cuban coffee brand. I rip open the mustard packet and squirt extra mustard on my sandwich. Munroe seems to be content with the condiments that’s already on her sandwich. “So do you think we gotta case with just Merryweather, or did the death of the others toss a wrench in our case?”
“Honestly, Lobos. FBI wants to convict The Harvesters and Radomir. However, until we get Merryweather to play ball with us, we only have enough evidence to convict Merryweather. But to answer your question, yes, we got enough to convict Merryweather alone. Still, I want to burn down Volkov and his entire organization.”
“My original plan was to just stop the Harvesters, but if we just stop the Harvesters and ignore Radomir. He will just find more dirty surgeons to carry on his business that’s assuming the Trevino Cartel doesn’t kill him first.”
“What are you talking about?” she takes a bite of her sandwich.
“No harm in telling you this now.”
She swallows her food and takes a sip of her coffee. “Tell me what?”
“After my brother’s death, the Trevino Cartel set up a meeting and told me we had a mutual enemy, Radomir, and The Harvesters. She wanted me to focus on The Harvesters and step aside so she could kill Radomir and his crime organization.”
“Basically, wanting you to allow her to conduct her drug war?”
“Yep.”
“And?”
“And I went along with it for a while until I was partnered with you again. So recently I was contacted by her again and forced to attend another meeting. She was furious I was investigating Radomir too.”
“How’d she know you were ignoring her demands?”
“We may have a leak.”
She shoots an annoyed expression and crosses her arms on the table. “Okay, Lobos, we can’t work together if you’re going to keep me in the dark on things I need to know.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “I know that’s why I’m telling you now.”
She nods. “So… how’d the meeting go?”
I take a bite from my sandwich. “She wasn’t too thrilled I kicked her to the curb, but she knows killing another Fed would be too radioactive.” I take a bite of my sandwich.
“Another Fed? I thought Radomir killed that agent?”
“I thought so to till she told me she killed Agent Milton to frame Radomir. She’s weaponized our Law Enforcement agencies.”
“So she’s been using us as a bunch of chess pieces?”
“Basically. This tactic is standard for Cartel and any other organized crime organization, as you know.”
“I know, but it still doesn’t make me feel any less disgusted and violated.”
“I know what you mean. Makes you feel like you need a shower.”
“So she just let you walk away with no kind of retribution?”
“It would appear that way, but appearances can be deceiving. She’s not a woman who lets you see her intentions until she wants you to. That’s what I gathered from my interactions with her.”
“You put a protection detail on your friends and family, right?”
I take a sip of my coffee. “Of course.”
“Something is bothering me about the deaths of the Harvesters.”
I finish my sandwich and order another coffee. “What?”
“You said Gabriella hated the Harvesters, saw them as disgusting. Said it would benefit you and her if they’re dealt with.”
“Spit it out, Munroe.”
“What if Gabriella bugged your phone while she had you at the meeting to keep tabs on our case so she would know when to strike when we zeroed in on the suspects?”
“It’s possible, but it would seem a more logical deduction to say Radomir is silencing them. I mean, it’s no coincidence Harvesters dropped dead after we arrested Merryweather.”
“True. Either way, we won’t know anything till we identify the shooter.”
“Blood results came back yet?”
Picks up her smartphone and checks her text messages. “Not yet. However, Forensics determined the only prints left are by the victim. They’re still running the hair follicles they found too. Medical Examiner found clumps of brown hair in the victim’s fingernails.”
“Eyewitnesses said the killer had brown hair.”
Munroe briefly stares at the afternoon rush hour traffic snaking down the road. “Do you expect me to stay out of Gabriella’s way? Because The Harvesters and Radomir are a package deal for the Bureau.”
“I don’t expect you to do anything. What you do is up to you. I’m just here to shut down the Harvesters.”
“Are you going to sit there and tell me you’re willing to let a drug war rage on the streets of Miami? Just ignore the fact the Cartel killed your brother? I know he brought it on himself, but he’s still your brother.”
“My brother got himself in this shit.” Tears form in my eyes as I briefly glance away from her. “He built his own coffin.”
She lowers her head. “Lobos, I don’t buy it one bit that you don’t give two shits about your brother being murdered. No normal sister could let this go.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “Spent most of my life believing he became a rock star through actual talent, but when I learned the truth, I was sickened. I hated him, I thought seriously about just throwing him to the wolves. But I tried to clear his name. And what does he do? He kills a DEA agent and kills the mayor of Miami, and then he’s killed by the Cartel. So you know what, I did my duty as a sister. I’m done.”
“I get your angry at him, but I can see the pain welling up inside of you, Lobos. Your anger wants to say fuck this, but the sister in you is saying ‘these assholes killed my fucking brother, they must pay’ your facade of apathy is fading fast.”
Tears stream down my cheeks as I stare at two kids in a booth behind me; a boy and a girl, brother and sister; they’re sharing crayons and while they wait for their food to arrive. My vision distorts as the grief boils over. “They fucking killed him. My brother is dead. I tried to let this go, I told Gabriella I would let this go, but I can’t!”
“Surely she’s not dumb enough to think you would let this go?”
“No, it’s why I’m thinking when all this over, she going to dispose of me and my family. Hence the protection detail I put on them. I fucked up agreeing to let her have Radomir. How can I be so stupid?”
“You were angry at your brother, and in the heat of anger, you made a bad call, but you can still make it right.”
“How? Nothing I do now is going to undo anything.”
“Help me and the FBI shut down Radomir.”
“What about the Doctor Merryweather?”
“That man is pretty much hung. All we need is the DA to sign off on the deal.” Her phone pings; she briefly stares at her phone. “Blood results and hair follicles came in.” her thumb moves down the screen. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“The shooter’s not Russian.”
“Who is it?”
She holds up a picture to me. “That’s the shooter. A cartel assassin.”
That’s a face I never thought I’d see again.
Chapter 27
I shake my head in frustration after I study the photo of the clean-shaven Hispanic man.
Shit, I haven’t seen him since I was undercover in Mexico.
“Santos Castillo. That bitch was playing me this whole time.” I lower my head. “Goddamn bitch used me as a pawn in her drug war.”
“You know the man in t
he picture?”
“Yeah. He was the Sicario that helped me take down Gabriella’s rival Juan Vargas in Juarez. Funny how the past sometimes creeps right back into your life, eh?”
“Tell me about Castillo.”
“This man is no amateur. The only other person I saw with his level of skill was David Drake. Gabriella worships Santa Muerte. This man is the human incarnation of Santa Muerte.”
“You make him sound like the boogeyman.”
“If he’s marked you, then that’s exactly what he is.”
“Does he have a military background? Where’d he receive his training? Because from what you’re telling me, he’s not self-taught. Who trained him?”
I let out a sigh. “… Fort Bragg.”
“What the actual shit!”
“He’s an ex-Green Beret. The man is good at ghosting authorities.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Christ, it’s Drake all over again, Munroe.”
“Here I was thinking maybe I won’t get shot again.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “Don’t hold your breath too long.”
“You’re such a big fat comfort, Lobos.”
“Gabriella really wants Radomir gone if she brought in Santos. Xander got lucky winging him.”
“Not lucky enough.” She finishes her coffee. “I’m putting an APB on this guy. I’m not having this city get reduced to a war zone.” Her cell rings. “One second, it’s the DA.” A few minutes later, she hangs up the phone. “Okay, Merryweather is ready to talk, so let’s head back.”
***
Merryweather’s eyes lock on to us as we enter the room. “Welcome back.”
“Okay, tell us what you know about Radomir,” I say.
“Did you find my colleagues?”
The Harvesters: A Detective Devora Lobos Novel Page 15
