Читать книгу Stand Down - Don Pendleton - Страница 10

Deputy Rojas Quintanar didn’t waste any time calling his superiors once he left Matt Cooper at the newspaper. But he wasn’t reporting in to the sheriff. Instead, he speed-dialed a number that connected him to the Cristobal complex. “De Cavallos.”

“This is Rojas. We may have a problem.” He quickly outlined the confrontation with Everado outside the restaurant, and his subsequent conversation with Matt Cooper at the Gazette building. “If this guy is who he claims to be, it’s pretty coincidental that an ex-PMC guy just happened to wander into our town for lunch.”

“What’s your take on him?”

“Definitely ex-military—he’s got the bearing. He may be who he says he is, but he could be government too, possibly trying to insert as deep cover. He seemed pretty interested in finding work, so perhaps we can reel him in that way, and take care of him on our turf if necessary.”

“I’ll run a check on him, see what comes up. Find out where he’s staying and make sure someone’s keeping tabs on him,” De Cavallos said.

“All right. Also, please keep Everado from doing anything loco. We don’t need him attracting any more attention than he already has.”

“You concentrate on doing your job, Rojas, and let me worry about my son, understand? How are you doing finding the girl?”

“We’ve been combing the entire town and are watching the house—”

“Wait a minute, you think she’d actually go back to the homestead where her parents died?”

“We’re covering all the bases, just in case. We’re also monitoring her friends’ homes and their cells in case she contacts anyone, but so far she hasn’t popped up anywhere.”

“Damn it, you need to find her, and quick. If she saw anything last night and talks to anyone, you’re screwed.”

“Don’t worry about it. The second she appears, we’ll be all over her.”

“You better be. I’d hate to have to lose such a good deputy over this.”

Quintanar swallowed hard. He knew De Cavallos didn’t mean he’d be facing criminal charges. If he was lucky, he’d end up in a shallow grave somewhere on the prairie. If De Cavallos was really pissed, there was always the microwave oven… The deputy shuddered at the thought. “Like I said, we’re on it. Besides, where’s she gonna go?”

“Who knows? She’s a kid who just saw her parents get killed. Did you check on other family?”

Quintanar frowned, letting a bit of annoyance creep into his tone. “Of course. She’s got grandparents in Lincoln, Oregon, but she hasn’t contacted them yet. If she does, we’ll triangulate the call and go get her.”

“Let’s hope that’s exactly what happens. You let me know the moment you have a lead on her. And be sure to tell those brothers of yours that I want her alive. We’ll need to know she hadn’t told anyone anything before we take care of her.”

“Yes, Mr. De Cavallos.” Quintanar disconnected the call, resisting the urge to slam the cell phone against the steering wheel. That girl was the only loose end in what had been a perfectly planned operation, and every hour she was missing was more time that she could be talking to someone about what she had seen. They had searched the house thoroughly, but found no trace of her. Maybe one of her friends might be able to get in touch with her. Hell, maybe one of her friends could get her to come out of hiding, he thought.

Pulling back onto the road, he dialed Everado’s cell. “Hola, Everado. Yeah, well…if you hadn’t been acting so macho, I wouldn’t have had to shut you down like that. But I got a way for you to get out of this little mess with your old man…I’ll tell you, if you just shut up and listen for a minute…”

CASEY TRIED TO KEEP her anger in check as she drove toward the newspaper building again. Glancing over at her daughter, she found Connie staring out the window, tinny music playing through the earbuds attached to her brand-new iPod Touch, which Casey hadn’t bought, and Connie didn’t have the money for. At a stop sign, she reached out and yanked the left one from the girl’s ear.

“What is your problem?” Connie turned to glare at her mother, snatching the bud out of her hand.

“What the hell do you think is my problem? Skipping school to hang out with that Everado boy? Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

Connie rolled her eyes. “Gee, Mom, since you never tell me anything, no, I don’t have any idea. Why is seeing him dangerous? Is it because he’s a Mexican?”

“No, that’s not it, but…” Casey stopped, wanting to tell her daughter of her suspicions about Cristobal, but knowing she couldn’t risk it. There was no way Connie would keep her mouth shut about it, and then they would be as dead as the rest of the town would be if the word ever got back to the heads of the company that someone was talking.

Instead, she took the opposite tack. “Look, honey, I’m just concerned about you. Everado’s from a wealthy family—”

“Yeah, and we’re poor white trash. Thanks for reminding me.” Connie crossed her arms and stared out the window again.

Well, at least she included me in that assessment, Casey thought. “No, dear, that’s not what I was saying at all. I’m just worried that he might consider you a—” with no delicate way to say it, she plunged ahead “—just a way to pass the time here.”

Connie’s head whipped toward her again. “Is that what you think—that I’m just some norteamericano slut to him?”

“Absolutely not—”

“You’re damn right! Everado loves me. He told me so himself!”

Oh great, just what I want to trust—the word of a spoiled young man one step away from the drug trade, Casey thought. “All right, dear, I hear you, and no doubt he believes that as well—”

“Of course he believes that, why wouldn’t he? I can’t believe I’m hearing this!” Connie looked like she was about to jump out of the battered Ford Bronco at the next light. Casey reached over and put her hand over her daughter’s—not grabbing it, but simply getting her attention.

“Sweetheart, listen to me. You and I have had this talk before, the time when Peter left, remember?”

Her daughter’s face twisted in anger and hurt for a moment, then she smoothed over her pretty face and nodded.

“And you remember what we told each other—that neither of us would lose sight of who we are for a man—any man. I just want you to keep that in mind, okay? You may find this hard to believe, but I know a thing or two about love, and what it can do.” Casey ignored her daughter’s eye roll and kept talking. “And I know how hard it is to keep in mind what’s real and what’s not.”

Peter sure did a damn good job of blurring that line, she thought. “I want you to keep your eyes open in this relationship, okay?”

Connie shook her head. “Don’t worry, Mom. I know what I’m doing. Everado is like any other guy—more concerned with his macho reputation than anything else. But I know he really cares for me, and I care about him too.”

Oh, the certainty of the young, Casey mused, resisting shaking her head. The only thing to do now was to accept her daughter’s pronouncement as sincerely as she could. “Of course you do, honey. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I just want you to be careful in what you do with him. Can you promise me that?”

Connie looked at her mother like Casey had just sprouted another head. “You aren’t going to do a reprise of the ‘birds and bees’ speech, are you?”

Casey grinned. “No, once was enough. I trust that you’re smart to take the appropriate precautions. But you’re still in trouble for skipping school.”

“Aw, Mom…”

“No buts, young lady. I will not have you slinging hash here or working a checkout counter at the local dollar store because you didn’t finish high school. You are graduating, and you are getting out of here and going to college.”

Casey felt Connie’s stare on her. “And what if Everado said no?”

Casey inhaled, then lobbed the question back at her daughter. “What if he did?”

Her daughter shook her head, blond hair gleaming in the sun. “There isn’t a man alive who’s gonna tell me I’m not going to college.”

“That’s my girl—but you’re still grounded for two weeks.”

“What? Oh, come on, Mom—”

“One more word outta you and it’s a month.”

Connie opened her mouth, then realized silence was the better part of valor and closed it again.

“All right. Look, I gotta head back to the office and finish up the work that I was interrupted in the middle of by the call to get you. You get started on your homework, and we’ll grab a pizza on the way home.”

“Mmm. Mexican from Rollins’s, with extra sour cream?”

“Sure, dear.” Casey let out her breath, pleased to have navigated that conversational minefield with her daughter. They were just within sight of the newspaper building when Connie’s cell phone rang.

“Hello?…hey, Everado…I know, I know, don’t worry about it…we’ll talk later…really?” She cupped her hand over the mouthpiece. “He says Deputy Quintanar wants to talk to me about the Bittermans.”

A cold ball of ice coalesced in Casey’s stomach. “What about?”

“I don’t know—hold on.” She put the phone back to her ear. “Why?…Well, yeah, I knew her, but not well…she was kinda stuck up, if you know what I mean—all right, all right, if he’s there, I expect we’ll talk to him…okay…bye.” She flipped the two-year old clamshell phone closed. “The deputy thinks I might be able to reach Kelly on her cell if I call her.”

“I thought you told Everado that you didn’t know her that well.”

Connie shrugged. “We were on the forensics team together for a year, so she knows of me. I can get her number. Hey, maybe I could say that you want to talk to her, get her side of the story.”

A small ray of hope bloomed in Connie’s stomach next to the ice. As much as she didn’t want her daughter involved in the “investigation,” if the deputy was going to officially request Connie’s assistance, and Casey could gain something by it anyway, then there was no reason not to try and turn lemons into lemonade.

“We’ll see, dear. Let’s keep that idea between you and me for the time being.” Casey spotted Quintanar’s cruiser parked outside the Gazette building. “Let’s see exactly what the deputy wants, and we’ll go from there, okay?”

JACK BITTERMAN AWOKE to find himself duct-taped to a chair in an empty, rectangular, metal-walled room, still dressed in the light blue button-down shirt and black slacks he’d left the office in to go home and get his family the night before. His shoulder and arm throbbed unmercifully, and he glanced over to see a large, drying bloodstain running down his shirt. The lower legs of his pants were stiff and crusted, and as the memory of the past few hours crashed down upon him, he realized that his clothes were sticky with his dead wife’s blood.

He didn’t have time to reflect or grieve about it, however, because the large metal doors at the end of the room opened to reveal three men—two outfitted in security uniforms and carrying three tires, and the third one dressed in a charcoal-gray suit. The two men took up positions on either side of Jack and set down the tires. The suited man stepped forward into the light.