The Chase (13 page)

T
igo and Ryan drove through a sleazy section of town. Most Houston residents had no idea such degradation existed in their own city. Drugs, prostitution, gun smuggling, human trafficking — name it and it was there along with the smell of greed and desperation. Survival meant gang membership, and the average lifespan for males ranged in the mid-twenties.

“I told my sister what was going on in our city, but she didn’t believe me,” Ryan said.

“Did you offer a drive-through? Let her see gangs in action?”

“Yeah, but she declined after my wife filled her in on a few of my stories. But I don’t tell my wife everything, or she wouldn’t let me out of the house in the morning.”

“Another reason why I’m not married. Not so sure I could put a woman through my method of solving crimes.”

They stopped at a traffic light. Graffiti covered buildings on both sides. A young black woman walked past, her short, tight skirt revealing every inch of her body from the waist down. A skinny dog crossed the street in front of them.

“I use to think I held the record for slipping in and out of tight spots unscathed,” Ryan said. “Then you came on board, and now my adventures look like a weenie’s attempt.”

“You have a family, and I’m married to risks.”

Ryan nodded. “My family means everything to me. My job is to keep their world safe, which means taking risks. Tigo, someday you’re going to fall hard, and when it happens, you’ll see life from a different perspective.”

“So you think I’ll step down from my title as FBI’s daredevil?”

“No. You’ll be worse. It’s all about the love of family. That’s why I have no problem going deeper into the gangs to end the crime.”

“We’re a team. Know what? Someday I’d like to train other agents at Quantico. Take what I’ve learned and show them how to stay alive and bring in bad guys.”

“You’d be good. I’ve seen you work with new agents.”

The light changed, and Tigo drove through, his eyes taking in everything that moved. He wondered if a woman would ever be his motivation instead of his panoramic, save-the-world syndrome. This part of his life and his ill mother were the reasons why he remained single.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s your mother?”

How much did he say? Ryan and Linc were his closest friends, and even Linc didn’t know how serious her condition was. “She has days, possibly hours, left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why burden you with my problems?”

Ryan let out a heavy sigh. “We’re friends, and that means we aren’t too macho to talk about the junk in our lives. Don’t ignore the stats. We all need to vent the stuff that might interfere with our jobs … or our judgment.”

“Yes, Pops. I’ll keep your advice in mind.” Tigo understood Ryan’s lecture. “Hey, Mom’s physical condition has made me jumpy … irritable for a long time. I apologize for allowing it to step between what we do. She was a wonderful mother, raised me single-handedly. Her wisdom stopped me from ruining my life.”

“How’s that?”

Tigo rubbed his chin, understanding Ryan was being a textbook-perfect partner. “While in high school, I started running with the wrong crowd. Things got worse. I was the guy in charge. Got my rear into trouble too many times. I even looked at getting involved in a gang. Once, while sitting in jail and waiting for her to bail me out, she chose to visit instead. Oh, man, she lectured me for two hours then told me to rot because she refused to post bail. I walked out of there five days later and changed my ways.”

Ryan laughed. “Now I know why you’re able to think like a bad guy. What’d she tell you?”

“I’ll tell you during our next therapy session.” His cell was ringing, and he looked at the caller’s name. “I wonder what kind of mess she’s gotten herself into this time?”

“Must be Kariss.”

Tigo chuckled and turned his attention to the call. “What’s going on?”

“Somebody’s been tailing me and my sister at the Galleria.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I confronted the woman, and she threatened me. Pushed me down. She didn’t fit the type of woman here. Dressed in black. Nasty looking.”

His internal alarms sounded. “Kariss, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

He needed to see her to be sure. Hadn’t she been through enough? “Did she say anything?”

“Told me I didn’t know who I was messing with. Wanted my phone in a bad way. I think she thought I was trying to call 9-1-1.”

“Were you?”

“Uh-huh. And taking her pic. Which I got, along with fingerprints.”

“Good job. Are you heading back to the office?”

“I have a few errands to run. I could be there around four-thirty.”

“Wait for me there. We need to talk. I don’t like this, Kariss. The Arroyos might be on to you.”

“The woman could have been someone my ex-brother-in-law hired. My sister is having a few problems with him.”

“Okay. Be safe. I’ll see you later, and we’ll talk about it.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Sure hope that was nothing. She caught a woman following her and her sister at the Galleria. But our girl snapped a pic.”

“Tigo, Kariss is under your skin.”

“Right. Like a splinter.”

“Keep telling yourself she isn’t wiggling into your heart, and you might believe it.”

“You’re way off base, Ryan.” If and when he was ever interested in a woman, she wouldn’t be an over-anxious writer who couldn’t stay out of trouble. “We’re almost to Hershey’s little establishment.”

“Go ahead. Change the subject. I’ll play. I’ve been thinking about his daughter. How did she manage to rise above the culture?”

Tigo eased to a stop in front of a building converted from a gas station to a gun shop. Both businesses sold fuel. Windows were boarded, but the Discount Guns sign above the door indicated what went on inside. “I think his daughter was smart enough to see she had no future here. Instead of capitalizing on what area of crime she wanted to earn her living with, she decided to get out.”

“Any validity there?”

“Yeah. She’s the real deal. Squeaky clean. She has a younger brother who’s doing time for armed robbery. Another victim of the whole subculture thing. Before his incarceration, she paid for rehab and counseling and brought him to her part of town. But nothing worked. His DNA spells trouble. When Hershey’s daughter isn’t working with children at MD Anderson, she’s volunteering with kids at her church.”

“Someone influenced her.”

“A priest. Okay, let’s go see how our man feels about his daughter.”

The two men exited the car and walked to the gun shop, their sidearms evident in their waistbands. A couple of black men stood outside. No doubt there to defend Hershey’s honor. Ryan pressed the call button to release the door lock. When it opened, they stepped into a shadowy area filled with every type of weapon.

“Put your guns on the counter or both of you are dead men. Now.”

“F
lip on the lights, Hershey,” Tigo said. “This is your friendly FBI, and we need to talk. Unless you’d rather we haul you in for questioning.” He saw the man standing near the rear entrance. No doubt considering whether to escape or face the agents.

Lights flickered. Hershey took slow steps toward them and laid a rifle across the counter. He couldn’t be over fifty-five, but he looked twenty years older. Drugs and hard living had sliced into his face. “What can I do for you? My permits are up to date.”

“We’re looking for who might be supplying the Arroyos,” Tigo said. “Thought you could help us.”

“I run a legit business here. You know that.”

“Straw men have ways of covering their tracks.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Right.” Tigo glanced around the shop to make sure they were alone. “The problem is several shipments of AK-47s into Mexico supposedly came from this gun shop. Got the serial numbers if you’d like to see them.”

“Don’t know a thing about it. What my customers do with the guns they buy here is none of my business. Now if you’ll leave, I have things to do.”

Ryan walked around the shop, examining hand guns. “Where’s the prices on these?”

“I have ‘em in my head.”

“I bet that makes bookkeeping a pain.”

“I’m a smart man. I have good records. You can check ‘em out with a subpoena.”

“I think I will.” Ryan picked up a 9mm. “Do your customers use their names?”

Hershey scowled. “What do you think? I’d be shut down if I didn’t follow the law.”

Tigo leaned on the display case. He held more than one ace with Hershey. “I talked to your daughter the other day.”

His left eye twitched. “I don’t have a daughter.”

“Hershey, we know better. Does Cheeky?”

His eyes hardened. “What does my daughter have to do with anything?”

“Looks like the hospital where she works has a problem with someone stealing pain meds.”

“My girl doesn’t mess with drugs. She doesn’t do them or deal them.”

“We’re thinking she’s involved.” Tigo refused to release the pressure. “She could route those drugs right through her daddy’s gun shop. With the gang activity lately, the Arroyos could use some pain meds.”

“Get out of here. Don’t be involving my daughter in something illegal. When she left here, she left all of it behind.”

“When’s the last time you saw her?” Tigo said.

“Seventeen years ago. She thinks she’s better than me ‘cause she got herself some education. Maybe that’s good. Keeps her out of this part of town.”

“Oh, does it?” Tigo caught Ryan’s eye. “That’s not what we heard. Is it?”

“Nope,” Ryan said. “Got the warrant for her arrest on my desk.”

“What do you want? I have no idea where the Arroyos are getting their guns. Mine are accounted for, and I don’t know a thing about missing drugs at any hospital.”

Tigo shook his head. “I’d hate to mention her as a person of interest considering who her father is. Makes her look guilty.”

Hershey nearly came across the display case. “Keep my daughter out of this.”

“Then give us the information we need.” Tigo wanted Cheeky stopped, and he didn’t care about the cost.

Hershey’s face reddened. “I don’t know nothing.”

Tigo pressed his lips together and bore his gaze deep into the man’s eyes. “Names, Hershey. We’ll make sure your daughter’s not involved in the drug investigation.”

“You mess with Cheeky and you lose your head.”

“That’s your final word? Think about your daughter. You know … we could make this worth your while.”

“Get out of my business and leave me alone.”

“We haven’t mentioned the units you’re building to transport drugs and weapons. Guess we can handle that when we return with a search warrant.”

Tigo nodded at Ryan, and they walked to the door.
Four, three, two, one.
Tigo touched the door.

“Okay. Okay. But how are you going to explain to those outside that I’m not cooperating?”

“We’ll handle it,” Tigo said.

Hershey’s jaw clenched. “Word is one of yours is on the Arroyos’ list.”

“What for?”

“Killing three of them.”

Those bullets had Tigo’s name on them. “Then they need to be afraid, don’t they?”

“Since when are any of them afraid of cops or the FBI? Right now they’re edgy. Looking for revenge. And since someone is letting you guys know when transports are headed across the border, they’re losing money.”

“Who’s Bat?”

Hershey glared into Tigo’s eyes. “I’ve heard the name. Never met him.”

“Keep your ears open. We have reason to believe he’s supplying guns to the Arroyos. I’m also looking for the woman who’s in charge of the mules.”

Not a muscle moved on Hershey’s dark face.

“Think about helping us, and I’ll get back to you. Which is worse? The FBI knowing about your daughter, or the Arroyos?” Tigo nodded and left the gun shop. The two men outside had multiplied to four.

“Any of you know about a triple homicide on the northeast side two nights ago?” One took a step closer, and Tigo drew his weapon.

“Gang style.” Ryan pulled his Glock. “Any of you vouch for Hershey?”

They were ready for a fight.

“If you do, phone HPD. There’s a reward,” Ryan said.

One of the men spit a string of expletives. A few minutes later, they were driving out of the hot zone.

“I need to go undercover,” Tigo said. “The situation is getting worse. How long before gang warfare here looks like Mexico?”

“I’m ready when you are.”

“It’s all I can think about. Tough call when my mother’s dying.”

“What would she have you do?”

Tigo smiled. “You two talking? She’d have me bring in those killers and help stop the flow of drugs, guns, and ammo making its way across the border.”

“What’s your new disguise?”

“Not sure yet. Want to be my bodyguard?”

“Sure. I’ve missed it.”

Tigo laughed. “Now to get the word out — and the paper trail.”

“When can we get started? Or should I ask what SAC Abrams has to say about it?”

“I have to convince him. He wants me to postpone the idea. With three of the Arroyos dead, the gang will be looking for one of us to infiltrate. Even posing as a buyer is dangerous, but I’m willing to take the risk.”

“X
avier, your wife probably lied to you about being pregnant. I’m sorry, but it’s something for you to consider.” Kariss had agreed to meet him at a Fiesta store inside the loop on the southeast side of town. She and Xavier sat in her car while shoppers pushed carts full of bagged groceries to their vehicles. She needed to be honest, even as blunt as Tigo.

“From what I’ve been told, she did things while living here … stole from people … had boyfriends.” He blinked back his emotion.

Kariss reached for tissues and handed him one.

Xavier cleared his throat. “Although the police, FBI, and Gilberto think a personal search is hopeless, I believe I have a child and he or she is alive.” He shrugged. “I’d be a fool not to realize the child might not belong to me. But I can’t let it stop my search.”

Kariss attempted to separate her feelings from the truth. “If a baby exists, Delores might have sold or abandoned it like she did Benita. I know that’s difficult, but we need to be honest and look at the whole picture, Xavier. The authorities will have to find Delores before you learn the truth about your family.”

“They don’t know where to look.”

“And you do? I want to see you united with your child and justice served, but I have no idea how I can help.”

“Why were you at the FBI when Gilberto and I came to see the agents?”

She didn’t want to tell him about her book project, have him think she was using his tragedy to entertain readers. He’d think she was heartless and cruel when she wanted readers to understand the responsibility of protecting their children. She’d save the topic for another time. “I’m a writer, and I’ve been spending time at the FBI learning more about their procedures.”

“Are you writing about Benita?” The soft tone of his voice urged her on.

“Would that upset you? If it does, I won’t write a word.” And she meant it. “I didn’t know when would be the proper time to ask you.”

He settled back onto the seat. Moments ticked by. “I see you care about what happened to Benita. It’s fine. I don’t read English, but I’d like to know what you say.”

“Of course.”

“I’m sure you’ve learned much about the FBI.”

“Very little.”

“I see. What I want to say is nothing’s impossible. I’ve begun my search for Delores by looking for our old friends. Some still live in the Pine Grove Apartments, but they’re afraid to say anything to reporters or police. Many are here illegally. I’ve talked to one family, and his wife claims Delores stayed at our apartment around two months after I left. She was pregnant when she moved out. She packed up her things and left during the night, even leaving furniture behind. The woman heard Delores say she’d never go back to Mexico. She planned her future after she let Benita die. Or maybe before. Delores is smart.”

“She must have felt secure in not getting caught.” Kariss chose to ride the conversation, certain she could do nothing to bring Xavier comfort.

“I think so too. I keep asking myself if she still felt safe after the TV show. Would she go to San Antonio or Austin or maybe to a border town where she could slip back into Mexico if she feared arrest?

“At times I think I could kill her with my bare hands.” The lines in his forehead read of despair. “I know. Neither of us has answers.”

“Any other leads?”

“I’m meeting with a man who lived in the building behind us. He’s …” Xavier scratched his head. “He spent time in jail.”

“For what?”

“Drugs. Fighting. Delores liked him. He told me about her wanting to … be with him.”

Xavier didn’t need to say more.

“Are you afraid of him?”

“No. I don’t have anything he wants, and I don’t need money bad enough to break the law. We come from the same town in Mexico. Grew up together.”

“You’ve come closer to finding out where she is than the authorities.”

“I’m one of these people. They trust me. I understand their fear of the law. From here, I’m going to see Delores’s grandmother who lives in a nursing home. But her mind is bad. I hope she might say something that can help me.”

“I don’t understand why you wanted to meet with me.”

“I need everything the FBI, the police, and the Texas Rangers have in their files about Benita.”

The case wasn’t closed, but it had been a cold case. “I don’t know if the information is public since the case was reopened. Let me make a call to find out.”

Kariss spent a few minutes talking to Hillary. Asking Tigo about the case would only anger him, and she’d already irritated him once today. When the call ended, complete with Kariss agreeing to look at another one of Hillary’s story ideas, she concentrated on Xavier. “Good news. As Benita’s father, you can file a Freedom of Information Act request. This will be reviewed by the FBI’s legal department to determine what can be released to you, based on the privacy laws. Statements made from living persons may not be released. The agent I spoke to suggested going to the FBI website.”

“But the statements made by living people would be the ones I’d need to find Delores and my child.” Desperation was woven into his words.

“Possibly. But that’s the law. You could search through their website for more information.”

“The last time I looked, it wasn’t in Spanish.” He stared out the passenger window for several seconds. “No one believes my child is alive. They pity me instead of offering encouragement. ‘Go back to Mexico. Start your life over.’ “

“I’m sorry. I really am. All I can do is point you in the direction of the law. I’d like to help, but what can I do?”

“Please. My stay in this country is limited. At any time, I can be escorted across the border. I must work night and day, and I can’t do it alone. I beg of you.”

Kariss remembered the years she’d wondered about Cherished Doe’s identity. That passion had followed her to the FBI and persuaded them to reopen the case. She recalled the hope after the press conference, and the swirling of rekindled emotion during the viewing of Univision’s program. But the thought of investigating anything on this side of town brought a swirl of acid through her stomach. The raw memories about the Arroyos who wanted her dead couldn’t be willed away. Yet how could she abandon Benita’s little brother or sister?

“I’ll do my best. I can’t make any promises.”

Kariss drove back to the FBI office to talk to Tigo about the woman who’d assaulted her when she was with Vicki earlier. She’d been careful not to touch the phone where the woman’s fingerprints were present.

Inside, Tigo sat at his desk. His mood looked to be friendlier. She reached inside her purse and gave him a twenty-five-dollar Starbucks gift card.

“Another peace offering,” she said.

He glanced up with a half smile. “I can’t take this. Looks like I’m being bribed.”

“Would I attempt to bribe a member of the FBI?”

“I’m a pretty good judge of character, and you look guilty.”

She placed the card in front of him. “Call it appreciation. I know I’m a real pain, and my enthusiasm gets in the way of common sense.”

He settled back in his chair. “I’m rough for a reason. I hope you’ll consider a vacation until this is over. You’re getting in too deep.”

The sincerity in his eyes touched her, and if she allowed logic to make its way from her head to her actions, she’d book a flight out to anywhere. But she’d agreed to help Xavier. “I’ll think about it.” She reached inside her purse and carefully pulled out her cell. “I’m hoping this provides another lead.”

He had a plastic bag on his desk, and she dropped her cell into it. “Ready to take a walk?”

“Yes. I have some bad news. The pic I took? Well, all I got was her hand.”

“That’s not so bad. We have fingerprints, and the pic might also give us a clue to her identity.”

She sighed. “Good. Amateur detective work is not my forte.”

“Glad you understand your professional expertise. What does your sister know?”

“Nothing. She thinks the woman was someone her ex-husband paid to follow her.”

His curious look spurred her on.

“Her ex-husband paid her a few visits after moving in with his live-in, and now Vicki’s pregnant. His live-in recently gave birth to a child of his as well, which makes the situation very messy.”

“I get it.” He stood and gestured toward the door. “Let’s see if we can ID this woman.”

“I’m getting to be a pro at this.”

“I’d rather think this is the last time you give information to the facial recognition team.”

“Believe me. I hope this woman is linked to my ex-brother-in-law. What she said today could apply to Vicki or me.”

The woman’s fingerprints were not in the system. Neither did the likeness Kariss gave to the FBI artist reveal a wanted face. Neither did the black rose tattoo on her arm offer any clues to her identity.

A vacation sounded increasingly appealing to Kariss.

“Tell me about this ex-brother-in-law.”

She lifted a brow. “Are you going to pay him a visit?”

He laughed. “Do you ever step outside your world of story?”

“This is different. It’s my story. Wyatt Phillips is a commercial real estate broker and has actually weathered the recession.”

“Where is his office?” Tigo picked up his pen.

“West side, off the Katy Freeway.” She pulled out Wyatt’s card that he’d given her a long time ago when he wanted her to meet him for lunch. Not sure why she’d kept it.

“Too late to catch up with him today, but I’ll introduce myself to him on Monday.”

“Is following someone illegal?”

“No. But paying someone to assault another is.”

Weary from the stress of the week, Kariss entered her condo, tossed her keys onto the counter, and headed straight to her bedroom, peeling off her clothes as she went. Maybe she should time how long it took her to perform the task when she was so exhausted.

Why am I thinking about this?

She needed to work on her book. But nothing lofty would happen tonight. She didn’t have the energy to accomplish anything.

Kariss rolled back the pink-and-white comforter on her bed. This would be a “Special K for dinner and watch a love story on TV” night before she drifted off to sleep.

Wait … she needed to check email. She made the trek back to the kitchen for her cereal and to grab her computer from the kitchen table. The agent she’d queried should have responded. With a deep breath, she crawled into bed, the coolness of the sheets lulling her into utopia. Closing her eyes, she tasted the first bite of Special K with pecans. Skim milk of course. She might have to dive into the cookies-and-cream ice cream in the freezer. But first things first.

Her inbox contained the normal spam and fan email. So nice to be loved and appreciated.

There it was. Kariss’s heart pounded, and she clicked on the message.

A computer-generated response.

Kariss reread the message. Were they clueless as to Kariss Walker’s status in the publishing world? And since when did the amount of publicity and promotion funds have a thing to do with a literary agency? She reached for the phone to call. No. Why would she want to embarrass them? Hitting Reply, she typed a brief email indicating who she was and her status on the
Times
bestsellers list.

Within a few minutes, she received the same computer-generated response. What a technologically deficient way to conduct business. She should toss her laptop into the gulf and flip hamburgers for the rest of her life.

Her mother’s words marched across her mind.
Pride cometh before a fall.
Had her mother prayed Kariss’s career in secular writing would fail? No … her mother wouldn’t do such a thing.

But her father might.