Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (182 page)

He shut his eyes.

Connected with Riley’s soul.

It surprised him, how deep was the love a puppy felt for her master, how intense the memories. But there they were, strong as any human’s if not stronger. He had to take care not to send too much light into so young a puppy.

A tear slid down Nick’s cheek.

Joy and sadness.

“Get up, Riley,” he whispered. The light left him. The puppy’s breathing returned to normal, and she lifted her head.

“Riley?” Matthew’s face was alight with joy and wonder. “Riley!”

She rolled to her feet and let out a happy bark. Tail wagging furiously, she leapt into Matthew’s arms and proceeded to bathe his face with puppy kisses. Matthew finally managed to lower her enough to look up at Nick.

“Wow, mister! That was awesome!”

“Be careful crossing the street, okay?”

“Thanks for fixing up Riley. She’s good as new.” He smiled big and offered Nick an outstretched hand.

He’d already revealed himself, might as well. Nick shook his hand. “Don’t mention it...” Just then, the Hartwell’s front door opened. “
Really
, don’t mention it.”

“Matthew?” Elaine Hartwell called from across the street.

“Over here, Mom.”

She started for the street. “What are you doing there? And who is that man?”

Nick straightened up. He’d have to remain visible now that they’d seen him too.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Hartwell, I was just helping Matt—”

She reached them and took Matthew by the arm. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then how do you know us? And what are you doing talking to my son?”

“Everyone knows you. From the television shows, the radio, your books—”

“What books? Nobody knows about that yet.”

Oops.

“I mean your husband’s books.”

“He saved your son!” From a second-floor window an elderly woman pointed down to the street. “Your boy nearly got hit by a car. Twice! That nice man just came out of nowhere and pulled him out of the way and...Hey, your dog! I thought it got—”

“Thank you!” Nick called out. “But really, anybody would have done it. Have a nice day!”

Hartwell now joined them. While he and Elaine asked their son what had happened, Nick tried to slip away. But the preacher stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Excuse me.”

Nick sighed, then turned around to face him.

“Yes?”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Hartwell said. “England, Australia? Sorry, I always mix up the accents.”

“It’s you Americans who’ve got the accent.”

Hartwell smiled. “I guess. Hey, Matthew just told me what you did.”

“I assure you he’s exaggerating.”

He took Nick’s hand and instead of shaking it held it firmly for a moment.

“I can’t thank you enough. What you did for my son…”

And the dog?
“Nothing any decent person wouldn’t do.”

“I don’t know what we were thinking, how we let this happen. But thank you.” A wet sniff. “I wish there was something we could do.”

Nick took back his hand. “Keep an eye on him.”

Hartwell laughed. “I’ll do that. Hey, why don’t you come on over? I’ll fire up the grill and we’ll have some burgers. I’d love to get to know the man who saved my son’s life.”

“Thank you, but—”

“I insist.”

Matthew stepped away from his mother and walked up to them.

“Please?”

Between Riley’s and Matthew’s puppy dog eyes, all was lost.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MARIA HAD DRIVEN ALMOST AN HOUR and a half from Chula Vista to San Clemente, where she was stuck in a log jam at the checkpoint on the I-5 north. For most of the drive she’d heard Alfonso’s scream behind the door just before the gunshot that ended his life.

Lito hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he might as well have.

If you kissed up to him, he’d throw thousands of dollars at you or take care of a problem for you. But watch out if you crossed him, lied to him, or broke his rules. Who did he think he was, God?

She’d probably benefit from seeing Dr. Kramer, but right now she was too upset. Her therapist would try to help her get perspective on what had happened, do the right thing, not let her emotions rule. Well, she was in no mood to do what was right, and she could no more control her emotions than she could stop the tide.

Gray clouds obscured the ordinarily bright sky that made the waves off the coast sparkle like diamonds. Like the diamonds on the ring Alfonso had given her last night at
Casa del Oro
in Old Town. Surrounded by a touristy Mariachi band, he got down on one knee and proposed. And of course she accepted, to a chorus of cheers and music and wine and...

Maria put her car in park and wiped her eyes. She’d tried to stop Alfonso’s screams in her head by listening to a sermon by Jonathan Hartwell, whose event at Cabrillo Stadium she planned on attending—her first time hearing him speak live in San Diego. It hadn’t worked. Today nothing could lift her from the turmoil into which Lito’s pig-headed arrogance had cast her.

The ring on her finger, a symbol of Alfonso’s devotion, now served only as a painful reminder of her brother’s cruelty. She slammed the steering wheel over and over.

“Damn you, Lito! Damn you to hell!” All her life he’d been overbearing, overprotective, with his overinflated sense of honor. According to him, he’d done everything “
for your own good,
hermanita,
” but she knew damned well everything he did was for one reason.

Power.

He’d killed Alfonso just to assert his power. To demonstrate that no one better cross Lito Guzman or mess with his property. And that’s all she was to him, right? Property. She might as well have been his dog, for all he cared. Maria had had enough of Lito’s control. Enough of his power trips, pathetic overcompensation for his short stature.

You’re not the only Guzman who can get things done.

She reached inside the center console and grasped it: cold, hard, deadly. The feel of the gun sent a tingling chill from her fingertips straight to her scalp.

But a stolen weapon was not enough to get her the justice she needed. For that she’d decided to go to her cousin Joey Hernandez. He could help.

She took the gun out, caressed the barrel, felt the tension in the trigger. God should not mind one bit if she rid the planet of such a wicked man, even if he was her brother. And would Papi turn in his grave? Ha! Maybe he’d thank her.

Carefully, she laid the gun on the passenger seat. A white flash lit the pewter sky followed almost immediately by a thunderclap. Then a heavy downpour of rain, so heavy she didn’t hear the CHP officer rapping on her window.

“Ma’am?”

She threw some papers over the gun, then opened the window.

“Is there a problem, officer?”

“You’re parked.”

Maria glanced over at the passenger seat. The papers only half concealed the gun.

“Parked?”

“You’re holding up traffic, ma’am.”

Glancing into her rearview, she noticed what had been there the last time she looked—an endless line of cars, their windshield wipers now whipping aside the rain.

Back to the officer: “But we’ve been this way for—”

“Ma’am, please?” While he looked in front of her car, pointing, Maria grabbed a sweater from the back seat and threw it on top of the gun and papers. Then she looked.

“Oh.”

A wide open lane was ahead of her.

Now she could hear the horns honking behind her, the drivers annoyed at her stopping for what had to have been a few minutes.

“I’m sorry, I must have dozed off.” She quickly shifted into drive.

“You going to be all right?” the officer asked.

“Yes...I just received some bad news. Wasn’t paying attention, that’s all.” Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her ears. But he couldn’t see the gun.

“Be careful. Freeway’s going to be slick.” He tipped his hat and started walking back to the checkpoint.

As she drove off, she turned on Jonathan Hartwell again.

“...and I say to you now...Your best days are just ahead, and closer than you think”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

IT MADE LITTLE SENSE NOW, but the first thing Yuri did after seeing Jonas’s corpse was to try and pull it back on board—until the sickening vibration of the dead skipper’s neck bones deterred him. He rushed back down to the hold, sloshed around in the water, and found a flashlight in a toolbox that floated by and banged into his shin.

He swept the entire compartment from edge to edge. The water, he found, was deeper on one end and shifted each time the boat shifted. The flashlight beam disclosed several dead fish floating by his ankles, their eyes and mouths open wide in an expression that made him think of Jonas, still hanging on the side of the boat. With a shudder, he shook the image from his mind and continued to search the hold.

The crate which held his precious cargo must have broken open during last night’s storm. The only thing in it was packing materials and splinters, one of which caught under his thumbnail. Yuri cussed in Russian.

I’m sorry, Mommochka.

She hated it when he used “vulgar” language because she believed, deep down, that he was good. Not so his stepfather—Sascha had beaten him almost every day of his childhood.
You’re worthless, useless, you’ll never amount to anything.
Deep down, he’d always believed Sascha.

He’d made ten-year-old Yuri steal liquor from the corner store, then forced him to watch dirty videos with him, taught him to drink, smoke, deal drugs, and worse. By the time he was fourteen, he’d experienced more debauchery than most men would in a lifetime.

And Mommochka knew.

But she couldn’t do anything about it. Sascha blackmailed her with an ongoing threat to Yuri’s life should she ever tell anybody, try to stop him, or leave. And with all the beatings she took from him, Yuri had no doubt he would kill her, too.

Naturally, the first person Yuri ever killed without being paid was Sascha. But it was too little, too late. His mother was dying in the hospital from lung cancer, Yuri holding her hand till her last breath, when he whispered with tears in his voice, “You’re free at last, Mommochka.”

Damn, he was
crying.

He hadn’t thought of his mother for so long, and now was no time to start looking to the past. He had to find the package, find a way to get this ridiculous boat back to dry land.
God, if you help me get to Mexico safe I promise this will be the last
—

Something gently bumped the back of his ankle.

He whirled around with the flashlight.

Floating like a rectangular life preserver was the suitcase containing the components for the package he was delivering.

“Thank you!” he cried, then grabbed the suitcase.

There was hope after all. Someone might rescue him if he could get onto Jonas’s radio. He hurried up the steps to search for it.

Having gotten past the border authorities of at least four countries and survived the deathly grip of the Pacific Ocean, Yuri now felt invincible. Not even Jonas had survived—the madman of the seas now hung like some gruesome ornament from his own boat. Yes, Yuri would get to his destination, complete his job, and become obscenely rich in just a few days.

Nothing could stand in his way now.

Except for the large white ship with a large red diagonal stripe and a thin blue one that now stood at the fishing boat’s bow with the words U.S. Coast Guard emblazoned on its hull.