Faces of Evil [4] Rage (22 page)

Chet sat down beside her, wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight. “He did make you afraid. You would’ve been a fool not to be afraid. But you can’t let that fear rule you, the way your mother did. That’s the part that you have to get past.” He drew back, searched her eyes. “I don’t want to be a part of your fear, Lori. And if you’re afraid that refusing to move to the next level with me is going to make me give up”—he laughed—“that ain’t happening.”

For a long time they just held each other. No talking required. But she knew what she wanted. And he needed to know that, too.

“I vote for your place. Chester has his own room. There’s a backyard.” Not that she was looking forward to using a lawnmower. “As long as I get to do a little redecorating.”

He nodded. “You drive a hard bargain, Wells, but I can live with that.” He glanced around. “What about your place?”

“I’ll be keeping this place for a while. Just in case I find out all your man secrets and decide I can’t handle the real you.”

He laughed. “That might be a smart move.”

They held on to each other, and a comfortable silence settled around them. It felt good. Right.

“I’m worried about the Chambers kid,” Chet said eventually. “He’s only a few years older than Chester and the thought of what may have happened tears me apart.”

Lori hugged him closer. “I know. That’s the hardest part of this job. When a child is hurt or missing, it’s tough to take. I can’t imagine being a parent and having something like that happen.”

“I was just thinking about that, too.” He turned his face to hers. “If we have the time this week, we’ll pick Chester up for a few hours,” he said. “I think the two of you should spend a little time together. See how it goes.”

Lori prayed he didn’t spot the fear in her eyes. “Sure. Sounds good.” The thought sent another wave of terror roaring through her veins. She had met Chester briefly. She had looked at photo albums with Chet. But she had never sat through dinner with the child or played a game with him. Talking about him and planning for his being a part of their relationship was simple. Having the concept become a reality—this week—was way, way complicated.

What if he hated her?

8:00 a.m.

T
he weatherman on the radio warned that the heat wave would continue through the rest of the week. Birmingham was expected to sizzle.

“Lucky us,” Jess grumbled. People in general grew exceedingly more impatient and short-tempered when the temperature lingered in the triple digits. As it was, drivers turned utterly stupid between the hours of seven and nine every damned morning and then again around four in the afternoon. Dog days did not help.

Maybe she’d take First Avenue and go all the way to Twenty-fourth Street and then double back on side streets to get to the station. She knew better than to leave for work after seven. Some days it just couldn’t be helped. Her hair had totally refused to cooperate this morning. And the outlet in her bathroom wasn’t working, so she’d had to plug in her blow-dryer by the bed and dry her hair there. One of the charms of an older home. Historic, she reminded herself, a historic home. She hated for her first meeting with Mr. Louis to be a complaint about a faulty outlet. Maybe she’d just Google it and see if she could figure out the fix herself.

Why not? She was qualified with numerous weapons; how hard could it be to replace a single electrical outlet?

As she made another turn and discovered her plan had been a good one, Jess relaxed a little. There was no traffic on Twenty-fourth. Thank God. As she reached Marconi Park and the left she wanted to take, a car whipped around her.

She stamped on the brakes. “Idiot!” The sound of revving engines had her checking her mirrors. A black SUV was right on her bumper. Another roared up beside her and the imbecile who had barreled around her had now come to a near stop in front of her. She slammed on her brakes again. Her cell flew off the console onto the passenger side floor board.

“Damn it.” Adrenaline slid through her veins. She reached into her bag for her Glock. She had no choice but to stop. She couldn’t risk ducking down for her phone.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Stay calm
. Her fingers wrapped around the butt of her weapon.

A man approached her window. He leaned down and came face-to-face with the business end of her Glock, which she had leveled on him.

“May I help you, sir?” she said loud enough for him to hear through the glass.

He ignored the gun. “My name is Hector Debarros. I am unarmed, Chief Harris.”

As if to prove his words, he backed up a couple of steps, held his arms up surrender-style, and then turned all the way around. Jess knew the Debarros family from the first case she had worked after returning to Birmingham. Hector had helped Burnett find Jess when Leonardo Lopez’s twisted offspring kidnapped her. So maybe she wasn’t about to get dead.

Which was a really good thing considering she had a little boy to find, a murder case to solve, and her sister needed her.

Jess checked to see if any other traffic had come along. Nope. Just her luck. See if she took the back streets again. She cracked her window a few inches. “Let’s see some ID. Slowly,” she reminded him when he reached for his back pocket.

He removed his wallet and stepped closer to her window, a driver’s license in his hand.

Damn it. Her glasses were in her bag. “Closer,” she ordered. God, how ridiculous was this! She squinted at the photo and then the name. Then she shifted her attention back to the man’s face. “What do you want, Mr. Debarros?”

“Mr. Lopez would like to speak with you.”

“Which Mr. Lopez?” She flicked a glance at each mirror to make sure no one else was approaching her car.

“Leonardo.”

A shot of adrenaline fired through her veins. Looked as if Wesley wasn’t the only West Coaster who had decided to pay the Magic City a visit. Leonardo was the father of Salvadore and his crazy sister. Seemed daddy had come to do some housekeeping. Unfortunately he was a little too late. And he wanted to talk to the wrong cop.

“Tell him to call my secretary and make an appointment,” Jess suggested through the glass, which she had no intention of lowering any farther. Not that it would stop a bullet, but it made her feel better. She didn’t have a secretary but that was irrelevant at the moment.

Hector glanced toward the SUV behind her. “You have my word,” he assured her, but he was obviously growing nervous, there was an urgency in his voice and on his face, “that you will be safe, Chief Harris.”

Well, gee. That made her feel
way
better. “Tell Mr. Lopez that if he wants to talk he can join me on the bleachers over in the park.
You and him
. No one else.”

Before he could respond, Jess cut the wheel of her Audi sharply to the right and bounded over the curb and sidewalk. The frame of the car dragged—at least she hoped that was all that scraped the concrete. She drove straight across the ball field and to the first set of bleachers, ensuring the driver’s side door faced away from her pursuers.

She snatched up her cell and hit Harper’s number, set it for speaker and slid it into the pocket of her new dress jacket. As much as she liked this snazzy tangerine suit she didn’t want to die in it. Moving quickly, she climbed out and turned to face the two black SUVs that roared to a stop on the other side of her Audi, blocking her in. The rear doors opened. Jess prepared to defend herself, feet wide apart, both hands firm on her Glock and ready to swing into a firing position.

Hector and a man who looked to be in his late forties approached her position.

The two walked right past her car and to the bleachers. Jess tracked their movements. When the older man had taken a seat on the bottom row and Hector had climbed to the top so he could see Twenty-fourth, Jess decided it was safe enough to join the man who had gone to so much trouble to have a meeting with her.

Satisfied the others were staying put in their vehicles, Jess strode over to the bleachers. She sat down next to the man who was an older version of Salvadore, but not so much older. Leonardo was younger than she had expected. The surveillance shots she had seen hadn’t done him justice. Good looking. No visible tattoos. The elegant suit would likely pay her salary for a month. She kept her Glock palmed as she settled her hands in her lap.

The man’s dark eyes studied her for a long moment. “Hector tells me that you are a very persuasive and trustworthy woman.”

Jess lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “He tells me you’re Leonardo Lopez.” There was always the chance this could be a body double. Guys like him sometimes had numerous look-alikes for security purposes.

“As much as I would prefer not to be who I am just now, unfortunately that is beyond my power to change.”

Seemed even badass gang leaders weren’t happy when their children misbehaved.

“What would you like to talk about, Mr. Lopez?”

“Straight to the point. I admire that in a woman.”

That was probably intended as a compliment. “I also admire that trait in a man.” Where most things were concerned anyway. There was a time for foreplay but this was not it.

Acknowledging her pointed comment with a dip of his head, he said, “There are many things I can offer in exchange for leniency where my daughter’s charges are concerned.”

Jess would just bet there were. “I’m afraid you’ll need to speak with Supervisory Special Agent Duvall and Chief of Police Burnett about that. I just catch the bad guys. I don’t make deals.”

“I’m certain you can see how speaking with your friends would be quite impossible.”

There was that. “Getting your
followers
under control might help your case,” Jess offered. “You make that happen and I’ll put in a good word for you.” Sounded fair to her.

“Perhaps that step has already been taken,” he suggested. “My people have squashed the rebel movement. I’m certain you’ve noticed the lack of bodies being thrown in your path. In the past twenty-four hours there have been no reports of violence. Any others you discover will be those who choose to continue on their disobedient paths or incidents that occurred before my edict was issued.”

She couldn’t deny some truth in his words. Maybe this was her chance to confirm once and for all that Gabrielle’s death had nothing to do with his world. “I have a problem with innocent victims being used for making points,” Jess challenged.

“If you’re referring to the unfortunate murder involving the wife of one of your detectives, the jury is still out on that one. I have found no one who wants to claim credit. You can rest assured that you will be the first to know if the culprit is uncovered in my organization. You will also find justice levied.”

Surprised, she openly studied his face. “Why would you do that?” The MS-13 was the most ruthless gang on the planet. Why would the man who held a great many members on the West Coast in the palm of his hand offer to be supportive of local cops here in Alabama? She hoped Harper was hearing this, otherwise no one was ever going to believe her.

“I have a new vision,” he said, clearly pleased that she was so startled by his offer. “I am a businessman, Chief Harris. The savage tactics of the past offer little advantage in the business world. There are many ways to maintain power.”

Jess got it. He had allowed the ruthless tactics to get him where he needed to be and now he was done. Now he wanted to focus on drugs, guns, and such without all the fanfare of mass murders and the like. Well, wasn’t that just the most interesting news? Give the man a medal. A Nobel Peace Prize or something. But his need to extend his business reach would never change the heinous traditions of the Mara Salvatrucha.

“You tell Agent Duvall that if he ensures my daughter receives immunity I will give him something immensely important to him. Something to which my wayward son Salvadore has no access.”

“Does that include you?” Jess asked bluntly; might as well clarify his exact intent. “Because I’m under the impression that’s what Agent Duvall and most of the federal, state, and local agencies between here and California really want.”

Leonardo smirked. “I have something much more personal to his beloved bureau than that in mind.”

Jess looked him straight in the eye. His statement could mean only one of two things. He either knew of plans to launch attacks against the bureau or he had someone on the inside. A
mole
. Anticipation sent a new kind of shiver up her spine. “I’m all ears, Mr. Lopez.”

“I have many powerful and influential people in my operation. Some are deeply imbedded within his circle. This, I believe, will interest him greatly.”

He could be bluffing. Jess ignored the way her pulse skipped a little more swiftly. “I’m afraid he’ll need something more conclusive than innuendoes. Irrefutable evidence is the traditional requirement.”

He leaned close to Jess. The air stalled in her lungs.

“You must trust me,
lucerito
, I have much evidence.” Lopez stood. “You tell them for me, Chief Harris. Hector will know how to reach me. I will notify you if I find your killer among my people. You have my word.”