Revealing Silver (9 page)

Gabriel had been arrested and jailed countless times before. Usually, he’d be held overnight, his lawyer would work his magic, money would change hands, favors would be cashed in if necessary, and then he’d be home in time for breakfast. At most, arrests were minor inconveniences that actually had the happy side effect of allowing a full night’s sleep—usually there were too many fires to put out for that. He’d devoted his entire life to summoning the Silver Maiden. He’d started with the modest fortune his father, a small-time drug runner, had managed to save over the years, and a handful of stories Marisol whispered to him over and over again when they were children. His work was never over, and so when the authorities managed to get him behind bars, he enjoyed the reprieve. He emerged from his cell well-rested, ready to pick up where he left off, secure in the knowledge that the wheels kept turning even in his absence.

His organization was too big now to fall just because he wasn’t at the helm. No matter how determined or dedicated, Detective McGuire would never have the resources, time, or intelligence to dismantle it. Nobody could. That was the brilliance of it. But he hadn’t been eager to test that hypothesis, and each second he spent in jail now passed like an eternity.

The only person he was allowed to see was his lawyer, and even Charles Preston, Esquire, wasn’t allowed to come and go as he pleased. He visited once a day, only staying an hour. Of course he was thoroughly patted down before and after he left the tiny, locked meeting room. Gabriel also had to endure an annoying check before he was allowed to return to his cell, shuffling down the hall with his ankles shackled together. He was pretty sure the time limit was a violation of his civil rights, but nobody else seemed particularly concerned about it. When he mentioned it, the guard in charged snorted and suggested he “tell it to the judge.”

Charles brought what information he could, given the constraints imposed on them, but Gabriel didn’t care. He was waiting on two pieces of news alone. His release date and Marisol’s whereabouts. If she’d been successful, Gabriel wouldn’t be left twiddling his thumbs behind iron bars, hoping sooner or later his idiot lawyer—and Charles’s equally idiotic team—would get the charges dropped or pled down. His attempt to pay off the judge at the bail hearing had been unsuccessful to say the least, and his own record supported McGuire and Olivia Wright’s testimony that he was a flight risk. Wasn’t that why he kept Charles on retainer for an astronomical fee? So shit like this wouldn’t happen?

With nothing to fill his hours, not even a pad and a pen, he had a great deal of time to think about the events that landed him there. He’d been so, so close. At the very end of his career, poised to begin his next life, his real life, and the Keeper hauls him off in cuffs. He should have been basking in the love and light of the Silver Maiden, worshipping her with Marisol at his side. But now everything was falling apart. If Marisol had returned, she hadn’t been in contact with anybody. Since she wouldn’t let him languish in jail without a word, Gabriel was forced to conclude she was still preparing the girls. There couldn’t be any other option that explained a delay in her preparations. He wouldn’t accept any other explanation.

Not even from himself.
The preparations should be done now.
He silenced that voice, even though it was the echo of his father. His father had never steered him wrong or put him on the incorrect path. Listening to that voice had even saved his life a few times. Marisol should have knocked down the whole city block to rescue him. And she wasn’t quite as sentimental as he was. He might be tempted to show mercy to Olivia, and maybe even Remy, but nothing would move Marisol to the same consideration. She’d destroy all of the Silver Maiden’s enemies, including McGuire, Pierce, the delightful Remy, and the Keeper herself.

Patience. Patience. Wasn’t that what Marisol always whispered in his ear when the call of the coins became too much to bear and he felt like he was dying for the Silver Maiden? Just for the sight of her. He used to be patient. Back when he had an empire to build and all the time in the world, he understood patience. Good things came to those who were willing to wait, who sacrificed the short-term pleasure for long-term gain. But he believed his days of sacrifice to be over, and he didn’t want to wait another night.

Other than McGuire, Gabriel had no visitors on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or the day after. He’d received gifts from his family, each one torn open and quickly searched before they allowed him to take the tokens. The year before, he’d thrown one of the largest Christmas parties in Los Angeles, surrounded by some of the most powerful men in the area. Not the business owners and the politicians, but the ones who gave them purpose. The criminals, the families that looked the other direction, the traffickers, the pimps, the weapons dealers. They were the ones who kept the billion-dollar corrections industry rolling in the state. Now he was with the other half.

He was beginning to feel quite unloved and unappreciated, not to mention concerned about the plan, when Olivia herself arrived to speak to him. Gabriel couldn’t contain his smile of delight when she stepped into the room, the very picture of health and professionalism. He had to admit, as much as he disliked McGuire and his ex-partner, he heartily approved of their taste in women. Remy was a piece of work. Clearly a descendant of the Silver Maiden. But Olivia was something else altogether. A woman who got the best of him without even being aware of the true power she wielded. He found her more than a little attractive. But then, how could he not get turned on by a woman who stared down the barrel of gun without so much as a gleam of fear in her eye? He lived because she’d allowed him to live. Just the thought made his groin tighten. “When the guard told me I had a visitor, I thought it would be the rather dour Detective McGuire. He’s a deeply unhappy man.”

“He’s not the topic of our conversation today,” Olivia said curtly, sitting in the chair across from him.

“That’s a shame. I think we have a lot to discuss. I’d love to trade notes.”

“Know him well, do you?”

“I know him well enough. He’s been hunting me for ten years. And I’ve been staying one step ahead.” Gabriel leaned forward. “But when somebody walks that close to you for so long, you form a deeper understanding.”

“I’m not interested in your opinions on Detective McGuire.”

“What are you interested in?”

“I have some questions for you.”

“Is this an interrogation? Because I’m not going to answer anything without my attorney present.”

“No, this isn’t an interrogation. You don’t have to say anything at all. I wanted to show you something.”

Gabriel shrugged and brushed imaginary grime from his orange jumpsuit. “I hope it’s something interesting. There’s been so little to occupy my time for the past few days.”

“I think it’s quite interesting myself. In fact, one of the most interesting cases I’ve ever seen.” She put a folder on the table and flipped it open. “Go ahead. Have a look.”

He sighed, pulling it closer. There was no harm in glancing at what she’d brought. It was at least something to disrupt the monotony of his day and give him something new to think about. But his indifference evaporated when he reached the third picture and realized who he was looking at. He knew all the girls Marisol had identified as being part of the sacred lines. He considered himself like a distant stepfather, or maybe a loving but busy uncle. Somebody who lavished them with gifts on holidays and saw to their basic needs, but didn’t necessarily have anything to do with them on a day-to-day basis. Even so, he knew their names, their favorite colors, their preferred movies and books, even what they liked to eat for dinner.

“What is this? A trick?”

“Not a trick.”

“It has to be a trick.”

“I assure you, Mr. de los Rios, it’s not a trick.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this girl isn’t dead.”

“According to the body in the morgue, you’re quite mistaken on that point.”

“No. No, she’s not…” Gabriel closed the file and pushed it away from him. “She’s not.”

“Well, you can say that until you’re blue in the face. It doesn’t change the facts. Fingerprint and dental records have confirmed this is Sophe Saucedo. She was murdered by a blunt object. It connected with her head hard enough to fracture the skull and she probably bled to death in minutes. If the massive brain trauma didn’t do her in first.”

“You’re mistaken. The fingerprints are mistaken.”

“No, I’m afraid there’s no mistake. Because of you, this girl is dead. She probably died alone and scared. And very far from home. I don’t know if you saw the most interesting detail, but they think she might have been dead for quite some time. A decade, in fact.”

Gabriel swallowed. That couldn’t be. Marisol would never hurt the girls. They were far too rare, too precious, to even harm a hair on their heads. Things had gotten a little out of control with Stacy, unfortunately, but they never meant to harm her. The man responsible for putting her in the hospital had reached his own unfortunate end. Marisol had spent years and years of her life tracking the girls down, and another seven years caring for them, living with them, raising them into young women who could serve the Silver Maiden with pride and dedication.

“She was shoved into a freezer,” Olivia continued. “Possibly while she was still alive. Yesterday a passing motorist discovered her on the side of the road. Now, who would dump a body on the side of the road? Can you think of why anybody would want to do that?”

“I don’t know anything.”

“We both know that’s a lie. I can’t prosecute you for this, Gabriel. I have no physical evidence linking you to the crime, and while kidnapping is prosecutable, forcing girls to travel back in time isn’t. I don’t think you want the other girls to die. I think if you were willing to take that chance, you would have killed Stacy. But you didn’t.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Yes, you do. Why would Marisol kill this girl?”

“She wouldn’t.”

“But she did,” Olivia pressed.

“No. She would never do that.”

“Who else would shove a girl into a freezer to be discovered on Christmas Day in 2010? Maybe you’re right, and some unknown third party killed this particular girl. Would he have stopped there? Don’t you think the other girls might in trouble? Or Marisol herself?”

Gabriel met her unwavering gaze, wondering if she could look right through him. The Silver Maiden’s powers were rumored to include a variety of abilities, including mind reading. But no, if Olivia could read his mind, she wouldn’t be looking at him so calmly right now. The images he had of her would make even the most hardened cold case detective blush and shift uncomfortably.

“Where would she have kept her? Give me an address, Gabriel.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I won’t stick another murder charge to your long, long list of offenses.”

“You don’t have the evidence to make the charge stick.”

Olivia leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Do you think you’re the only one who has friends in high places? You’re willing to play dirty. Well, Mr. de los Rios, so am I. Tell me where she would store a body for ten years.”

“I can tell my lawyer you threatened me.”

“You could. But you won’t.”

“I don’t know where she could have kept the body.”

“I don’t know what you hope to gain by lying to me. And aren’t you a little bit curious to know what happened? I know this wasn’t part of the plan. I saw your face when you realized who the girl was. Something’s gone wrong and you know it.”

Gabriel had learned at a young age that sometimes it was best to shut his mouth and keep it shut. Olivia wasn’t going to get another word from him, and he didn’t care what she threatened him with, or what she claimed to know. He knew the truth. Marisol would not kill the priestesses.

“Tell me where she’d keep the girl if she had to. If there’s no evidence she was storing the body there, then you know it wasn’t her.”

Gabriel compressed his lips and shook his head, rather childishly. Olivia didn’t seem the least annoyed or put off by his response. Her smile was as grimly professional as when she stepped into the small room, and she rose gracefully from the table.

“I’ll find it. If I have to seize every single piece of property you own and search it myself.”

The threat didn’t unsettle him. No matter where she searched, no matter how thorough she was, she’d never find evidence that Marisol had betrayed him or, by extension, the Silver Maiden. He didn’t know who could have bludgeoned poor Sophe, but that explained why Marisol had failed to retrieve him from prison. Whatever had happened would result in a significant delay. He would wait for her, though. No matter how long it took. Patience. His new watchword.

Remy had faced a lot of challenges in her life. Losing her mom when she was a teenager. The pain had been endless, but not as endless as the days and nights spent by herself on the street, fighting until her fingernails were raw and bleeding just to see the end of another night. Fighting to save her second family from Senator Henryk’s attacks. Getting tossed about in time with a psycho cop on her ass—that same senator’s daughter, who’d been all the more determined to find Remy due to her father’s extremism and her fury over Remy’s escape. Falling in love with Nathan had been easy, but figuring out how to fit into his life had been more frightening than popping up in the wrong decade.

Walking into the house Isaac shared with Nathan was harder than all of that.

If he’d actually been there, it would have been completely impossible to walk through the door. Isaac didn’t expect him back from Palm Springs until late that night, and there was no chance of seeing him. Disappointment warred with relief, that battle only abandoned when she stepped into their quiet bungalow in a sleepy neighborhood. It was so damned domestic, it made her heart hurt.

They kept the place looking nice, the stamp-sized lawn mowed short and crisp, the short cement walkway leading to the front door lined intermittently with lavender and smaller, flowering bushes. The porch was flooded with light as they approached, courtesy of what seemed to be a fucking spotlight. Nobody would get within ten feet of the door without alerting the entire block.

Isaac entered first, flicking a switch on the wall before stepping aside and gesturing for her to come in. Her initial step was firm, more confident than she felt, but when her gaze fell upon the pictures on the foyer’s walls, she faltered.

Some of it was framed art, typical of what she’d seen in Isaac’s apartment in 2010. But others were personal pictures, like an older couple lounging in deck chairs at the beach, laughing at something private between them, and the portraits of Nathan and Isaac in their uniforms when they’d graduated from the academy. It was nothing like Nathan’s apartment, which might have had one picture of his parents, but no art or anything of sentimental value. What happened to all of this? Where had it gone? Did he destroy the photographs? Or were they boxed somewhere, carefully packed and stored away by Isaac until the day Nathan asked for them again? She reached out for the closest one, her fingers grazing Nathan’s almost unrecognizable face.

“My partner,” Isaac said. “Now you’ll know him when he finally decides to show.” He moved deeper into the house. “Though I’ll tell you now, he’s goofier-looking in person.”

She didn’t think he looked goofy. He looked young. So young. No lines on his forehead, nothing at the corners of his mouth except the laugh lines from his broad, easy smile. His eyes were clear, the color as vivid as the most brilliant summer sky. No bad memories to haunt him. The path in front of him bright with promise. His shirt collar hid his neck, free of scars, no residual evidence of a duplicitous Susanna slitting his throat.

This Nathan swelled with hope. He believed in the future. He had no idea of the pain that was still to come.

I miss you.

“You want something to drink?”

Isaac’s raised voice snapped Remy from her malaise, and she lifted her chin as she stepped away from the wall. “What do you have?”

The foyer emptied into a tidy living room that said everything about the two men living there. At least it did to somebody who knew what to look for. The huge entertainment center dominating the far wall must have been Isaac’s purchase. The fifty-inch television had a proud place in the center, surrounded by countless DVDs. The television was another unaccountable disappearance. The opposite wall had cube shelving units crammed with books of every size. They had to be Nathan’s treasures, and there were just as many books as DVDs, if not more. The soft brown suede couch belonged to Isaac, the cluttered desk and laptop facing away from the TV had to be Nathan’s domain.

Isaac appeared in a doorway leading to the kitchen. “What are you in the mood for? I’ve got beer, I’ve got water, I’ve got juice. There’s probably some Diet Coke or something like it in the back of the fridge too.”

“Beer. Thanks.” Alcohol might make this easier.

When he returned, he had two longnecks of something dark dangling from his fingers. She ignored that he lingered a beat too long as she took the offered beer, his fingertips brushing hers.

“Have a seat.”

She curled up in the corner, tucking her legs beneath her before she remembered the cut on the back of her calf. The way her luck was going tonight, she’d rip it open and leave a blood trail out the door when she left.

Isaac took the opposite corner, angling his body to face hers. “So, no bullshit here. Are we agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Who’s the woman?”

“I don’t know her full name.”

“Then tell me what you do know.”

“One of the goons I got away from called her Ms. de los Rios. I never caught her first name.”

He sipped at his beer, his gaze assessing her. Gabriel’s last name didn’t provoke the usual, rabid dog response it did in him. “What does she have to do with Parker?”

“I’m not sure. I just know she’s bad news.” She picked at the corner of the beer’s label. “I heard her talking about other girls too. I got the impression I wasn’t the first.”

“All the more reason for you to file a complaint. Honestly, my hands are pretty much tied until you do.”

“I know. But no offense, these people, they don’t play by the same rules you do.”

He grinned, a twinkle appearing in his eye for the first time since they’d left the warehouse behind. “Maybe, but the thing is, I’m
very
good at the rules I play by.”

She laughed because it sounded so much like him, that brash cockiness about his own superiority that pissed off so many people, including her more often than not. “That’ll come in handy.”

“So will your statement.”

“You never give up, do you?”

“On the things that matter?” His smile remained, but a solemnity crept into his direct gaze. “Never. Why’d you come to L.A.? And please tell me it wasn’t because you had dreams of being the next Julia Roberts. You seem smarter than that.”

A sip at her beer let her stall for a few seconds. “Just something I had to do. Followed my nose, and I ended up here.”

“Do you have family here?”

“Not…really.”

“So someone, somewhere, is missing you.”

Her gaze ducked. An interrogation about Marisol would be a hell of a lot more comfortable than this. “You could say that.” Her grip tightened on the bottle to hide her trembling fingers. “What about you?”

“You’re deflecting. I thought we said no bullshit.”

“I answered your question.” She cocked a brow at him. “You’re the one avoiding mine.”

The corner of his mouth tipped, and he shifted in his seat to turn away from her daring stare. “I guess I had that one coming.”

She waited for him to cough it up, but after a minute passed and all he did was look at the TV and drink his beer, she prompted, “Well?”

“It’s not that easy.”

Remy grinned. “Chicken.”

“Seriously. L.A.’s home now.”

Now.
Isaac didn’t talk about his past. From what she’d seen, he was very much a let-it-go-and-move-on kind of guy. The few times she’d asked Nathan questions about it, she’d been gently—but definitely—rebuffed. The most he’d tell her was that Isaac came from a pretty standard background, didn’t have any major problems growing up, went to the academy, and became a cop. There had to be more to the story, and Nathan would eventually give her the details. If she asked in just the right way. But it wasn’t until then, until sitting in Isaac’s strange living room and drinking his beer, that she cared.

She edged closer on the couch, hoping it would instill some confidence in Isaac. “But it hasn’t always been.”

Taking a deep breath, he stretched an arm across the back of the couch, inches away from touching her. “My family’s up Eureka way. Nothing special. The usual mom, dad, brother combination. Now your turn.”

“D.C. My mom died a few years ago, so what I call family is mostly friends. People who mean more to me than anything.”

He nodded. “I get that.”

“Is your brother a cop too?”

“He’s seven. He’s not even a hall monitor.” Isaac paused. “I don’t think.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s a big age gap.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and his smile was long gone. “My parents call him their second chance.”

Remy grimaced. “Ouch.”

Isaac waved away her sympathy. “Not because of me. I was varsity football, student senator, the whole shebang. I never gave my mom a reason for trouble.”

“Your…mom.” He’d chosen his words deliberately. “What about your dad?”

“He wasn’t around for a lot of those years.” Isaac fell silent for a moment, brushing away imaginary lint from the back of the couch. His mental debate on how much to say warred across his face. He still gave away too much. She saw when the battle resolved itself, his mouth tightening before he spoke as if it really didn’t want to give up the information.

“My parents split up when I was eight. Dad was a workaholic who liked to spend more than he made, Mom was trying to keep us away from the collection agencies by working two jobs, and it all fell apart. They got divorced, and he took off.”

“So, you have a half brother?”

“No, he’s all McGuire. Dad turned back up when I was sixteen like nothing had happened. I came home from school one day, and I found them sitting at the kitchen table together, talking. No fighting. No screaming. Dad was even smiling. And I got so pissed off, I threw a punch at him when he tried to stand up.” Bitterness laced his tone. “That’s when Mom yelled. At me, if you can believe it.”

Isaac clearly couldn’t. In his father’s absence, Isaac had become the man of the house. He’d probably claimed the responsibility with pride, and expected loyalty in return. That was all Isaac ever asked for, and his mother had thrown that back in his face, choosing the man who abandoned them over the son who’d grown up in the shadow of his mistakes. The senior McGuire’s return would’ve felt like a slap in the face, especially if his mom took the other man’s side.

“My turn.” Anything to drag Isaac out of the cesspool of his memories. “What else do you want to know?”

His head tilted as he contemplated his response. “When I get this mess of yours sorted out, where can I take you for a real date that’s going to guarantee me a second?”

She laughed at his bravado. “That’s cheating.”

“It’s strategic.”

“Breaking the rules.”

“You seem to prefer guys who do.”

“Maybe, but I’m not sure if I’m going to stick around after all this.”

“L.A.’s not that bad. I know it must not seem like that—”

“I know. I just haven’t been holding any aces. But those people I left behind? I miss them. It hurts.”

Isaac leaned forward, the hand closest to her reaching out to skim across her cheek. For a brief, bracing moment, she was convinced he was going to take the opportunity to kiss her, especially when his thumb came dangerously close to her lower lip.

“I’m lost.” She didn’t know where the words came from, but Isaac was still holding her. “I’m not sure how to find my way back home.”

“You didn’t leave yourself a crumb trail to follow?”

“I guess I’m not that smart.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He was still cupping her cheek. No, she was still letting him. The contact grounded her, forced her to focus. “You were smart enough to let me help you.”

“And can you help me?”

“That’s up to you. I’ll do whatever I can if you let me.”

Before she could speak, the front door opened. Remy jerked away from Isaac’s touch, whipping her head around in time to see Nathan stroll into the room like he didn’t have a care in the world. She grasped the arm of the couch to keep from leaping to her feet and throwing herself at him, her blood surging like Isaac probably hoped it would for him. But he so obviously wasn’t
her
Nathan that she was able to keep her ass on the cushion.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” His gaze jumped from her to Isaac and then back to her again. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“And I didn’t realize you were going to bail on your parents a day early.” Setting down his near-empty bottle on the coffee table, Isaac rose and crossed to take one of the bags weighing Nathan down. “What happened to your holiday spirit?”

“It went up in flames somewhere in the middle of the leftover Christmas pudding today.” While Isaac relieved him of two of the Trader Joe’s bags he carried, Nathan set the rest of them down by the entrance, his curious eyes still on Remy. “Since it doesn’t look like he’s going to bother introducing us…” He crossed the distance, holding his hand out. “Hi. I’m Nathan.”

Hesitantly, she took it, hoping he didn’t realize how sweaty her palm was or how badly she was shaking. It felt like the whole world was quaking inside her. “Maggie.”

If he did, it didn’t show on his face. His smile widened. “Ah, the mysterious Maggie. I should’ve guessed.”

Remy pulled back before the flutters in her stomach took control. “I’m not so mysterious.”

“That’s not the way Isaac made it sound.”

“Oh, really?”

Isaac darted forward. “Hey, don’t listen to this joker. He just likes to make trouble for me whenever he can.”

“From the sound of it, a lot of people do.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “First, the bartender at Smokey’s, now your partner—”

“We actually have a club,” Nathan said. “I’ll make sure to teach you the secret handshake when Isaac’s not around.”

She stifled her laugh when Isaac rolled his eyes. “And you wonder why I don’t bring girls around here.”

Nathan looked like he desperately wanted to retort to that, but his quick glance at Remy curbed his tongue. Instead, he smiled at her. Her heart skipped a few beats at how innocent and open it was. “It was lovely meeting you, Maggie. And I sincerely hope I see you around here more often.”

“Same here.” When she realized her voice had gone soft on him, she deliberately smirked and added, “Somebody’s got to help you keep Isaac in line.”