Seeds of Evidence (9781426770838) (31 page)

“What are they doing?” Chris exclaimed. His voice was transmitted to Roger and four other officers scattered in the woods near the tomato processing plant building.

“Looks like they're leaving.”

“That wasn't the plan!”

“How can we follow him?”

Chris quickly calculated their options. It would take them ten to fifteen minutes to get back to their cars. By that time, Lopez's truck would be out of sight. “Roger, call your dispatch. See if you've got a car in the area.”

He did and they didn't.

Chris called Jason to see if he could track the truck using the GPS bug David had put on it. “It's sitting still, man. He must be in a different vehicle,” Jason replied.

“Cell phone?”

“I saw Lopez grab David's off of his belt.”

And the realization that David was completely on his own left Chris's mouth dry.

Kit had her Bureau cell phone on vibrate. Ten minutes into her interview with Curtis and his wife, she felt it go off. Removing it, she glanced down at the screen. A text message from Chris read: “Changed location. Will try to follow.” Try? Her heart seized up.

Lopez was driving a white Ford. David didn't buckle up, preferring to leave his options open. Lopez took the twisty, dark country roads at a breakneck speed, accelerating to sixty-five at one point, and David hung on. The man looked relaxed, but David knew psychopaths were never more at ease than when they were hurting someone.

Twelve minutes later, Lopez pulled off the road and into a driveway. He stopped the truck in front of a low, white cinderblock building. “Here we are, my friend,” he said, smiling at David.

Wordlessly, David got out of the truck. He looked up to the sky to try to orient himself, but a blanket of clouds lay over the moon and the stars. There would be no help from the heavens tonight. His heart pounding, he followed Lopez to the rear of the building. He could smell the pines, feel the sweet humidity
in the air, hear the crickets chirping innocently in the woods. But he could also sense the presence of evil, dark and foreboding. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Chris was out of breath by the time he got back to his Bureau car. They'd divided up the five roads in the vicinity of the plant and were scattering to see if they could find a trace of Lopez and David.

Thirty minutes later, they all agreed they'd have to give it up.

Lopez unlocked the door with a key. The building was dark. He motioned David in. “You first,” David said, standing his ground. So Lopez entered. He flipped a switch and a single bulb suspended from a fixture in the ceiling came on. David followed, keeping his back to the wall to the left of the door, glancing quickly around as he closed the door behind him.

The room was empty. Lopez walked through it to a second door. David followed. But then Lopez dropped his keys, blocking his path and forcing David to step quickly to the right. In one split second, David knew he'd made a mistake.

Suddenly a strong arm gripped his neck and he felt the blade of a knife pressed against his throat. Instinctively, David reacted, driving his elbow into the gut of the man behind him, jamming his foot down on his instep, and throwing his head back into his assailant's face. He knocked the knife arm away as the man reacted. Then David flexed his knees, twisted, and was free.

He turned. He was face-to-face with the man he'd seen in the surveillance photo with Maria.

Lopez was laughing. “You see, Jefe, I told you. He is a bullfighter, no?”

The man Lopez called ‘jefe' had slicked-back black hair and black eyes. He was taller than David, and not as burly. His black Western shirt had pearlized buttons and he was wearing black jeans and pointed Western boots. A trickle of blood emerged from his nose, and he put down his knife and removed a white handkerchief from his back pocket, wiped his nose, looked at the blood, and said, “You are good.”

David's heart was pounding and his mind flashing like someone had lit off a firecracker inside his skull. He exploded, barreling toward the man, slamming him into the wall behind. He backed up, drove his fist into the man's gut, and then his mind registered the click of a gun. He turned. Lopez had a .45 aimed straight at him, four inches from his head.

David's breath came hard. He straightened up, unclenched his hands, and with a sweep of his arm, moved Lopez's gun away and walked across the room. He backed up to a wall, put his hands on his knees, and fought to calm down. He could feel blood trickling down his neck from where the knife had cut him. A white-hot anger coursed through his veins. “Who are you?” he said.

“Carlos Cienfuegos,” the man said, extending his hand. “Very pleased to meet you. Hector here says you are the one we have been waiting for.”

The guy came across smooth, oily, and David was still trying to figure him out when he shook his hand.

“Please forgive our fun here. We always like to test those we want to do business with, no?”

“Next time, ask for a résumé,” David muttered.

“Ah, but ours is physical work, no?”

“What do you want?”

“Hector says you are looking for more work.”

“Maybe.”

“He says you have good references.”

David blanked on that for a minute, then remembered using the name of an MS-13 gang leader with Hector. “So what?”

“So, Señor Castillo, we have more jobs for you. More for you to do. And after that, more again.”

“Why would I want to work with you?”

“The best reason. Money. No one pay you more than me.”

David shifted his gaze from one man to the other. He was operating on instincts now, instincts developed over a decade of dealing with criminals. The building they were in smelled of mildew and dust. There were hard concrete floors, cinderblock walls, and windows too small and too high to be an escape route. Lopez stood between him and the only door. Behind him, a leak in the roof allowed rainwater from the thunderstorm to drip on the floor.

David forced himself to relax. He unclenched his fists and leaned against the wall, propping one foot behind him and crossing his arms. He looked at Carlos. “I owe a guy. He's holding something that belongs to me. A woman ripped me off. Now I'm short. What do you want me to do?”

Carlos smiled. Lopez moved away from the door. “It's just a delivery, you know? A load of tomatoes. Except maybe there is also something extra under the floor when you come back, you know?”

David shifted his weight. “I don't want to see it.”

“You don't have to. But you get stopped . . . it's on you.”

“The dogs would find it . . .” David suggested.

“And I would find you before you have time to talk to the cops.”

“What do you mean?”

“You get stopped, I kill you.”

“You'll be following me.”

“That's right.”

“How much?”

“1K. One trip, from here to Norfolk and back. 1K.”

“Make it three.”

The man grinned. “Two. 2K, my friend. That is it.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. You pick up the truck at 8:00 p.m.”

“Where?”

“C&R, where else?”

Kit felt like her brain would burst from tension. She tried to focus. Curtis was explaining his relationship to the workers who picked his crops. “They're all contract crews. Every one of 'em. Sometimes I've seen them before and sometimes I haven't. Handle everything through the crew chiefs.”

“And these three men,” Kit handed him a sheet with the names of the three men named Carlos on C&R's employee rolls, “do you know them?”

“Yes, they're my men. These two,” Curtis pointed to the first two names, “are maintenance workers. The other one handles my ordering: fertilizer, seeds, equipment, the works.”

“He's been with us for ten years, maybe more,” Anne broke in.

Kit took a deep breath. “Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, let me tell you what we're concerned about.”

T
HE DRIP, DRIP, DRIP OF THE ROOF LEAK SEEMED LIKE A CLOCK TICKING
away David's life. Squared off with Carlos Cienfuegos, he asked a few more questions. He got the answers he expected, and then he said, “OK. I'll do it. But don't mess with me anymore, eh?”

Carlos held out his hand. David moved forward to shake it. As he did, he saw the tiniest flicker of Carlos's eyes up and to the right. Before he could react, Lopez was behind him. He grabbed David's left arm and twisted it behind him, sending a bolt of pain screaming through David's body. Tears came to his eyes, and his knees collapsed and then Carlos moved forward and drove his fist into David's nose. A flash of light exploded in his head and he hit the concrete floor. Carlos kicked his boot into David's ribs, doubling him on the ground.

“Now,” the man growled, “don't you ever touch me again.
Comprende?
”