First Grave on the Right

  He followed me. “You look better without my cuffs, too.”

  Uh-oh. Time to fend off amorous advances. I stopped to face him. May as well get this over with.

  “Your brother’s medal from Desert Storm is in your aunt’s jewelry box.”

  Disappointment flooded him. “Bullshit. I looked there.” He stepped closer, anger and worry that he’d been duped sparkling in his eyes.

  “She said you’d say that,” I replied as I opened the back for my bags. “It’s not in that jewelry box. It’s in the one hidden in her basement. Behind the old freezer that doesn’t work.”

  He paused and thought a moment. “I didn’t know she had another jewelry box.”

  “No one does. She kept it hidden.” I hefted the two bags in one hand and went for the third. “And the diamonds are there, too.”

  That bit of info stunned him even more. “She really had diamonds?” he asked.

  “Yes, only a few, but she saved them for you.” I stopped and looked him up and down. “Apparently, she thinks there’s hope for you yet.”

  He breathed out an astonished breath, like his new knowledge had punched him in the gut, and leaned against Misery. “How do you … how can you possibly…”

  “Long story,” I said as I locked up Misery and headed for the front door of my apartment building.

  “Wait,” he said, trudging after me. “You said you knew where to find the three things I desired most in life. That’s only two.”

  He still had his doubts. His mind was like a hamster on one of those wheels, spinning and spinning, trying to figure out how I knew these things. If I knew these things.

  “Oh, right.” I transferred all the bags to one arm and rummaged around the purse hanging from my shoulder with the other. “Oh, no, please,” I said, sarcasm dripping from each word, “don’t help me with the bags or anything.” He folded his arms over his chest and grinned. Why did I even bother? My hand emerged at last with a pen. “Give me your hand.”

  He held it out, inching nearer as I wrote a phone number on his palm. And nearer.

  His smile turned decidedly wicked after he studied the number with slanted brows, and he stepped even closer. “That’s not what I want most.”

  Without missing a beat, I closed the distance between us and looked up into his eyes, throwing him off but widening his grin. “José Ontiveros.”

  He paused, his grin fading completely as he reassessed his palm.

  “He’s in Corpus Christi, staying at a shelter. But he moves around a lot. It took two hours for my assistant to track him down, even with the information your aunt gave us.”

  He stood in stunned disbelief, studying the number on his palm. “Two hours?” he asked at last. “I’ve been looking for my brother for—”

  “Two years. I know. Your aunt told me.” I shifted the bags again, their weight making my arm shake. “And just in case there is any doubt whatsoever in your head, yes, your tía Yesenia is watching. She told me to tell you to get your shit together, quit getting into ridiculous situations—I’m paraphrasing here—and go find your brother. You’re all he’s got.”

  Having kept up my end of the bargain, I turned and walked into the building before lover boy could reemerge. He had a lot to think about.

  When I stepped off the elevator onto my floor, I noticed immediately the darkness of the hall. The manager had been having trouble with the wiring to the light fixtures on this floor since I’d moved in, so my awareness heightened only a notch or two.

  Fumbling for my keys, I heard a voice from the darkened corner past my door.

  “Ms. Davidson.”

  Again? Seriously?

  At about eight thirty that morning, my tolerance level for National Kill or Horribly Maim Charley Davidson Week had reached its peak. I’d armed myself soon afterwards. I pulled my Glock and pointed it into the darkness. Whoever stood in the shadows wasn’t dead. I’d have been able to see him despite the dim lighting. Then a kid stepped forward, and my breath caught. Teddy Weir. It was impossible not to recognize him. He looked exactly like his uncle.

  Holding up his hands in surrender, he tried to make himself seem as innocuous as possible.

  I lowered my gun.

  “Ms. Davidson, I didn’t mean to hit you.”

  I raised it again and arched my brows in question. I thought about throwing my grocery bags at him and making a run for it, but those avocados were expensive. Damn my love of guacamole.

  He paused midstride, lifting his hands higher. Even at sixteen, he topped my best height by at least three inches.

  “I thought … I thought you were one of Price’s boys. We were clearing out of there, but I thought he’d found us before we could manage it.”

  “You were the one who hit me on the roof?”

  He grinned. He had sandy blond hair and light blue eyes. The stuff of movie stars and lifeguards. “I hit you on the jaw. We just happened to be on a roof at the time.”

  I leveled a death stare on him and muttered, “Smart-ass.”

  He chuckled, then grew serious again. “When you fell through that skylight, I thought my life was over. I figured I’d go to prison forever.”

  After holstering my gun, I unlocked my apartment. “You mean like your uncle?”

  He gaze darted to the floor. “Carlos was supposed to fix that.”

  “Carlos Rivera?” I asked in surprise.

  “Yeah. I haven’t seen him in days.”

  Teddy strolled in after me, then closed and locked the door. Normally, that would have worried me, especially with the new holiday and all, but I could tell he’d been through a lot. Something had happened to him, and he wasn’t taking any chances.

  Also, Reyes was in the room. I almost stumbled when I saw the dark haze of fog by the front window. Then I felt him. His heat, his electricity. The room smelled like a desert storm at midnight.

  “Have a seat,” I said to Teddy, gesturing to a stool at my snack bar, pretending nothing was amiss. To disguise the fact that my body was shaking with Reyes’s nearness, I kept moving. First, I put on a pot of coffee, then stuck my perishables in the fridge. After noticing that Teddy’s hands were shaking as well, I took out some ham, turkey, lettuce, and tomatoes. “I’m starved,” I lied. “I was just going to make a sandwich. Want one?”

  He shook his head politely.

  I hit him with my best scowl. “Clearly, you’ve never had one of my sandwiches.”

  The desperate gleam in his eyes testified to his current state of hunger.

  “Ham, turkey, or both?” I asked, making him feel like he had a choice in the matter of my feeding him.

  “Both, I guess,” he said with a hesitant shrug.

  “That sounds good. I think I’ll have the same. Now for the hard part.”

  His brows drew together in concern.

  “Soda, iced tea, or milk?”

  His mouth slid into a grin as his eyes wandered to the coffeepot.

  “How about milk with the sandwich. Then you can have coffee.”

  Another shrug of confirmation lifted his shoulders.

  “We’ve already figured out Benny Price is the bad guy here,” I said while piling a third slice of ham onto his sandwich. “Can you tell me about the night your friend died?”

  He lowered his head, reluctant to talk about it.

  “Teddy, we have to get your uncle out of prison and get Price into it.”

  “I didn’t even know Uncle Mark had been arrested. The thought of him killing anyone is laughable,” he added with a snort. “He’s the calmest person I’ve ever met. Not like my mom, I can tell you that.”

  “Have you seen your mom since you’ve been back?”

  “No. Father Federico said he would set up a meeting when we got back where she’d be safe, but we haven’t seen him either. I think maybe Price figured out what was going on and got to him, too.”

  “What is going on?” I asked after pouring him a tall glass of milk.

  He took a huge bite, the
n washed it down with the ice-cold milk. “Price sends out scouts. You know, people who look for homeless kids and the like. Kids that won’t be missed.”

  “Gotcha. But you weren’t homeless.”

  “James was, kind of. His mom had kicked him out when she remarried. He didn’t have anywhere to go, so he was staying in Uncle Mark’s shed.”

  “And when he got hurt, that’s where he went.”

  “Yeah. James got suspicious of this one scout who kept asking questions, wanted to know if James had any family, if he’d go stay with him. So James and I did our own little investigation.” He put his sandwich down. “We figured out who the scout worked for and snuck into one of Price’s warehouses. It was all very James Bond, you know? We had no idea what was really going on.”

  “So they caught you, but you got away?”

  “Yeah, but James got hurt pretty bad. We were running and just kind of got split up. I had two guys on my ass. Big guys. I’d never been so scared.”

  I sat beside Teddy and put an arm on his shoulder.

  He took another bite. “I heard about what Father Federico was doing—”

  “Doing?”

  “Helping runaways and stuff.”

  “Right,” I said. “And you went to him?”

  “Yeah. Funny thing was, he knew all about Benny Price. He hid me in his warehouse.”

  “Wait, the same warehouse—”

  “The same one. Sorry about that again, by the way.”

  Ah, finally my chance to find out where everyone disappeared to that night. “Okay, there were two guys in the warehouse packing boxes, but when I reached the ground, everyone was gone. Any thoughts?”

  Teddy smiled. “That warehouse has a basement with an entrance that’s almost impossible to find. We hid in there till everyone left.”

  Smart. “So Father Federico was trying to hide the kids Price wanted?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why didn’t he just go to the cops?”

  “He did. They said they were building a case against him. In the meantime, kids were still disappearing. You’ve seen the posters.”

  I had.

  “They said Father Federico didn’t have enough hard evidence to prove Price was behind any of the kidnappings.”

  “So, you’ve been in this warehouse for two years?”

  He choked on a bite and took a gulp of milk. “No. You have to understand, Father Federico is a take-charge kind of guy. When the cops couldn’t help, he took matters into his own hands. He started a watch, a search-and-rescue team, and an underground railroad of sorts.”

  I bit back my surprise and waited for Teddy to continue.

  After popping the last piece into his mouth, he said, “We have all kinds of guys working this thing. Me? My end is Panama.”

  “Panama?” I asked, taken completely by surprise. This thing was way bigger than I thought. Than anybody thought.

  “Yeah. We got shipping records, invoices, and even buyers’ addresses. They’re freaking everywhere. But Price was constantly on the lookout for me, so Father Federico made sure I stayed hidden.”

  “So Carlos Rivera worked for Father Federico?”

  “Not at first. He was a scout. The scout. The one who tried to pick up James. I guess when James got killed, Carlos decided he’d had enough. He went to the Father, and they worked out a deal. Father Federico can be very persuasive when he wants to be. How ’bout that coffee?”

  Right. I couldn’t help but wonder why Carlos didn’t just go to the police. Of course, the big fat target he would have become might have had something to do with his decision. Some people think the police are worse than the criminals. Going to them would be like committing suicide.

  “So, you’ve been in Panama?”

  “Yes. I’ve saved seven kids, in case you’re wondering,” he said proudly. “Well, I helped save seven kids.”

  “And you didn’t know what was going on with your uncle?”

  “Yeah, I knew. Father Federico kept me informed, but we just kept thinking they’d drop the charges on Uncle Mark. I mean, he didn’t do anything. I couldn’t imagine he’d actually get convicted. We didn’t want to risk our operation to save Uncle Mark, but when he got convicted, we didn’t have a choice. I still can’t believe it. I mean, how did James’s blood get on Uncle Mark’s shoes?”

  “I’ve already got that one covered,” I said. “It had been raining. Your uncle took out the trash that evening and must have stepped in a puddle James’s blood had run into. He didn’t see him behind the shed, but someone must have seen James stumble over the fence and called the police.”

  “Of course,” he said, taking a long sip of the piping-hot black coffee.

  “Are you old enough to take your coffee black?”

  He smiled. In that moment, he looked old enough to drink coffee any color he wanted. His eyes had seen too much. His heart had experienced too much fear and grief. He’d probably aged ten years in the last two.

  “Why did you come back?” I asked.

  “I had to. I couldn’t let Uncle Mark go to jail for something he didn’t do.”

  “Even if it meant risking your life?” I asked, pride nudging my heart.

  With a shrug, he said, “That’s all I’ve done for two years. I’m tired of running. If Price wants me, he can come and get me.”

  My chest tightened. No way was I letting that happen. “We have to call the police, you know.”

  “I know. That’s partly why I’m here. Father Federico has disappeared, and we need to hire you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Do not disturb. Already there.

  —T-SHIRT

  Throughout the evening, Reyes nudged me, brushed up against my arm, slid his fingers over my mouth, causing little earthquakes to shimmy through my body. But at the moment, I had a house full of badges. Literally. I’d bet my last nickel even Mr. Wong was feeling claustrophobic, hovering in his corner, his back to the world. Heck, even the police chief and the DA were in my apartment. I totally should have spruced up the place. Put out some candles. Made a cheese ball. Cookie was busy filling cups of coffee, and Amber was busy flirting with a rookie named Dead Meat if he didn’t stop flirting back. She was eleven, for heaven’s sake! Of course, he may have just been humoring her. And it was a little cute. In a gross, Chester-the-molester kind of way.

  Around midchaos, I got a call from Chrystal’s cousin.

  “Hi, is this Ms. Davidson?” she’d said, her voice iffy.

  “That’s me. Is this Debra?” I asked, glancing over at Teddy. I was sure he’d freak with all the cops around, but he seemed calm, almost relieved.

  “Yeah,” the caller said. “Chrystal told me you’re looking for Reyes Farrow’s sister. I called my friend Emily, and she could only remember his sister’s first name as well. It was Kim. She and Reyes had different last names.”

  Interesting. I wondered if it was Walker, as in Earl Walker.

  “That’s all we remember about her,” she continued. “Except she was really nice.”

  “Well, that’s more than I had yesterday.”

  “Sorry I can’t be of more help. You know, they were really good friends with Amador Sanchez.”

  “Yes, I keep hearing that.” Perhaps this Amador Sanchez was the way to go. He clearly knew them both well. “Hey, what school did you guys go to?”

  “Oh, we were at Eisenhower Middle School.”

  “Okay, I got a Kim at Eisenhower Middle School about twelve years ago, right?”

  “Exactly. I hope you find her.”

  “Thanks so much for calling, Debra.”

  “Not at all.”

  Well, that didn’t get me anywhere fast. But I had a Kim and an Eisenhower Middle School. Looks like I’d be hanging with Uncle Bob again tomorrow if he’d have me. I wondered if he’d let me drive.

  “Oh,” Cookie said, sashaying up to me. She’d been flirting as well. “I got an address and a number for your Amador Sanchez.”

  “Suh-weet.
” Before going to the school, I’d pay Mr. Sanchez a visit. He could probably tell me the sister’s last name and where to find her. Cell mates shared everything. Especially cell mates who’d been friends in their previous lives.

  We high-fived, and she went to warm another cup. It was almost eleven, and all the late nights were taking their toll, as were the beatings. While my body throbbed with fatigue, my mind refused to be subdued.

  I sat down beside Teddy to make sure he was doing okay. Surprisingly, he took my hand into his. I squeezed. The kid had stolen my heart the moment he walked out of the shadows. I hated when that happened. The DA sat across from us, questioning Teddy, his expression a mixture of interest and worry.

  “Can I talk to you?”

  Officer Taft stood over me, looking down. I looked past him toward Demon Child. She was doing her best to lure Mr. Wong into a game of hopscotch.

  “Not really in the mood, Taft,” I said, dismissing him with a frosty shoulder.

  “I’m sorry about this morning. You just took me by surprise.”

  With a glare of distrust, I turned back to him. “If you’re going to throw another tantrum, there’s really no need to talk.”

  He set his coffee cup down and squatted beside me. “I promise. No tantrums. Would you just give me a chance to explain?”

  He wasn’t in uniform, and I was sure he’d come over just to talk to me, having no idea he’d be met by a room full of uniforms. After giving Teddy’s hand another quick squeeze, I led Taft into the bedroom, where we could talk in private. Reyes followed. That worried me. I didn’t want to have to explain why Taft’s spinal cord was severed if he did anything stupid. It would be awkward. I’d probably have to make a statement, and I wasn’t good at statements. I was much better at icy glares and smart-ass comebacks.

  I plopped onto my bed, leaving Taft no choice but to stand. The only chair in the room was home to several pairs of jeans, a lace camisole, and a pristine pair of government-issue handcuffs. Oh, and pepper spray. A girl’s gotta have her some pepper spray. He leaned against my dresser, bracing his hands on either side of his hips.

  But Reyes … Reyes was another story. He must have been growing impatient. He hovered beside me, brushed against my arm, feathered a breath over my ear, ruffling the hair at the nape of my neck. His nearness kick-started my libido. Knowing what the man was capable of, I started to shake. My lack of control where he was concerned was getting ridiculous.