“I still can’t believe he killed his dad,” Chrystal said.
“He didn’t,” I said, wondering if my convictions were more wishful thinking than evidence based.
They looked up at me in surprise. I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I wanted them on my side. On Reyes’s side. I told them about the first night I saw him, about his father beating him senseless, and about the sister he’d left inside.
I paused when our food arrived, waiting for the server to leave before I continued. “That’s why we’re here. I need to find his sister.” I also explained what happened in prison and the fact that he was in a coma, but neither of them could remember very much about the girl. “She’s really the only one who can stop the state from terminating care. Do you know anyone who might have hung out with her?”
“Let me make some calls,” Louise said.
“Me, too. Maybe we can come up with something. How much time do you have?”
I looked at my watch. “Thirty-seven hours.”
On the way home, I called Cookie and told her to find me one Mr. Amador Sanchez. He seemed to be the only person who might know anything substantial about Reyes. It was late, but there were few things Cookie loved more than hunting down a warm-blooded American for me. Give her a name, and she was like a pit bull with a bone.
Right after I hung up, my cell rang. It was Chrystal. She and Louise remembered that her cousin, an eighth grader at the time, used to hang out with a girl who hung out with Reyes’s sister on occasion during lunch. Thin, but more than I had five minutes ago. They’d tried to call the cousin but couldn’t get through, so they left a message with my name and phone number.
After I took down her information and thanked them several thousand times, I ran into a supermarket for the basic essentials of life. Coffee, tortilla chips, and avocados for guacamole. One can never have too much guacamole.
When I stepped out of my Jeep, I heard my name and spun around to see Julio Ontiveros behind me. He was bigger than I remembered from the station.
I closed my door and went around to collect my bags. “You look better without your cuffs,” I said over my shoulder.
He followed me. “You look better without my cuffs, too.”
“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. “Jose 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
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
