No One Heard Her Scream

Cavanaugh shut his eyes tight. Conversations he had with Galvan replayed in his head over and over. Had he seen it coming? Rivera assured him, Galvan was a player, someone he trusted with his life. No, this can't be happening. Brogan rattled on, but Cavanaugh blocked out his ramblings. His chest heaved. The pulse of his heart thudded in his ears, his weakness mocking him.

'Are you quite sure it was Galvan?' He opened his eyes and glared at Brogan, letting the ice blue of his eyes reinforce his message. 'Because if this is some vendetta between you two—and you bring down Rivera on my head and ruin everything—you will wish your mother had never spread her legs to conceive you.'

Brogan's eyes grew wide, his Adam's apple bobbed.

'I swear, boss. I ain't lyin'. I was as surprised as you. Sure, I hate the guy. But I was only thinkin' of you when I saw that high-and-mighty Mex betrayin' you. Honest to God.' The man waved a hand over his chest in the sign of the cross. Brogan had conveniently found religion.

The gesture, coupled with Brogan's justifications, almost made Cavanaugh laugh aloud. Almost. Cava-naugh tossed back the rest of his cognac and let the liquor burn. He had to think.

'Please, boss. Let me kill him for you. I swear I'll do it right, slow and hard.'

'That would give us both satisfaction, indeed, but I can't let you do that. Not yet.'

Brogan couldn't hide the look of shock on his face. Cavanaugh raised a hand so the man wouldn't interrupt his thoughts.

'This is a game for shrewdness, Mr. Brogan. I'm afraid you are ill equipped.'

He knew the man hadn't understood his insult. Cavanaugh never would have conducted such a battle of wits with Galvan. His disappointment in this sudden turn of events swelled inside him. He'd had high hopes for Diego. He had intended to test his loyalty for Rivera and determine how far he'd have to go to sway the younger man to work for him instead.

Now those hopes were crushed, beyond salvage. And Diego Galvan's life would soon follow the same course. Diego's death wish would become his self-fulfilling prophecy.

'I hadn't intended to play such a game, but the choice is no longer mine. Now I must stay one step ahead.' Cavanaugh sat back in his leather chair and swiveled as he thought, his fingers steepled in front of him. 'I would like to assume Rivera is not a party to this betrayal. He has as much to lose if Galvan is working with the police. But you see, Mr. Brogan, I can't be sure of that.'

Cavanaugh stood and walked to the console table to his right, deep in thought. He refilled his crystal snifter with cognac and filled another glass. When he returned, he placed a cognac in front of Brogan. The man had the audacity to finish the glass in one gulp, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Cavanaugh ignored his lack of refinement.

'Galvan has no knowledge of my sideline business.' Cavanaugh cringed at how close he had come to cutting Diego in on his little endeavor. After tightening his jaw, he continued, 'And this body found at the theater is only a recent occurrence, hardly significant enough for the local police to point a finger my way. None of this makes sense, but I must play it safe and move while I still can.'

He sipped his cognac, staring straight through Brogan. He reached across his desk and retrieved a pricey Cuban cigar from his humidor. After cutting the cap with his double-bladed guillotine cutter, he lit the cigar and rotated it between his fingers. The puffs of rich smoke filled the air.

'I'll find a way to compromise Galvan, place him at the center of it all.' He smiled at the thought. 'Rivera must not suspect my involvement. And if the police are using Diego as an informant, they might be embarrassed to find that their mole is part of a very nasty business.'

A plan took shape in his mind as cigar smoke made lazy spirals above his head.

'Either way, I'll have to cut my losses now. Time to liquidate the inventory. Unfortunately, my little hobby has come to an abrupt end. Did you and your men consolidate the merchandise as I asked?'

'Yes, sir. Just like you said.'

Brogan licked his lips and glanced over to the cognac decanter. Cavanaugh knew what he wanted and waved him permission to refill his glass. The man filled it to the rim and brought over the decanter, making himself at home.

'I'm afraid that as disappointed as I am to find out about Diego, my business associate Mr. Rivera shall be mortified to learn of Galvan's betrayal. After all, the man recommended him so highly. Rivera might have to make it up to me . . . somehow.'

Cavanaugh's low chuckle reverberated through the chamber, disrupting the stillness of the study.

'All I ask, when the time comes, you let me do it.' Brogan smirked. 'I gotta take the Mex out, my way.'

Cavanaugh crooked his lips into a smile. 'Agreed.'

'And after this is all over, I want the cop, too.'

In the dim light of the study, Cavanaugh studied Brogan. The man's dark eyes glinted with an underlying madness. And he took great pleasure in killing, his undeniable skill.

'You take pride in your work, don't you, Mr. Brogan?' Cavanaugh grinned.

'Yes, sir, I do.'

'And who am I to deny you such fun? Detective Montgomery is yours when this is behind us. And for that, I would like a ringside seat.'

Cavanaugh sat back in his chair, listening to Brogan cackle. He sucked on the end of his cigar and blew smoke into the rafters of his study. Premonition be damned. Perhaps this turn of events would prove to be favorable after all.

Mi Tierra's Cafe Y Panaderia At Market Square

Morning

Becca had specific instructions to meet Lieutenant Santiago in the back of Mi Tierra's, in the room with the huge 3-D mural on the wall. The sweet smell of baked goods lingered in the air as she walked by lighted display cases brimming with an array of pastries and Mexican candy. The hostess had called her number. A young girl dressed in a white lacy blouse and colorful print skirt ushered Becca through the narrow aisles. Waitstaff and busboys darted across her path, a mad game of restaurant dodgeball.

A sea of Christmas lights and tinsel draped from the ceiling, a festival year-round. All the glitz and glitter came from an absurd collection of Christmas paraphernalia and rainbow-colored lightbulbs, the cafe's trademark decor. And the vibrant sound of a Mariachi band resounded through the sprawling restaurant, a refrain of 'Cielito Lindo.' A high-pitched violin blended with a heart-thumping trumpet. And strong vocals were heard over the heavy strum of guitars as the musicians strolled from table to table.

Santiago had picked the place on purpose, knowing audio surveillance would be impossible. It didn't hurt to be cautious.

Dressed in jeans and a University of Texas sweatshirt with her dark hair in a pony tail, Becca had walked from her condo, arriving early. She ordered coffee and waited for Santiago. But another man had plagued her mind since last night. She stared into her coffee cup, thinking of Diego. In replaying their time together, she found something he said had lingered.

If Cavanaugh thinks I'm working with the SAPD, that loop you talk about will be around my neck.

At first, she didn't know why this stood out in her mind. Yet she kept coming back to it. Finally, it struck her. Sure Diego would be worried about Cavanaugh, but why had he not expressed the same concern about Rivera? Galvan should have been worried about both men, equally. She had missed something big but couldn't put her finger on it.

'Damn it,' she muttered under her breath.

'Is the coffee that bad?' The lieutenant's voice pulled her back. The man grabbed the chair across from her and sat. 'So, how's vacation?' Arturo Santiago grinned, a welcome sight.

'Yeah, burning vacation days. Remind me to thank you when I'm feeling more generous.' She returned his smile. 'Actually, I owe you one. Big-time.'

'Good to know,' he replied.

Santiago called the waitress over, and they ordered. Two machacado plates. Eggs mixed with shredded beef jerky, tomatoes, onions, jalapenos, and served with refried beans and fresh homemade tortillas. Becca's empty stomach grumbled, drowned out by a chorus of 'La Bamba' a favorite request with the