Beckon

steak—very red—with a baked potato and what looked like asparagus. He had a bottle of red wine and a half-filled glass on his right; on his left was a brown folder.

Elina had gotten only fleeting glimpses of Vale through her scope, but now she saw he was a rather pale, sharp-featured man. And his complexion looked all the more pallid contrasted against his shoulder-length, jet-black hair. He was clean-shaven except for the narrow black tuft of well-groomed fuzz beneath his lower lip.

But Elina quickly noticed that his most striking feature was his eyes. When he looked at her, she could see they held a pale-green hue—nearly yellow. They were haunting eyes, like an animal’s. And Elina felt almost as if a wolf were staring at her.

He chewed his steak slowly as he looked her over. Elina stood just inside the doorway with Carson right behind her; the woman had taken up a position behind Vale’s right shoulder.

Vale chewed a mouthful of meat without saying a word and motioned her to come closer. She took a few hesitant steps into the room until she stood at the foot of the table.

“Did you know,” Vale said through a mouthful of steak, “it was Wyoming that first gave women the right to vote?”

He sipped some wine, swirled it in his mouth, and swallowed. His voice was considerably deeper than Elina had expected. She glanced back at Carson, wondering what exactly Vale meant by the comment.

Vale sliced another piece of steak and stuck it in his mouth. “And we were the first state to elect a woman governor. Did you know that?”

Elina shook her head. “I’m… not exactly following your train of thought here.”

Vale shrugged. “I’m simply saying that the people of Wyoming have always been at the forefront of societal evolution. We’re very progressive, forward-thinking people.”

“Okay?” Elina made no effort to hide her confusion.

“My point being—” Vale set down his utensils and dabbed his lips with a napkin—“that despite how rustic and remote our town might appear to you, don’t mistake us for bucolic simpletons. Okay, Miss Gutierrez?”

“Fine.”

Vale glanced at the folder beside him. “Should I call you Officer Gutierrez?” He flipped open the folder and browsed the top sheet. “Or… is it ex-officer? I’m not sure how this whole administrative leave thing works. You did turn in your badge, yes?”

“Wow, so you guys know how to google,” Elina muttered. “I’m impressed.”

Vale looked mildly amused. “You know, for what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. I really do. Even though this kid didn’t have a gun… and wasn’t technically committing a crime. I’m sure he would’ve gotten around to it sooner or later. It was just a matter of time. He had all the classic stats going for him, right? Single mom, no real father to speak of. The kid was just a crime waiting to happen.”

Elina’s jaw tightened. Obviously Vale’s burgundy lady had gone through her bag and run some sort of background check while Elina was waiting out in the foyer. It wouldn’t have taken much to find her recent history with the LAPD. The shooting incident four months earlier had been highly publicized and commented on by all the local news outlets—even a national program had picked up the story. Elina never imagined she’d become the center of such a media circus in only her second year on the force.

She never thought her dream of becoming a cop would turn into a nightmare so fast.

“Whatever,” she grunted.

Vale leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Though it appears you’ve not quite come to terms with the incident, hmm? Not made peace with yourself yet?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, regardless, I’m certain the people of LA are safer with one less potential criminal on the streets. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it if I were you. Some people the world is just better off without.”

Elina snorted. “So is that your thing? You’re some kind of therapist?”

“Hardly.” Vale swirled the wine in his glass. “I just wanted to put our conversation into context for you.” He took a sip. “I’m actually far more interested in what brings you from the big city to our little town. And what possessed you to trespass on my property and spy on my home.”

Elina forced a tone of confidence. “Oh, I think we both know why I’m here.”

Vale spread his palms. “I’m afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage, Officer Gutierrez. Apparently only one of us knows.”

“I’m looking for my cousin. He disappeared last month, and his family hasn’t heard from him since.”

“Ah, a missing persons case,” Vale said.

“He had come here to find work. His sister said she saw him getting into a van with Nevada plates four weeks ago. A plain white van. She said it comes around every few weeks promising work in Las Vegas.”

“So it would seem this cousin of yours is—what’s the politically correct term?—an undocumented worker?”

“He was just looking for work. He was trying to—”

“So why aren’t you looking in Las Vegas?”

“Because I followed that van the next time it came around. And you want to hear something funny? It didn’t go to Las Vegas. But I’ll give you one guess where it did go.”

Vale shook his head. “Well, Miss Former Officer Gutierrez, Wyoming is a little out of your jurisdiction, isn’t it?”

“It’s a personal investigation.”

“I’m sure the taxpayers of Los Angeles would be happy to know you’re making productive use of your free time. But please forgive me if I don’t feel compelled to cooperate with your personal investigation.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.”

Vale downed the last of his wine. “And I don’t appreciate strangers who trespass on my property, invade my privacy, and accuse me of sordid activities.”

“I just want to know where my cousin is.”

“Then I suggest you start with the FBI. Or better yet, the INS.”

“Look…” Elina decided to try a less confrontational approach and softened her voice. “I’m not trying to… to turn this into a federal investigation. I just want to find my cousin. To make sure he’s safe. And let him know his family is worried about him.”

“I already told you I can’t help you with—”

“Javier.”

Vale blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Javier Sanchez. That’s his name.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Gutierrez, but we really have nothing further to talk about.”

“What did you do with them? There were four other men who got into that van, and I know it brought them here.”

Vale’s gaze grew cold. “My patience is wearing thin. I suggest you forget these ridiculous accusations and —”

“The van’s plates are registered to a dummy corporation in Nevada that pays all the fees and insurance.” Elina was through playing this game. It was time to lay her cards on the table. “But guess who owns that corporation? Vale Corp International. That’s your company, isn’t it? That was your van. Now what did you do with those people?”

Vale stared at her for a long moment. Then he leaned back in his chair and puffed out his cheeks in a long sigh. “Very well, then. You know, when they first brought you here, there was actually a small chance that I could let you go. But only a very small chance.”

“I’d be careful about threatening me if I were you.”

Vale was silent for several seconds, but his cold, yellow-green gaze never wavered. “Elina,” he said at length. “Do you know what your name means?”

“What?”

“It means ‘shining light.’ Ironic, since that’s exactly what you’ll need where you’re going.”

“Careful, Mr. Vale,” Elina said, concentrating on keeping her voice from quivering. “People know I’m here. They… they know what I found—”