the allegations she'd uncovered in the last few months.
Thank God California still had capital punishment. She was sure she could prove special circumstances and this man deserved nothing less than the death penalty.
'Hey there, Izzie,' Slater needled her after Charles had banged the office door loudly behind him. 'Not a bad job of manipulation.'
Bella put on a mock frown. 'If you call me that again, Slater, I'll have to kill you.' Then she smiled. 'Wow, can you believe that nincompoop gave in?'
'You were pretty persuasive.' Slater eyed her speculatively, suspicion etched in every line in his face. 'What do you know that Charlie Nincompoop doesn't?'
Bella wrinkled her nose and waved her hand as if Charles had left a stench in the room. Which, as far as she was concerned, he had – the stench of incompetence. 'I might have already arranged a little cooperation with the feds. Maybe.'
'Really? What'd you have to give up for that agreement? Doesn't sound like any federal agent I've heard of.'
Bella looked quickly at Slater. She felt her face grow warm. He had sharp eyes and excellent instincts, but he couldn't possibly know what had happened to her in the last several days.
Slater was too damned good at detecting.
'Don't be silly. Agent Hashemi and I are just going to swap notes, share our toys, and play nice in the sandbox.'
Slater laughed aloud, a hearty robust sound that rose from his chest like an engine roaring. 'Ah, Bella, you're one of a kind, that's for sure.'
He returned to his desk and sank down in a large leather chair that matched his impressive size. 'Off with you now, missy. I've got work to do.' He waved several sheaves of paper in the air as proof.
Bella grabbed her purse and opened the door. 'Thanks, Slater. We'll talk later.'
As she reached the door, he called her back. 'Isabella?'
Uh oh, he only used her real name when he got serious and went all friendly-protector on her. 'Yes, Benjamin,' she countered.
'Watch your back, okay? Barrington's a little nuts and a complete idiot, but he's crazy like a fox in the hen house.'
She nodded in agreement. Somehow Charles Barrington had convinced the primarily conservative residents of Bigler County that he was tough on crime, so they'd re-elected him. But, in fact, he made outrageous plea bargain agreements every day. The man had no moral center, no sense of fairness, and no idea that he turned hardened criminals out on the streets with his inappropriate deals.
'You too, Slater,' she said, blowing him a kiss. 'Charles watches you like a hawk. He'll take you down if he can.'
'Nah.' Slater smiled. 'He'd have to grow some balls first.'
The phone call came while Rafe drove northeast on Interstate 80, fifteen minutes south of Placer Hills, the Bigler County seat. He glanced at the readout. Max. Icy fingers ran up his spine in spite of the sun's heat through the windows warming the car's interior. God, he hoped the detective had good news.
He pressed the receive button. 'Max, what have you got for me?'
The pause at the other end of the phone told Rafe all he needed to know. Lupe Rodriquez was dead. He lowered the phone to his chest, but he could still hear Max's voice. He closed his eyes against the pain and bitterness.
When he put the phone up to his ear again, he heard Max's voice continue, '… so I guess the good news is it's not Lupe's blood in the alley.'
Relief washed over Rafe. 'What? I thought… Whose blood was it?'
'An ex-con named Morris Sullivan, thirty-six year old white dude, did a dime at Chino for assault, released six months ago.'
'Is he dead?'
'Dunno, Hashish, no body. We don't know what happened to him, if anything, or why his blood was in that alley.'
'You're checking it out?'
'Got several guys tracking him, but if he's alive, he probably went to ground.'
'Connection to Lupe?'
'None, but Rafe – ' Max paused. 'Didn't you hear what I said about Lupe?'
'Yeah?' And that's when Rafe realized he hadn't heard the first part of Max's sentence because he'd pulled the phone away from his ear. Max had said, 'I've got good news and bad news.'
A mixture of sorrow and anger funneled through him like a dark, reckless tornado, but he kept his voice flat and unemotional. 'What's the bad news about Lupe, Max?'
'We found a body a few minutes ago in East L.A., Obegon Park.' Another pregnant pause. 'I'm sorry, buddy, I'm pretty sure it's Lupe.'
'Jesus Christ,' Rafe whispered.
'I think you should come back right away.'
Rafe paused while he shook off grief. 'Why? I'm almost to Placer Hills.'
'Check into a motel, park your car, and take a flight back,' Max advised, his voice low as though he thought someone might overhear his side of the conversation. 'If you can be here in an hour or so, I can hold off the coroner.'
'Why?' Rafe repeated. 'Can't you handle it?'
'There's something you need to see for yourself.'
Chapter Fifteen
Rafe hadn't been more precise than to say he would arrive in Bigler County in 'a couple of days,' so his call caught Bella completely off guard when she answered the telephone the next morning.
'Isabella Torres,' she snapped into the phone cradled under her right shoulder, both hands busy, one negotiating the lid on a huge latte, compliments of Ben Slater, and the other riffling through a stack of current-case file folders.
'Whoa there, Sparky.' The intimate sound of his voice jerked her into the past where it wasn't safe to go.
'Who's this?' She kept her voice aloof, even though she knew damned well who was on the other end of the line.
'Ah, come on, Torres.' An amused chuckle as if he'd read her mind. 'Take a guess.'
No sense pretending, just get it over with. 'Agent Hashemi, how nice,' she said with a false sweetness belied by her next words. 'I'm busy. What do you want?'
'Make nice if you want to run with the big dogs, Torres.'
'Sure, Hashemi.' Pause. 'What can I do for you after you tell me what you want?'
He chuckled again, and she put down both the latte and the papers, feeling ridiculously light-headed at the sound. 'Cut right to the chase, huh?'
'Tell me what you want, Hashemi,' she said on a weary sigh, suddenly tired. She'd been at the office since six this morning after working late last night, catching up on paperwork that'd grown like mold while she was gone. Her patience was threadbare.
'I won't get there until day after tomorrow, and I'd like you to pick me up at the airport.'
Did he think she ran a cab service? 'I thought you wanted your own car up here.'
