there.' He paused, waiting for a response that didn't come. 'Is there something you're not telling me?'
A dark flush crept over Max's face before he answered. 'Nah, man, I'm just worried about you, that's all.'
'I've been taking the hard hits for a long time, Max. What is it? Something about Lupe that I don't know? Francisca?'
'I don't know, Hashish.' Max met his eyes for the first time in a few moments and leaned across the table. He glanced around and then lowered his voice. 'Word is Vargas has someone on the inside.'
'What? My department? Yours?'
Max shrugged. 'God, I don't see how. But now you're wanting to see Francisca, maybe ask her questions about Lupe. Who saw him last? Who talked to him? What do they know?'
Rafe tightened his jaw. 'Tread carefully, Max,' he warned. After a moment he asked, 'What are you suggesting? That Lupe was working both sides?'
Max sat back abruptly, silently shaking his head. 'Just be careful, okay?'
Finally, Rafe pushed out of the booth. 'Let's talk to Francisca.'
Chapter Sixteen
Bella was prosecuting a routine DUI when she glimpsed Slater as he entered the side door of Judge Carson's courtroom. A film of sweat glinted off his upper lip, and he looked like he'd run three steps at a time up to the third floor of the Bigler County Courthouse. He caught her eye and flashed a meaningful look before he sat in the gallery section.
She knew Slater wouldn't interrupt a court proceeding unless it was important, but other than the enigmatic glance, his face remained inscrutable. She nodded acknowledgment and glanced down at her yellow legal pad of notes.
'Officer Richardson,' she addressed the young man on the stand, 'when you conducted the field sobriety test of the defendant on the night of March 29, what evidence of intoxication did you find?'
'First I noticed horizontal gaze nystagmus when I tracked the movement of his eyes.'
As the young officer explained the procedure, Bella's mind wandered, silently fuming at Charles Barrington for assigning her this driving-under-the-influence case instead of giving it to one of the junior assistants. No doubt, punishment for her stance on the Vargas case.
Aware of an expectant pause in Officer Richardson's testimony, she continued, 'What else did you observe?'
'Mr. Jackson's pupils were dilated beyond the normal range, and also there was non-convergence of the eyes.'
'And what is that?'
'The person is unable to cross their eyes and can't track a stimulus that's brought to their nose, in this case my finger.'
'And what can cause this non-convergence?'
'A number of drugs, including marijuana and alcohol.'
As Bella sat down, the defense attorney, an older woman whose office was in Sacramento, asked her first question. 'Officer Richardson, what other factors can cause horizontal gaze nystagmus besides intoxication?'
'Beg your pardon, ma'am? I don't understand the question.'
'Let me rephrase. Are there conditions other than intoxication that can cause horizontal gaze nystagmus? Diseases, for example?'
'Yes, ma'am, epilepsy can cause it.'
'Thank you.'
The defense attorney returned to her seat. Bella asked one question on redirect. 'Officer Richardson, was there any indication that the defendant was an epileptic?'
'No, ma'am. He wasn't wearing a medical alert bracelet and didn't say he had a condition.'
Bella glanced at the wall clock, waiting for Judge Carsons to declare a lunch break. 'Thank you, Officer Richardson.'
Right on time Judge Carsons banged his gavel. 'We'll adjourn for lunch now and reconvene at 1:30. Let me remind the jurors not to discuss the case among yourselves.'
Bella flashed a look at Slater, who was bouncing his knees in a gesture she recognized as impatience. He met Bella at the table where she gathered up her papers and stuffed them into her briefcase. His face was solemn as he took her arm and led her from courtroom number three.
'Let's walk,' he suggested, guiding her to the ancient elevator and pressing the button for the basement floor.
When they reached the lower level, Slater led the way past the records and evidence department into the underground tunnel of the heating and ventilating system, and up the back cement stairway to the rear of the courthouse. His battered, late-model truck was parked under a clump of trees, but he bypassed the vehicle and walked to a shaded area on the sloping lawn where several picnic tables were scattered along the asphalted walk path. He sat down heavily on one of the tables, his feet planted squarely on the bench, hands dangling between his knees.
Bella sat beside him on the rough surface of the picnic table. 'What's this about, Slater?'
'Waylon Harris found a dead body out by Beale's Lake early this morning.' Harris, one of Slater's deputies, was his protege. If he'd alerted Ben, this wasn't a routine death.
'Homicide?'
'Could be. Doc McKenzie's doing the autopsy. Looks like a drug overdose, but the victim didn't get out there by himself.'
'What do you mean?'
Slater stared toward the eastern horizon where the slope of the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range showed brilliant against the crisp blue of the sky. He turned westward toward the gentle, rolling foothills and their verdant farming land. 'God, this is beautiful country this time of year.'
Bella followed his gaze. 'Yes,' she said simply.
Slater sighed and finally continued, 'Male victim, nude. No evidence of clothing discarded in the area, body wrapped in a tarp. Somebody dumped him out there.' He scratched his blackish beard, more heavily flecked with specks of gray than when she'd worked with him last year on several other murder cases that involved an old childhood friend of Slater.
'Accidental drug overdose and subsequent cover up?' Bella stared at the side of Slater's face, not sure yet why he felt the case merited pulling her out of court. She paused, her instinct pushing into overdrive, and then ventured a guess. 'Does this have something to do with Diego Vargas?'
'Maybe. I think so. Hell, I don't know. But the preliminary toxicology screen showed high-grade heroin, almost ninety-eight percent pure.'
'That's ridiculous!'
Most of the heroin in California was a low-grade quality called black tar heroin that came up through Mexico from Central and South American. Bella stared at Slater's profile. 'We never get that high-quality smack up here. You think the lab made a mistake?'
'That's what worries me, Bella. I have a feeling pure shit like this came straight from the Triangle.'
'Afghanistan?'
'Yeah.' Slater stopped, stared at the horizon, and swiveled on the table to bump knees with her. 'If it's China White that killed the guy at Beale's Lake, that's sophisticated drug trafficking. We've got to get the DEA involved.'
Damn it! Why did everything come back to Rafe Hashemi and his federal drug task force? If he found out about the recent death, he would definitely appropriate everything she had on Diego Vargas and likely cut her out of the loop. He wouldn't have to worry about playing nice. He probably wouldn't let her play in the sandbox at all.
'Bella?' Slater took her hands in both of his, swallowing them with his giant paws, and looked her straight in the eye like her father had when she was younger and got into trouble. 'This drug case against Vargas might be
