The Traitor

bigger than we can handle here in our little county.'

'But what about… about the other thing?' Slater knew all about Maria, understood that Bella referred to the human trafficking charges she wanted to bring against Vargas.

'The feds aren't so bad at prosecuting that kind of thing either,' he said gently.

She jerked her hands out of his grasp and jumped off the picnic table. 'I'm due back in court.'

'Bella – ' Slater's voice held a warning.

'I know, I know. I won't go off the deep end. I promise.' She hurried toward the walkway that ran from the parking lot to the cement steps of the courthouse.

If the body lying in Dr. McKenzie's morgue were a result of a high-grade heroin overdose, Hashemi would have even more reason to usurp the Vargas case. He'd rip it out of her control faster than she could bat her lashes.

Not that she had any intention of doing that to Rafe Hashemi ever again.

*

Almost as if she'd been expecting Rafe and Max, Francisca Munoz answered the door at the first knock. Her bare brown feet peeked from below the hem of a modest dress that clung to her swollen belly. Her face was blotchy and her red-tipped nose glistened.

Even though Rafe had never met Francisca, a jolt of empathy hit his gut like someone had sucker-punched him. Lupe always chattered in his amiable, optimistic way about the woman who stood in front of them. Rafe saw by the lines etched in her face that she knew something about sorrow and now understood more was headed her way.

'You are the one he reports to, si?' Her tongue trilled the R's softly in accented English. 'You are Rafe? You are his amigo? Tell me this is not true, that Lupe is not dead,' she pleaded, twisting her dress in frantic hands.

Rafe had no business telling her anything until the autopsy was complete, until forensics proved the bloody mass of flesh in the morgue was really Lupe Rodriquez. What had he hoped to gain by coming here and adding to her grief? He glanced down at her belly, large and hard beneath the purple and blue print of her dress. The child would grow up without a father, and life would be hard for both of them.

Rafe felt his anger mounting furiously. He wanted to hunt down whoever did this and smash him into an unrecognizable pulp. Until he resembled the scarlet heap of decaying tissue that was Lupe.

He jerked himself back from the precipice. 'Can we come in, Francisca?'

Silently, she opened the door wider and ushered them inside. A small but tidy living area held an old sofa covered with a colorful throw. As he sat, Rafe felt the sharp jab of broken springs beneath his hips. No one spoke for long minutes as if the quiet were a requiem for Lupe, a mass of three.

At last Max broke the silence. 'Excuse me. Where's the bathroom?'

Francisca gestured to the hall on her right, and Rafe watched Max's retreating back. Had courtesy prompted him to leave them alone? Or was Max uncomfortable around the dead Lupe's pregnant girlfriend?

Francisca laid her hand on his. 'Are the police sure it is Lupe?'

Rafe nodded slowly. 'Lo siento mucho.'

Sorrow settled on her face and tears trickled down her round cheeks. 'Me siento mucho tambien.' She held her hand over her belly in a protective gesture. 'Who killed Lupe? ?Quien mato al padre de mi bebe?'

Who killed the father of my baby?

He shook his head. 'I don't know, but I hoped you could help me. Can you answer a few questions?'

Francisca nodded.

'After Lupe left for our meeting, did he come back here?'

'He called me around eleven o'clock. He said he had something to do, but he would be home within an hour.'

'Did he call after that?'

'No.' Fresh tears squeezed from the edges of her brown eyes. 'No, and he never came home.' She fingered a tiny gold cross hanging from her neck. 'When I woke up this morning and he was not beside me in our bed, I knew something terrible had happened to him.'

'Francisca, did Lupe ever talk about anyone else he did business with?'

'I do not think so.' She frowned. 'But something was on his mind the last few days.'

Rafe heard the toilet flush and a moment later Max reappeared at the end of the hall. 'Do you have any idea what was worrying him?'

'No, I'm very sorry.' She paused and looked down at her hands, but a moment later leaned close and whispered in his ear. 'But he began to carry a gun with him when he left the apartment.'

'He hadn't done that before?' Rafe hadn't noticed Lupe carrying when they met in the bar.

'No, no, I made him promise when we learned about the baby. No mas de armas.'

No more guns.

A few minutes later, Max and Rafe climbed into an unmarked police car and merged into traffic. 'What'd you find in the bedroom and bathroom?' Rafe asked, knowing that's why Max had gone there.

'Nothing,' Max answered as his eyes slid away from Rafe's. 'Just the regular OTC meds and women's junk.'

'No weapon, no ammo, nothing jotted on a piece of paper?'

'Nada. Nothing that shows Lupe was playing both ends.' Max slid a quick glance at Rafe. 'You can't worry about this, Rafe. It'll wear you down, man.'

'I would've bet my life on him, but… '

Lupe Rodriquez wasn't a violent man, and Rafe knew he wouldn't have carried unless he had a good reason. What was Lupe worried about that he hadn't told him?

Was that what got him killed?

Chapter Seventeen

Slater drove his convertible from Placer Hills to the airport instead of the work truck he usually preferred. Bella loved northern California in April. The hot sunny days of summer hadn't descended yet to turn the hills to brown wastelands. The apricot and plum trees were in blossom, their delicate pink and white petals littering lawns and sidewalks.

With the top down, air whiffled through her loose knot of hair, strands escaping the band. Finally she gave up and removed it along with the tight clips that held it in place.

She'd be a mess when they met Rafe's flight, but what did it matter? She wasn't trying to impress him anyway. That ship had already sailed. The only thing about Bella that intrigued Hashemi was the files she had on Diego Vargas.

When Slater had learned about Bella's arrangement with Rafe, he insisted on accompanying her to the airport. As sheriff of Bigler County, he argued, he had a vested interest in where the federal agent intended to poke his nose. And the dead body at Beale's Lake was county business.

Bella didn't protest. She felt better having Slater along.

Hashemi's flight was late. Because of enhanced security since September 11, Sacramento International Airport denied access to the upper level to all but ticketed passengers. Slater and Bella waited by the baggage claim for the DEA agent to arrive.

She drummed her nails on her purse and checked her watch again, stood up to check the flights display, and then walked back to the row of plastic chairs where Slater sat. He glanced up from his magazine over the tops of his sunglasses. 'Sit, Bella. You can't hurry the plane by pacing.'

He was right. Checking her watch every few minutes only added to her strained nerves. She sat down, blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, and then attempted to tuck the straggly pieces back with the hair clips. When she