murder was a cover-up, not retaliation. The dealer's death was efficient, smooth, and quick, and not nearly violent enough. Someone didn't want us getting to him.'
'Bloody, though,' Slater argued.
Torres' phone rang and she reached for it before Slater could comment further. 'Torres.' A moment later she grimaced and shook her head in disgust. 'What can I do for you this morning, Mr. District Attorney?'
She made a finger-down-her-throat barfing motion, and Slater patted her shoulder, mouthing to Rafe, 'Charles Barrington.'
Rafe speculated again about the care-free relationship between Slater and Torres. He couldn't figure out if they were an item or had been an item. Maybe they just had a brother-sister relationship, but whatever it was, he felt a surge of jealousy at their easy-going friendship.
'Yeah, okay. Right,' she continued, making a yackety-yak motion with the thumb and fingers of her right hand. Suddenly she stopped fooling around, straightened up, and became all business. 'When?'
Slater edged forward in his chair, tension in his big body.
Torres grabbed a pencil and pad. 'Where?' Pause. 'How many?' She slammed down the pencil and said, 'I'm on it.' She hung up and leaned back in her chair, locking her fingers over her stomach, a grim but smug look on her face.
'What?' Slater asked.
'A deputy sheriff coming back from Reno, off duty, and yes, one of ours, comes across a large delivery van in the breakdown lane headed east on I-80.' She leaned forward, elbows on the desk blotter. 'Being the Good Samaritan that all Bigler County deputies are, he whips his car around, crosses the freeway divider – illegally of course – and like a good Boy Scout, proceeds to help the two men change a tire.'
Slater folded his arms, apparently amused at the roundabout way she told the story. Rafe rubbed his hand through his hair and tried not to scream an obscenity. He made a hurry up motion with his hands and got a frown for his efforts.
'Anyway, also being a good detective, he notices the heavy weight of the freight on the tires, the general shiftiness of the two men in the cab, and the super heavy-duty locks on the back of the van. He grows even more suspicious when the men appear panicky about receiving his help and then hears faint noises from the back of the van.'
'What kind of noises,' Rafe asked.
Anger tinged with fear preceded her answer. 'Human noises.'
Rafe had no doubt what was in that truck and precisely where it was headed.
'Probable cause?' Slater asked.
'Likely not enough,' Torres answered. 'But he bullies them into opening the rear anyway. Guess what he finds?'
'You tell us, Torres,' Rafe said although he was sure he knew the answer.
He recognized a brief flash of pain in Torres' expression. When she answered, her voice was barely above a whisper. 'Nine young girls, half-naked, half-starved, dirty.'
'Where were they headed?' Rafe asked.
'Vargas' whore house.' Slater's answer showed he understood.
She nodded and her eyes turned flinty. 'Young girls, ten, eleven, maybe.'
'Christ,' Slater said. 'Babies.'
'Something else,' Torres added. 'And you'll like this part, Hashemi.'
'Yeah? What's that?' he asked.
'Ten kilos of high-grade heroin in the tire wheels.'
'Will the search stick in court?' Slater asked.
'Doesn't matter,' Rafe answered for Torres. He knew if he pulled in his Homeland Security buddies, they could bypass the courts altogether, although he knew she wouldn't like that.
'Let's go check it out,' he said, glancing at her face and noting the distress there. He hoped she wouldn't be too emotionally involved to be effective in the case. 'We need to be careful how we handle this,' he admonished, looking to Slater for backing.
'We can't be sure the truck belongs to Vargas until we investigate further,' Slater said.
Torres agreed. 'The registration wasn't in his name.'
'Maybe not, but ten to one he's involved,' Slater muttered.
Santos opened his mouth to ask Corazon another question about her mother when Vargas walked up behind her, placing his meaty hand on her thin shoulder. 'You're late,' he snapped and motioned for Santos to enter and follow him down the hall.
Vargas rarely invited Santos into this inner sanctum. He had been to the house many times over the five years Vargas had occupied the mansion, but seldom went beyond the porch and the grounds. He had patrolled the perimeter of the property, guarded the family at the pool area, but had almost no occasion to be inside the house.
Vargas walked to his office with the agitated gait of a man beset with many problems. Was Magdalena one of the problems and had his boss found a way to deal with it?
Santos remained standing while Vargas stood behind his desk, shuffling through a stack of papers. 'Where is Magdalena?' Santos asked casually.
'Why the fuck do you care where that slut is?' Vargas snarled, looking up from his desk to pierce his bodyguard with those vicious eyes. An air of edginess surrounded him as if he waited for a reason to vent his anger and give in to the violence that was always just beneath the surface.
Santos shrugged. 'I do not care. I was just making conversation.'
'Well, don't,' Vargas snapped, returning to his task of sorting papers. A moment later he looked up as if he'd just considered something. 'Magdalena's gone on a shopping trip.' He laughed falsely. 'That woman loves to spend my money, eh?'
'Where?'
'To Mexico. She will be gone a long time.' Vargas looked Santos in the eye and he understood what his boss meant. Magdalena may or may not have gone to Mexico, but she was not returning. Ever.
Santos had been with Vargas long before Cory was born. He had attended every significant event of the child's life, watching her grow from a beautiful baby to a young girl. He knew the answer, but had to ask nonetheless. 'Why did the little one not go with her mother?'
Vargas snorted as if something foul had entered his nostrils. 'You know Magdalena. She never was much of a mother. She said it would be better for Corazon to stay here… with me.'
A chill like icy fire trailed up Santos' spine. He heard a small sound from behind him and turned to see the girl standing in the doorway. She did not look at him, but stared straight ahead at her father with an expression too knowing.
Fucking pig! His own daughter! But somehow Santos had known this day would come. From the moment the little one was born, he'd understood what would happen to her one day. And he knew that Magdalena was not strong enough to fight Vargas. Even for her beloved daughter.
Vargas' attention zeroed in on Cory hovering at the doorway. 'What do you want?' he growled.
For a brief moment, she glowered back, a look both defiant and cowering, then ducked her head.
Vargas slumped into the desk chair. 'Magdalena's affairs are not what I called you here for.'
Santos noticed that this office, like Vargas' downtown office, was devoid of family pictures. Just the portrait of him with Cory and her recent school photo.
'What has happened?' Santos asked.
'Something's gone wrong with the Reno shipment.'
'What?' Santos asked.
'The truck from Manzanillo was intercepted outside Reno,' Vargas answered. 'They have the girls.' His face twisted in an ugly scowl.
