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But there seemed to be some relief in his eyes at the mention of El Gato. It told him that maybe this authority wasn’t after anyone in his home.
Payne introduced Harris and himself.
“Come in,” Esteban said.
Chadwick Thomas Nesbitt IV felt the bile rise in his throat one more time. He was on his knees, his expensively tailored slacks now soiled by the dirty floor of the bathroom in Paco Esteban’s basement. His fine silk necktie was loosened and the collar of his custom-made French-cuff dress shirt unbuttoned. There were wet spots of vomitus on both garments.
Just outside the door, on the closed white door of the horizontal Deepfreeze, Paco Esteban had opened the black plastic bags containing the severed head of Ana Maria Del Carmen Lopez.
He had peeled b
ack the bloody white towel with which he’d wrapped her head.
And there Harris, Byrth, Nesbitt, and Payne had had their first look at the face of what once had been a pretty seventeen-year-old Honduran.
Now, however, her light-brown skin was blotched and bruised, her long straight black hair matted, her dark eyes glassy.
Nesbitt had lost it when he noticed her soft facial features had what had been cute little freckles across her upper cheeks and pixie nose.
“What’s that?” Payne said, pointing toward her left ear.
Esteban turned the head slightly.
They saw there on the neck, at the hairline, a small black tattoo. It was a gothic block letter D with three short lines.
“El Gato and his whiskers,” Byrth said.
Payne shook his head in shock. “What’s the D about?”
Byrth shrugged. “Maybe, probably Dallas.”
Then Nesbitt shared the information about El Gato’s girls and the house on Hancock.
What a helluva break! Payne thought.
And then he thought, Amanda and lunch!
He began thumbing: how?s your day going? just had an interesting development in the case…
He pushed SEND, but then his screen flashed with ERROR-NO SERVICE.
Dammit!
Must be because we’re in the basement.
He looked at the signal strength. None of the five bars were present. He also noticed that the battery was almost drained.
That’s not good.
Worse, I’m not sure I have a charger in the rental car.
Payne walked across the room. The smallest of the five bars flickered on, indicating the weakest of signals.
He hit SEND again. And a second later the screen flashed MESSAGE SENT.
Then his phone chirped twice. And its screen went black.
Fuck!
