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“What happened to Crisco?” asked Silas. “I thought we were getting Crisco?”
“Crisco’s greasy,” Santiago said bitterly. “And fast. He also punched Dawson in the face.”
“You broughtDawsonin on this?” Cody swore.
“Lazlo too. But yeah.”
“After what happened inPittsburgh?”
Santiago’s handsome face darkened. “Look, Dawson and I squared things away in regards to Pittsburgh. That’s water under the bridge.”
Silas snorted. “It was a lot more than that!”
“Doesn’t matter,” Santiago countered. “This guy’s working with the Lozanosandthe Ancella cartel. He also knew her brother.”
He jerked his head my in direction. Still staring down at the blond-bearded man, I nodded.
“He might know where Evan is,” I confirmed excitedly. “Or at least have some idea.”
Hope rising, I wanted to reach down and pull the duct tape from the man’s mouth. But Silas was shaking his head in disgust.
“You brought a cartel memberhere?” he spat. “On top of everything else?”
“Not a member, an affiliate,” Santiago corrected him. “But yes.”
“Then we’re fucked,” Silas threw up his arms. “All of us.”
“No,” Santiago shook his head. “Not necessarily.”
“I’ll get the shovel,” Cody said hurriedly. “And fine, I’ll dig too. We all will. This fucker has to godeep, and I mean really deep. We have to make sure no one ever—”
RIIIIP.
The sound of Santiago stripping the tape from the man’s mouth was as loud as it was grotesque. He shook his hand and tossed it away, tiny blond beard hairs still stuck to it.
“Lucas,” he muttered, bending his knees to bring himself down to the man’s level. “I’m going to give you one chance to talk. One shot at telling us the truth about everything you know, no bullshit, no lies.”
The man in the trunk was still busy sucking fresh air into his lungs. He was smart enough not to scream, though. Even as terrified as he was.
“If I think you’re making anything up, that’s it,” Santiago went on. “If I think you’re hiding something, or omitting something, we all take that drive out into the desert.”
“If you think for a second we’re not—” Cody started angrily, but his friend shushed him with an outstretched hand.
“You’ve got one shot. One chance. There won’t be a second one.”
Together, Silas and Santiago sat him up. The man winced painfully, his wrists still locked behind his back, as Santiago gave me the nod.
“My brother is Evan Fletcher,” I said evenly. “Do you know him?”
The man’s wild eyes grew slightly more calm. He coughed once, then nodded.
“Good. Now where is he?”
Lucas trembled. He looked apologetically to the others before answering.
“I—I don’t know,” he said. “Really, I don’t. I’m not lying.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. My next question was something I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer to.
