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“Speak,” said Luke.
“Look, I’m not sure what you want to know. Cisco Perez is psychotic. Certifiable. He was the kid in the neighborhood that killed dogs and cats because he liked to watch them suffer. That’s his drug. Suffering. The longer he can make someone suffer, the better he feels.”
“What happened between him and Vacarro?” asked Noa.
“Vacarro? That was years ago. Cisco started that shit. He was demanding that Vacarro turn over his daughter. Everyone knew she was away at school and didn’t want to come back. She was smart, didn’t want to marry that nut job, so she stayed away. He was pissed. What he wants, he gets. Then he kills it.”
“What did Vacarro do?”
“He did what he knew would work. He demanded that his daughter come home. She never reacted well to orders, and he knew it, so she stayed away. Cisco vowed he’d get to her and make her suffer. He started spreading shit, and Vacarro went crazy.”
“What kind of shit?” asked Trak. The other man turned away, but Trak gripped his bleeding hand. “What kind of shit?”
“Ahh! Fuck! Okay, okay. When she was in high school, Cisco used to film her getting undressed in her room or in the locker rooms at school. He took photos of her and let his men jack off to them.” Noa slapped the back of his head, and he cussed.
“I’m telling the truth! You asked what he did. Vacarro was so pissed off he threatened Cisco and told his old man he’d kill him if he didn’t control the kid. He fucking knew what he was doing. Got the two of them to meet at a spot in the neighborhood. While they were arguing, he fired a shot, making them both think the other was shooting at them.
“Listen, this is a guy that’s certifiable. I watched him rape a mom with two daughters in the middle of the street. Then he shot her in the head, and while her daughters were crying over her, he raped them too. They were twelve and fifteen. When he was done, he gave them to his men. I couldn’t stomach it. I knew I had to get out. If he sees my tattoo, I’m fucking dead.”
Trak gripped his hand, removing the blood-soaked napkins. He held the knife to his hand, and the man struggled, trying to pull away.
“Hold still.” Noa gripped his arm as Trak raked the blade over the back of his hand, cutting off the flesh. He screamed in agony as the big native tossed the skin into the bayou.
“What the fuck did you do that for? I told you what I know.”
“Now you don’t have the tattoo,” said Trak, wiping the blade. The other man stared at him, shaking his head.
“I thought Cisco was fucking crazy.”
“I’d be careful what you say,” said Luke. “He’s very good with that knife. If Cisco is in town, where would he go?”
“I don’t know,” said the man. Cruz sat next to him with a first-aid kid. He wasn’t being gentle, but he was cleaning the wound and putting a dressing on it.
“Keep it clean and see someone when you can. It will heal.” Cruz backed away, and Luke asked the question again.
“Think. Where the fuck would he be?”
“Look, he likes women that put up a fight. He’s not looking for easy like hookers. If he were desperate, he’d look for animals. It’s a disease, a sickness. He has to torture and kill, but if he’s after Londyn, someone should help her hide. He’ll find her, and it won’t be pretty.”
“Who are his connections in Mexico?” asked Luke.
“His connections? It’s more like he’s the connection for everyone in Mexico. His father started it all. Got people to know that his son would one day take over, and they should get used to taking orders from him. He puts in an order for women, and they’re on his doorstep the next day. Drugs? Whatever he wants, he gets. When they want someone in the country, he gets them in and then owns them.”
“So, a guy who’s what? Thirty-five?”
“About that,” nodded the man.
“A guy who’s thirty-five is directing the drug lords and human traffickers in Mexico and Central America.”
“He doesn’t own Central America, or at least he didn’t,” he said. “Vacarro had a distant cousin who owned that business. When Vacarro was killed, he vowed not to do business with Perez.”
“What’s his name?” asked Luke.
“Teo Chavez.” The men stared at him, shaking their heads.
“Fucking Chavez,” growled Noa.
“I see you’ve heard of him. He’s not much better than Perez, honestly. But at least he doesn’t rape and brutalize children.”
