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Ray loped through the house, forcing Alex to break into a trot. “He told me to call Deborah and get her over there. He wanted to know why you spoke up for her.”
“What’d you tell him?”
Ray grabbed a baseball cap from the table in the foyer and slapped it on his head. “I told him I thought you were looking out for a friend.”
“Thanks.”
“Didn’t do it for you. Did it for her. She needs for people to have faith in her. I’ll call her on my way.”
Whatever the reason, Alex was glad. He headed through the front door, Ray at his heels as they raced toward their vehicles. Alex tried to focus on the task at hand but his mind was still on what Ray had said. And not said. He still didn’t know what had happened to Deborah, but whatever it was, it had been bad.God, help her. Help me help her.
Alex stopped in his tracks, keys in his hand, frozen. Ray nearly plowed into him, veering right at the last second.
“Hey, man, what is it? What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Sorry. I just—nothing.”
How could Alex tell him he had prayed? A tiny, threadbare prayer, but still. After more than fifteen years of silence.
So he had prayed. He was sticking his neck out. He expected an answer. The right answer.
Chapter Twenty-five
Alex skidded to a stop just short of the curb. Two marked PD units, a DEA unit, and Detective Cooper’s vehicles all rolled in at the same time. Alex slammed from the car and raced toward the house. Samuel and Ray beat him by a few steps. Joaquin brought up the rear. Deborah slid from her truck and joined them. Her glance never came his way.
Mica Jordan’s sister said Jorge Morin had fought with Mica’s husband after making a pass at Mica. He’d moved out of the house about three months before going to jail on the drug possession charge. According to the sister, he’d moved in with a cousin who lived at this address.
“SAPD. Anybody home?” Samuel nodded toward the front door. It stood battered and bruised, half off its hinges. No need to break it down. Somebody already had. No one answered Samuel’s question.
A dog’s barking punctuated the silence. Alex watched Samuel’s face. His boss’s eyes were black with fierce concentration. All emotion had fled. Knowing what they might find on the other side of the door, Alex anchored his own game face.
The smell of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and rotting food permeated the air inside. Along with a few other equally unpleasant things. Blood and urine. The body of a large, Hispanic man sprawled across the living room floor, his face frozen in perpetual surprise. A Norinco assault rifle laid across his blood spattered chest.
“Not Morin.” Ray removed the weapon. Dead or not, the bad guys didn’t get to keep their guns. Agents darted into the kitchen and down hallways, yelling clear as they moved from room to room.
“Nope.” Samuel smacked the palm of his hand against the wall, disappointment flickering across his features before he shuttered it again. Alex knew how he felt. They all wanted to walk away with Benny safe and alive.
Ray slid his weapon into his holster. “Anybody recognize him?”
“Yep.” Joaquin spoke first. He had been the last in, Deborah at his side. Alex’s glance collided with hers, finally. She looked away, her face unreadable. “That’s Miguel Suarez, the guy who shot me.”
“Now he knows how it feels.” Samuel sounded satisfied at the thought. “So he killed Seth Jordan to get Mica to tell him where she thought Morin might be hiding. Then he killed Mica. Now he’s dead. Morin must’ve gotten lucky to take him out.”
Alex shrugged off the icy feeling he’d gotten from Deborah’s blank stare. Time to concentrate on the task at hand. He let his gaze roam the room, trying to imagine what Benny must have felt, watching a gunfight go down. Had he survived? Had he been hit in the crossfire? If he had, wouldn’t his body be here, next to Suarez’s? The thought was cold comfort. The trauma alone meant the child might never be the same—even if he did survive.
Ray moved toward the hallway. “Morin is one desperate dude. He knows Barrera is gaining on him. If Suarez got this close, the others can’t be far behind. Once Barrera finds out Suarez is dead, Morin’s life isn’t worth two corn tortillas. I’ll take the back. The evidence unit and the ME are on the way.”
“I’ll take the bedrooms.” Deborah started in the opposite direction. Alex glanced at Samuel. The boss stared back, a puzzled look on his face. He didn’t look happy. He probably figured his detectives should keep it professional. Too late for that. For Alex, anyway. He headed down the hallway after her, finally understanding the phraseglutton for punishment.
“So Ray says you put in a good word for me.” She surveyed a bedroom that stank of musky bedding and wet cigarette butts. “With Sarge, I mean.”
The chip-on-the-shoulder routine irritated him. He stuck his head in the bathroom and found nothing but a ring around the tub and an empty tube of toothpaste on the sink. “You have a problem with that?”
“No. Thanks.” Her tone had softened. She meant it. “I really needed this.”
He counted to ten, twice, angry with himself. “ Over here.” He squatted and shone a flashlight into the closet.
“What is it?”
