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Montoya took the worn strap of leather.
It seemed familiar somehow. But an old belt? He turned it over in his hands, saw the discoloration of the leather, the small cracks indicating it was old, and then, near the buckle, he spied an area where it looked as if someone had carved initials: AM.
His muscles froze.
Alejandro Montoya.
His great-grandfather. “This is the belt?” he clarified, his throat tight, but he knew the answer.
“Yeah.” She nodded, her eyebrows knitting at the question. “Of course.”
“What?” Bentz asked, picking up that something was wrong.
Montoya could barely believe it. “I think this was my great-granddaddy’s belt.” He remembered seeing pictures of the old man wearing it while riding his horse in the hay fields seventy or so years earlier. “So that means the person who found the dog and brought him back is my brother, who inherited the belt.” His jaw was so tight it ached. His brother had lied to him. Cruz had been nowhere near the Mojave when he’d called. His back teeth gnashed in anger as his brother had played him for a fool. “It looks like Cruz is already back in New Orleans.”
“So the question is: What was he doing here at Kristi’s house?” Bentz said, deadly serious.
“That’s one, but I think the first question and the most important one is: Why didn’t he tell me he was already in New Orleans?” Montoya said, but that was a lie and he knew it. The most important question for Cruz was a lot darker:Did you kill Lucia Costa?Cruz, of course, had already sworn that he hadn’t killed anyone and would certainly insist that he was innocent. So, Montoya thought darkly, the second question was obvious and just as gut-wrenching:Then why the hell did you run?
CHAPTER 15
Kristi stared at the aftermath of the police searching her house. Several techs had come over while her father and his partner were still questioning her. They’d taken fingerprints, clicked off pictures, examined the electrical system, checked the yard for footprints, and gone through the footage from the new security device. When the electricity had been shut off, the alarms had been silenced due to a flaw in the system—but the cameras, before they, too, were disabled, had caught images of the intruder. He was in black, a poncho covering his frame, a ski mask and sunglasses guarding his identity, the hint of a beard visible, but he seemed to know where every camera was located and had attempted to turn his face away before his visage was recorded.
“There’s got to be something here,” her father had insisted, but the prowler had managed to hide his identity.
“You really think he’s Father John?” Kristi had asked, obviously skeptical as she eyed one of the blurry images from the camera on the app she’d downloaded to her cell phone.
Bentz had scowled. “The MO’s the same.”
“Copycat, possibly,” Montoya interjected.
“It’s been a long time,” Kristi had pointed out. “Why now?”
Throwing up a hand as if the answer were evident, Bentz had said, “Because he’s a psycho. He doesn’t need a reason.”
Kristi hadn’t bought it, but had held her tongue. Because Dad had been too raw, too worried about her.
Eventually everyone, including her father, had left, and Kristi, after being cautioned a dozen times by her father, had locked the doors behind them.
Cruz Montoya had rescued the dog? Montoya’s brother? She did remember talk of him now, but it had been a while. Once she was reminded though, she saw the resemblance to Reuben. Cruz was taller, leaner, but, it seemed, more battered. They both were intense men, that much was obvious, but Cruz had less of a swagger and more coiled energy, or at least, that’s what she’d sensed.
She wondered how he had ended up with her dog.
And ended up at her house.
He hadn’t explained, but her last name and telephone number had been etched into Dave’s ID tags. Somehow Cruz had taken that information and figured out her address.
“He’s a private detective, remember? He can get that kind of information.” Jay’s voice again. As clear as if he were standing in the kitchen next to her.
She’d ignored her phone most of the day while dealing with Dave and then the police, but now she scrolled through her texts and found one from Bella asking her out to dinner.
Let’s meet at Rico’s! Dinner and drinks and much needed girl talk.
Here she’d added a wineglass emoji.
We could all use a little time to unwind, right? Sarah’s in, but Jess can’t make it. Work, again. Her boss is the worst! Bella inserted a frowning emoji face, but Kristi wondered if Jess was just making an excuse as she’d been in an on-again, off-again affair with the man she worked for whether he was “the worst” or not.
And speaking of bosses, mine would love it if you would come for an interview b/c of cable movies of your books, reprint of RK book, and possibility of him returning to NOLA. Here she’d inserted a frightened emoji face and praying hands, pleading with Kristi to consider the offer.
