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“Who else?”
“What, exactly, are you interested in, Sophia? The guns? The drugs? What do you want from me? I’ve been in prison for ten years.”
“We know Uncle Mark and Talbot weren’t working in a vacuum. But we don’t have any evidence. Or leads.”
“You’ll never find any.”
I nod thoughtfully. I’ve come to the same conclusion. We recently caught the Mexican public security secretary taking bribes from the cartels. It was part of a multi-year FBI effort, and he’s the highest ranking official to be charged in the history of the drug wars dating back to the eighties. I poured over the transcripts of his interviews, and he didn’t out anyone higher up the chain. “So, help me,” I plead. “For my mom.”
He rubs his sternum with the base of his palm, like it hurts. “Do you remember what I told you when you came to visit me?”
“You tried to warn me away.”If these invisible men exist, you don’t want to find them.“They hire assassins. That’s what you meant, right?” I study his features, logging any movement or twitch.
“The witnesses in my case all died.” His gaze lifts, and he looks directly at me with intent. “That’s not coincidence, Sophia.”
“And if you talk, they’ll kill you? That’s your fear?”
His gaze falls as he shakes his head. “Why would I be afraid of death?” A sad smile briefly flits across his lips. “The life I knew is over.”
“Maybe now you know how I felt.” I lean forward and let some of the simmering hatred and anger boil and hope he can sense it.
He exhales and gazes up to the sky, as if seeking answers or praying to his newly found god. When he lowers his head, it’s with the look of a man facing a firing squad. “If I were you, I’d look at the NRA. They’re the linchpin for all the gun manufacturers. And I’d look at politicians who are heavily tied to both the NRA and law enforcement. See if you can find offshore bank accounts. Shell companies. Follow the connections.”
“You think the government doesn’t already do that?”
“Sophia, I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve been out of it for too long.”
“No one’s contacted you?”
“I’ve been home less than a week.” He chews on the corner of his lip. “I’m an unemployed felon. I have nothing to offer.”
I’ve given that angle consideration, but my bet is the right criminal enterprise will highly value his smuggling expertise. There’s a reason mafia and cartel members easily find employment with their old families once they’re released back on the street.
“If someone contacts you, you’ll let me know?”
“Sophia…” He shakes his head and crosses his arms behind his head, a position of power.
I stand to look down on him. “There’s one more thing.” I pause, waiting for those beady eyes to travel up my body to my face. “As you know, I was drugged. Fragments of memories hit me at the damnedest times. And you know what I remember? Your neck. Straining.”
He closes his eyes and dips his head. The confirmation slowly wraps its way around me. The effect is dizzying. I’ve always suspected but never knew for sure. He denied it. The sick bastard raped me. He’s one of my rapists.
He lifts his gaze, and I read his expression as ashamed, but I don’t trust it. You can’t trust a sociopath. Ever.
“Sophia, you have to understand.” My fists clench. Trevor taught me how to kill a man with my bare hands. I don’t need a gun. “You looked so much like your mother. And…I didn’t think you’d remember. I just wanted one more time with your mother. One more,” he gasps as if in pain. “One more time with her. It was…in my mind…it was her, not you. She just…they took her before I was ready.”
I twist my body, bending my left leg, and swing with all my weight. My boot slams into the sick fuck’s face and his chair tips backward. His skull hits the travertine with a sickening crack.
I stand, legs bent, crouched. Movement in the periphery catches my attention. A dark shadow hovers near the base of a palm tree.
Someone is watching. I can take cover by a planter, or I can track the son of a bitch down. If they wanted to shoot, they would’ve already done so. So, I take off at a run, scanning for objects along the path should I need to drop for cover.
CHAPTER23
FISHER
With a twist of the binoculars, I zoom in on the unconscious man sprawled by the pool. This is Wayne Killington’s property. The man lies still. There are no signs of life. Did she kill him?
Rapid footfalls signal her approach. She saw me in the shadows. Her gun is drawn. I stand still, waiting for her to recognize me. How quickly can I get a cleaner here?
