Fifty-two

Yuma, Arizona

Sabrina ended the call and switched to text mode. Beside her, Church shifted in her chair. Sabrina thumbed the hammer back on her Kimber.

“You’re such a bitch,” Church griped at her while she thumbed out a few short texts.

Graciella Lopez

Look for any houses or properties owned by Vega Farms or their associates.

Just find her, I’ll take care of the rest.

Thanks

She hit send and smiled. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it, Kitten?”

Church batted the gun out of her face and grabbed at the phone. “When this is over, I’m going to kill you,” she said without any real heat, jamming the phone back into her pocket.

“There’s too much at stake—”

“I understand the stakes,” Church said hotly. “Pretty sure it’s you who keeps playing fast and loose with everyone’s lives.”

It reminded her that this wasn’t just about her or Michael. If she was found, the people she left behind—Val, Strickland, the twins—wouldn’t last a week. “Shit.” She pulled out a chair and sank into it. “You’re right … I just …”

Church sighed. “You take it personally,” she said like she understood. “People die and you can’t help but feel like it’s your fault.”

She nodded. “I don’t know what to think. On one hand, we have Vega. Given his relationship with Rachel Meeks, his apparent relationship with Wade, and his established relationship with Graciella Lopez, he’s our prime suspect.”

“But then we have this Nulo character who keeps popping up,” Church chime in. “You think he and Vega are the same person? Maybe he used the name to keep his identity a secret in case Wade turned on him?”

“Maybe. What I’ve learned about Vega so far jibes with what Father Francisco told me about Nulo. Dead mother. No father. Asshole uncle … But I don’t know.” Sabrina shrugged. “What I do know is the only person who can tell me has been hijacked and I can’t get to her.”

“You’re wrong you, know.” Church stood. “I might not be able to tell you who Nulo is, but I’ve got a pretty good idea of what we’re looking for.”

Sabrina studied the box. “How much of this stuff did you read?” The thought of anyone having access to what was in that box made her want to throw up.

Afraid they’ll see the real you, darlin’?

“Most of it. All of the letters. A few of the journals.” Church said without so much as a hint of an apology. “I’m reading by chronological order so … I’m working my way through 2001 now.”

Which means she knows all about you and me. All those nasty things we got up to in the dark.

“And?” she said, barely able to choke the word out.

If Church noticed her reaction to the admission, she didn’t let on. Probably didn’t care. “He’s not much younger than Bauer was then—I’d say mid to late thirties—which puts him in Vega’s age bracket now.” She reached into the box to pull out the pile of letters. “Despite the closeness in age, Bauer was definitely a father figure to this guy. My guess is he never had one of his own—or if he did, he was a bad one.”

Sabrina remembered what Father Francisco told her. That Nulo had been raised by his uncle, Tomas Olivero. That he’d been abused so severely that he ran away constantly, seeking sanctuary in the church. While those factors certainly won’t turn you into a sadistic serial killer, they didn’t exactly help either. She remembered the way Vega reacted to her questions about his childhood. Had his adopted father given him the family business in order to buy his silence about being abused by the Vega Farms foreman?

“Another thing: the letters stop in 2001.” She flipped to the last page in the file. “No explanation. No see you later. The last one is dated April twenty-sixth. He talks about committing a murder but just waxes poetic about it. No real detail other than referring to the victim as a she,” Church said, laying the letters on the table.

“She?” Father Francisco assumed that the murder Nulo committed in the spring of 2001 had been his uncle’s. What if he’d been wrong? “Any mention of killing his uncle?”

“No.” Church shook her head. “Not that I saw.”

“So why the sudden stop?” Sabrina said.

“Something happened.” Church shook her head again, a slight frown crinkling her brow. “Something big—big enough to knock him off course. Or at least point him in a different direction.”

“So … by 2001, he’d already killed,” Sabrina said, picking up the thread. “And according to his letter to Wade, he liked it …”

Like ain’t the word. Our boy loved it. He’s good. A born killer—just like you and me.

“He wouldn’t have been able to just stop.” She glanced at the journal Church set aside to dig through the box. “Which one is that?”

Church held up a journal. Across the front of it was a name.

Rachel