5
Bailey slumped against the backseat of the VW. Solana or Juan dead. Maria’s medicine and prescriptions gone. They had no clothes—their bags were in Joel’s car.
Joel’s car. They had parked in a lot and walked a couple of blocks. It had to still be there—Joel had placed some of the Depakote in Maria’s bag. She leaned forward. “Tito, our bags are in a car, and I need to get them. It’s in a lot somewhere near the restaurant.”
“Señora, I think we should go straight to the airport.”
“But I need medicine that’s in one of them.”
Tito turned at the next corner and inched down the street.
“There!” She pointed to a parking lot across from them. “And there’s the car.” He hung a left and pulled into the lot. “Someone’s been here already.”
The car had been stripped, and the trunk popped open. She’d heard that thieves could strip a car in fifteen minutes in broad daylight.
“We need to not be here!” The cab shot forward. “What time is your flight?”
She checked her watch. “Two hours.”
He nodded. “I will get you and the little one to the airport. Eh?”
“Gracias.” Joel had chosen this restaurant because it was less than five miles from the airport. Once they were inside the airport, they would be safe. Even a drug cartel would think twice about attacking them with Mexican TSA agents hanging about. At least she hoped that was true.
Surely the Lord is my salvation. I will trust and not be afraid.
She repeated the verses over and over as Tito wound through the streets to the airport, yet she felt no peace. He kept looking in his rearview mirror and turning down side streets. “Is anyone following us?” she asked.
“One never knows. You seem to be in trouble, so I’m taking the long way to the airport, just in case. We will arrive in un momento.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to put you in danger.”
“I face robbers every night, so this is nothing.”
If Tito intended to make her feel better, he fell short. But if she and Maria could get inside the airport, she wouldn’t have to put anyone else in danger. Like Danny. Especially Danny.
Why hadn’t he called back? Had he seen her number and hadn’t wanted to be bothered? But he had no way to know it was her—she’d given him the wrong number. Maybe it was just as well. She’d managed so far, and she really didn’t need to be indebted to him.
When he’d appeared at the restaurant earlier today, she realized she was nowhere near over him. Even now, the ache to feel his arms around her threatened to overthrow her good judgment. No. Nothing had changed. She read that in his swagger and teasing tone. Danny Maxwell believed he could do as he pleased and apologize if he was caught, like an apology would smooth everything over.
She stared out the window at the people on the sidewalk. Her eyes widened. A woman with raven hair and a pronounced limp. In black pants and a white waitress shirt. “Pull over!”
“What?”
She pointed toward Solana. “I need to talk to her.” When the VW rolled to a stop, she hopped out of the car. “Solana!”
The woman turned, and her eyes grew round. “No! Go away!”
Bailey hurried to her. “Come with us. You’ll be safe at the airport.”
Solana hesitated. “Juan is dead.”
“I know.”
“They came back after you left. I hid in a closet, but they beat Juan, trying to find out where you two were . . .” She faltered.
“Come with me, and I’ll buy you a ticket to the States. You can stay there. Oh, wait. You would need your passport and visa, but maybe we can get around that.”
She’d read somewhere about a Mexican cameraman who outed a drug cartel and received asylum in the United States.
“I have them both with me, but why would you do that for me?”
“It’s the least I can do. You saved our lives.” She pulled Solana toward the Volkswagen. When Bailey had time, she’d ask Solana why she carried her papers with her. “We have another passenger, Tito,” Bailey said as she opened the front passenger door.
As soon as Solana was in, Bailey hopped in the backseat, and Tito gunned the VW away from the curb. She pulled Maria toward her and smoothed her hair back. “You must stay close to me when we get to the airport. Okay?”
“Will you carry me?”
Since she had only her purse with their tickets and identification, carrying the child would be no problem. “Sure, honey.”
Tito pulled the VW into the long line of cars dropping off passengers at the US Airways terminal. An airport guard motioned them over to the curb a hundred feet from the sliding doors, but Tito ignored him and inched closer. He parked, and she paid him. “Thank you.”
Sweat ran down her face as she opened the door and climbed out with Maria, scanning the drop-off lane to see if anyone was following them. As soon as they were out of the car, Tito pulled away from the curb, and she hurried toward the sliding glass doors with Solana on her heels.
Tires screeched behind them. Bailey turned as men scrambled from a nearby car. She gasped. One of them looked like the man in the grocery store they’d hidden in earlier.
Danny checked his watch as he paced outside the US Airways departure terminal. He’d been so sure Bailey would be at the airport, but he and Angel had been hanging around where passengers unloaded for forty minutes with no sign of either her or Maria. A phone call to the receptionist at Maxwell Industries had gotten him Bailey’s flight number. Boarding started in ninety minutes.
Angel approached from the doorway where he’d been scanning the crowd in line to get boarding passes. “Do you think they’ve already gone through security?”
“I hope. But I’m going to hang around until the flight leaves.” Danny scanned the area once more. A green Volkswagen Beetle ignored the guard directing traffic and inched closer to the front of the US Airways line. “You don’t have to stay—I can get a taxi back to my car.”
“No. I’ll stay.”
“Why? You don’t have a dog in this hunt.”
Angel’s eyebrows pinched together, then a look of understanding lit his eyes. He shook his head. “You Americans say crazy things. But I’m staying.”
Tires screeched, and Danny jerked his head toward the sound. He lasered in on the green VW pulling away from the curb. Was that Solana, the waitress from the cafe? His gaze shifted. That was definitely Bailey with Maria in her arms, her eyes on a car that was barreling toward the curb. He shot forward, running toward them with Angel on his heels.
“I’ll take care of the women,” Danny shouted. “You get Maria.”
Bailey stumbled, and Angel scooped Maria from her hands as Danny caught Bailey before she hit the pavement. She tried to jerk away.
“Stay with me!” he hissed as he steadied her. Beside her Solana froze, and he jerked his head toward the door. “Go!”
Solana stood as though she were chained to the concrete. He grabbed the waitress’s hand and pulled. “Come on!”
Danny hustled them toward the doors to the terminal. He looked back and saw men exit the car that had pulled up to the curb. He recognized two of them from the restaurant earlier. The doors slid silently open. Angel darted through with Maria, and they followed. Danny jerked his head toward the escalator. “Over there!”
Solana limped toward it, but Bailey pulled away from him. “No! We’re safe now. They won’t try anything in here with all the security. Where’s Maria?”
He glanced around as Angel ran down the moving steps two at a time with the girl. “Too late. Let’s go!”
Danny pulled a reluctant Bailey toward the escalator as he scanned the area behind them. The men no longer searched the cars but marched toward the terminal. “They’re coming, and they don’t look too afraid of security.”
She jerked her head toward the door and gasped. He grabbed her hand. “Quit being so stubborn and come on!”
This time, she joined him, and they raced down the escalator, slipping past the people already on it. At the bottom, he searched for Angel and saw him exit the baggage claim area with Maria. He pulled Bailey toward the door.
She balked. “Wait! Where’s Solana?”
He swiveled his head, looking. “There, by the other exit.”
They bolted for the small woman. “This way,” Bailey said when they reached her.
“No, I’ll just slow you down.” She pointed to the cast on her right foot. “I can’t run anymore.”
Danny swept her into his arms. “Then I’ll carry you. We’re not leaving you behind.”
He carried her through the door and searched for Angel and Maria.
“There they are, at the taxi stand.” Bailey threw him a wild look. “Is he leaving us?” She broke into a run. “Wait!”
“I want Miss Bailey!” Maria’s plaintive cry carried over the noise of the traffic.
Danny checked the inside of the terminal. The men who were looking for Maria and Bailey bounded from the escalator, but so far he didn’t believe they had seen them. He was on Bailey’s heels when she reached Angel and grabbed Maria from his arms.
“Get in,” Angel said.
Bailey hesitated.
Angel palmed his hands. “I was not going to leave you.”
Without a word, Bailey slid into the backseat of the taxi with Maria.
Danny wasn’t so sure that his new friend was telling the truth. He set Solana on the ground, and she scrambled into the front seat beside the driver. “Weren’t you?”
“We don’t have time to argue. The men are coming.” Angel turned and handed the driver money. “Casa Grande?”
“Sí!”
He turned to Danny. “I’ve made arrangements at the hotel. I’ll meet you there later, after I get my car.”
Danny nodded, his mind whirling. He’d forgotten Angel’s SUV. “How will you find us?”
“Don’t worry.” Angel pressed a card into his hand, then looked over his shoulder. “Go!”
“Be careful.” Danny hopped into the backseat with Maria and Bailey. As soon as he slammed the door, the taxi shot forward. At least the car had darkly tinted windows, blocking passengers from view.
“Miss Bailey, I want to go home.” Maria sobbed into Bailey’s shoulder.
The poor kid had to be terrified. But she’d been a trouper, for sure. Not only Maria, but Bailey as well. Danny patted the girl’s arm. “It’s going to be okay, honey. When we get to the hotel, I’ll get you an ice cream. Okay?”
She stared at Danny with tears falling from her huge blue eyes. “Will you find my uncle?”
Light encroached the darkness, but with it pain. Unbearable pain. The forlorn whistle of a train raked his ears, bringing with it the memory of being carried. Kidnapped. Then the questions and the blows. This was all wrong. He couldn’t give them what they wanted, and he no longer knew what he’d said and what he hadn’t.
“He’s coming around.”
The words were spoken in Spanish, but not by the ones who had beaten him earlier. The second string must have been sent in. Someone shook him, reeling his senses. Maybe if they thought he had other information, he could bargain. Stiffening his backbone, Joel raised his head, sending pain through his arms bound behind him. He struggled to look the men in the eye, but his left eyelid refused to budge. He cracked the right one even though it was almost swollen shut. It appeared they were in a warehouse of some kind.
“The woman and child?”
He bared his teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Talking cost him strength. Strength he had to save for thinking. And for trying to get untied. He wiggled his hands, feeling the rope that bound him give.
“Your niece. And the woman with her. Where are they?”
A shred of relief spread through him. If they didn’t have Maria, she and the necklace were safely on their way to the States. Now all he had to do was stay alive long enough to get to her. “How would I know? The last time I saw them was at the restaurant.”
The man questioning him swore. Joel closed his eye and braced for another blow to his head. When it didn’t come, he risked another look. The man stood, his arms folded.
“They went to the airport. What’s their destination?”
He wasn’t stupid. If he gave up the information, he would be of no further use to them. “Why do you—”
“No questions. You owe—”
A door burst open, and a flash of light followed by an explosion rocked his head.
“Police! Put your guns down!”
Gunfire rang out. Joel rocked the chair, managing to tip himself over, and crashed onto the floor. He lay unmoving until the shooting stopped. Then someone lifted him, and rough hands jerked the ropes loose. He inched his stiff arms forward, and a wave of pain tore through him. He groaned.
“Are you all right?”
“Do I look all right?” Joel eyed the wiry Mexican who knelt beside him.
“Sorry. I’m Sergeant Quinten Chavez—with the PFM. And you are?”
Police of the Federal Ministry. The big guns. “Joel McDermott. I work for Montoya Cerámica.” He worked his shoulders, and circulation returned to his arms. “How did you know—”
“Lucky for you, someone saw them bring you into the warehouse and reported it. We knew this was a Calatrava operations building, and we jumped on it.”
“So it was the Calatrava?” But why? It hadn’t been the cartel he’d lost money to.
“Was is correct.” The inspector jerked his head toward two bodies on the floor. “At least for these two. They won’t be hurting anyone else. Do you know why the drug cartel took you?”
Joel rubbed his arms. There was not a muscle in his body that didn’t hurt. “No.”
Chavez lifted his eyebrows.
“If I knew, I would tell you.”
A beep on the sergeant’s phone interrupted whatever he intended to say. Chavez read the message. “Your niece. Where is she?”
Joel’s heart stilled. Chavez already knew about Maria? “On her way to the States with her teacher.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“What do you mean?”
“According to the message I just received, Bailey Adams and Maria Montoya were no-shows on the plane.”
Joel’s heart sank. This could not be happening. “The cartel doesn’t have them. That was the information they wanted from me—their whereabouts. If they’re not on the plane, then I don’t have a clue.”
“What would the Calatrava drug cartel want with your niece, Mr. McDermott?”
“You have to ask? How about ransom? Her great-uncle Edward Montoya is quite wealthy, and it’s common knowledge wealthy people in Mexico carry insurance.”
Chavez nodded. “And you yourself have such insurance.”
“Yeah. So?” He leveled his gaze at the detective. “You seem to know a lot about me.”
Chavez ignored his inference. “Can you call Miss Adams?”
He felt for his phone. Gone. He swore. He needed that phone. He nodded to the men on the floor. “They must’ve taken my cell.”
Chavez took out his phone. “Give me her number, and I’ll call.”
Joel closed his eyes and tried to recall Bailey’s number. He gave the sergeant what he thought the number might be.
Chavez dialed it, then disconnected. “That’s not the number.”
“That’s why I need my phone. I can never trust my memory.” He tried once more to visualize Bailey’s number, but it was no use. Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry. If you find my cell phone, it’ll be in it.”
“Let’s see.” Chavez rifled through the pockets of the dead men, producing two black smartphones and a wallet. First he flipped the wallet open, then handed it to Joel. “Yours, I believe.” Then he held the phones up. “And one of these, maybe?”
Joel took the first one he handed him and turned it on. “Not this one.”
The detective powered up the one he held, and it showed a photo of Claire and Maria on the beach. “I assume this is a photo of your wife?”
“My sister.” Joel reached for the phone. He was pretty sure Chavez already knew that.
Chavez moved it out of his reach. “I also assume you have Miss Adams’s cell number in your contacts, so first let’s see if she will answer.”
What was the man’s problem? “Hey, I’m not the bad guy here.”
“I never said you were.” The detective’s hooded gaze said otherwise. He scrolled through Joel’s contacts and pressed Bailey’s number. The call went immediately to voicemail. “She doesn’t seem to be available.” Chavez tossed the phone to him. “Maybe you have another number where you can reach her?”
“Look, Detective—”
“Sergeant.”
Joel took a deep breath. He knew that many of the federal police supplemented their meager salary by extortion. Pretend that a victim was actually the perpetrator, and for a price, the harassment could end. “Sergeant Chavez, let’s stop playing games. I don’t know why they kidnapped me or why they want my niece. If you know, please tell me.”
“If I knew, you would probably be under arrest. The drug cartel doesn’t beat up innocent citizens—they only demand money from them.”
“Well, this time, they did.” He waited for the extortion demand.
“We’ll see. How much insurance do you carry on your niece?”
“I carry five million on both of us. Not sure how much her great-uncle carries.” Joel couldn’t wrap his mind around the sergeant’s strategy, and he didn’t have the time or brain cells to figure it out. He stood, and dizziness threatened to put him back on the floor. “I have to find Maria. With or without your help.”
“You are unable to drive in your condition.”
His car. He’d forgotten he left it in a parking lot near the cafe. Joel felt his pockets. “They took my keys.” Which probably meant the Mercedes was long gone by now. Or stripped.
“Was your house key on the ring?”
Joel nodded. His day had just gotten a whole lot worse. No. Even if they got into his house, he’d locked the safe before he left. Without the combination, it’d take dynamite to get the door off . . . or a plastic explosive.
Chavez’s mouth settled in a firm line. “I’ll take you to get your car, then follow you to your house. Direct me to where you left it.”
Talk was minimal as the sergeant drove. As they turned the corner where Casa del Pan was located, Joel caught his breath. Smoke hovered over what was left of the cafe. He turned to Chavez, and the intensity of his gaze made him flinch. The sergeant had purposefully not told him of the fire to see his reaction. “When did this happen?”
“Not long after you were taken.”
“Maria?”
“No child’s body was found.”
But a body had been found. “Who? Why?”
A slight shrug lifted Chavez’s shoulders. “That seems to be the question of the day. But for your first question, the size of the body indicates it was the cook.”
The image of the small woman who waited on them flitted in his mind. “How about the waitress?”
“She seems to have escaped. I want to know why someone would kidnap you, burn down a cafe, and commit murder to find your niece.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t know.” Joel forced himself to not look away from the dark eyes that bore through him, but he couldn’t do anything about the sweat that trickled down his back.
Chavez cocked his head. “Where did you park your car?”
Joel’s shoulders relaxed. “Around the block.”
Chavez drove to the lot. The car wasn’t gone, but it might as well be. Only the shell remained. Everything else was stripped away.
Chavez’s cell phone rang, and he answered. “I see. We’ll be there in ten minutes.” After he hung up, he turned to Joel, his expression unreadable.
“Maria?” Joel fisted his hands, waiting for the bad news.
The detective shook his head. “Your house has been ransacked.”