Dawn was hours away as Jack flipped through channels on a police scanner. The raid was underway at the warehouse a few miles away. The operation would be carried out under radio silence, off the usual law enforcement channels, to ensure that no one, including the news media, was tipped off. Still, he hoped to catch a hint of police activity in south Albuquerque, especially in the area of Hemi Road and Broadway Boulevard.
He’d been ordered by his supervisor to stay away since he was still on medical leave. Captain Spitzer had insisted that Jack was too shaken up by the murder of his partner, not to mention the bomb in his apartment, to work with a clear head and detached focus on the Sonny Para investigation.
“I’ve got to hand it to you. That latest witness was a score. But we’ll take it from here. You just heal up,” Spitzer had said.
Jack hadn’t argued, but he chafed about not being privy to the ongoing investigation into Para and Los Brutos.
Now he paced around his parents’ kitchen table. The scanner spat out coded references for typical crime fare around the Duke City—traffic accidents, assaults, and burglary—but the blocks around the warehouse were quiet.
Jack was grateful that Mac Spitzer had called half an hour ago to let him know the raid was happening. Spitzer said the warehouse had been staked out for the past few days. Around two that morning, a rental truck stopped out front. A man had come out of the warehouse to unlock the gate. The truck pulled around back. A new drug shipment? The multi-agency task force geared up for a hurried bust.
Jack gave up on the scanner and started fixing breakfast for his parents. Later that morning, he joined his father in the backyard, where Eloy raked leaves and remnants of a vegetable garden.
“Let me do something.” Jack’s breath clouded in the chill air. He stuck his hands in his pockets and shivered.
“Sure. Roll that garbage can over here.” Eloy wore only a sweatshirt, jeans and knit cap in the thirty-five-degree cold. “Before you know it, it’ll be warm enough to till the earth and start a garden. I want to get everything ready.”
Jack lost track of time as he and his dad tidied up the large yard, talking about this and that. When the subject of Cait came up, Jack was quick to reassure his dad that marriage was still in the plans. “You can count on it.”
He wouldn’t admit the doubt that clouded his thoughts. Jack and Cait hadn’t discussed the matter since disaster had struck back in January.
The couple had planned to hold a Zuni-style ceremony on the Pueblo, followed by a traditional Catholic wedding at Our Lady of Guadalupe Sacred Hearts Church in Albuquerque’s North Valley. A kind of ceremonial melding of their backgrounds.
Would Cait still want to go through with it all? Would she still want to marry a cop, knowing what could happen when an investigation turned toxic?
Eloy beamed, oblivious to Jack’s closed expression. “I need to remind your mother. This whole thing has been hard on her.”
The two headed inside, where Lorena had made fresh coffee and set out a little bowl with vitamins for Eloy. He cocked an eyebrow at the supplements. “Why do I need all these pills?”
“They’re for your heart, brain, and other things.” She sounded insistent.
“A green chile a day keeps me going. My mom is over a hundred and still kicking like a mule.” He stirred half and half into his coffee mug.
“Those won’t hurt you and they might do some good. Tu madre takes vitamins too, by the way.” Lorena winked at Jack.
A little after ten, Jack’s cell chimed. He excused himself and answered as he left the house and climbed into his SUV.
“Bad news.” It was Spitzer. “I think we were set up.”
“Tell me.” Jack’s throat tightened.
“We went in before three. The place was empty. Nothing there but a few heads of wilted lettuce and moldy cauliflower. No one around, no truck. The office was bare, no computer or phone. The landlord says the place was rented month to month by someone named Rafael Aria. Everything on his rental application is phony. There’s another gate in the back fence they must have used to sneak everything out. All they had to do was drive the truck we saw out the rear gate into a parking lot by another warehouse. Our stakeout was on the street in front. Bottom line is Para knew we were coming. He was playing with us.”
Spitzer cleared his throat. “Or we got wrong info.”
Jack felt kicked in the stomach. “They were tipped off. Or they realized they were being watched.” He’d told Spitzer about the source describing someone who might be a cop meeting with Tafoya at the warehouse. Para could have been warned by someone within the department or from one of the other agencies involved in the raid. The drug business generated massive revenue. Paying off cops was a necessary business expense.
“They moved somewhere else. There must be a way to track where they went. Can’t we look at satellite imagery for that place?” Jack got out of the SUV and walked back and forth.
“We’re not the CIA or NSA. There is a company that has provided law enforcement in some cities with real-time aerial views of street activity, but they don’t monitor Albuquerque. That warehouse could have been cleared out earlier and an empty truck sent in last night to fake us out. Our guys watching the place had no clue.” Spitzer’s voice was flat.
“I don’t think my source misled us. He seemed scared to death he’d be suspected if there was a raid. I gather he and his wife are in hiding. I’ll try to get hold of Jason Gonzalez to see if he’s heard anything.” Jack resented Spitzer implying that the problem was his informant.
“I’d rather you not talk to sources while you’re on leave. Give me Jason’s number and I’ll deal with him.”
Jack stood his ground. “That’s not a good idea. He trusts me, but I don’t know if he’ll talk to you. Let me call him and ask.”
“All right.” Spitzer gave in.
Jack hung up, thinking about his boss. Mac had transferred in two years ago from Houston PD, where he had overseen a narcotics task force. The captain occasionally advised internal affairs investigators when they asked for his input. Jack trusted the man but he wasn’t willing to give out Jason’s number.
Damn it all. He needed a break from stewing over circumstances he couldn’t control. Donning sweats and running shoes, he headed out for a fast walk. A half hour later, he passed the scene of the botched warehouse raid. A pair of APD patrol units and an unmarked unit were still parked in the lot.
By time he’d returned to his parents’ street, he had covered four miles and felt invigorated and de-stressed.
The neighborhood quiet was shattered by a scream. Lorena Gallegos stood by the mailbox. Jack raced toward her.
A handful of envelopes were scattered at her feet. In one hand, she held a small white card. In the other hand, she clutched what looked like a wide leather weight-lifting belt with an oversized buckle. She flung the belt as if it were a writhing snake and staggered toward the house.
Jack stopped to examine the belt. The stiff, tanned leather was marred with a dried, blackish stain. “Desert Slam Championship 2014, Casino Del Sol, Tucson, AZ” was engraved on a large silver and gold-colored buckle.
Panic flooded his brain. He and Cait had watched his brother win that championship belt two nights ago. He grabbed his cell phone from a pants pocket and punched in Julius’ number. When the call went to voice mail, he left a hurried message.
Jack scratched at the black stain on the belt. He spat at a few flecks that came off and rubbed his fingers together. The specks dissolved into a reddish swirl. Blood.
He poked a stick through the buckle, lifted the belt and followed his mom. Face pale and drawn, she waited on the porch holding the white card with a shaking hand.
He’d raced back to Albuquerque to watch over his parents, but he’d overlooked the danger to Julius. Jack’s imagination ran wild about what could have happened to his brother.
***
Cait scooted her lawn chair to catch a diminishing patch of late afternoon sun on her brother’s front porch. She faced the Rincon Mountains, a procession of humpbacked goliaths marching along the eastern horizon.
That morning she’d been chasing after Rod Stone and had missed her brother’s call. Chris and Jon Angel, a park service biologist, were still out looking for Curt Wester, the hunter on the Tanque Verde Ridge trail. Jon had planned to install trail cameras in the area where Estrella and Cait had seen the jaguar and near other watering holes where a big cat might lie in wait for prey.
She sipped coffee and listened to birds natter in the chaparral. Despite Rod Stone’s capture, she still felt on edge.
Twisting her inlaid turquoise engagement ring, she thought about Jack. Ever since a drug lord had put a bulls-eye on his back, their wedding plans seemed out of reach. If only they could go back to life as it had been. Working and fitting in time for a run or bike ride. Quiet dinners and weekends together.
Jack hadn’t returned her last call. Her annoyance changed to a sense of foreboding.
Now her phone burred and she answered. It was Estrella, wondering what authorities were doing to protect the jaguar. Cait hid her irritation. How could anyone safeguard a wild animal that might be anywhere in thousands of acres of mountainous terrain? She told Estrella that Chris was doing his best to find the hunter. That was all anyone could do.
“I had another dream last night. El tigre norteno ran for its life but was trapped and dragged away by a team of men. The dream was a clear warning.”
“Maybe my brother will find Curt Wester and arrest him. I’m sure a jaguar can take care of itself.” Cait wished she felt as confident as she sounded.
“True. But El tigre let us see it. It was asking for our help.”
“It was odd that it came out into the open. I’ve only seen a mountain lion once, crossing a trail. Their instinct is to hide from people,” Cait said.
“I can’t stop thinking about the dream. At least Wester didn’t have dogs with him for tracking. That’s how jaguars are usually caught and killed.”
“Let’s hope your neighbor comes back empty handed.” Cait promised Estrella she’d call as soon as Chris returned from the Rincons.
“I wish someone would put Wester out of action. Treat him like all those animals he shot.”
Cait couldn’t argue with the older woman.