Die Smiling (29 page)

“You didn't tell me about it before we landed in Miami. I cannot involve myself with these kinds of people, not while I'm wearing this badge. Not ever.”

Black's voice remained quiet. “I'm not a criminal, Claire. I've worked hard for everything I've got. I was never a part of Jacques's business and I'm not a part of Jose's, either. I left all that behind at eighteen when I joined the army, and I've never had anything to do with it since that day. They've accepted and respected my decision. I visit them now and then because they are family, that's the extent of it. Jacques is my brother and I love him. Jose is my godfather, and I care about him, too. I've never asked them to do any kind of favors for me, and they haven't asked me to compromise myself, either. I'm sorry this puts you in an uncomfortable position, but I'm not going to turn my back on either of them. Not for you or anyone else.”

“One more thing, Black, guess you didn't happen to tell Jose how Hilde was mutilated, did you?”

Black's frown was quick, so was his anger. “Hell, no. You know better than that.”

“Just wanted to make sure.”

“You know you can trust me.”

I did know, and I did feel ashamed to have accused him, but I said nothing, just returned my attention to the Esteban Rangos police reports. I clutched the paper, but couldn't concentrate enough to read it. I didn't want to talk about any of this right now because I was pretty sure there wasn't a good solution. But the truth was, he should never have asked me to go into the Rangos compound, much less taken me there. By now, probably every law officer in town knew I'd been out there cozying up with the local mob.

Black wasn't ready to let the subject drop. “I don't want to discuss this any more than you do, Claire, but it's not going to do us any good to ignore it and hope it goes away.”

“I'm not ignoring it. As far as I can see, we've got a big problem. And to be honest, I'm not so sure it's one that we can get past.”

Black's azure blue eyes held me, intense, unblinking, questioning. Okay, I had his undivided attention and here we were. Now what? Black carefully placed his drink on the table beside him. He was furious. I could tell. He wasn't one to show emotions, but he always flexed his jaw when he was angry and the flexing going on now looked like he was about to grind his molars off at the gum. He stood up and his movements got really slow, deliberate, deadly. He did that when he was ticked off, too. All coiled and ready, like some kind of big panther.

“Maybe it's not my family that's really bothering you, Claire. Maybe it's the fact that we've been together for quite a while now. Maybe you know it's time for you to make some kind of commitment or we should go our separate ways. Maybe you just don't want to face that little problem.”

I frowned, irked somehow. What did this have to do with Rangos? “I never made you any promises, Black.”

“Yes. And that very well could be the problem.”

I didn't like where this was going. One minute we were talking about his family, then all of a sudden it was do or die. “Look, let's talk about this some other time. I've got to read through this file and see if I can find a lead. Our personal relationship will have to wait.”

Black nodded. “There you go, and well do I know where your priorities lie. You haven't had much of a personal life in the past, and now I think you're finding that having one cramps your style.”

“Would you please stop with the analyzing crap?”

“No, I think it's time we had this discussion. I have a few gripes myself, and I think it's time we laid them out on the table.”

That surprised me, yes, it did, he was usually fairly complimentary about me. I looked at him, not sure what was coming and not particularly wanting to hear it. We hadn't had many fights since we'd met, but I had a feeling we were about to have one helluva doozy, ooh yeah.

“Okay, Black, whatever you say. Number One for me. I don't like you dragging me as a sworn law enforcement officer into meetings with known criminals. How do I annoy you? Hit me.”

“First off, it annoys me that you sometimes go off half-cocked without waiting for backup and almost get yourself killed. Yeah, you bet that annoys me. Second, it annoys me that you take chances you shouldn't, that you're reckless as hell, and that your luck's going to run out one of these days and you're going to end up dead. I don't want to see that happen. I don't like having to dread a phone call telling me to pick you up at the morgue.”

I laughed, and yes, it sounded scornful as hell. “Get real, Black. I'm a cop. I have a dangerous job, and I'm damn good at it. If you want a housewife type who bakes you chocolate chip cookies and irons your top-of-the-line silk shirts, I'm sure women from here to Alaska will line up for the honor.”

At my outburst, Black became utterly still and lapsed full force into his shrink persona. “What are you really saying?”

I jumped up, big time agitated. “I'm saying exactly what I'm saying, and if you'd listen to me for a change and quit parsing and analyzing every freakin' word I say, you might actually hear me.”

Man, that got to him. Black's jaw was working down underneath his tanned skin, but he was definitely under steely control. He was always under control. “Okay, let me put this plainly so we'll both understand. I want a commitment from you, Claire. I'm tired of running over to your house whenever you snap your fingers. I want you to move in with me so we can have at least the semblance of a normal life and actually spend time together like a regular couple. I've changed my schedule and put aside work to suit yours, time after time, but when have you ever done the same for me? I don't want a casual affair with you anymore. I want more than that. What do you want?”

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do, either. I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't like this conversation, and I certainly didn't want to talk about commitment. Lots of didn'ts going on here. I turned away from his unwavering stare and copped out. “I like things the way they are now.”

“Could've fooled me.”

I turned around and looked at him. I could be calm, if he could. “You're turning this around on me. I don't like my professional integrity being compromised by your friends. That's what this is about right here and now, and you ought to understand that. This has nothing to do with commitment. I haven't been with anybody else since we met, and I don't intend to. I don't want to.”

“Well, I want more than that. You need to decide if you do, too.”

“I need space to breathe. I don't like being smothered.”

“Is that what you feel like I'm doing? Smothering you?”

I didn't want to say it, but I did feel that way occasionally, as ugly as it sounded. “Sometimes, yes.”

Again, dueling eyeballs. Flexing jaws. Black was not in the mood to back down. Neither was I.

“I want a commitment, right now. I want you to move into my place, where I know you'll be safe when I'm not around.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“For God's sake, Claire, how many times have you been in the hospital since I met you?”

“I said, I can take care of myself. I'm still breathing, aren't I? Maybe if you're so unhappy with things the way they are, we ought to part ways for a while. See if that suits you better.”

My ultimatum hung in the air, and I knew I regretted saying it before the words died away, but couldn't seem to take them back. I waited, angry at him for forcing all this when it was unnecessary, but somehow relieved that it was all out, too.

“Is that what you want to do? Part ways?”

“Oh, come on, Black. You know how I feel about you, but I'm not ready to move in at your place. I like my house. I like my privacy, and peace and quiet, and you never have either one around you, not with your employees always hanging around like some kind of damn entourage.”

At first, Black said nothing. Quite eloquently, too. Then he nodded. “Okay, so be it. Maybe a little break from each other will help us sort things out.”

Black walked away from me and down the hall into the master suite. He shut the door, and a few minutes later I faintly heard his voice, talking on the phone. Probably calling Felipe to put a hit out on me. I sat back down and stared at the file in front of me, not sure how I felt. Stunned, maybe, at how fast all this had come down. A little abandoned, too, I guess. But I knew what I needed to do. I needed to forget Black for a while and think about Hilde's murder before the killer struck again. My job had to take priority at the moment, and maybe putting some distance between Black and me would help give momentum to the case. Besides, I didn't like ultimatums any more than he did.

That was fine and dandy for a while. I kept thinking about him in the other room, sulking, no doubt, but I forced myself to think about the case. When I was finally able to concentrate on the lead detective's progress reports on the Esteban Rangos investigation, I found they hadn't turned up much. Without cooperation from the Rangos family, it had been pretty much a dead-end case from the start. No forensic evidence found, of course, not after so much time in the water.

My phone started its song, and I glanced at the clock over the fireplace. It was almost three o'clock in the morning. This would not be good news.

“Yeah, this is Morgan.”

“It's me. Ortega.”

I tried to figure in a hurry how I was gonna break it to him that I'd already interviewed Carlos Vasquez and without Ortega standing in for the MPD as previously agreed upon. So I said, “You found Vasquez, I take it.”

“Yeah, I found him. Attacked and left for dead.”

Rarely ever am I speechless. This time I was.

Black must've heard my phone ring because he came into the room, saw the expression on my face, and said. “What now?”

I said to Ortega. “He's not dead?”

“Not yet. But he's in real bad shape. I found him at his apartment.”

“Who's not dead?” said Black. He frowned when I ignored him.

“You sure it's Vasquez?” I said to Ortega.

“Oh, yeah. I called 'cause I thought you might wanna know somebody knocked him out, tied him up, then hacked off his mouth.”

“Oh, my God. Like the other two?”

“Yep. I must've gotten there pretty quick after it happened. He was bleedin' like hell from the mouth and just comin' to. I got paramedics out there in about five minutes. They found the lips, believe it or not, and the doctors sewed 'em back on, but he lost so much blood that he's not doing so hot. Surgeon said he might be able to talk some in recovery so I thought you might wanna be there and ask him a few questions.”

“Where are you?”

“Sittin' in front of your hotel in my Jeep.”

“I'll be right down.”

I flipped the phone shut and looked at Black. “Somebody tried to kill Vasquez tonight by cutting off his lips and leaving him to bleed to death. Might've even been your friend, Felipe. So much for your so-called godfather's word of honor.”

“If Jose told me he wasn't going to kill him, he didn't have anything to do with it. He's never lied to me.”

“Yeah, right. He's a regular Billy Graham, isn't he? Well, I'm gonna need a lot more reassurance than your vouching for Rangos's word.”

I picked up my purse and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Ortega's waiting outside. We're going to the hospital and see if Vasquez can identify his attacker.”

“I'll go with you.”

“I don't think so. And I don't know when I'll be back. If you need to fly home, feel free. I can catch a regular flight out of Miami International.”

“I'll wait.”

“Go on back and take care of the pageant. You don't need to get any more involved in this Carlos Vasquez thing than you already are.”

“I'm not involved in Carlos's attack, other than when I was with you. And like I said, I'll wait for you. Right here. We'll fly home when you're done.”

We left it at that, and I grit my teeth in frustration as I rode down in the elevator. Rangos was the obvious choice for best suspect at the moment, but why would he order the mouth severed? I'd turned up no connection between Rangos and Hilde, other than she'd dated Vasquez, but Vasquez had said they were asking him about her. Or maybe another crime syndicate was out for revenge for some kind of slight? The Rangos did that cute earlobe thing; maybe their counterparts did lips. Still, it just didn't add up. And why didn't the perp just kill Carlos Vasquez and be done with it? They sure as hell hadn't left the other two vics alive to finger the assailant. I just hoped Carlos didn't succumb to his injuries before I got to him.

Vasquez was out of recovery and in critical care by the time Ortega and I arrived at the hospital. The attending surgeon met us at the swinging door to the CCU and reluctantly gave us permission to enter and ask a few questions, but only under his personal supervision. We followed him inside and past several other glassed-in areas where seriously ill patients suffered and moaned. Vasquez was lying in bed, hooked up to all kinds of monitors and tubes. They were giving him blood. I thought of Bud and how he'd looked when he'd almost died, of Harve in his hospital bed, of lots of people who barely made it, and then I shoved those thoughts out of my head and concentrated on the task at hand.