The Survivor (28 page)

8:35 A.M. MONDAY

T
igo breathed in too deeply and winced in pain. He hoped no one had been walking by his cubicle when he nearly cratered. The clinic had bandaged his ribs this morning, but no one would be able to tell, since he’d worn his sports jacket. He’d refused to tell the doctor how he’d hurt himself.

“Just put in the records that I parachuted from a plane yesterday and landed in a tree.”

“Is that the truth?” the doctor said, his pen in one hand and Tigo’s chart in the other.

“Not exactly, but it beats what really happened.” And here he was—a new Christian having a problem telling the truth. Must be a process.

An hour and two extra-strength Tylenol later, Tigo was trying to figure out if Ian knew more about the bombing than he’d let on. After last night, the authorities suspected the kid was more involved than he’d said.

Ryan stood in the doorway of Tigo’s cubicle. “Got your text. What’s happening with Ian?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Try me.”

Tigo leaned back in his chair and then quickly straightened.

“Are you all right?”

“Sure,” Tigo said. “Shortly after Jonathan called me about Ian stealing from him, he called back to say he was sorry that he’d bothered me. He’d handled the situation.”

Ryan shook his head. “Let me guess where this is going.”

“Father and son are going to buy a car today. No school or work for either one. Jonathan thinks Ian needs a little extra attention to help him through this critical time.”

Ryan snorted. “He’s using his mother’s and sister’s deaths to manipulate his father. The kid needs what Jonathan refuses to give him. What happened to consequences?”

Tigo raised a brow. “I doubt if either one can pronounce it. Curt’s the one who needs a break. Jonathan’s closing words hit the father-of the-year award.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“‘If Curt wasn’t an overachiever, Ian wouldn’t resort to drastic means.’”

“Do you think Ian orchestrated his mother’s death, since she wanted to send him to a military school?”

Tigo hoped not. “Linc plans to talk to Jonathan and Ian tonight. But hey, we have another lead. Hershey called with a name. Tell Cindy you won’t be home until late tonight.”

9:30 A.M. MONDAY

Usually Kariss had already checked and responded to her email by this time of the morning, but she’d stayed at Tigo’s late and ended up sleeping in. So sixty-five emails graced her in-box. Most were junk, but she still went through the process of checking the sender and subject line of each one, always looking for another email that might offer a clue.

Her publicist had a request from
Writer’s Digest
to conduct an interview. Nice.

Vicki’d sent a photo of Rose in a gorgeous pink sweater and hat. Very cute.

Facebook informed her of seventeen comments on her author page. Hmm. A few comments about her novel project. Back to email.

An inquiry from a reader who wanted a customized bookplate.

Seven junk emails. Delete.

A message from S. King with the subject line “Do you read Stephen King?” She opened it, thinking it was from a friend in Tennessee who had the same initial and last name.

Kariss shuddered. She performed a quick Google search and discovered that the quote was from the foreword of Stephen King’s
Night Shift.
She stared at it for several moments before making a decision. Pressing Reply, she typed a message.

She pressed Send, but her message came back undeliverable, as usual. Less than five minutes later, another email landed in her in-box from S. King.

Her stomach churned with terror. Tigo needed to know about S. King’s messages, but rather than call him, she’d simply forward the two messages. She didn’t want to alarm him with her trepidation, and her voice would be a dead giveaway.

11:00 A.M. MONDAY

K
ariss analyzed the book cover for the suspense novel she had coming out in October. The editor had sent it earlier this morning, and Kariss had viewed it at least a dozen times. Something about it didn’t say “bestseller”—not that a cover established that status. The hero’s complexion was darker than she’d pictured, and the heroine’s nose reminded her of a ski slope. The hint of lavender bothered her too. She’d envisioned orange-red tones in a black background to bring out the suspense aspect. She composed a note to her editor and copied her agent.

The four walls of her condo were driving her crazy. She had to do something. An idea popped into her head. And it was safe—if she chose a public place more popular with women than men. Even Tigo would agree no one would be in danger. She phoned Vicki.

“Can you get away today for a late lunch about one o’clock and some shopping?”

“Sounds wonderful. Let me ask Mom if she minds keeping Rose.” A few moments later, Vicki confirmed. “Where should we meet?”

“How about the Cheesecake Factory at the Galleria?”

1:00 P.M. MONDAY

At the designated time, Kariss met Vicki at one of their favorite lunch spots. They were quickly seated at a booth and ordered salads from the menu’s light side.

“Want to split a piece of cheesecake later?” Kariss said.

Vicki frowned. “I just lost twenty pounds and managed to fit back into my jeans, and you want to split a piece of cake?”

“Half isn’t as bad as the whole thing.”

“Okay, I’ll nibble. How was your evening with Tigo?”

Kariss was still basking in his decision to follow Christ. “Very nice. I get weepy thinking about it.”

“What about your relationship?”

“We’re working on it.” Kariss eased back in the booth. “I realized something about myself.”

“Which is …?”

“I love Tigo. But I’m not so sure he feels the same way about me.”

“Oh, he does.” Vicki’s brown eyes sparkled.

Kariss felt a hint of irritation. “What makes you so sure?”

“The way he looks at you and cares about your needs. He might not be able to admit it to himself yet, but he loves you.”

“His ex-wife hurt him badly.”

“I understand, sis.” Vicki took a sip of water. “I’m right there with him.”

Kariss would wait as long as it took. Tears pooled in her eyes as she studied her sister. She prayed her sister would find a man who would be her best friend and love her and Rose more than himself.

Vicki lifted her glass of water for a toast. “Here’s to good men who love Jesus.” She tilted her head. “Are you staying safe with your latest book project?”

Vicki and the rest of her family knew a little bit about what was happening but certainly not all of it. And Kariss had no intention of telling them. “Tigo says the FBI will have it solved soon.”

“Between now and soon is what bothers me—and the whole family.”

Kariss’s cell phone rang. Tigo. “There he is now. Excuse me one second.”

Vicki gave her a goofy smile.

“Hey, I got your email,” he said.

She swallowed. “Any luck with it?”

“A public library on the west side.”

That meant he couldn’t trace the user any further—not easily anyway. “I’m having lunch with Vicki at the Galleria. Should I step outside?”

“Do you mind?”

She excused herself and walked outside into a chilling blast of air. “Do you want to stop over tonight?”

“Can’t.”

“Undercover?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Buzz is at it again … Seriously, though, be safe.”

“I’m not concerned about me. Can I arrange for a protective detail beginning today?”

Kariss despised the thought, but she needed to start thinking about what her safety meant to him. “Have I been foolish in meeting Vicki here?” She knew the answer before he spoke it.

“Not one of your best choices.”

Guilt crawled into her heart and stamped “selfish” where “protect” had once been for her loved ones. Jerry’s and Hank’s deaths were still fresh … raw. “Tigo, I don’t want to cause you to worry. Neither do I want anyone else hurt or killed. I’m sorry for putting you through this. What about Amy?”

“She refused.”

“I—”

“Honey, finish your lunch. There’s only so much you or I can do regarding Amy. Tell me where you are, and I’ll send a couple of agents to follow you home. I know this is tough, but it’ll be over soon. Will you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can I have your Apple password? That way I can enable a ‘Find My iPhone’ app and keep up with you on my Mac. I know you value your privacy, but this is important.”

Kariss didn’t need to think twice. “Okay. Makes sense.” She gave him her password.

“Thanks. I’ll check back with you later.”

She dropped her cell into her purse and went back inside. Taking a drink of her iced tea, she looked around. She noted no one around her who looked suspicious. Specifically, none of the men appeared to be killers. She’d already come to the conclusion that the person causing havoc in her life had to be the same man who’d assaulted Amy twenty-three years ago.

“Sis, are you okay?”

Kariss smiled. “Sure. I need to postpone our shopping trip. Tigo thinks it’s premature for me to be out in public.”

Vicki wagged her finger. “I know there’s plenty you’re not telling me. Please, from a sister who loves you dearly, consider leaving town.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Vicki handed her a folded beverage napkin. “A man stopped by the table while you were gone. Said he was a fan and wanted you to have this. Sweet man. But I don’t trust anyone in your current situation.”

Kariss opened the napkin. A typewritten note on a slip of paper fell out.

9:45 P.M. MONDAY

T
igo had begun to think Hershey wasn’t going to come through with information about who was the new supplier of Semtex, but the FBI had finally gotten a break. He and Ryan were heading into the southeast section of town, where Mexican gangs warred for their piece of the city.

“You look mean tonight,” Ryan said, bringing Swiss Cheese to a stop at a red light. “Good thing I’m driving.”

“I want this case solved.”

“So do I. Can I offer a word of warning?”

“The same one you gave me when Kariss was kidnapped?”

“That’s it.”

Tigo nodded. “My head’s on straight. I’ve been through boot camp.”

“The tattoo helps.”

Tigo laughed and glanced at his left forearm. “Thought it would make me more intimidating. Buzz doesn’t fit well in these situations.”

“Rattlesnakes are deadly.”

“Gotta do something. I don’t have your shoulders.”

“Good genes. Hey, is the ear implant working?”

“Yeah. Do you tell Cindy when we do this?”

“Only that I’m going under,” Ryan said. “That’s our unspoken communication for her to pray. Then I call when it’s over.”

“When this is finished tonight, I’ll tell Kariss about the
implant. That should give her reassurance that I can hear and listen to backup when working undercover.”

“We walk a fine line of protecting the women we love while ensuring our cover.”

“I never said I was in love with her.”

Ryan chuckled. “Didn’t have to. From the moment you saw her last summer, living solo ended.”

Tigo hadn’t even adjusted to being Christian yet, and Ryan was tossing another curve ball.

“Have you checked backup in the last few minutes?” Ryan said.

Tigo pulled out his cell. “Are you getting nervous in your old age?”

“Cindy’s pregnant.”

“Congrats. I think.”

“We planned it. Glad we got the mess straightened out about her mother. But after this one, we’re done.”

“I think you claimed the same thing after Cindy announced she was pregnant the last time.”

“Now I’m serious. Three kids in college means years of undercover work.”

“That’s what got you there.”

Ryan laughed and pulled into the gravel parking lot of a Mexican bar called
Diablo’s Esquina
—Devil’s Corner.

“Glad you added a little makeup to your white face, gringo,” Tigo said. “Hate to have to save your rear.”

“You watch your own and find out who’s dealing Semtex.”

“Yes, sir. I aim to please.” Tigo scrutinized their surroundings. “Do you suppose Linc got any information about Ian today? Last night he refused to talk about why he was stealing his dad’s money or why he had a bag packed. Oh, he was high too.”

“Some parents are pillars in the community but don’t see the problems in their own backyards.”

“If and when the time comes,” Tigo said, “I plan to be there
for my kids. By the way, I applied for a job at Quantico. Thinking about reliving my wild days through training recruits.”

“You want to break up the team? Oh, I get it. You’re thinking about tossing me for another partner.”

“You could teach at Quantico too.”

They exited the car and walked to the door of the bar. Three men stood in their way. Each had a skull tattooed on his forehead. No doubt they had the word
Skulls
tattooed across their backs as well. But Tigo wanted the one they called Spider. “Looking for Araña,” Tigo said.

“Está ocupado,”
a thick man answered.

“So he’s too busy to make a little money?” Tigo said in Spanish.

“What are you looking for?”

“That’s between him and me.”

“I do his talking for him.” The man was obviously Araña’s captain.

“I only do business face-to-face.” Tigo nodded at the door. “If you don’t mind, I’ll wait inside while you decide.” He prepared himself to slam a few punches or pull his Glock.

“Let them by,” the captain said to the two guarding the door.

Inside, Tigo’s eyes adjusted to the darkened bar as he and Ryan wove through the crowd to a place where they could watch the exit, entrance, and everything in between. On a raised platform in the center of the room, three topless girls moved their bodies to a South American beat. Some patrons watched with bored interest. Others drank and stuffed money into G-strings. Tigo ignored the entertainment. Disgust best described how he usually felt about what the women did, but now pity filled him.

“Those girls need a job,” he said.

“And clothes,” Ryan said.

“And a bath.” Guess he was a new man.

Over an hour and a half later, the man they’d spoken to at the front door stepped into the bar. The bartender pointed toward Tigo and Ryan.

“Ready to roll?” Ryan whispered.

“Yep. Got my fightin’ jeans on.”

The man sidled up to Tigo. “He’ll be here in twenty minutes. This had better be good, or you’re a dead man.”

“Your boss better bring what I need, or he’ll end up a dead man for braggin’ about something he doesn’t have.”

“Hablas mucha para no ser nadie.”
Big talk for a nobody.

“Shows how ignorant you are, or you’d know who I am,” Tigo said.

“You bleed out just like anybody else.” The man sneered and walked outside.

Shortly after, the Skulls’ current leader walked into the bar with his bodyguards. King Araña had a small but deadly following. His face and record were on a squad board as the man suspected of murdering Pablo Martinez and his girlfriend and bodyguard, a move that slid him into position to take over Martinez’s role. Araña was known for his charm. He was a ladies’ man who’d probably gotten to Martinez through the girlfriend’s sister.

“You want to see me?” Araña said. A four-inch gold cross hung around his neck.

“In private,” Tigo said.

Araña pointed to a far table. “My office.”

Tigo and Ryan followed him and the captain from outside. They ordered
cerveza
from a long-haired girl who was probably still in her teens.

“I’ll get right to the point,” Tigo said. “I’m looking for Semtex.”

No sign of emotion creased Araña’s face. “What makes you think I have a source for explosives?”

“Hershey told you to expect me.”

“How much do you need? I might be able to find you some for the right price.”

“Enough to take out three SUVs. Five kilos.”

“Busy, aren’t you?”

“You used to bigger customers?”

“Always.”

“Supply me with this, and I’ll be back for more.”

“Maybe.” Araña had more missing teeth than kids in an elementary school.

“When can I get my hands on it?”

“Thursday night. Here. About eleven. Fourteen K. In twenties. Park in the rear.”

“That’s more than the going price.”

“Take it or leave it. And come alone.” He nodded at Ryan.

“Entiendo.”
I understand.

Tigo and Ryan left before the waitress brought their beer.

This sting operation had the potential to solve four murders and rid the streets of Semtex. Now to see if Araña had the real stuff.