“I bet. What can I do for you?”
“I just thought you’d be interested that the Las Vegas PD did a search on Deke Delgatos’s place and found a bunch of personal correspondence with a guy in Mexico City who they think is the one who put the hit out on you. You ever hear of a guy by the name of Tomás Bidarte?”
I could feel my jaw tightening.
“Sheriff?”
“Yep . . .” I thought about the man who had almost killed Vic, the man who had gotten away. “Yep, I have.”
Dougherty seemed sorry to have brought up the subject. “I just thought it was something you ought to know, you know?”
“Yep. No, thanks, troop. Any word on Jone Urrecha?”
“She’s fine; a little worse for wear due to the concussion and exposure, but they’re only keeping her a few days for observation so I’m having dinner with her sister.”
“Corbin, you dog you.”
“It’s just dinner.”
“Make sure she doesn’t bring her stapler.”
I hit the button and rested the phone on my knee. So, he wasn’t dead, not by a long shot. I thought about how Henry and I had covered all that ground down near Sulphur Creek and hadn’t found a trace of the man.
The driver interrupted my thoughts. “This is your first grandchild?”
“Um, yep.”
“Girl or boy?”
“A . . .” I thought of white buffaloes and Virgil as I listened to the slush of the melted snow rhythmically scour the underside of the Crown Vic; I attempted to collect my wayward thoughts. “A friend of mine says it’s a girl.”
“Good, girls are best.”
“And why is that?”
“Sons, they have their own plans, but a daughter or granddaughter, they will love you forever and take care of you in your old age.” The traffic had slowed to a stop, and I couldn’t help but pull my pocket watch out and check the time as he watched me. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you there, my man. What time is this daughter of yours scheduled to deliver?”
“Eight-twenty.”
He shook his head. “Nothing to worry about. Take it from a man with five children; they always go later than they say. I will bet you a ten-dollar bill.”
The exhale of my breath clouded the window beside my face. “You haven’t met my daughter.”
The car began moving again, and we’d almost made it to midtown when we lurched to a stop to allow a SEPTA surface trolley to go by. “These damned trolleys, they are so slow, and they take forever.”
“How many cars?”
Not fully understanding my question at first, it took him a few seconds to answer. “Um, two.”
I slipped my hat over my face and smiled, looking forward to seeing all my old friends—and a new one. “You’re on.”
Cady and Michael Moretti
Proudly Announce the Birth of Their Daughter
Lola Longmire Moretti
At 8:20 AM EST
7 Pounds
20.5 Inches
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