Yeah, right, thought Lock. ‘Is there anything else, Mrs Mendez?’
Her hand fell into her pocket and she pulled out a cream envelope. ‘I was hoping that if you find Charlie you might give him this for me. My time is limited and I’m not sure I’ll have the chance to see him before…’
Lock stood up, walked over to her and took the envelope. It was thick, maybe three or four sheets of heavy old-fashioned writing paper inside. On the front, in neat, cursive handwriting, was her son’s name. ‘I’ll make sure to pass it on,’ he said.
She clasped his hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong. ‘I know you will, Mr Lock. And, because I’m counting the days rather than the months, can you let me know as soon as you have? I mean, the very moment. It would give me such peace to know he had it before I depart this earth. Will you promise me?’
‘I promise you’ll be the first to know,’ said Lock.
Before he had made the trip to the Mendez estate to see the family matriarch, he had done a little more research. Miriam Mendez did have cancer, and any kind of cancer was a terrible thing, but the type she had wasn’t usually fatal. In fact, she was in remission. She had lost her hair but she was almost certainly going to be fine. There was only one reason she could have for asking Lock to make sure he contacted her first and that was to stop him delivering her son to the authorities.
‘Thank you, Mr Lock. You’re a good man,’ she said, with a wan smile
‘I’ll see myself out, Mrs Mendez.’
As he left the room, he stopped in the doorway and turned. She was still in the same pose.
‘Yes, Mr Lock?’
‘I was just thinking, Mrs Mendez. If by some chance you hear from your son before I do, could you give him a message from me?’
Her eyes widened, and he detected anger simmering just beneath the surface.
‘Tell him that no amount of money or muscle is going to stop me putting him behind bars with all the other animals.’
A hardness settled in her eyes but her smile didn’t fade. ‘Just be careful, Mr Lock. No one wants to see anyone else suffer.’
Outside, the all-American pool boy had been replaced by a thick-set Hispanic man, whose girth suggested he might have eaten the job’s previous incumbent. Presence of the abnormal, thought Lock. The man watched his every move as he got back into his car.
Lock tossed the letter on to the passenger seat. He started the engine, and headed down the driveway. The gates opened as he approached and he left the Mendez estate. About a half-mile down the road he pulled over. He stared at the letter, debating the morality of opening it. He picked it up, ripped open the envelope and pulled out three thick sheets of cream writing-paper.
They were blank.
Thirteen
Back at the hotel, Lock drove past the valet stand to a far corner of the hotel parking lot. He pulled in between two oversized SUVs. The nose of the Audi was facing a brick wall so the only view of the car for anyone watching him was from behind. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been followed from the Mendez estate but he wanted to ensure that he wasn’t observed in what he was about to do.
He got out of the car, and walked slowly around it. On the second circuit, he checked the inside of the wheel arches using his fingertips. Next he clambered under the car to inspect it. Satisfied, he wriggled out, then opened both doors, searched the interior, and ran his fingertips over every inch of the trunk.
He found what he was looking for hidden at the very back, a black box the size of a pack of cigarettes. He went back into the car, pulled out his Maglite and shone it into the dark recess. Using his Gerber, he levered the box out of position, and turned it over in his hand.
It was a Real-Time Asset GPS tracking device. They were commercially available and retailed at around five hundred bucks. He knew the price because he had recommended this very gizmo a while back to a trucking company: they had been concerned about a couple of their drivers, who were losing a lot of cargo.
Lock guessed the device had been placed inside his car while he had been inside the house, talking to Miriam Mendez. He had suspected something was going down when he had come back out to find the pool boy replaced by the older Hispanic man. The change of personnel had jarred, and anything that jarred was worth checking out.
He looked around the parking lot. He thought about planting the device on one of the cars with out-of-state plates, but dismissed the idea. If someone was prepared to send gang members out to kill a teenage rape victim, who was to say they wouldn’t cap a couple of hapless vacationers from Oregon? For now, the tracking device could stay put. If they wanted to know where he was, they could — for now.
Back in his room, he put Miriam Mendez’s blank pages into Marcie Braun’s case file and texted Ty for a situation report.
A few seconds later his cell phone chirped.
‘How is she?’ Lock asked.
‘She’s conscious but they kicked me out of the room,’ Ty said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sitting right outside.’
‘You had a chance to speak to her yet?’
‘I tried but she wants to see you.’
Lock glanced out of the window to the Greyhound bus terminal. ‘I have a couple of people still to talk to. The cops been back yet?’
‘Doctor’s holding them off. He wants her to rest some more before she talks to them.’
‘He tell you anything?’
‘Sorry, brother, I tried to ask him about her condition but I can’t fake being a relative, if you know what I mean.’
‘Speaking of which, any of her family show up yet?’
‘Her mom’s on the way. Should be here any minute,’ said Ty.
‘Okay, talk to her for me.’
‘You got it. Oh, and, Ryan, I do have one piece of news but you ain’t gonna like it.’
‘What is it?’
‘That kid you caught with the knife?’
‘Yeah?’ Lock asked, although he already had a pretty good idea what was coming.
‘She got bailed.’
‘She could have pulled the trigger, for all they know.’
‘Oh, it gets better. Want to take a wild guess at who she had representing her when she was arraigned?’
‘Johnnie Cochran?’
‘Where you been? Johnnie died back in ’oh-five, brother.’
‘Must have missed the obituary. So, who did she have in court?’
‘Junior attorney from Tony Medina’s office.’
‘You get their name?’
‘Working on it. I’ll email it.’
Lock could add another person to the list of people he’d like to speak to. While he couldn’t imagine getting anything out of a shyster like Medina, a new attorney in his office might give something away about who was paying the legal bill for a teenage gang-banger. Of course, it could be that the gang was paying, and that she and Charlie Mendez sharing a law firm was a coincidence. But as far as Lock was concerned coincidences were up there with the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. Believing in them might make you feel good, but that was about it.
‘So when you heading back?’ Ty asked.
‘Got one more call to make up here first.’
‘Okay, brother, but, hey?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Be safe.’
Fourteen
Her nose bisected by a sliver of brass safety chain, Joe Brady’s widow, Sarah, stared at Lock through the gap between front door and frame. It was a little more than three months since her husband had been butchered in Mexico. Lock knew from bitter recent experience that the first three months after the loss of a loved one were some of the toughest.
Your heart was put through a mincer. You didn’t sleep. Your brain tricked you: something would happen, and Lock would be about to share it with Carrie, then remember that she was gone. His gut churned even to think of it.
‘Mrs Brady?’ Lock asked, observing the social niceties. ‘My name’s Ryan Lock. I’m a friend of Melissa Warner. I’m here to speak to you about your husband.’