36
We left the La Mesa station house in Munro’s Yukon, taking Spring Street to the South Bay Freeway, then heading south.
Villaverde had opted to go back to Aero Drive and brief his team on everything we’d learned to date. He said he’d include Jules on the briefing, via speakerphone. Also, one of his guys had volunteered to drive my LaCrosse back to HQ so that I wouldn’t be without a vehicle later in the day, which was something I don’t think anyone in the New York office would’ve thought of offering.
The run down to Chula Vista was a breeze, with the early evening traffic still several hours away and Munro driving with the urgency that we both felt. La Mesa PD had done a great job locating Dani Namour, and they’d sent us the name of the store where she worked. I’d asked them not to tip her off that we were headed down there, since although it was clear that she’d severed her ties with the Eagles, we didn’t know what else was going on in her life and I couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t bolt at the first sign of law enforcement. So they’d had one of their female officers call the boutique from her cell phone and ask what days Dani worked because she’d been “so helpful” on the last visit. Not only was Dani working today, but she was mid-shift.
Maybe we had finally caught a break. I was feeling optimistic, thinking it would be pretty unlikely that whoever had all but wiped out the Babylon Eagles knew about her.
A few blocks out from our destination, Dani’s rap sheet came through on Munro’s handset. From the looks of it, and against all odds, she’d managed to keep her nose clean. Apart from a couple of minor traffic violations, she seemed like a model citizen. Which boded well for her daughter.
We parked in the lot outside Macy’s and walked over to the main entrance, which was marked by an octagonal tower sporting a faux cupola, a far cry from the domes of Vatican City that had probably inspired it. A quick glance at the store locator had Vanessa—the boutique where Dani worked—on the south side of the mall facing a CVS, and we headed there after Munro had stopped to grab a couple of sodas, reminding me that I’d been running on empty since that morning.
The store was one of those up-market fashion outlets that sold a small selection of items, all from big-name designers. There was an elegantly dressed and heavily made-up woman somewhere in her forties serving a customer, and a younger blonde in her mid-twenties standing farther back, at the cashier’s desk, leafing through a glossy magazine—Dani. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t look anything like what I imagined, given the image I had of her as a biker chick. Her clothes, hair, and makeup were all immaculate. She’d clearly left the biker life well behind, although I was hoping just a little link to that world remained, a link that was as thick as blood in this case.
Munro waited by the entrance while I went inside.
“Miss Namour?”
She had already looked up when I walked in and was now gazing straight at me. She knew there was no way I was there to buy a dress.
“Yes?”
She was scrutinizing me and starting to show the unmistakable signs of someone who knows that their day is about to take a turn for the worse. I flashed my creds discreetly at her, making sure the older woman wasn’t looking over.
“Could we step outside for a minute?”
Dani smoothed down her jacket and glanced over to her boss. “Suzie, I need to go out for a sec and help this gentleman out with something.”
Suzie nodded uncertainly, then got back to her customer. Dani gestured me through the door and followed me out of the shop.
“There’s a food court on the next level up. We can talk there.”
I tilted my head for Munro to follow and the three of us headed for the escalator, Dani leading the way.
She obviously had a steady job and had successfully moved on after her time around the Eagles went sour, and I felt bad about having to stir up all that pain again, but we were way behind the curve and needed something to get us back on track. We sat outside one of those Mexican restaurants that are a step up from Taco Bell but still the wrong side of the real thing, and got down to business.
“I’m Agent Reilly, FBI. And this is Agent Munro.”
“DEA,” he added.
She cut us off before I got any further with my introductions.
“This is about the clubhouse, right?”
I nodded.
“I saw the news, and you’re wasting your time. I don’t know anything about that,” she said, her tone firm and defensive. “I’ve had nothing to do with those guys for years.”
The anger and bitterness erupted so quickly it was almost a shock, though I’d learned over years of interrogation that the bad stuff always lurks right up against the surface, whether you can see it there or not.
“Your daughter, Naomi,” I told her. “She’s Marty’s kid, right?”
At her daughter’s name, Dani’s face hardened with a mother’s protective instinct, but then when I mentioned Marty, her face softened and her eyes flicked away for a moment as memory took over.
“Why are you here? Look, Naomi has no clue who her father was, and I want to keep it that way.”
Munro stepped in with perfect tag-team timing. He laid both hands palm-up on the table in front of him and gave Dani a wide smile. “We can see you’ve got a life here. We’re not interested in doing anything to hurt that. When people leave a bad life behind, get a job, raise a kid, pay taxes . . . it makes our job a whole lot easier. One less wasted life is one less violent death to write up. If all the girlfriends, wives, and mothers just got up and walked away from the gangs, how long do you think the guys would last before reassessing their life choice?” He gave her his patented gotta-love-me grin.
Dani relaxed visibly at that. Munro had hit just the right chord. The bastard was good at his job.
It was my turn. “We’re here ’cause we’re looking for Gary.” I watched for her reaction to the name, and I got the surprise I was expecting. “We think he can help us nail the guys who wiped out the club. I don’t blame you for not wanting to get involved, but these guys, they’re seriously bad. They also killed a deputy up in San Marcos. Guy had a kid. Same age as Naomi.” I let that percolate for a moment. “We think Gary knew one of them back in the day, and given what they did to the guys, I think he’d want to help us track them down. Thing is, we don’t know where he is and we need your help to find him.”
She took a deep breath, then sighed, suddenly resigned to the incontrovertible fact that one never truly leaves the past behind.
“He doesn’t want to be found and that’s okay by me. I’m doing just fine without any of them.” She looked at Munro as she added, “Just like you said.”
He nodded at that, clearly appreciating that she’d been listening.
“My parents near disowned me when I started hanging out at the club, but they helped out when Marty got himself killed. I think they were grateful I was still alive. They still look after Naomi so I can work. I paid for my father’s laser eye surgery last year. He says he can see better now than when he was twenty.”
She was proud of how far she’d come. And rightly so. But it was becoming clear that we’d made the trip down to Chula Vista for nothing. Dani’s eyes wandered off. Munro and I had been in the job long enough to let her go wherever she was going. After a long moment she landed back with us. I leaned forward, sensing that she might have brought something back with her.
“I don’t know where he is. He told me how much he’d miss hanging out with me and Naomi and said maybe things would change one day, but that day hasn’t come yet.”
I had to keep pushing, to keep prompting her in the hope that something would rise to the surface. “People rarely manage to disappear completely,” I told her. “They often miss something. Some detail, some contact, something they might have mentioned. Think about it, Dani. If this were a life-and-death situation and you needed to reach him, how would you do it?”