"His name's Enrique Salazar. Ties to the Norteños."
Slater looked up. "Which means Diego Vargas."
Rafe nodded, suddenly tired of the confining room, needing fresh air. He could hear the coroner and crime scene techs arrive. They'd be hours and he and Slater had better things to do than hang around. He knew the sheriff was right about an inside job, and it was what Max Jensen had suggested. But he'd thought it was a C.I., possibly Lupe or another informant. This looked like a serious breach in security at a much higher level.
Christ, this looked like one of their own had betrayed them.
Bella had been with the girl ten minutes when Slater and Rafe entered the hospital room. The girl's dark eyes widened to the size of saucers when she saw the two men, one dressed in a dark suit, the other a uniform, both wearing sunglasses, and looking like bad-ass criminal types.
"It's okay, Shelby," Bella said. "These men are here to help. They need to hear your answers to the questions I'm asking."
"I don't know anything," the girl protested.
Rafe crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, taking the girl's hand in both his own. "Sometimes you know something and don't even realize it," he said gently. "Don't worry, we'll help you remember."
Shelby nodded dumbly.
The tenderness with which he approached the girl surprised Bella, and she looked at Slater who made a who-knew facial expression. She cleared her throat. "Let's start again, okay? Can you remember what time you left the bar – the Shady Shack Bar, right?"
Shelby had already told her she'd gone to the trendy bar with Joan Welch and hooked up with a guy whose name she couldn't remember. Probably didn't ever know.
"It was kind of early, I think, because… well… " She paused and looked soulfully at Rafe who still retained her hand.
"It's okay, Shelby. We're not so old that we don't remember going to a bar and getting hammered." Rafe's smile was almost bashful, a peer confessing a secret. Damn, he was good, Bella thought. Where did all this charm come from?
"We were pretty wasted," the girl admitted. "That's why we left early, because we didn't want to get carded." She realized what she'd implied and quickly amended. "I'm sure Joanie was sober enough to drive. She wouldn't screw around with her dad's Lexus." Huge, fat tears welled in the girl's eyes, but didn't spill down her blotched cheeks.
"Do you remember any stops between the bar and the lake?" Bella asked.
Shelby frowned, her shapely dark brows knitting as she concentrated. At last she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I think I crawled in the back and passed out because I don't remember anything after leaving the Shady Shack. And I can barely remember that."
"That's okay, don't worry." Rafe patted her hand and ruffled her hair as if she were a child. "If you think of anything else, give me a call." He removed a card from his jacket pocket and put it in her hands. "Take care of yourself, Shelby."
When the three of them stepped outside the door, Bella protested. "That's it? No more questions? She might know something about the drugs."
"Nope." Rafe shook his head. "She's scared shitless, but she doesn't know anything else. Probably never woke up until the EMTs got to her."
"But we won't know unless we ask her more questions." Bella hurried to keep up with Rafe's long-legged strides.
"Besides," Slater said as they walked toward the hospital elevator doors, "we found the dealer."
Irritated, she snapped, "Why didn't you say so?"
Rafe's face was blank as he stared at her. "I thought that was obvious. I didn't want to upset the girl."
Bella felt her face flush at the implication that she cared less than he did about what Shelby had been through. She punched hard at the elevator button. When it arrived, they stepped inside without a word.
She pushed down her temper. "How did you find the dealer so soon?"
"My contacts," Rafe answered, "are really good." He paused and then dropped the bomb. "But the dealer's dead."
"Oh my God! How?"
"Looks like a professional hit. Much like Lupe." The mention of his confidential informant brought a distant look to Rafe's eyes and Bella knew he still suffered from guilt over Lupe's death. "Without the torture."
"The house was ransacked," Slater added, "probably making sure the drugs were gone. The techs will look for traces of the heroin."
"If they find anything, we can match that up with the quality found with the two victims," Rafe said.
"Three," Bella corrected with determination. "It'll be the same and it'll trace back to Vargas."
"You're probably right," Rafe said. "The drug dealer, Enrique Salazar, had ties to the Norteños."
When they reached the underground parking area, Bella watched as Rafe and Slater jumped into their vehicles and headed back to the precinct. Even though mountains of paperwork were piled up on her desk, she wasn't going to return to the D.A.'s office.
First she needed to do something. She knew Hashemi wouldn't go for any kind of plea bargaining. And Barrington was a spineless jerk who wouldn't stand up to the feds no matter what. Bella was going to have to reach out to Santos first, feel him out about making a deal, even though every fiber in her body screamed against it. ñ
She shivered, but not from the cold. Thinking of approaching Santos was like contemplating walking into the jaws of a ferocious beast.
Santos pulled the Cadillac CTS up to the gate of Vargas' house and entered the code to open the barriers. He stood on the wide porch landing and rapped on the door. Usually Magdalena answered the door. He always liked seeing El Vaquero's wife, gauging by her demeanor if Vargas was in a bad or good mood. Determining how much Vargas had hurt her by grief or joy in her dark, expressive eyes.
Today the door swung open and Santos dropped his eyes from where he expected to see Magdalena to the slender form of her daughter Corazon. The child's large dark eyes, so like her mother's, looked very serious and a little fearful. Too serious and too fearful for such a little girl.
"Hóla, little one, where is your madre today?"
Cory shook her head silently as Santos peered around her into the spacious foyer.
"Is she sleeping?"
Cory looked down at her feet, digging the toe of one shoe into the cement. "She's gone."
"Gone? Some shopping?" Santos laughed and gently caressed the girl's head. "Ay, mothers are always going shopping."
She shook her head and glanced over her right shoulder as if she expected someone to reach out and grab her. "Not shopping," she whispered.
Santos crouched down so that his massive size seemed smaller and his eyes did not look down on her from his enormous height. "How long has your mama been gone, pequena bebé?"
Large tears welled up in the girl's eyes but she did not allow them to drop. "Since Sunday." She swiped at her nose. "I miss her."
So long? Santos knew that something was very wrong. Magdalena would not be gone so many days from her child if she could help it.
Chapter Twenty-three
In Torres' office on the second floor, the three of them speculated about the death of the drug dealer. Isabella relaxed behind the desk, her feet propped up on one edge, her shoes off. Pretty red-painted toenails peeked from the hem of her slacks. She'd removed her jacket and slung it across the back of the chair, and the firm outline of her breasts showed beneath the sheer white blouse when she locked her fingers behind her head.
"Why murder the drug dealer, someone so low in the organization?" she mused aloud.
Rafe slouched against a wide bookcase filled with law books and case law journals to the right of the desk. He found it easier on his imagination to think of Isabella by her last name and he figured it bugged her a little. "Someone was worried we're getting too close, Torres, that we'd squeeze information out of him."