Chapter FIFTY-SIX
Jock and I were on our way to Longboat Key. It was nearing midnight. The streets were quiet and almost deserted. Bradenton isn’t known for its vibrant nightlife. Jim Austin’s rookie had driven us to the airport where Jock had rented another car, using yet another alias. Jim had stayed at the hospital to take care of the man I’d shot. A doctor who was somehow on the payroll of the agency would take control, patch up the knee, and order the man to be transported by his friends to Tampa General Hospital for extensive knee surgery.
“How did you pull that off at the hospital?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Jim took care of that end of things.”
“What are they going to do with the gangbanger I shot?”
“Probably the same thing they’ll do with Cantreras. I told Jim to make sure they asked him about the Guatemalans’ beef with you.”
“Is he really going to the hospital?”
“Probably. They’ll fix him up and keep him in isolation until he’s ready to be released.”
“Why only probably?”
“Somebody might want to use his bad knee in the interrogation. I don’t ask a lot of questions about those things.”
“Probably a good idea. What’re you going to do about the rental out in that grove?”
“I’ll call the rental company and tell them where to pick it up.”
I laughed. “Just like that? No explanation?”
“I’ll tell them it broke down.”
“I take it you rented that car under a name that doesn’t exist.”
“Right.”
“So they’ll eat the damage.”
“No. I bought the insurance.”
“I didn’t think anybody ever bought that expensive crap.”
“I always do. I lose more cars than I get to turn in. Fair’s fair.”
“What about the lowrider the gangbangers brought to the fight?”
“Our cleanup crew will load it on a flatbed, and nobody will ever see it again.”
“What now?” I asked.
“I’ll hear from somebody in the agency tomorrow. They’ll have sucked Cantreras dry by then, and be all over that bar and lockbox in New Orleans.”
“It’s a start.”
“Finally.”
When we turned into my street, I saw J.D.’s Camry parked in front of my house. That couldn’t be good news. We pulled in behind her car and stopped. The neighborhood was quiet, no lights in any of the houses but mine. I opened the front door and found J.D. asleep on my sofa. I turned and signaled Jock to be quiet. He nodded and tiptoed into his bedroom.
I sat in the chair across from the sofa and stared at J.D. She was beautiful. It occurred to me that I’d never seen her asleep before. All that animation that made her so alive was missing. For a moment I could visualize what she must have looked like as a little girl curled up in her pajamas on her parents’ sofa. Sweet and innocent and unsullied by the world of the adult.
I was staring like some dumbstruck kid when she opened her eyes. She didn’t move, just looked at me for a moment. “I’m glad you’re safe, Matt,” she said in a quiet voice. “I was worried about you.”
I didn’t move. We were joined in some kind of magnetic field that kept us rooted in place, our eyes locked. “I’m glad that you worry about me,” I said.
“I always do,” she said, and sat up, the spell broken. She rubbed her eyes and stood. “I need to brush my teeth,” she said, and walked toward the guest room.
“That’s better,” she said when she returned. “Did you find your guy?” “We did.” I told her about the evening, leaving out the part where Jock roughed up Cantreras.
“Will the agency share information with you?”
“They will with Jock.”
“When?”
“We should know something tomorrow.”
“What then?”
“I’m not sure. A lot depends on whether the agency can connect Cantreras’s employer to the deaths of the agents. If not, we’ll probably be on our own.”
“And if they tie it in, they’ll take the case away from us.”
“Probably,” I said. “But if they can prove to their satisfaction that Cantreras was working for someone involved in the hits on the agents, I don’t think there’ll be a case. Cantreras and his boss will just disappear.”
“I don’t like that.”
“You’re a cop. You’re not supposed to like stuff like that. But it takes some of the bad guys off the street, and you can concentrate on the whale tails.”
She sighed, sat quietly for a few beats. “The hit man was on retainer to the Guatemalan gangbangers, so it follows that the attempts on your life are tied to the hit man.”
“We’re not sure that the attempt at the police station downtown was aimed at me. It could have been you they were after.”
“That’s not very comforting,” she said.
“I know, but that probably makes more sense than me being their target.”
“What about the guys in the lowrider this morning?”
“Maybe they were just trying to scare me out of the babysitting business.”
She made a face. “Don’t be difficult, Matt.”
“Sorry. I don’t know what they were up to. The guy I shot was the driver this morning. Maybe Jock’s people will be able to find out something.”
“I’ve got to get to bed,” she said. “Call me when you hear something tomorrow.”
“Are you still working on Picket?”
“Yes. Steve Carey is supposed to have me something in the morning.”
“You’re welcome to stay here,” I said.
“Thanks,” she said, getting off the sofa, “but I need my own bed. See you tomorrow.”