“Who’s Machete?”
“I swear to God, I don’t know.”
Liam came forward, pulled a pad from the folder on the desk and pushed it toward Garcia, along with a pen he took from his pocket. “We need names—real names if you have them, aliases if you don’t.”
“I’ll be a dead man if I do that.”
“You’re a dead man if you don’t. Your only hope is helping us. Then, if your info pans out, we’ll bring in the U.S. Marshals and see about getting you a new identity. But first we need everything you can give us. And you’d better not lie or witness protection goes out the window,” Liam warned.
Garcia winced, looking down at the paper. “My cousin...he’s my blood,” he said.
“It’s your blood or your life,” Dallas told him. He leaned forward. “If we send you out there now, you’re dead. I want your cousin’s full name. I want to know where to find him. I also want to know about every theft you’ve been involved with, and I want to know everything—everything—you can possibly tell us about Los Lobos and the people in it. And it’s in your best interest to do so, because until we get the Wolf, no matter how we try to protect you, no matter what we do, you’ll be looking over your shoulder the rest of your life.”
Garcia was visibly deflated. His whole face was damp with sweat. He nodded.
“There’s one more thing I need to know—and I need to know it now,” Dallas said.
Garcia looked at him. His eyes were wide, terrified. He nodded.
“What were you doing on that ghost tour?” Dallas asked.
Garcia froze. Then he winced as if he were in pain.
“What?” Dallas demanded.
“The house,” Garcia said at last. “I was supposed to get a good look at the house.”
“And what else?”
“I...I was supposed to get the woman alone. Wolf knew that Hannah O’Brien wasn’t going to be leading the tour. That it would be another woman. Katie O’Hara. I was supposed to...to get her alone when the tour was over, before she headed back to the house.”
“Why?”
He winced again. “I—I wasn’t ordered to kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was supposed to get to know her. Talk to her about the Siren of the Sea like I was studying local history and needed to know for a paper I was writing.”
“Why?”
“So she would invite me back to see more of the place. The Wolf didn’t know she’d have a cop and her husband with her.”
“So you gave up the plan. But what was the plan?”
“I was supposed to get her talking Then I was supposed to see that the doors were left unlocked.”
“That’s it? That was all you had to do? You weren’t supposed to kill anyone?”
“No. No killing,” Garcia said.
Maybe not, Dallas thought, but the kid was lying. There was something else.
Dallas forced Garcia to meet his eyes. “There’s something else going on. What aren’t you telling me?”
Garcia let out a breath. “Drug her coffee,” he said.
“What?” Dallas said, surprised by the answer.
“Get into the kitchen and drug her coffee. But I never got the chance.” Garcia stopped talking and inclined his head toward Liam. “The cop was there.”
“Detective Beckett was there, you mean.”
“Detective Beckett. And the other guy—lethal looking guy. He was a Beckett, too. David Beckett. The cop’s brother. So when I found out she’d be surrounded all night, I shelved the plan. The Wolf isn’t stupid.” Garcia paused again and sighed. “He doesn’t mind sending out an army to get killed. But he always has the endgame in mind, so if things don’t line up, he gets it. When he called me to check in and I explained the situation, he said just to be friendly and curious and stay at the Hard Rock when the tour was over, then leave after I had my free drink.”
Dallas stood and looked down at Garcia. “This better be the truth—the absolute truth,” he said. “We’re going to find the others and pick them up. We’ll hold them, and then, most probably, they’ll be charged with conspiracy to commit murder. I’m a federal agent, not a district attorney, but if you testify, I’m sure the DA will agree to relocate you.”
Garcia nodded, then looked down at the pad and pen lying in front of him.
When Dallas and Liam headed for the door, Garcia laid his head down on his arms. He was shaking, Dallas saw. Despite his dangerous alias, “Knife” wasn’t cut out for a life of crime, and he was afraid. Terrified. He’d been an easy mark. He almost felt sorry for the kid.
But, Dallas knew, the Wolf wouldn’t feel any such thing. Because he didn’t care who he lost—who he sacrificed.
And damn it, they still weren’t close to the answers they needed.