“Still in the works.” He continues, “And until now, Miguel was under surveillance simply for being an underling for the FBI’s real target, Juan ‘El Carnicero’ Cruz.”
I know of Cruz. El Carnicero is a high officiating political leader in his country, operating out of Mexico City. He’s a powerful man who’s spent years forging friendships, connections and loyalties, becoming Mexico’s most deadly cartel leader in over a decade. He’s the gatekeeper between South America, Cuba, Mexico and the US and controls the Gulf. When his activities spilled north of the border, so did American blood. The FBI wants him bad, and with very good reason.
“Any IDs on Miguel’s transport accomplices?”
“Not yet, but analysts are taking bets it was Cruz’s men behind it.”
“They think Cruz busted Miguel out before he could give incriminating testimony?”
“He wasn’t dead at the transport site. Cruz is either Miguel’s friend or enemy, but we’re not sure which yet. What we were led to believe, according to Miguel’s sob story, is that Cruz was unhappy and wanted him dead because of a botched deal—he lost nearly a quarter of a million dollars’ worth of Cruz’s cocaine.”
“And that’s how the feds thought they’d secured Miguel’s testimony. Makes sense. Do we know where Cruz is now?”
“Sources say he’s still operating out of Oaxaca,” D’Angelo replies. “Satellite imaging doesn’t show us any out of the ordinary activity at Cruz’s compound, and no one is taking credit for Miguel’s escape or death.”
I make a mental note before asking, “Where was Miguel’s transport vehicle located?”
“Located thirty miles south of the city. They were bringing him to the FCI in Terre Haute, Indiana to await trial. All five guards were gunned down and Miguel was gone.” He pauses. “And Ryder, it’s a real stain on the department that it all went down here.”
“I get it, sir,” I say then ask, “What was Miguel doing in St. Paul?”
“Possibly making inroads through Canada while hiding from police. He got caught at a dive strip joint with a buddy of his from the Canadian border patrol.”
“Nice.”
“I could read a laundry list of dirty deeds Miguel perpetrated, with prior convictions from prostitution to drugs, but all of it was nickel and dime shit compared to being the primary suspect for the murder of Jameson—and now, tampering with a federal witness.”
When he throws that second piece of info at me, it’s like a scorpion is dropped in my pants. It stings fast, and I want to stamp it under my boot until I hear its body break and crack apart. “Did he kill him too?”
“Her,” D’Angelo corrects. “Twenty-two-year-old Rachel Farrington was a fellow student with Jameson at Tulane. She was the only eyewitness to the murder. During Miguel’s disappearing act, she went missing too. She’s presumed dead.”
“Went missing? Wasn’t she in protective custody?”
Nothing but silence from D’Angelo.
“Jesus Christ! Are you fucking kidding me?”
“She was holed up with two officers in a hotel in Wichita. The officers were shot dead, and she’s missing.”
“Is she being considered a suspect?” I speculate. “Why didn’t he just off her too?”
“We don’t know yet. Investigators are searching to find out if she had any tie-ins to Jameson, but so far it seems like the two may not have even known one another—”
“And Miguel?” I interrupt.
D’Angelo sounds tired. “It’s highly doubtful she was in league with him. Reports say she was a real wreck after what she saw, and she was terrified of the shooter. After working with artists, she picked Miguel’s photo from the database. She nearly had a breakdown just looking at the picture.”
I search the net for photos and leads while I piece together possible scenarios. “He probably got what he wanted from Farrington then killed her before skipping south-of-the-border to his home base in Tamaulipas. Is he known to own any other property?”
“DEA suspects he has a safe house in Tijuana.”
“How about in the States?”
“They’re still linking other known aliases.”
“And they’re going to take a fucking millennium,” I say, now sifting and combing through both Farrington’s and Jameson’s social media sites. “No offense—there are a lot of bad guys out there—I know workloads are heavy.”
“That’s where you come in.”
“Always is.”