CHAPTER SIXTEEN
You’ll never guess who showed up today.
Back in her office a few hours later, Veronica stared at her computer screen. The cursor blinked rhythmically, an ancient ode to the blank page. Even though there were hundreds—thousands—of things to say, she couldn’t figure out what to write next.
She had work to do. There were lives at stake, careers on the line … and all she wanted to do was talk to one person. The one person she couldn’t reach.
It was just after 4:00 p.m. in Neptune, California—which meant it was 0430 hours aboard the USS Harry Truman. They’d had a date to Skype a half hour ago, but he hadn’t shown up. That happened sometimes; if he was called out on a mission, he didn’t always have a chance to let her know. She tried not to let it bother her, but a part of her always thought, just for a split second: He could be dead right now.
It was stupid. But she couldn’t help it.
Maybe you already saw the news—I don’t know, do you get CNN on the Truman? Trish Turley’s been making a meal out of it. Another girl went missing, and because the cosmos hates me, she just so happens to be Lianne’s stepdaughter.
The late-afternoon sun filtered through the slats in her blinds, sending shadows across her desk. She leaned back in her chair and stared at the plaster on the ceiling, her mind combing over everything that’d happened in the past few hours. It all seemed too complicated to try to describe in an e-mail—the strangeness of seeing her mom again, the confusion of feelings. The discovery that she had a little brother. She sighed.
I’ll tell you all about it when we have a chance to Skype. Are you free Monday morning (my Sunday night?). Let me know and I’ll be online.
She hit Send and snapped the laptop shut.
It was obvious that the disappearances were connected; Federico Gutiérrez Ortega was seen flirting with both girls the night before they went missing. But what had he done with them? What could possibly motivate him to kidnap or hurt two American girls when he had so much at stake? She knew the evidence had to be airtight before she made an accusation; the Milenios weren’t stupid. If they caught a whiff of her poking around, they’d cover their tracks and then some.
Meanwhile, Hayley’s fund had just hit $550,000 that morning; Aurora’s was already up to $300,000 and climbing by the hour. As those figures rose, so did the number of cancellations rolling into Neptune’s motels and hotels up and down the coastline. Trish Turley had rallied her fans, and the sudden drop in the number of spring breakers was becoming noticeable.
A door opened, and Veronica suddenly became aware of raised voices in the reception area.
“I know they came from this office. So unless you want to be charged with obstruction of justice, it’s time to start talking.”
She jumped up and ran to the door to see Sheriff Lamb leaning across Mac’s desk. His stomach had knocked over a jar of pencils, and they rolled slowly toward the edge. He held a blue flyer under Mac’s nose, shaking it back and forth with every word.
Mac sat with her chin propped on her hand, staring at him with flat, bored eyes. She didn’t flinch as he shoved the paper toward her face.
“What’s the problem with my flyers?” Veronica crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door frame. “Did the color not match Neptune’s City Beautiful initiative?”
“Mars.” Lamb turned away from Mac’s desk, his lips curled in a sneer. Veronica could see Mac visibly relax behind him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She took the flyer from his hand and examined it. “It looks like I’m trying to find Hayley Dewalt. It’s going to be hard to do if you keep taking my flyers down, though.”
“How many times do I have to tell you to keep me informed about your activities?”
“Last I checked, you were busy ignoring my voice mails. And now that there’s another girl missing—from the exact same house—it seems you might want to be printing up some new flyers right about now.”
He stared at her with burning blue eyes, stepping closer until he was mere inches from her face. She could smell stale coffee on his breath. “There’s no evidence the disappearances are linked,” he said carefully.
“Isn’t there?” She affected surprise. “Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know, since you left the actual investigating for me to do. Well, buckle up, my friend, because I’m about to hand you actual clues to an actual crime, wrapped in a bow.” She crooked her finger at him and went back into her office. A moment later, he followed.
“I don’t have time for games, Mars.”
“No doubt, what with all that graft and corruption filling your schedule.”
Lamb smirked, one hand on the back of the low chair facing her desk. She grabbed her laptop, pulling up the photos she’d received from Hayley’s friends and Adrian. Then she turned the computer around for him to see.
“Aurora Scott disappeared from the same house Hayley Dewalt did nearly two weeks ago. Both girls were talking to this guy right before their last sighting.” She pointed at the picture of Federico. “He’s who you want to be harassing. Not Mac.”
Lamb’s pupils dilated slightly, but otherwise his face was motionless. The bluster had gone out of him all at once, leaving a quiet, calculating intensity to his movements.
“I take it you know who this guy is?” he asked coolly.
She darted a glance at him. “Do you know something I don’t?”
Lamb straightened up, tucking his thumb through his belt loop. “What I know is that you don’t want to go slinging accusations at people like this. Not unless you’re one hundred percent sure you can back them up.”
And just like that, she was sure. He’d known all along that the house was owned by the Milenios, that the Gutiérrez cousins were laundering money for their family. He was just too lazy—or maybe too corrupt—to investigate. The taste of bile burned her tongue, but she swallowed it down.
“I thought you wanted my information, Lamb. I thought you wanted to find these girls.”
He looked at the picture again, a conflicted expression flitting across his face. “Do you have any proof that this guy had any part in either disappearance?”
“No, but he was seen with both girls just before they went missing. That’s enough to get him in for questioning.”
“Is it? Suddenly you’re some kind of legal scholar?”
“Uh, yeah.” She smirked. “Suddenly I kind of am.”
They glared at each other for a minute.
“Look,” she said. “Cartels are a little out of my comfort zone.”