Demon Song (Blood Singer #3)

Demon Song (Blood Singer #3) Page 21

“But it wasn’t simple. Was it? What went wrong?”

Her face blushed so hard I thought she’d catch on fire. “They were in balloons. You know, so they wouldn’t show up on the sniff sensors at the mall entrances. I swallowed them the night before and was supposed to … pass them, clean them off, and deliver them.”

Um. Eww. I’d never really thought about the realities of the balloon thing. But logically, they wouldn’t decompose and could bend around the corners of the intestine. Still … double eww. “Okay. So you went to the mall, spotted the client, went to the bathroom, and…” I paused because a horrifying thought occurred to me. “Which mall?”

She nodded, knowing what I was asking. “Twin Palms.”

My hand went to my mouth. I wasn’t sure whether I was stifling a laugh or a scream. Her face contorted with the same blend of emotions. “They refurbished the bathrooms this spring.”

Another nod and more tears sprang up. “I hadn’t been there for a long time. My family, we can’t afford stores like that. I’d never seen toilets that automatically flushed.”

Crap. Literally. She’d passed the balloons and … swirlie city. No more drugs. “So you have no drugs, no money, and … what? You ran? Did you explain or just run?”

She had to blow her nose before responding. “I ran. Manuel, he went to see Jorge. He’d worked with him before. He’d convinced the Viper to give me a chance. He tried to explain, convince him we’d pay back the money. But the … bastard wouldn’t listen.” Her voice went harsh and was painful to hear. “He shot my brother and dumped the body in front of our house with a note pinned to his chest.”

Somehow I knew she really meant chest.

I sighed. “And you’re next.” She nodded, her lower lip trembling.

The problem was, she really was going to die. The Viper was known for being relentless when pissed. I couldn’t be with her every minute of every day. From what I’d read about him, right now he was targeting her personally. Unlike the Italian Mafia bosses, instead of trusting underlings with the dirty work, he liked to keep his hands bloody. But if he didn’t get her himself in a few days, he’d likely get bored and simply put out a contract on her. Then there would be dozens, if not hundreds, of people after her. And she would die.

“When did this happen? When did your brother die?”

The heartbreak on her face was hard to watch. “Two days ago. That’s when I came to see Mr. Ron. He’d helped my mama buy our house and I thought maybe—”

But Ron was a real estate attorney, not a criminal one. And even a criminal attorney couldn’t do much except convince Maria to do what was first on my mind, too. “Have you called the police? Told them what you know about the Viper?”

She shook her head, slowly at first and then quicker as if trying to shake the very idea out of her mind. Meaning she’d considered it. Maybe even to the point of dialing the phone. “No. I can’t. The police are afraid of him. They never come to that side of town. He’ll kill them, too, and they know it.”

I tried never to think ill of the police in the city. They did an amazing job. But I had to admit that there were more reports of violence on Federal Boulevard than there were reports of arrests and convictions. Either Encarcion was really talented at concealing evidence of his crimes or the cops were afraid. I was betting it was talent over fear. Which could make my life very, very short if I took this job. “Is there anywhere you could stay for a while? Somewhere out of town?” It was not as much an admission of defeat as of reality.

She didn’t argue, which said she wasn’t too brave for her own good. “I have an aunt in Iowa. So you’re saying there’s no hope? What about Mama and Papa?”

“There’s always hope.” I believed that and tried to convince Maria with my face and body. “If you’d been more than just a mule, there would be more hope. If you knew something important that could be traded to the authorities for protection…” I let the sentence hang, praying she hadn’t come completely clean.

She stared at my Rolodex and nibbled on her lower lip. I watched her anxiously. I wanted so much for her to have an out of this, to have a bright future that was worth her brother’s sacrifice. “I know Jorge will be at Smallmouth Harbor on Saturday night to pick up a load of cocaine from South America. He plans to kill the captain and sink the boat so he doesn’t have to pay for it.”

Whoa. I’d expected maybe a tidbit I could beg for a favor on. But this … “Are you certain? How do you know?”

She shrugged and looked embarrassed again. “I had a hard time swallowing the balloons. I think he thought I’d left when he was telling his lieutenant. But his girlfriend was nice. She stayed in the bathroom with me for a long time to help me get them down. I kept gagging.”

That was nothing to get embarrassed about. I was pretty sure I’d gag, too. But okay. This was big. It was in the future and it was actionable. But who to call?

I leaned back in my chair and steepled my fingers next to my lips. I could call Alex. But if she was still following up on my last tip, she was working to get a squad out to the prison. That was damned important, and I didn’t want to interrupt her. Still, she was my only real contact in the local police. I knew more sheriff’s deputies because that department allowed moonlighting, so I’d met a few guys off-duty, on bodyguard assignments. But a drug bust on the harbor wasn’t a sheriff’s department sort of assignment. Apparently, I needed to meet more people in the city police, and since the local cops couldn’t take a second job, it would have to be the old-fashioned way—dropping in to talk. I filed the thought away for future action.

I saw Maria open her mouth out of the corner of my eye and held up a hand to stop her. “Give me a minute. I have to think.”

A thought occurred to me and I moved forward so suddenly I scared poor Maria. “Got it!” I announced it so she didn’t bolt right out of the chair with a scream. I spun the card index until I reached the “R” section and plucked out a business card that had been taped to one of the slotted ones. I was already reaching for the phone.

After two rings, my call was picked up. “Federal Bureau of Investigation. Special Agent Rizzoli’s office.”

Bummer. He’d answered personally the last time I called. “Is he in? I need to speak to him right away.”

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t. Her voice was bored and impatient. “He’s out on assignment. Can I have him call?”

That could take ten minutes … or a week. Was it worth the risk? I sighed. “Yeah, I guess you might as well give him the message. Have him call Celia Graves. It’s urgent. And I mean really, really urgent.”

“Spell that for me.”

How hard is “Celia Graves” to spell? Whatever. I spelled it, slowly and politely, just in case she was his boss or something and decided to pitch the message in the trash if I was rude. Just to be safe, I added, “Please tell him it’s about Jorge Encarcion. Again, it’s urgent.”

There was a pause on the line and I was certain she’d hung up. “Hello? Did you get that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Her voice had changed. Now she sounded interested. “Let me read that number back.” She did. It was right. “I’ll have him call you as soon as possible.”

Had I hit a nerve by mentioning Encarcion’s name? God, I hoped so. I hung up and let out a slow breath. “Okay. We need to find a place where you can be safe for a few days until I hear back from the guy I just called.” In normal circumstances, I would just escort her home and tell her to stay home sick from school for a few days. But Jorge knew where she lived, so that was out, and so was putting her with anyone I trusted to watch over her. The people I trust I also care about, and not everybody is suited to the life I live. What Maria really needed was a caretaker who could also take care of himself. Someone to keep her on the straight and narrow, to dissuade her from believing that the drug trade was a viable career choice. To protect her from herself as much as the outside menaces.

A warrior.

Or … a warrior priest. “What religious faith are you?”

She furrowed her brow, as though it were a stupid question. “Catholic.”

“What would you think about staying at a seminary for a few days with your family? Specifically, with the local warrior priests?” It could be the answer to everything. A lot of the dealers from south of the border were Catholic. They’d think twice about shooting someone on holy ground. Maria could continue her schoolwork and her family would be protected. The warrior priests are kick-butt guys—skilled in both martial combat and demonic battling. Few messed with them. But the ones I’d met were all wonderful, caring men who would definitely be concerned for a young girl like her.

The fear was back in the girl’s eyes, but there was something else there, too. I think it was hope. “I think Mama would be really excited. She’s never met a warrior priest. But she doesn’t know about this. I haven’t told her Manuel died.”

Hadn’t told her? I didn’t think anything else could shock me, but Maria had managed it. “You said he dumped Manuel’s body in front of the house.”

Now she’d clammed up. Crap. I was already in too deep. What the hell had she done with her brother’s body?

Wait. That wasn’t my job. Her brother was dead. I couldn’t help him anymore. I could also understand her panicking when she found his body. Now I’d agreed to protect her. The best way to do that was to get her out of the line of fire. Yeah, she definitely needed some priests around her. If nothing else, for confession and helping her break the news to her folks. The police would have to get involved eventually. Maria had committed a crime by hiding a body someone else had killed, but they probably wouldn’t prosecute if she could help them catch a bigger dog.