I turned and winked at Yesenia, the Latina I’d just conversed with in the women’s room who also happened to be Julio Ontiveros’s aunt. She stood waiting in the corner and flashed me a wicked grin as I walked out.
“I’m ready,” I tossed to Uncle Bob before entering the interrogation room itself. As I shut the door, I heard him and Dwight scramble to get inside the observation area to watch. Then I heard more footsteps doing the same. Apparently we were going to have an audience. They might be disappointed. This wouldn’t take long.
Julio sat handcuffed to a small metal table. He looked up at me, a wary surprise widening his eyes and lowering his brows for a split second before he took control over his features again.
He leaned back in his chair, lowrider style. “Who the fu—?”
“Shut up,” I said, walking purposely toward him. I leaned on the desk in front of him, brushing his cuffed wrist with my hip and blocking his view of the two-way, but more important, blocking the men in the observation room from listening in. I was close enough to give Ontiveros a lap dance. A necessary evil because what I had to say could not be overheard. Not without me being sent to a very special place with padded rooms and medication in little white cups.
I could just feel Uncle Bob coming unglued with my proximity to what he still thought of as a cold-blooded killer. But I knew better.
I’d taken Julio by surprise. Using to my advantage the seconds it would take for him to recover, I leaned forward and whispered into his ear. I didn’t have much time before Uncle Bob stormed into the room, afraid for my safety. Just a few words, two or three short sentences, and Julio Ontiveros would spill like wine on silk.
I prayed for ten seconds. I got them.
“We don’t have much time, so be quiet and listen.”
He took advantage of the situation, playing the tough guy all the way. He turned into me and inhaled the scent of my neck and hair.
“Your tía Yesenia sent me—”
He stilled.
“—and told me the exact location of the three things you desire most in the world.”
I could hear the doorknob turning. I could also feel doubt wafting off Ontiveros, his admiration for my neck and hair evaporating. That always happened when I talked about dead people. I leaned back a little and peered into his wary eyes.
“You are five minutes away from going down for three murders you and I both know you didn’t commit. Tell your part in this, without holding anything back, and I’ll tell you where the medal is. For starters.”
He sucked in a soft breath of surprise. That was desire number one. Desire number two was pretty solid as well, but number three would be a bit trickier, mostly because Ontiveros’s aunt didn’t know the exact exact location of the number three so much as its general proximity. I figured that’s what I had Cookie for.
Just as I finished my spiel, Uncle Bob rushed through the door, a warning glare on his face. I winked at him, turned back to Julio, pulled a business card from my back pocket, and slid it beneath his cuffed hand.
“You have my word,” I said before leaving.
After strolling back to the observation room, I waited to see if he’d cave. Not that I could see much. The tiny room was now full. Half the men were looking at me—including an enraged Garrett Swopes, who could kiss my smoking-hot ass—and half were staring into the interrogation room. Then I heard it.
“I’ll talk,” Julio said through the speakers. “I’ll tell you what I know, but I want immunity from prosecution. I didn’t kill no one, and I ain’t going down for this.”
With a twinkle in my eye, I turned, high-fived Julio’s tía Yesenia, the woman who’d raised him and wouldn’t leave the earthly plane until he straightened his shit out—her words—then strode out of the station with a relieved smile plastered on my face. Uncle Bob would call me later with the details, and I could explain the terms of our deal then. At the moment, I was tired and sore and in dire need of a long, hot bath. Had I known what awaited me at home, my needs may have shifted in a more sensual direction.
* * *
With thoughts of bubble baths and candlelight swimming through my head, I unlocked my door and sneaked into my apartment, trying not to disturb Cookie and Amber across the hall. It was late. The sun had drifted to the other side of the world hours ago, and I hated to keep Cookie up two nights in a row. Before coming home, I’d stopped by the office and found that Neil, in a surprising act of kindness, had couriered a copy of Reyes’s file to me. I wasn’t sure how legal it was, but I couldn’t have been more grateful if he’d handed me the winning Powerball ticket. The file had a note attached to it that simply read, You didn’t get this from me.
I checked with Dad for any messages, just in case Rosie, the woman I’d helped escape from her abusive husband, needed anything, sneaked a quick bite of green chili stew, then humped it back across the parking lot to the Causeway. Though the lack of messages from Rosie was a good thing, I couldn’t help the concern that prickled down my spine, wishing she would call despite my strict orders.
Flipping on the living room light, I was in the middle of a quick hello to Mr. Wong when Reyes turned toward me. Reyes, standing regal and godlike in front of my living room window. Reyes Farrow. The same Reyes Farrow who was lying in a coma in Santa Fe an hour away. He turned back to stare out the window, giving me a chance to put my stuff on the snack bar.
I stepped forward then, eased closer to him. He shifted, cast his powerful gaze downward, and examined me through his periphery. Though he was clearly incorporeal, he seemed to be made of a matter denser than human flesh, more solid and unyielding.