No One Heard Her Scream (22 page)

Tears streaked his face. A different kind of anger took hold. More aggressive. Becca dialed back her voice to make it nonthreatening. Anything might put him over the edge now.

"I haven't gotten the official report yet. I needed your DNA to compare."

"Compare to what?" His voice cracked. He clenched his fist to punctuate his need.

But Becca had no doubt Rudy already knew.

"Where did you find her?" he asked. "Please . . . I gotta know. Tell me where you found Isabel. And how she . . . d-died."

"I will soon. I promise."

His questions surprised her. If Rudy killed Isabel, he would have known where to find her body and how she died. The crazed desperation on his face and the twist in her own gut made her a believer. Either Rudy Marquez deserved an Oscar for his performance, or Becca had to look elsewhere to find Isabel's killer.

His confusion raised another point. If Rudy had no idea where the police found Isabel's body, she had a good idea Victor had been the Marquez brother outside the theater the morning after it burned. How did Father Victor know Isabel's body would be found inside the Imperial? A sense of urgency swept through her. Becca had to find Father Victor.

And she had a feeling Rudy's cooperation wouldn't run in the family.

"Please join me, Diego." Hunter Cavanaugh waved a hand as he sat behind his desk in the study. "I haven't seen you in a while. Days in fact."

"I've been busy. Mr. Rivera has asked for my assistance on a private matter."

Diego walked into the room and didn't notice Matt Brogan until he got to Cavanaugh's desk. The man stood by a far window, hands clasped behind his back, his usual sneer cast over a shoulder. Typical Brogan. A beefy pit bull with an attitude, camouflaged by expensive threads.

"A private matter. Sounds important." Cavanaugh smiled and gestured for Diego to sit. "Anything I can do to facilitate my partner's business opportunities? I would be pleased to help in any way I can."

"No, but thank you for the offer. I will pass your regards on to Mr. Rivera." After unbuttoning his suit jacket, Diego sat and forced a cordial smile. The strained civility between them took effort, and the mounting silence added to the tension. "You look like a man with more to say. What's on your mind, Mr. Cavanaugh?"

"Ah, you never disappoint me, Diego. Direct and to the point. I like that." Cavanaugh raised his chin, and an eyebrow, his hands clasped over his waist. "Tell me about the detective the other day."

The word "detective" stopped Diego's heart. The last thing he wanted was for Cavanaugh to take an interest in Rebecca. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what did you make of her?"

"I didn't have an opinion either way." Diego threw it back at the man to distract him. "Have you heard anything more from her ... on the arson case?"

"Actually, if my memory serves me, it was a murder investigation. Or did you forget that one minor point?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Diego shrugged and pursed his lips. "Why is my opinion of the detective important to you? If she hasn't returned to question you further, maybe her investigation has taken a different path. You may have nothing to worry about."

"My dear boy, I have nothing to worry about regardless." Cavanaugh smiled and leaned back into his leather chair. "Perhaps you're right. The detective is of no consequence. Not anymore."

Diego narrowed his eyes, Cavanaugh's words registering, but the inference unclear. Any reaction on his part might send the wrong message.

"Is that all, Mr. Cavanaugh?" Diego stood to leave, buttoning his suit jacket.

Brogan moved closer, standing behind the chair of his "handler."

"You might find this hard to believe, Diego. You and I have had our differences the last couple of years. But over the course of our working together, I have grown to admire your loyalty. Your discretion is impeccable. The way you look out for the best interests of your employer is admirable. Enviable in fact. You've earned my respect."

Brogan's eyes shifted toward Cavanaugh, his face flinched. The man had no clue what the boss man would say. Diego fought to hide his amusement. In the game of poker, having an unreadable face had merit. An involuntary twitch or a blink would be considered a "tell," giving a player away. Brogan was Cavanaugh's "tell." Diego wondered if the boss man knew it.

"You thought I had a death wish, one you might grant, as I recall. Doesn't sound like a mutual admiration society to me," Diego replied.

"There . . . you see, Mr. Brogan? He speaks his mind freely. Another admirable quality." Cavanaugh laughed aloud, gesturing with enthusiasm. "No, you are far too entertaining, Diego. Killing you would be an absolute waste of a bullet. And I don't say that about many people."

"I see your point," Diego replied, knowing the entire conversation had been lost on Brogan. The man still looked confused. But Cavanaugh grinned, confidence personified.

"I have a proposition for you, Diego. I'll share it over dinner tonight if you are available. Believe me, it will be worth your time. I'll send a limo for you by eight. Meet the driver out front. Curb service."

"Actually, I'd prefer to meet you. Where are we going?"

"The destination is part of the surprise, I'm afraid." His expression remained steely and unreadable. "Compromise is not an option."

"We won't be riding together?"

"Sorry to say, no. I have business to attend to elsewhere . . . prior to our little engagement." Cavanaugh leaned forward in his chair, his pale blue eyes casting a chill. "Join me. Find out what the mystery is all about."

Diego stared at the man, searching his face for something he would never find—the truth. Yet for the sake of the missing girls, he really had no choice. "I'd love to. Count me in."

Finally, Brogan smiled.

Downtown San Antonio
3:45 p.m.

Diego pulled into the parking lot of the Wells Fargo Bank on North St. Mary's Street. Without hesitation, he got out and went into the lobby. Not speaking to anyone, he picked up a brochure and sat in a grouping of chairs designated for loans and new accounts. Sitting behind him, off to the right, a man busied himself with a similar activity.

Diego watched the comings and goings of the people in the bank, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The lobby would close soon.

"Can I help you with any thin', sir?" A petite older woman in a gray business suit and a string bolo tie smiled at him, her head cocked to one side. Sprayed in place, her big Texas hair looked more like a silver helmet. And her slick colored lips matched her fingernails.

"No thank you. I'm waiting for someone." Diego looked down at his bank brochure to avoid a second look at the hair.

With her thick Texas accent, the woman kept talking, "I see you've got one of our brochures." She raised both eyebrows and waited, the same smile frozen on her face.

"What?" He shrugged. "You going to charge me for reading it?" The minute he said it, Diego regretted his impatience. He only wanted to get on with business and get out of there. Fortunately, the woman took the high road and ignored his shoddy manners.

"No, silly." She giggled with a hand across her lips. "I just wanted to see if I can explain anything to you. You might have a question."

"If it's in English or Spanish with plenty of pictures, I think I'm good." Diego returned her smile. "Thanks anyway."

"Well, call if you need anythin'. We're fixin' to close up shop, but I'll be right over yonder." She pointed and walked away, her sensible pumps echoing across the lobby floor.

After a long moment, the man near him spoke, without turning his way.

"Nice. I think she likes you, Galvan. I never knew you were such a hit with the blue hairs," Mike Draper said with rare amusement in his voice. "Those Latin good looks are a real magnet."

"Is that why you won't leave me alone?"

Diego fought back a smile, catching Draper's reaction from the corner of his eye. The man almost choked and mumbled under his breath, "Male bonding is overrated."

With a double dose of testosterone added to his already gritty voice, he got down to business. "Talk to me, Galvan. What's going on?"

Diego indulged in a grin and slouched deeper into his chair, raising the brochure for cover.

"I had an interesting conversation with our man a couple of hours ago. He wants to have dinner tonight. A real covert affair. He's got a limo picking me up at the estate by eight. No destination. No details. The man likes surprises."

"Well, I don't. What the hell is this all about?" the FBI man questioned.

"He says he's got a proposition for me, something worth my time. Apparently, I've earned his respect in the loyalty department." Diego cocked his head to the right, his voice low. "If it makes you feel any better, he said killing me would be a waste of a bullet. High praise coming from him."

"So he uses a knife. Dead is dead," Draper argued. "I don't like it. We gotta talk about this."

"Nothing to talk about. If we want to find those missing girls, I'm gonna have to take the risk," he insisted. Whether Draper went along with this or not, it didn't matter. Diego had made up his mind.

A long moment of silence went by with nothing coming from the fed. Diego tightened his jaw and waited. He searched the faces of the few remaining customers in the lobby. No one stood out. No one watched them. A teller shut the main door but stayed to let the stragglers out.

"You've already convinced yourself, I can tell. And I see your point. But you're not going in without surveillance, maybe some high-tech toys."

"The fancy cell phone you gave me is good enough. I'm not getting caught with any 007 spy shit on me. Cavanaugh would kill me on the spot. Tomorrow when I wake up, I don't want to find myself dead. I'd be real disappointed."

"Don't worry. I'll keep our surveillance discreet. But you're playing by my rules. You're not going it alone, Galvan.
¿Comprendo, mi ami go?"

Diego winced. "Knock off the lousy Spanish, Draper. You've got all the sincerity of an Anglo politician trying too hard for the Hispanic vote. And believe me, we're not friends."

The fed ignored him. "You got anything else?"

Diego's thoughts turned to Rebecca. He didn't want to tell Draper about Cavanaugh's specific interest in her. If her backside needed protecting, he preferred to handle it himself. Literally. He'd struggled over what was best, but in the end, he couldn't rule out the FBI when it came to her safety.

"I got a favor to ask." Diego made eye contact.

"A favor?"

"You owe me, Draper. Don't give me attitude."

"I'm FBI. Attitude is what I do." The man shrugged. "Okay, don't get your boxers in a bunch. What is it?"

"You remember the local cop I was telling you about a while back? The one looking into the arson and murder at the theater?

"Yeah."

"Well, I think Cavanaugh has taken an interest in her. I don't know what it's about, but I think you should put surveillance on her for the time being. Just for a couple of days. Something is going down, I can feel it."

"Is this a hunch of yours, or you got something to back it up?" the fed asked.

"Yeah, call it a hunch."

Draper looked like a suspicious man, but to his credit, he didn't give Diego any more lip.

"Okay, consider it done. I'll have someone on her by this evening. Anything else?"

"No, nothing." Diego got up to leave. "I gotta go."

He tossed the bank brochure onto his vacant seat. When he looked at Draper, the man had a stern expression on his gaunt face and something else on his mind.

"Cavanaugh is dangerous. Nobody knows it more than you. Don't turn your back on him tonight. This smells like a stinkin' trap."

"Yeah." As Diego walked toward the door, he muttered under his breath, "I know."

The Riverwalk
4:50 P.M.

The first chance he got, Diego hit a pay phone to call Rebecca on her cell. He had memorized the number she'd given him. And using a pay phone to make contact served his purpose. He didn't want his call to a cop to show up on his billing records.

Rebecca told him to come to her place. She was already home. When he arrived, she greeted him at the door with a fierce kiss.

"A man could get used to this kind of welcome." He held her in his arms and nuzzled her neck. She smelled so damned good.

"That's me. The Welcome Wagon." She groaned when he got to her ear. "Mmmm . . . Oh, yeah."

Diego didn't want to stop, but he worried for Rebecca's safety. With his appointment tonight, he'd be distracted, unable to protect her if she needed it. But he wouldn't tell her about his dinner engagement with Cavanaugh. She had enough on her mind.

He pulled away from her arms with reluctance.

"Earlier today, Cavanaugh said something to concern me . . . about you. We have to talk."

Her eyes narrowed, a questioning look on her face.

"I shouldn't be a blip on his radar screen. Why would he bring up my name?" Rebecca took his hand and led him into the living room. She curled up on the sofa with him by her side. "I've got nothing on him with this case I'm investigating, just my gut. Besides, they've taken me off it officially. What did he say exactly?"

Diego didn't have much on the man either. With Cavanaugh, it was never what he said but how he said it and all the nuances in between. Diego embellished points based on his experiences with Cavanaugh, but mainly, he warned her to be careful. Stressed it.

"The man doesn't make meaningless chatter, Rebecca. If he brought up your name, it's for a reason. Don't underestimate him."

"I'll be careful." Worry lined her face, but her expression softened when she shifted topics. She raised her chin and nibbled on the corner of her lip, an enticing gesture. "Besides, I've got someone new watching my back. I'm not worried."

Not me. Not tonight,
he thought. He hoped Draper could handle her surveillance for tonight. Diego forced a smile, shoving doubt from his mind. Besides, Rebecca was smart and could take care of herself. And tonight, he'd have Cavanaugh with him where he could keep an eye out. Diego would be the first to know if Rebecca courted trouble, but in the meantime . . .