Dial (10 page)

“They no longer want this old man around,” Chico commented, shrugging at one of the agents. “No respect, they have. Too much trouble I cause for them. They find me weak—senile, yes? Thank goodness I call for your help. But they find out I give information to you, and all this”—he waved his arms around the den—“this plan with you ladies, with the money, this was to punish me for telling. But now you have made me safe. And now I can be free.”

Danielle put a hand on Jo's shoulder and pointed toward Diva's father, who was staring at Jo in horror. “Are you absolutely sure that's the man who killed your father?” Danielle asked.

Jo nodded. “I'll never forget his face.”

“Take him away, boys,” Danielle instructed the agents. “We've got our man.”

“No!” Diva tried to hold on to her father, but two agents grabbed her arms and held her tightly.

“I love you, Diva!” her father cried as the agents pushed him toward the door. “We'll get through this!”

Diva watched as her father disappeared with the agents. She seemed to be in as bad shape as Jo. Then she turned to Caylin and grabbed her arm. “You've got to listen!” Diva cried. “They're taking the wrong man!”

Armand smiled at Theresa, Jo, and Caylin, despite the fact that he was wearing a pair of handcuffs and had a gun pointed toward his shoulder. “Thank you, ladies. Your brave actions have saved the world from suffering at the hands of that man—the crudest man I have ever known. He thought with his business, he could control us all. Power hungry, I think you call it.”

Caylin didn't know what to believe. She didn't even fully understand what was going on around her. There were a million unanswered questions. But the Spy Girls had a right to know the answers. Especially Jo. Caylin
glanced at her weeping friend and felt her own eyes well up with tears. Sometimes it seemed as if there was simply too much tragedy in the world for one super-duper Spy Girl to bear.

•  •  •

Jo forced herself to stop crying. She had spent too many years shedding tears. Now was the time for anger. Righteous, indignant rage. Slowly everything was becoming all too clear.

Diva wasn't just trying to set up Chico. She had also been setting up Jo. Diva and her father had wanted to twist the knife into Jo and her family even further than they had when they killed Judge Carreras. They had wanted to sit back and
laugh
at stupid, gullible Jo. Oh yes. Diva had known all along that Jacinta was actually Josefina ­Mercedes Carreras.

Jo turned to Diva, who was still standing under an antique shield. She glared at her with all the hatred and venom she could muster. “How could you?” she asked. “You knew your father killed my father. And what do you do? You
used
that against me! All that stuff about ‘my father
is in danger'—what a load. All you wanted to do was play on my vulnerability and win my trust. You're disgusting.”

“You're wrong!” Diva cried. “I don't even know what you're talking about!”

“Yes, you do,” Jo said, her voice steely. “You used my father's memory to further your own evil schemes.”

“I told you, I have no idea what you're talking about, Jacinta.” Diva's cheeks were ashen, and her dark eyes were rimmed with red. “I only wanted us to help each other bring down the Big Boss!”

Jo let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Help me? How does killing my dad
help
me?” Jo walked toward Diva so that the traitor could see the disgust in Jo's eyes as she listened to her speak.

“Your father killed my father, Diva. Four years ago. In Miami. He killed him right in front of me.”

“Oh . . . no!” Diva brought her hands to her face. “That day . . . oh, that horrible day. . . .” She paused. “You—you're Josefina Carreras?”

Josefina Carreras. Josefina Mercedes Carreras. Jo hadn't been called “Josefina” in years. Since the day her father
had been killed, woe be to anyone who dared called her anything but “Jo.”

“You know I am,” Jo spat. “You've known that all along. And you cried those fake, crocodile tears over the treachery of the drug trade to win my trust.”

Diva's face turned from pale to even paler. Her body began to sway back and forth, and for a moment it looked as if she were going to faint. “I needed you,” she muttered. “I needed your help, and—”

“Take her,” Danielle said suddenly. “She belongs in custody right beside her father.”

Before Diva could fall to the floor, two agents grabbed her arms and propped her up.

As they dragged her toward the door, Jo waited to feel some small measure of satisfaction. But she didn't. All she felt was the deep, aching, vast loss of her father. It was as if she had just witnessed his murder all over again.

Jo felt Theresa place an arm around her shoulders. “Let's get out of here, Jo.”

“I'm going to see that they get what they deserve,” Jo told Theresa.

“We all will,” Caylin promised.

Jo allowed her fellow Spy Girls to wrap her in a warm embrace. Diva had betrayed her, but Theresa and Caylin would be her friends forever. After several long moments Jo pulled away, feeling a bit more like herself.

“Five minutes alone with those two,” she said. “That's all I want.” She knew exactly what she would do and how she would do it. . . .

•  •  •

Three hours later Theresa fought the urge to pull an I-told-you-so on Jo. After the threesome had returned to the mansion for a depressurization break, Danielle had driven them to the ultrasecret holding area where Tower agents were now questioning Diva and her father. Safely ensconced behind a two-way mirror, Theresa, Caylin, Jo, and Danielle were watching the interrogation from just several feet away.

“I shouldn't have trusted her,” Jo muttered for the fifth time. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“We all trusted her, Jo,” Caylin said soothingly. “Diva seemed like a stand-up chick.”

Theresa nodded. Yes, she had held on to her suspicions regarding Diva for a long time, but the truth was that she had eventually believed in their informant as much as Jo and Caylin had.

“Listen to them,” Danielle said. “They're pros.”

The girls redirected their attention to the interrogation. Diva and her father were all wide eyes and innocence as they talked to The Tower agents. Danielle was right. If Theresa didn't know better, she would have felt sympathy toward the pair.

“My daughter only wanted to help our family,” the Big Boss was saying. “Even if you feel that I have done wrong, please let her go. She is an innocent child.”

Yet another fake tear slid down Diva's cheek. “No, Father! I am not going to let them believe these evil lies about you. We must help them learn the truth!”

The Big Boss shook his head sadly. Man, he was good. “They will believe what they want to believe, Diva.”

Diva clutched her father's arm as she stared into the face of her interrogator. “You have to listen to me!
I'm
the person who brought your agents to Rio! Not Chico! Why
would I have done that if my father and I were guilty of all of these horrible crimes? We're victims . . . just like Josefina.”

Jo snorted. “She makes me sick—and I make me sick. It was obvious all along that Diva was this close to the Big Boss.”

“You're right, Jo,” Caylin said. “I mean, we should have gotten a clue way back when we found out that Diva
owned
a nightclub that was basically a front for drug trafficking.”

“Or when the Big Boss's emissaries were so cool about Diva coming with us for the money exchange,” Theresa commented.

“The important thing is that you three came through in the end,” Danielle said firmly. “Jo, you recognized Diva's father when the time was right. And now they're both going to spend a long time behind bars.”

Danielle had a good point. Even though Diva turned out to be a bad guy, she
had
led them to her father. Without her involvement, the Spy Girls never would have gotten to him.

“I can't believe she took us for such fools,” Jo said. “Did she really think I wouldn't recognize her dad?”

Theresa shrugged. “Criminals can be arrogant. Look at them—even now they're trying to maintain their innocent sob story.”

“I'm just glad that the man who killed your father is finally going to be locked away forever,” Caylin said.

“And Diva can rot in jail right along beside him,” Jo added. “She's as bad as he is. . . . I don't think I've ever felt so betrayed by another human being.”

“The agents are finishing up the interview,” Danielle interrupted. “Any moment, father and daughter are going to be taken to the cells where they belong.”

Once again Theresa turned her attention back to the room in front of them. Diva and the Big Boss were now on their feet, agents at their sides. Slowly they began to walk from the room.

“Wait!” Diva yelled suddenly. She broke free from the agents' grasp and lunged toward the mirror. Her eyes were wild as she pressed her face against the two-way glass.

“The gun!” Diva yelled. “Remember the gun!” Before she could say another word, the agents regained their control of her and led both suspects from the room.

“What did she mean by that?” Theresa wondered aloud. “Remember the gun. . . .”

Caylin shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe it's some kind of weird organized-crime slogan.”

“I don't know, and I don't care,” Jo said. “But at least this mission is over with.”

Theresa nodded. The mission was over. Unfortunately, not one of them was in the mood to celebrate.

Check out all the amazing clothes we acquired during this mission,” Caylin said to Jo. “I can't wait to wear these duds back in the States.”

“Maybe I'll change my image,” Theresa added brightly. “I'll turn in my khakis for a dressy evening gown.”

Jo shrugged. “You can have my stuff. I don't feel like dealing with the whole packing thing.”

Caylin exchanged a glance with Theresa. This was
not
the Jo they knew and loved. But nothing they said or did seemed to be helping to bring her out of her funk. And they had said and done just about
everything.
The girls had come straight back to HQ after the interrogation, and they had spent the last hour trying to cheer up Jo while they got ready to head back to the United States. Unfortunately, nothing was working.

“Mind if I come in?” Danielle was standing at the door of Jo's room, looking more maternal than usual.

“Please do.” Caylin hoped Danielle had the magic words because she and Theresa were crashing and burning over and over again.

Danielle sat down on the queen-sized bed and looked thoughtfully at Jo for a few moments. “I know this mission has been tough for you, Jo. But you should be extremely proud of yourself. Not many daughters of murder victims are able to be responsible for the ultimate conviction of their loved one's killer.”

Jo sighed. “I know, Danielle. . . . I'm just so drained. After reliving all of those awful memories, I feel totally and completely tapped out—like I could get into bed and sleep for a hundred years.”

“All of you girls deserve a—” Danielle's statement was cut off by the sound of someone knocking at the front door.

“Did anyone order a pizza?” Caylin asked, making yet one more attempt at a lame joke. When no one responded, she shrugged. “I'll get it.”

“We'll all get it,” Danielle said, heaving herself off the
bed. “You never know who might be paying us a not so friendly visit.”

The group trooped downstairs, where Caylin opened the front door warily. Standing on the front step was none other than Chico—and he was holding one of the biggest vases of flowers Caylin had ever laid eyes on.

“I have come to express gratitude to you wonderful girls,” Chico said. He bowed deeply. “Thanks to your courage, I can live like a normal person without fearing that horrible, horrible man.”

“You have been totally exonerated, then?” Danielle asked.

Chico nodded. “The agents are now aware that it was I who make communication to The Tower. Diva, she discovered my betrayal and take control herself. But I was meant to be the one you meet in Rio.”

“I'm glad your world is safe again,” Jo said. For the first time since she recognized Diva's father, Jo sounded like her old self. Thank goodness.

Again Chico bowed. “You girls are my heroes.”

Jo stepped forward and embraced Chico. “You know,
you remind me of my grandfather. He died when I was young, but he looked a lot like you.”

“I am please to hear you said that,” Chico responded.

Jo laughed. “I am please to have said it.”

Chico grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “How long will your visit to Brazil be?”

“We're leaving in the morning,” Theresa answered. “We've got to get out of here to make way for the new occupants of this place . . . and I'm sure we've got some kind of duty calling for us back in America.”

Chico frowned. “But this is nonsense! You must rest. And I would like to help you—in my own home.”

“What do you mean?” Caylin asked. Her ears had perked up at the word
rest.
Jo wasn't the only one who was wiped out.

“My house is not large . . . but I would love to offer to you for vacation. In my appreciation, I can give you my home. And I have enough money save to offer you girls your every wish. If only for this short time.”

“That does sound tempting,” Jo admitted.

“Please, be my guest. My grandson will love me all
forever. He comes to visit tomorrow, and he would love these beautiful girls. . . . He is very handsome.”

This scenario was sounding better and better. Great R and R, cute grandson, lazy afternoon by the pool . . . Caylin turned to Danielle.