Holding Out for a Fairy Tale (10 page)

“Hmm?”

“It’s Sophie’s,” Ray explained. “If she was the one who stole that money from the Tijuana cartel, that laptop might have the only evidence to prove it. He said I could take it, and you weren’t gone long enough for me to even turn it on.”

“There is no fucking way I can construct a secure chain of custody for anything on that laptop.”

“Take it and try! I won’t set another finger on it! My prints are only on the outside and top of the case, except for really old stuff, because I used to own it. If it’s clean, you can take it over to Carmen’s and leave it in Sophie’s room there.”

“And if it’s not?”

“If there is evidence that she stole that money?” Ray shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “If the evidence is there, you need to find her and arrest her. Protective custody within a prison is safer than being on the run with her brother after her.”

Elliot pulled a pair of gloves out of the case in his pocket and carefully took the laptop. “If you’re that worried about it, we’ll take it straight to the federal building, okay?”

Ray sighed. “Thank you.”

When they got back to the car, Ray placed his gun back into his shoulder harness while Elliot sealed the laptop in a large plastic bag and took a photograph of the seal with his phone. Ray studied the student apartments across the street, trying to pick out which, of the patchwork of windows, might belong to Luca Garcia.

While he was watching, he noticed a sleek gray suit jacket with white pinstripes. Flashy, the kind of thing Alejandro typically wore. He jogged back across the street, resisting the urge to draw his gun. He stopped when he reached the front of the building, watching the crowd of pedestrians.

“Ray?” Elliot was right behind him. “What is it?”

“I just… I thought I saw a gray suit.”

“A gray suit?”

Ray bit his lower lip. “I thought I saw my cousin.”

“Sophie.”

“No. But now I don’t see him.” Ray gestured up the sidewalk. “This whole thing’s made me a little jumpy.”

T
HE
DRIVE
back to the FBI headquarters just off the I-15 wasn’t nearly as much fun as the first drive across town had been. Ray was too busy replaying his conversation with Luca Garcia in his head to ogle Elliot. He was a cynic, and he was used to people lying to him, but he wasn’t sure how to sift through all the lies from these two interviews.

His first instinct was to defend his cousin, to swear that she wouldn’t get involved with either man, and that there was no reason to suspect she might steal money from her family. He wanted to believe that Garcia was just a bitter, manipulative asshole. If he knew how good of a programmer Sophie was, Ray could easily picture him conning her into stealing money from her brother’s accounts. And if he was related to this Esteban Garcia who Alejandro was so afraid of, it was likely that Sophie had just been a pawn in a sloppy bid for power on Luca Garcia’s part. He couldn’t think of any plausible reason why Sophie would waste her time on someone like Garcia, but if she thought she was in love with him, anything was possible.

He also couldn’t deny that Dr. Holland had sounded more like a man with a crush on a woman than a professor who was concerned about his student. Holland was the one who had reported her disappearance, and that alone made Ray curious. The part that kept his head spinning was the possibility that whether she stole that money or not might be irrelevant. Luca Garcia was bitter and angry about Sophie breaking up with him, and if she tried to leave him for their professor, his resentment could have easily exploded into violence. It might have nothing to do with the money at all.

The FBI thought she stole it because they had traced the theft back to a computer IP address on the UCSD campus, and he didn’t believe for a moment Alejandro was interested in anything but recovering the money. That was more than enough reason, as far as Ray was concerned, for her to pack her bags and disappear. Proving her boyfriend was responsible for the theft might not help Ray track her down, but it might help convince her to come out of hiding.

Ray waited in the lobby while Elliot took the laptop into the quiet federal building. It took nearly an hour, and by the time Elliot got off the elevator, Ray was going insane trying to find something to distract him from thinking about alternatives to his theory, because every alternative he could come up with meant Sophie was dead.

He was also hungry, tired, and he wanted fresh clothes. He wanted to get back to his car and go home.

He was skimming through news articles on his phone when Elliot kicked him in the foot gently. “Sorry that took so long. No crime-lab analysis without a report, so I had to type up a report from the interview. Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Lunch?” Ray tucked his phone away and stood, stretching the kinks out of his neck and back.

“Yeah. There’s a little taco place in the shopping center down the street.”

“Tacos? You think just because I’m Latino that all I eat is tacos?”

Elliot rolled his eyes. “Can you let the egotistical bit go for a few hours? The only options nearby are the taco place or McDonald’s, so all
I
eat is tacos. If you’d rather have a burger that’s fine too. Or I’ve got Pop-Tarts.”

“Oh.” Ray deflated. He hadn’t meant to snap at Elliot, but he was exhausted and more on edge than he wanted to admit. “Okay.”

“Okay for a burger, or tacos?”

“I like tacos.” Ray dropped his eyes sheepishly. When he felt Elliot’s hand on the small of his back, turning him toward the door, he nearly yelped. He kept his eyes down as they passed by the uniformed security guard sitting by the door, acutely aware of the fact that Elliot’s hand was still touching him. The shame that swept over him when he saw the Hispanic security guard turn away to hide his smirk made the empty ache in his stomach spread through his entire body. Ray didn’t want the contact to end, but he couldn’t let someone look at him with that much disdain. He quickened his pace, put some distance between himself and Elliot, and glared at the security guard as he strode out.

When they climbed back into the car, Elliot turned and looked at him. “What was that about?”

“Hmm?”

“The guy working security?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Ray slumped into the passenger’s seat.

Elliot started the car and pulled out of the gated parking lot, then turned toward the shopping center. “You know, just because I can’t relate to something doesn’t mean I can’t understand it.”

Ray shook his head quickly. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“You’re out, right?” Ray asked, trying to decide on the best way to explain why he felt uncomfortable.

“Out? Yeah, I guess. As much as I need to be, anyway. I really don’t think anybody outside my friends and family has any business knowing who I date.”

“Well, you
could
be out, if you wanted to, yes?”

“Yes. Can’t you?”

Ray shook his head frantically.

“Is your family religious?” Elliot asked, pulling in to a parking spot in front of a small, busy shop. “Or just really conservative?”

“An actual taqueria?” Ray read the Spanish sign quickly. The city was filled with tiny authentic taco stands, but far too often going out for tacos with a coworker meant finding the nearest Taco Bell and smothering the food in salsa so it was palatable. A real taco place was a mixed blessing—he knew the food would be decent and the tortillas would be fresh, but he also knew there was no way he and Elliot could finish this conversation, either.

“The food’s good, and the portions are enormous for the price.”

Ray glanced at him, running his eyes up and down Elliot’s lanky body once more. “You need to eat more real food.”

“I’ve got a fast metabolism, and I work out a lot. I eat plenty.”

“I just meant that you’re skinny. Not that I mind the way you look, but I was wondering if you just live off of Pop-Tarts.”

“Sometimes.” Elliot stared at him. “So you’re Hispanic. That means you’re Catholic?”

Ray nodded.

“Me too. My family’s Dutch and Italian, so there’s no escaping the Catholic Church. My grandparents weren’t exactly thrilled when I came out, but my parents were okay with it.”

“Being Hispanic means more than just being Catholic.” Ray watched a couple with three young children leave the taqueria, smiling and laughing. The oldest boy held the door for his sister, the man held the door for his wife. “Gender roles are a bit more definite in Hispanic families. Real men are always tough, they take care of their families, even if they fool around, and they demand respect. And they will mock, humiliate, and alienate anyone who doesn’t fit in.”

“I know that’s not true,” said Elliot. “I’ve been to Tijuana. There were just as many men hustling as women, most of the time.”

“You think they want to be out there?” Ray laughed. “You think that they would be out there selling themselves if they still had family? If they had homes, or if
anybody
would give them a job, they’d never be caught dead out on those streets.”

“
If
they still had family?”

“Yeah. Most Hispanic families, the traditional ones anyway, will disown a child who comes out. They’ll kick them out, take down their photos, pretend they never existed…. At least, my family would. And everyone in the neighborhood will know the kid is gay, so no one else will look at them, no one will talk to them, and
no one
will help them. And I know it shouldn’t matter,” Ray threw his hands up in frustration. “I know it. I’m dead to most of my family anyway. But not to Carmen.”

“She doesn’t know?”

Ray could only shake his head.

“Does Sophie know?”

Ray shook his head again.

“So don’t tell them. You’ve always gone after women, and from the sound of it, you’ve gone after so many women that I doubt anybody would believe you if you suddenly announced you were involved with a man. So long as your sister and your cousin don’t know, what do you care what one random stranger thinks?”

“Because that security guard isn’t one random stranger. Every traditional Hispanic guy responds the same way when they see anybody acting gay. And the mocking and the laughter aren’t the end of it. Once you get enough people together, once they get angry and drunk enough….” Ray shook his head again.

“Are you sure you’re not being paranoid?”

Ray wanted to insist that he wasn’t being paranoid. He’d seen the guard smirk; he’d seen similar expressions every time his old partner had been open about being gay. There had definitely been a smirk, but Ray wasn’t sure how to explain it.

Elliot stared at him for a long time, then gave a shallow nod. “Okay.” He reached down and gave Ray’s thigh a gentle squeeze. “No nonmacho touching in public. I think I can manage that.”

Ray glanced pointedly down at Elliot’s hand.

“From now on, I mean.” He withdrew his hand, sliding his fingertips over the curve of Ray’s thigh as he moved.

“That is not fair.” Ray hissed, almost laughing despite himself.

“And it definitely wasn’t macho. So I guess that kind of thing is off limits.”

“No.” Ray sat up quickly. “No, I didn’t say that.” Ray took in the mischievous grin on Elliot’s face and felt like smacking him. “You’re totally fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“Just a little.”

Ray led Elliot to the most secluded table the place offered. Ray got a funny look from Elliot when he positioned his chair so he could keep a passive eye on the dining area and watch the door. Elliot’s gaze lingered on Ray’s hands as Ray carefully adjusted the way his jacket fell across his waist to make access to his holster as quick and efficient as possible.

“You are getting jumpy.”

“It’s a very distinct shade of gray.” The explanation was out before Ray could stop it. “Reflective, with white pinstripes. I don’t think I imagined it, but there have to be other people who wear gray suits.”

“At Garcia’s place?”

Ray nodded.

“You think one of your cousins was following us.”

“Yes.” His own confidence surprised him.

“We left from my house this morning, in my car.”

Ray nodded. He hadn’t forgotten about that, but he knew what he saw.

“Someone would have had to be following you since Friday morning to pull that off.”

“I guess it does seem kind of crazy….”

“It does. And we spent the last hour in the federal building. Even the parking lot is secure. I’m sure you’re just stressed.”

“You could help me relieve some of that stress,” Ray whispered.

Elliot’s gaze slid to the side. “Our waitress….”

Their server was a cute younger girl with impossibly red hair, and Ray found his focus shifting from the rest of the room to the skin just above the top buttons on her shirt. It was mostly out of habit, since the girl didn’t have much of a neckline to show off. He noticed the way she undid another button as she approached their table and began to relax a little. Flirting was something he could do in his sleep, and it was always fun. Beyond appreciating an attractive body, and being appreciated in return, it would mean they’d get better service, and she’d get a better tip. It really was a win-win situation.

But the charming smile Ray pulled up evaporated the moment she approached their table and greeted Elliot by bending down and setting her hand, with perfect white-tipped fingernails on Elliot’s forearm. “Welcome back. I’ve got such a treat for you today. We got four coolers of Baja shrimp in two hours ago, caught just this morning. I had a shrimp taco on my lunch break and I swear, they melt in your mouth.”

Elliot’s smile grew soft and flirtatious, too. “Sounds perfect. Can I get those and a Coke?”

Ray knew he shouldn’t be glaring. If he’d been here with Hayes, he would have been cataloging details to rib his partner about later. If he were with another coworker, if he were with anyone else at all, he’d have toned things down and backed off. But it wasn’t the flash of cleavage or the girl’s smile that was throwing him off. The way Elliot returned her smile and leaned forward to confirm his order left Ray cold and furious. Elliot’s body language screamed
interested.