Holding Out for a Fairy Tale (19 page)

“No one would be stupid enough to assume that a laptop surrendered to a federal agent would end up anywhere but in an evidence locker.”

“I’ve thought of that.” Elliot leaned forward over her desk. “See, he didn’t think he was surrendering it to a federal agent. He thought he was handing it over to an enforcer for the Tijuana drug cartel, or at least to someone who works for Alejandro Munoz. If the key to stopping that money from jumping between accounts is on that laptop, he probably figured only an idiot would hand it over to us.”

“You said Delgado became paranoid after the meeting with Garcia.”

“He did. He got his sidearm out of my trunk while I was sealing the laptop in an evidence bag. Ten seconds later, he ran across the street reaching for it. He said he saw what he thought was a gray suit he’s known Alejandro Munoz to wear. I….” Elliot shook his head helplessly. “I thought he was just being paranoid. But now I’m not so sure.”

“I suppose he’s had to become paranoid.” She tossed the notepad down and leaned back, grinning. “It’s a damn good thing you brought Delgado along to class Saturday, you know.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. If you were his only alibi, I’d have to arrest him. But since I was talking to him personally at the estimated time of death, and there were two other federal agents, and one member of the border patrol present, I’d say we don’t have to consider him a suspect.”

“Saturday night?”

“Just past ten. That’s based on body temperature, and since they found the body within twenty-four hours, it’s accurate to a fifteen-minute window. Things found in his possession include a nine millimeter Glock registered to Detective Delgado. Speaking of, do you know how many registered fire arms Detective Delgado owns?”

The last time Elliot had undressed Ray Delgado he’d found three firearms and two knives. That had been while Ray was technically on vacation. He wasn’t sure he could venture a guess about how many he owned in all.

Elliot stopped watching the boxes of equipment go by and stared at her. “You said it yourself, he’s become paranoid.”

“Eleven.”

“Not that surprising, all things considered. So Garcia broke into his place?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“Was he mugged afterward?” Even as he suggested it, Elliot knew that wasn’t a possibility. If he had been shot during a robbery, he would have actually been robbed. He had his own wallet and ID and Ray’s stolen handgun, on him. The handgun could have been sold in a matter of minutes on the streets of downtown San Diego; no mugger would leave it behind. It also hadn’t done him any good in terms of personal defense, so whoever had attacked him either didn’t give him enough time to draw his weapon or was someone he didn’t consider a threat. “No, of course not.” Elliot answered his own question. “He was executed.”

St. Claire nodded slowly.

Elliot was glad they had found the body within the first twenty-four hours after death. The medical examiner could give an amazingly accurate estimate of a victim’s time of death based on how far the body’s temperature had fallen since death. After that twelve-hour mark, the estimate became a larger and larger window, making it far more difficult to isolate who might have had an opportunity to commit the crime. After forty-eight hours, body temperature was useless and a much less reliable guess based on the body’s rate of decay was the only thing they had to go off of.

“As far as Detective Delgado,” St. Claire said carefully. “Maybe it would be better to house him in a hotel. Keeping a family member informed in the search for a potential murder victim is one thing, but this is getting dangerous. Hathaway was absolutely right. He’s being targeted. Whether because of the information he provided to the task force or because of Sophie Munoz’s laptop, he’s in danger.”

“Absolutely,” Elliot agreed. “I’ll have him relocated by tomorrow at the latest.”

“You’re going with him.”

“I am?”

“You know how badly this could have blown up in your face. You’ve admitted you’re too close to a subject in this investigation. You can’t be actively involved in this anymore. I can’t let your indiscretions go, but I’m not going to reprimand you for it. I’m going to do something so much worse than a reprimand.”

Elliot squirmed under the weight of her mischievous smile.

“You’re the only agent in the history of this task force Raymond Delgado hasn’t hit on, assaulted, or tie-dyed.” She grinned wickedly. “He’s in danger, and you’re going to keep him alive. I’ll arrange for a hotel room tonight and send you a text with the hotel address and room number. Since there is a very real possibility that someone’s been following him or you, you should check out a vehicle from the motor pool, too.”

Elliot knew he shouldn’t argue. This was his first case in San Diego, and being pulled off it because of poor judgment wasn’t going to go over well. Aside from making his coworkers think he was incompetent, it would be reflected in his performance evaluations, too. His six-year assignment could turn into twelve months, with him being shuffled to LA or the East Coast afterward.

“Look, you’re not off the case,” said St. Claire. “You’re just stuck working the part of it no one else wants.”

Elliot wandered through the office, grateful that St. Claire hadn’t written him up. He tried to check out a car from the motor pool, but the administrative office was closed and locked for the night by the time he wandered down.

He didn’t think it was necessary anyway, so he took his own car home, trying not to let Ray and St. Claire’s paranoia get to him.

A newer model gray Lexus SUV pulled out behind him after a block. He thought it was a little strange that the Lexus stayed with him through rush-hour traffic, crossing the interstate instead of pulling onto the ramp. He was a bit surprised when he saw the same Lexus two cars behind him at a stoplight near the neighborhood community center. He took his time driving through Tierrasanta, doubling back and going through a busy shopping center parking lot, and all the time he thought he saw the same silver Lexus behind him.

Fed up, he pulled to a stop beside a public trailhead where a bench and sign marked one of the many trails down into the maze of the Rueda Canyons. He checked the safety on his sidearm, made sure his jacket was loose, shifted to remind himself that his vest was there, and stepped out of his car. He leaned against his car, watching traffic glide by. Each time a newer SUV drove past, his hand twitched toward his gun.

When ten minutes had passed without any sign of the gray Lexus, Elliot got back in his car, locked the doors, and dropped his head against the steering wheel. “Get a grip, Elliot,” he said out loud.

Ray’s paranoia, and the news of Garcia’s death, was starting to rub off. Now that his brain was beginning to beat through the impulsive nervous energy, he wanted to smack himself. If someone like Alejandro Munoz had been following him, driving to a secluded corner of his neighborhood and confronting the man on his own was just stupid. It was likely to get him killed.

He watched for the SUV as he made his way back up the hill to his house, made sure the street was empty, then pulled in to the garage rather than just park in the driveway.

R
AY
HAD
stripped down to a pair of pants and a white undershirt because he didn’t want to get plaster dust and paint all over the only respectable thing he had to wear. He was twisting two wires together with a yellow plastic cap when Elliot came through the door, his sparkling eyes marred by a grim expression.

Despite his threats, Ray hadn’t made a mess of Elliot’s house. He’d removed a section of drywall almost four inches square where he was working, but he had a matching square set aside for a patch, and a tiny bucket of spackling paste sat beside it. He’d even put down a dust cloth.

“What happened?” Ray rolled up from his knees in a fluid, rocking gesture. “Did the search teams find her?”

“Not yet. SDPD searched Garcia’s place this morning. Apparently they didn’t find any traces of blood and nothing that might belong to Sophie.”

“SDPD is working this?” Ray narrowed his eyes. He’d asked around last Friday, and everyone he’d spoken with told him the case had been handed off to the FBI.

“They found Luca Garcia’s body in an alley in Hillcrest. Shot through the back of the head. There was no sign of her.”

Ray forced himself to take a deep breath. News of Garcia’s death was a surprise, but it wasn’t something he was going to get upset about. He ran through a list of potential suspects associated with Sophie’s disappearance who might have killed him, realized he was third on the list himself, and smirked. He began to twist another set of wires together. “Give me a minute. I want to get this done and turn the breaker back on before I lose the sun.”

“Delgado, I….”

“I’m almost done. You can arrest me before or after I patch the drywall, but let me get your power back on first.”

“Did you do it?” Elliot laughed.

“You know I didn’t. But I’d be the most likely suspect, after Holland and Alejandro, wouldn’t I? I’ve been with you since Friday, but that’s not really something we can type up and submit.”

“You’re on the top of the list, Delgado, with Alejandro Munoz and Professor Holland coming after.”

“Am I?” Ray knew he shouldn’t think that was funny, but he couldn’t help it.

“He had your Glock in his jacket.”

Ray was very careful about not flinching. He finished connecting wires, then plugged the bundle of wires back into the alarm control box. “So he was the one who broke into my place?”

“Probably.”

“Huh.”

“His estimated time of death was ten o’clock Saturday night. I’m not your only alibi. My boss, her husband, and the rest of my judo class all vouched for you. Besides, I told my boss I could account for the rest of your weekend too.”

Ray swallowed hard, hoping Elliot had just told his boss they’d been together, rather than giving the frightening woman a play-by-play account of how they’d spent Sunday afternoon. He prided himself on being able to keep a straight face regardless of the circumstances, but that revelation was just too much. “Everything?”

Elliot scoffed. “Give me a bit of credit. I didn’t tell her that I fingered you until you came in your shorts or that you sucked me off afterward.”

Ray sucked in a desperate breath as Elliot reminded him just what they’d done.

“I told her we were friends.”

“Did she believe that?”

“She thinks I’ve got a crush on you.” Elliot shifted, not meeting Ray’s gaze.

Ray dusted off his hands, clipped the cover on the control box closed, and turned toward Elliot. “Do you?”

“No. No sane gay man lets himself have a crush on a straight guy. It’s just inviting misery.”

Ray bit the inside of his cheek for a moment. “I’m not straight,” he whispered.

“So you’re gay?” There was venom laced in the question.

“I….” Ray slapped his mouth shut. This could so easily end up exploding in the wrong direction, and Ray didn’t want to risk having Elliot walk out on him again. Especially not if he walked out before sex this time. “I am bi. I’ve been attracted to men and women. I am attracted to you.” And the idea of Elliot harboring a crush on him made him want to scoop the other man up and do something about that attraction, but Elliot was obviously on edge.

“The rumor mill says you’re the definition of straight. I guess it’s a good thing. She let it go.”

“What?”

“Well, she didn’t let everything go. I’m done with the investigation. I’ve been assigned to your protection detail instead of getting a formal reprimand.”

“I’m a punishment?” Ray laughed and grinned. “That’s awesome. Give me a minute to turn the breaker back on. I want to test these before I put your wall back together.”

“Delgado, I need to move. Finding out Garcia was killed that night has me jumping at shadows. I think I’m going to go down to the club. Do you want to come with me?”

Ray ran his fingertips around Elliot’s hips as he strolled toward the breaker box in the garage. “You sure you wouldn’t rather just throw me around here?”

Elliot let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t think you’d enjoy it much, with the mood I’m in.”

Ray looked Elliot up and down, finally taking in the balled-up fists, the tense shoulders, and shaking tendons in his neck.

“I need to go,” said Elliot, not looking at him. “Unless you’re up for me bending you over the back of that couch and fucking you until you can’t move, I need to go.”

Ray looked over his shoulder at the worn green couch. “Is that what you need?”

Elliot’s fists tightened until his knuckles turned white. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’d rather go find someone to pick a fight with.”

“Give me five minutes to get ready to go.”

In two hours, every muscle and joint in Ray’s body hurt. He was thirsty, tired, hungry, and every time he looked at Elliot, his dick kept trying to get hard. The borrowed sports cup made even a partial erection uncomfortable, but Ray’s body seemed to care more about fucking Elliot than random, insignificant things like pain.