Speak of the Devil (7 page)

Tony went into the kitchen and came back carrying a plate heaped with eggplant patties, fried calamari, and butterfly shrimp. He set the plate on their table and sat down with them.

“Eat, eat,” he said. “My mother’s motto.”

“These are my favorite.” Anna speared a patty. “How are your mom and dad?”

“Good. They’ll be sorry they missed you. You look gorgeous, by the way.”

“Being engaged suits her,” McGee drawled.

Tony glanced at McGee, then down at Anna’s hand. She held up her ring.

“Very nice.” Tony sighed. “Is this the guy you were ‘just getting over’ a few weeks ago?”

“Yep.”

Tony had asked her out while she and Jack were broken up. Anna turned him down because she was still in love with Jack. Now she was especially glad she hadn’t dated Tony. She could still come here and be friends with everyone, without complications.

“Congratulations.” Tony’s eyes twinkled again with their usual mischief. “I’m sure he’ll make an excellent first husband.”

“I’m only planning on doing this once.”

“Of course. Still, get a good prenup.”

“Get out of here,” she said, laughing. “Stop trying to jinx me.”

“I would never do that.” Tony stood with a smile. “I’m very happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

When he left, McGee looked at her with narrowed eyes.

“He’s just a big joker,” Anna said.

“He didn’t seem to be joking.”

“Oh, he’s harmless. Try the shrimp.”

McGee was soon mollified—or at least silenced—by the delicious food.

Hector Ramos arrived ten minutes later. Anna felt sorry for him as soon as he walked in the door. He was a good-looking man: a little taller than her, in his early thirties, muscular, with short brown hair and a goatee. He was quiet, but had an easy smile. At least, he usually did. Today, the skin around his eyes had the bluish rings of someone who hadn’t slept in a while. His face was pale and drawn, with stubble on his cheeks. When he sat down, Anna nudged the plate of appetizers toward him, but he shook his head.

“Thanks so much for coming,” Anna said. “I know you didn’t have to.”

“I did.”

She nodded gratefully. Hector had the most to risk by talking about the shooting. But perhaps he was also the most interested in making a case against the gang whose member he’d shot.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Hanging in.”

Most cops went their entire career without ever drawing their guns. Officers who actually shot someone often had a hard time getting over it. Many required years of counseling.

Hector waved over a waiter and ordered three cans of DC Brau. “You all drinking with me?” Anna and McGee shook their heads. Hector tried to smile, but it came off as a grimace. “Oh well, I’m not on duty now. Won’t be for a while.”

Before Anna even had to ask, Hector started telling her what happened the night before, at the brothel. Anna followed up with questions, getting all the flavor and details that weren’t in the police reports. McGee took notes. He would testify to Hector’s story at the upcoming preliminary hearing, where hearsay was admissible.

“So what did the guys look like?” Anna asked. “The ones who got away.”

“I just saw them for a moment, and I was mostly focused on the machetes. One was a medium Hispanic male. The other was strange—his face was covered in dark markings. Probably tattoos, but a lot of them. And there were two bumps, like horns, growing under his forehead.”

“A guy like that can’t hide for long,” Anna said.

“So you’d think. The Latino Liaison unit has been hearing chatter about a devil-man leading MS-13. So far, it’s just street talk.”

“Do you think you could help a sketch artist? Or ID either of the two guys in a lineup?”

“There’d be no mistaking the devil guy. I’ll try with the other. I don’t have a clear picture in my head, though. I just saw him for a second, in the middle of all the chaos.” He drained his first beer and opened a second. “Do you know who these guys are?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“I mean the gang, MS-13.”

“Sure. Street gang from El Salvador. Started in L.A., with the immigrants fleeing the Salvadoran civil war. More established Hispanic gangs preyed on them, and MS-13 sprang up as a form of protection.”

“Yeah, but the thing you gotta understand is they’re not like other gangs,” Hector said. “Bloods, Crips, BGF—they’re violent, but they make sense. Other gangs try to make money, and they use violence to protect their drug business or fight over turf. For MS-13, the violence is the whole point of the gang. Their motto is
‘Mata, Viola, Controla.’
Kill, Rape, Control.”

Anna nodded. The name Mara Salvatrucha translated roughly into “Watch Out for Us Salvadoran Gangsters.” Without so many gang niches taken, MS-13 made its name by being the most terrifying, erratic, and brutal. It had gone viral in recent years, establishing cliques in most major American cities. In the last decade, it had gone from a few thousand members to over fifty thousand worldwide.

“A lot of the members get involved when they’re just kids. Then they can’t get out. The gang will kill you before they let you quit. I feel sorry for them.” For a moment Hector’s eyes focused on the far distance. Then they returned to cop bravado. “I don’t feel sorry for those motherfuckers last night, though. Seeing what they did to that girl. I should’ve shot them all.” Hector pulled the tab on the third beer and drained it. “You can put that in your report.”

“That’s okay,” McGee said. His pen was lying on the table.

Hector crushed the empty can in his fist and looked at Anna. “Have you figured out why that piece of shit was carrying Nina’s picture?”

“You knew Nina Flores?” Anna asked, surprised.

“We went to high school together, joined MPD together. She was one of my best friends, until MS-13 took her out.”

“I thought she died in an undercover drug buy.”

“That’s what we all thought. Now I don’t know what to think. Let me just say this. If you want to find these guys, look at the cases Nina was working before she died.”

Anna tilted her head. What did Nina’s old cases—from four years ago—have to do with the brothel raid last night? Hector held her gaze, his eyes haunted but his face hard.

Tony came over, smiling and holding three plates of tiramisu. “On the house! Congratulations on your engagement, Anna.”

Anna tore her eyes from Hector’s face. “Thank you, Tony.”

No one even looked at the cake. The group was remarkably quiet for people who’d just gotten free dessert.

“Okay then.” Tony shrugged and headed back to the kitchen.

“You got engaged?” Hector asked. “I didn’t even think you dated. Who are you marrying?”

“Jack Bailey.”

“Bailey? Christ.” Hector stood with a look of disgust. He fished in his wallet for some bills and tossed them on the table. “Do this for me, will you? Get those guys.”

He walked out of the restaurant. The door shook from the force of his push.

“What was that all about?” she asked. “What’s with the attitude about Jack?”

McGee shook his head, picked up his spoon, and took a bite of his dessert. “I have no idea. But I know who’s going to eat his tiramisu.”

• • •

Thirty minutes later, Hector walked into his small, quiet apartment. The daylight was fading, but he didn’t turn the lights on. Why bother? Normally, he’d be getting ready for work now. Instead, he was benched. Many cops would love some paid days off, but he wasn’t that kind of cop. The enforced sloth might drive him crazy.

No, that wasn’t true. It was everything else, converging at once, that might drive him crazy. Nina’s photo. The secrets he carried. The fact that Anna was engaged to Jack Bailey, of all people. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

He went to the bathroom and ran the shower, making the water as hot as he could stand. Pulling off his T-shirt, Hector glared at his figure in the mirror. In the diminishing light, he could see the musculature of his chest, buff from daily workouts. Unlike his arms and face, his torso was pale. Outside of his home, he always wore a shirt of some kind. Even at the beach—or in the MPD locker room. Especially there.

On his right pec were three black dots. On the left pec, over his heart, were the elaborate, crudely artistic initials: MS. The ink was bluish black, stark against his white skin.

The steam from the shower clouded the mirror, obscuring his image. He raised his hand to wipe away the condensation, then stopped, preferring the blurred version of himself. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the hot water.

11

Climbing the steps to Jack’s front porch always cheered Anna. Lights blazed from the windows of the yellow Victorian. A pumpkin sat on each step, five in all. The garden was abloom with autumn flowers: dark red mums, apricot roses, black-eyed Susans with petals the color of sunshine. Mature oaks and maples wore leafy haloes of orange, yellow, and red. The air smelled of fresh-cut grass with the sweet-smoky hint of burning leaves.

Anna opened the front door but stopped short when she walked into the foyer. It was like stepping into a florist shop. Vase after vase of purple irises covered the front table, the coffee table in the living room, and the counters in the kitchen. There was a vase everywhere she looked. She couldn’t help smiling, even as she worried that Jack must have spent a fortune.

As she set down her bag, a furry orange streak hurled itself against her legs. “Raffles!” Anna bent down with surprised delight and picked up her cat. She’d been planning to get the cat from her apartment tonight. The tabby purred and pushed his head under her chin.

When she set down the cat and straightened up, Jack was smiling next to her. He put his arm around her waist, dipped her like a ballroom dancer, and kissed her. For a long time. When he set her on her feet again she felt a little swoon-y.

“Hi,” she said, dizzy with happiness. “How’d Raffles get here?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Jack said. “I wanted to surprise you.”

He led her upstairs to the bedroom closet. All of her clothes were hanging and folded as they had been before their breakup. In the bathroom, her toiletries were neatly laid out. He’d even moved the book on her apartment nightstand to the nightstand beside his bed.

“Welcome home, love,” he said.

“Wow.”

She turned to Jack and kissed him deeply. This felt like home, and home felt good.

“Luisa’s been waiting for you, too,” Jack said when they finally pulled apart. “She’s staying late tonight to eat with us and make this dinner a celebration.”

Anna wouldn’t be able to relax completely until she told him about the new case, but she wanted to keep the good mood going. She’d tell him after dinner.

They went downstairs to a table set with colorful plates, another vase of irises, and a mason jar full of flowers and peppermint from the garden. Jack had grilled some steaks, while Luisa had prepared rice and beans and a sweet corn salad. Jack poured wine for the grown-ups and sparkling cider for Olivia, and they all toasted the future of their new family. Eating a home-cooked dinner with three people Anna loved was wonderful, especially compared to the lonely pizza dinners she’d been nuking for the past few weeks. They chatted about their days, joked, and laughed. Luisa had even made a cake for dessert. Anna tried to eat her share, but she was still full from the food at Sergio’s.

“They’re going to have parent-teacher conferences next week,” Olivia said. “Anna, will you come with Daddy?”

Anna was touched by the request. She’d passed the elementary school many times, but had never gone in. She was going to be Olivia’s stepmother. A
mother
. That was crazy. Amazing.

“Yes, sweetie, I would really like that.”

After dinner, Luisa stayed to help Olivia get ready for bed. When the nanny and child were upstairs, Jack and Anna went to his study and sat on the couch.

“Jack, there’s something I need to tell you,” Anna said. “It’s upsetting.”

“Oh no. You’re allergic to irises?”

She smiled and shook her head. “This is serious. I got assigned a new case today. Four MS-13 members raided a brothel, raped a prostitute, and beheaded the doorman. MPD shot and killed one, and two more ran off. But they arrested the fourth guy.”

He nodded with interest but not shock. He was the Homicide chief, he heard about crimes like this every day. He knew this was not what she had to tell him. He waited while she took a deep breath.

“The guy they arrested had a picture in his pocket. A picture of Nina.”

“My wife, Nina?”

Anna cringed. That made it sound like she was engaged to a married man.

“Olivia’s mother, Nina, yeah.”

“Do you have the picture?”

The actual photo was in an evidence locker, but she had a color copy. She watched Jack’s face as she handed it to him. The picture had been cut to about two-by-two inches, so it was just Nina’s face, with her long dark hair and radiant smile; there was no context to tell where the picture had been taken. As he looked at the photo, Jack’s expression flashed through puzzlement, recognition, disbelief, and anger.

“Jesus. How’d they get this?” He stood and went to the bookshelf. His hand skimmed over a line of books, but he didn’t find what he was looking for. “Luisa!”

The nanny came down to the study. “Yes?”

“Do you know where my wedding album is?”

“Oh, let’s see, it’s supposed to be here.” Luisa went to the shelf that Jack had just been flipping through, with the same result. “Oh dear. Things are always disappearing, I swear there’s a ghost.” Luisa looked through the bookcase, then turned to a different set of bookshelves by the desk. She pulled out a large white album. “Ah, here you go.”

Jack took the photo album and opened it on the desk. Anna had never seen these pictures before. She watched as he flipped through photos of his first wedding.

The church had soaring ceilings and thick marble pillars. Family members grinned from the pews, obviously delighted by the match. As she walked down the aisle, Nina Flores wore a shimmery white gown, which skimmed her curves and set off her golden skin. Her long black hair hung in glossy waves and her eyes glowed like tiger’s-eye stone. For her wedding day, Nina Flores managed to look both angelically beautiful and ridiculously sexy.