The Devil's Orchard (29 page)

The Irish pub and restaurant wasn’t all that far from the one Cain owned, and from what some of the beat cops had told her, Cain liked to stop by often for the potato stew made from her mother’s recipe. She needed more contact with Casey so she could figure out the crack in her defenses. Once she was in she’d rip her to the ground.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try somewhere nicer?” her mother asked. “New Orleans isn’t exactly known for their Irish cuisine.”

“Let’s just stay for a beer. Then we can go.”

“This has to do with this case of yours?” The veneer of happiness dropped off her mother’s face, and she appeared more angry than hurt.

“You don’t talk to me anyway, so why shouldn’t I get something done while I can?”

“Then play with fire on your own time.” Her mother turned to leave. Fiona grabbed her by the biceps to keep her from going. “Fiona.” Judice stared at her hand. “You want to work, then work, but it’s best you leave me out of it.”

Fiona stood and looked at her mother’s finger as if it were a gun, since she pointed at her. A few of the rowdier patrons bumped into her, but she stayed in place as her mother left. The smart move would’ve been to go after her, but she was tired of playing twenty questions and getting no answers. It didn’t matter right then that their time was limited; she needed to do something constructive.

“Get you something, my darlin’?” The bartender’s Irish accent sounded authentic.

“A Guinness and a few minutes, if you’ve got them.”

The man poured and set her glass on the counter to let it settle. “There you go.” He wiped his hands on a bar towel. “I get off at two, if you’re interested in my time.”

“Not like that. I only want to ask if you know Cain Casey.”

“Who’s asking?”

She showed him her badge and put a ten on the bar for her drink. “Detective Fiona O’Brannigan.”

The man glanced at the badge then at her money before taking the glass back and throwing it in the sink. “Keep your money and take your questions out the door with you.”

“Loyalty can sometimes buy you more trouble than favors, so you want to try again?”

“Get out of my place before you get hurt, little lady.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down his somewhat crooked nose at her.

“Threatening the NOPD isn’t a wise move. Is Casey worth jail time to you?”

He picked up the old yellow phone on the wall and dialed a number he obviously knew from memory. She felt her phone vibrate against her hip when he hung up, and she read the number from her precinct on the display.

“Get the fuck out of there, and get back here now.”

“Yes, sir.” She didn’t have to ask who it was; her superior officer had a recognizable voice.

The smug expression on the bartender’s face made her realize how far Cain’s reach went in the city, but also how deeply she’d corrupted the police. “The answer to caging you for life might not be found in whatever the Feds think you’re doing, Casey. It might lie on a more local level,” Fiona said as she drove the couple of blocks to work. “That’d be hilarious since you think you’re so smart.”

She dialed Ronald’s number, but this time there was no answer.

“Call me. I might have something.”

*

Ronald had gone by the office when they’d landed and ordered a team out to find wherever Casey was in the city. The sarcasm in everything Annabel had said, along with her sweet, sickening smile, had irritated him from the second she’d greeted him. “You lost Casey in a small backwoods café in dairy-town Wisconsin? Really, Ronald. I thought your being here was the answer to all our prayers.”

It hadn’t gotten any better throughout the day, and in a way he’d lost the upper hand because she’d been right. Casey had waved every single time she’d seen him, insulted him in front of the others, and pretended she knew something about him. She was nothing but a lying punk, like every other asshole he’d ever confronted. No way in hell Casey or anyone else knew anything about him, at least not anything he didn’t want them to.

He’d gone to his hotel room and changed into jeans, T-shirt, and biker boots, but that wasn’t all he’d done to hide the rigid personality he prided himself on. The wig made him appear younger, since the hair was longer and braided in a Jamaican style. So far, his theory that people concentrated on shit like hair and tattoos instead of facial structure had held true. He laughed about it as he glanced at the large snake tattoo that ran down his forearm. It’d come off later in the shower, but for now it was yet another clue someone would eventually give police if they were brave enough.

From the reports the Bureau had on file, Airline Drive—a few miles out from downtown—was where he’d find what he was looking for. It was maddening that he had to do this, since he found it disgusting that he actually needed it, but it was like the steam release on a pressure cooker. If he blocked it too long then the whole pot exploded, and he’d do anything to avoid that.

The first guy was too fat and actually appeared grotesque in the tight pink leopard-skin Lycra pants he wore. When he smiled at him he was also missing teeth, so he kept going. He was cursing as he reached the end of the strip, but the last guy who stood by a few women was the one. He was a slight, light-skinned teenager—perfect. Ronald was about to give him the night of his life.

“Get in.” He pointed to the guy with a hundred between his fingers.

“Big man like you needs more than skinny Minnie here,” one of the women said.

“You coming or what?”

The guy got in and didn’t immediately start spouting the usual phrases or try any of the tired moves that the more seasoned prostitutes felt were expected of them. “I’m Frankie.”

“I didn’t pick you up for conversation, so shut the fuck up.” Frankie cringed and pressed closer to his door as he screamed. The fear made Ronald hard. On nights like this he could do whatever he wanted, and in turn he’d get what he sometimes couldn’t as an agent—respect and satisfaction.

He stopped behind the large grocery, which he’d already checked out and found free of security cameras, and unzipped his jeans. The pink condom Frankie put on him was almost comical, but the way Frankie sucked dick wasn’t. He slowed him down, not wanting to come too quick, and Frankie complied. As his head bobbed like a fishing cork, Ronald put on the golf gloves he used in situations like this. They protected his hands and left none of his DNA, but were thin enough to enjoy the sensation he was about to experience.

Frankie stopped when he prompted him to, and a little of his edge dulled. “Take that pretty outfit off,” he ordered.

He watched as it all dropped to the floor of the car and enjoyed how shy Frankie acted. When he was naked and the expanse of skin was within reach, all Ronald could think again was
perfect
. Frankie’s skin was flawless, with no scars, bruises, or blemishes. Unfortunately for Frankie, that was about to change.

“I bet you’re popular,” he said, and wished he had a quicker recovery period. He knew himself, though, so what came next was necessary if he wanted to get off a second time. “Pretty thing like you.” His comment made Frankie look at him. “Work it until it’s hard.”

He didn’t touch as Frankie masturbated for him, and he was impressed that, for such a smallish man, Frankie’s dick resembled his physique in that it was long and skinny. Once his hand started to move faster he gazed for another moment, then couldn’t stand it. “Stop,” he screamed.

Frankie’s eyes opened, and he put his hands up like a well-trained pet used to following commands. “Tell me what you want,” he said, thrusting his hips toward him.

“Get out so we’ll be more comfortable.” Frankie did as he asked and stood in the shadow of the Dumpster, not appearing alarmed when Ronald took his belt off.

That didn’t last past the first lash from the wide leather and buckle. When Ronald dropped that and used his fists, all Frankie could do was whimper from the fetal position he’d rolled himself into, as if to make a smaller target. Every red line and blotch on the once-beautiful skin would be a bruise soon, and the thought of them made Ronald hard again.

He stood over Frankie’s motionless body and jerked off with only one thought on his mind. Soon this would be Cain Casey, and the exercise would the sweetest of his life. Bringing her down and humiliating her like this would be epic. When he squirted over Frankie’s back the familiar tableau was done, so he opened his trunk and got the bleach wipes he always carried with him.

Frankie whimpered as he wiped him down and put each wipe in a bag that he’d take with him. All that was left was to get Frankie’s clothes out of his car and pay him. He threw the rumpled outfit on his head and pressed two hundred bucks in his hand. He’d given him a little extra for being such a good sport.

“Thanks, kid. That was great.”

He drove away. The more distance he put between them, the mellower he got. Tomorrow he’d start over and make the necessary changes to get back to why he was here. It’d be easier now that he was under control again.

“When I find you, Casey, you’re going to pay for the humiliation I just endured.”

Two weeks passed and Juan seemed to follow the same routine, which was to drive close to the house and follow Emma wherever she went. Lou and Emma reported that he hadn’t touched her again, but he was starting to build confidence by getting closer to them when he could.

Sabana still sat on the hotel where Gracelia was staying, but still hadn’t seen her. Cain told them all to hold on. They weren’t going to lose anyone by casting a net too early.

“What did that guy you picked up tell you?” Emma asked as they lay together in the quiet of the early morning.

Andre Reyes—that was the one thing the man Katlin had picked up knew for sure. His name and who he worked for. He’d started, according to him, with Gracelia, but after a phone call went with Gustavo Katsura. That’s who he worked for now, but all they did was sit around the room Gustavo had rented and watch television. Gustavo had alluded to a plan, but nothing had come of it. Even with Simon there for translation purposes, Katlin had discovered nothing else. If he’d had something to give up, he would’ve when the first shock went through his balls. Hell, she might’ve been tempted to make something up if she’d been in his position, but that’s all he’d said.

“He was never really close to Gracelia, and Gustavo never gave specifics. I’m willing to wait them out.” Cain moved behind her so Emma could use her as a body pillow. “What I don’t, I take that back, can’t wait for anymore is getting the kids and everyone back. I thought my wakeup call would’ve prompted Gracelia to try to punch back, but she went silent. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe you should try something to entice her out in the open.” Emma rubbed her foot up and down her leg as she spoke. “Something you might want to do, but don’t want to be blamed for.”

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” She kissed a spot above Emma’s ear and enjoyed when she pressed closer.

“There’s nothing you can do to that ass from the FBI who beat you while you were cuffed? That still bothers me. He did it and got away with it to the point of gloating that day at Hayden’s game. Maybe you should get rid of the idiot and blame it on the other idiots messing up our days.”

“If Brent shows up dead I don’t think the FBI will look at the Luis family first, lass. I haven’t forgotten about him.” She ran her hand down Emma’s back, then up again. “Annabel’s been good at cultivating short fuses in her people, and if left to fester, Brent will eventually decide the law is too slow. Once he does, he’ll hurry things along like he did before.”

“Maybe Annabel needs to go. That day I went to see George Talbot when they’d taken you in, she was so condescending. When there’s a problem and you get rid of it, but it keeps happening, there has to be a common denominator. My guess is Annabel.”

“I don’t know for sure, but I think that’s why Ronald Chapman is here. He agrees with you about Annabel, but he wants something badly.” Emma’s eyes started to droop as Cain spoke, but she didn’t stop, wanting her to go back to sleep. She kept up her gentle stroking as well to encourage drowsiness. “When someone wants something there has to be a good explanation. I’d rather have someone I know fairly well, since I know what Annabel’s about, over the unknown with an agenda.”

“What are you going to do?” Emma’s voice was soft as satin and as slow as molasses. Sleep was close.

“We’ll talk about that tomorrow, but I’ve got something in mind.” She kissed Emma’s forehead and stayed quiet after that because Emma needed her rest.

After a talk with Sabana the night before, she’d found that whoever Jerome Rhodes was, he was a creature of habit. Every day, a couple of times a day, he walked the levee and smoked. After those initial calls he hadn’t phoned anyone else. His only company was two men who trailed him but seldom talked to him.

Cain knew something would come of it because the two guys who kept Jerome company appeared Mexican. She’d studied the pictures Sabana had gotten of Jerome, and he too had the same coloring, but his facial features were much more refined. He didn’t stand out as a part of Rodolfo’s crew, so she assumed he’d started with Gracelia.

Today she was going for a walk, not to threaten or talk to Jerome, but to put him on the radar of her watchers. Whatever his role was with Gracelia, she was interested in how he’d react not only to her, but to who else would be looking on. If he was one to panic, then he’d run somewhere, and maybe once he did, they’d get somewhere.

After that she planned to meet with Carlos, who had finally made it in to town and was staying at the Piquant as well. He’d come for his business, she guessed, but was also there because Gracelia was possibly close. As much as she wanted to kill Juan, Carlos wanted to kill Gracelia, maybe even more.

The other thing they needed to decide was whether to bring the kids and the rest of their family home. She wanted Muriel back by her side to make sure she continued to put the hurt behind her. Family was the most important thing to Cain, and Emma was right—it was time to stop running. The fear the different scenarios she’d thought of when it came to Juan had given him more power in her mind than he deserved. She was ashamed to admit that to herself, but a repeat of what had happened to Marie would’ve driven her mad.

“It’s time to go back to the basics,” she whispered, and kissed Emma’s forehead when she whimpered in her sleep. “So put your running shoes on, Juan. I’m coming.”

*

“Señor,” Pablo said early that morning when Jerome came out of the bedroom for coffee and the paper. He’d become obsessed with all forms of news since he figured that’s how they’d find the dumb bastard Gustavo. “Miguel Gonzales call and he want us at the house today at five. Señor Delarosa no is in the city, but he want to hear what you say.”

Jerome stared at Pablo and wanted to kiss him. Finally there might be a way out of this hellhole with the witch he was sharing his bed with. The more days that passed with no word from Gustavo, the more worried and frantic she became, and she had forgotten all her grand statements and promises about taking her son out of the picture. If Gustavo called, she swore to God she’d give him whatever he wanted if only he’d come back to her.

“Good.” He motioned Pablo closer to him so he could hear him whisper. “Get the car and park a block away. When I go out for my walk, I’ll make it down the levee and meet you. For now I don’t want anyone else to know.”

“I understand.”

He skimmed the paper and ate a large breakfast now that his appetite had returned. No matter what, he had to go, but if he could get in with Hector and get him to trust him enough to give him a job, he wouldn’t have to start over on his own with only the skeleton crew he could steal from Gracelia. The longer he stayed here, the quicker he’d be found by accident because of the Luis family. Guilt by association in this case would only get him killed.

That was especially true of Cain Casey. The first time he wanted Cain to see him with this face was when he was in close proximity to Hector. That’s where he wanted her to form her history with him going forward, thus eliminating any chance she’d put him together with Gracelia and then hear from someone that Juan had brought him to his mother. He’d watched her for years, and no one escaped justice that long without a quick mind and high intelligence.

“If Gracelia gets up early let her know I’m out for a walk. Wait here and tell everyone not to follow me. I want to be alone.” Pablo nodded and sat in front of the muted television with some Spanish show he liked to watch.

Jerome ignored the girl who sat in the same place every day and headed for the walking path on the levee. The last of the disposable phones he’d purchased was charged, in his pocket, and ready for a call. He headed down the path and never glanced back in case one of the men ignored Pablo. He’d get enough distance between them not to be overheard.

The number he dialed rang twice, and his father answered. “I’m sorry. I’ve got the wrong number.” He hung up and waited. It’d take his dad about fifteen minutes to make it to the pay phone they’d agreed on, so he kept walking at a good clip.

He glanced at his watch and dialed the number and waited for the phrase that meant everything was okay from Matt’s end. “What’s new?” his dad asked.

“I got the meeting I’ve been waiting for, so hopefully by the end of the day today I’ll get my promotion. Once I do I’m moving from my current location and getting a bigger place so you can join me.”

“Is your assistant still with you?”

“Yeah, and as loyal as ever. I figure if he comes with me it’ll be easier to get the rest of the crew to come along. The house where I was before might be a good place for us to work from,” he said, meaning Gracelia’s house in Cabo. If she and Gustavo were eliminated, he planned to move in and eventually get the paperwork done to transfer the deed.

“Be careful and don’t plan too far ahead. Things get missed like that, and this isn’t the time for big mistakes. There’s too much at stake.”

“Don’t worry. I think my qualifications will be what they’re looking for. I’m not going to brag and tell them about all my experience so as not to give them the wrong impression.” Despite his father’s warning he couldn’t help but spin some fantasies in his head about what was in store for them. Finally he’d have people around him that respected him as well as money and power. It was all within reach.

“Be careful and don’t do anything to piss off this guy. You want to walk out of there…” His dad paused as if to give him a warning about Hector and his tendency to kill anyone he deemed not to his liking. “Walk out with more than you came in with, or at least with what you have now.”

“I got us this far, so—” He’d started his statement by wanting his father to give him some credit when he turned around. Cain Casey was perhaps fifteen feet behind him and had never made a sound. From the way she was dressed, she wasn’t here for a morning run. “Fuck,” he said, and cursed his weakness for showing any kind of reaction.

“What?” his father screamed.

“It was good talking to you, and I’ll have to get back to you on all the other stuff we talked about. I don’t have the information in front of me right now.” He hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket as if he’d finished his call and was on the way back to the head of the trail. She didn’t move and stood in the middle of the trail as he started walking, so he smiled and started to go around her.

“What’s your hurry? It’s beautiful out here this time of morning. Not so hot, like when you’re out here in the afternoon.” Cain stared him down, and it’d be a mistake to pass without saying something.

“I’m late for a meeting, so have fun.” He got about three feet on the other side of her when she spoke, and he had to stop again.

“I’m sure Gracelia is still sleeping off the high, so I wouldn’t rush on her behalf,” Cain said, since she’d changed her mind not to actually talk to this guy. It’d been his initial reaction to her that’d made her decide to go a step further than she’d planned. He’d been flying high with whoever was on the other line, but he’d crashed hard when he’d glanced behind him and found her there.

“I’m sorry. I really have to get going.” Jerome lifted his hand in a poor excuse for a wave and started running down the path, slowing only when he noticed Katlin at the end where she’d left her.

She waved at Katlin to let him by, and after the very short encounter she was angry with herself for not coming sooner. Jerome not only knew her, but recognized Katlin as well, so her family wasn’t a foreign thing to him. And he knew enough about them to be afraid. Why would he be? She was after Juan and would gladly hand Gracelia over to Carlos to do whatever Carlos had planned, but Jerome was an unknown to her.

“If he ran any faster he’d have fallen in the lake,” Katlin said as she met her halfway. “What’d you tell him?”

“He said he was in a rush to not miss a meeting, so I told him his boss was probably sleeping off her high. Interesting reaction, though, don’t you think?”

“Sometimes you have that little something extra in your smile that sends people running. They don’t know you like we do, so don’t ask me to explain.”

“Did you pull Sabana from the lobby?”

“Yeah, she’s waiting at the car and ready to polish your shoes if you ask her to. Your lesson must’ve sunk in because she didn’t give her usual lip.”

“Good. Call her and tell her to drive around. I promised Carlos I’d stop by for coffee.”

“Do you think Gracelia will run after this?”

“The smartest move—if she wants to live longer than the time it’ll take Carlos to drive out here and stuff her in a pillowcase and drag her off—would be to run back to Mexico. If she still has people loyal to her, then she might have a chance to fight him off, but from what I hear, Carlos is the new popular guy and fast-rising star. His father would be proud of him if Juan and his sister hadn’t tied him to a tree and fed him to the ants.”

“Will he eventually be a problem?” Katlin pointed to where Sabana had stopped.

“I understand the allure of drugs, but I want no part of them. If I explain that plain enough, then we can both do business in close proximity and not have a problem. Maybe he’ll understand that better than Hector, because no matter how I put it, it never sinks in.”

“Maybe he’s got a crush on you?”

“If that’s true I’ll send Emma over there to explain the facts to him, after I tell her he said she looked fat. By the time she’d finish with him, they might have a little left to bury.” Cain laughed.

“Head to the Piquant, Sabana,” Katlin said.

“We’ll meet with Carlos and then I want you to follow Lou and Emma to their appointment. Make sure no one sees you. We need them to appear vulnerable and easy pickings.”

“Do you promise you’ll stay home?”

“Believe me. We’re too close to them to want to take any chances.”

*

“What happened?” Matt asked.

“Cain Casey was out there this morning,” Jerome said, panting from his sprint inside.

“Did she make you?”

“She knows I’m with Gracelia, but that’s it. I’m still going with what we talked about, only I’m going to try to move it up some. I’ll call when I’m done, so be ready to move and make sure you don’t pick up any viruses along the way.” He stripped off his clothes and started the shower. “If Hector doesn’t work out, we still have the other option I told you about.”