The Kiss after Midnight (The Midnight Trilogy) (10 page)

Annabel silenced him with a wave and continued to pay attention to the news.

“We now go live to 26 Federal Plaza, where FBI Deputy Director Ross Wheeler recently addressed the public. Monica Knepper reporting.” The picture changed to an aerial shot of the FBI’s New York building. The camera then zoomed down and focused on an auburn-haired woman holding a microphone.

“Thanks, Mary,” she said. “We’ve just heard Deputy Director Wheeler condemn the events of today. He’s convinced that these incidents could be related to the drug cartels operating in New York, including the Tiriannans, Colombians and Mexicans. He’s assured us that the FBI will assume complete control of this investigation until its resolution. Here’s what he had to say.”

The newscast cut to a tall man with thinning blond hair standing in front of three microphones, four burly men in black suits standing behind him. “New Your City is currently under siege,” he said. “Its citizens are caught in the middle of an underworld power struggle. Gangs are running riot and killing innocent people. The FBI refuses to stand by as matters worsen. As of this moment, my office will take over all aspects of this investigation. We will not stop until—”

Annabel turned the TV off and drew the curtains.

“Why did you do that?” Tobias asked. “They might have said something we didn’t know.”

“Like what? I think, if anything, our situation is worse. Now the FBI is on the case, too. The police are one thing, the FBI is another.”

“Why? Are you saying Antonio has
them
in his pocket, too?”

She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know, but the one thing I do know is that they’re a lot more resourceful than the police. And now, because of those people who died on Fifth Avenue, they’ll be out for our blood.”

Tobias slumped back on the sofa and sighed. “Then what do we do?”

Annabel moved the side table and put his laptop bag on it. “We watch what’s on the memory stick. Let’s start with that and then plan our next move.”

Juan sipped the red wine he was having with dinner. His twelve-year-old twin daughters had been running around the dining table for almost ten minutes before he insisted that his wife, Gloria, take them up to their rooms. Minutes later, the deputy director of the FBI—a man he knew only too well—appeared on the news, discussing the carnage that had occurred on Fifth Avenue earlier in the day.

He had not been able to escape hearing all sorts of rumors regarding the incident. His phone had been ringing since it was first reported. Andrés and Eduardo both called numerous times to update him without mentioning any names or speaking about the incident directly. But the call he was waiting for—the one from his nephew, Antonio—hadn’t come.

The situation regarding Penélope’s death had gotten out of hand. With the FBI involved, he knew, the family would ultimately become part of the investigation. He also worried about the timing of the FBI’s involvement at a time when he was about to embark on a multimillion-dollar deal with a Tiriannan drug rival, Hector Guerrero.

Deputy Wheeler was wrapping up his speech when Juan’s wife walked down the stairs with a cell phone in her hand. “It’s for you,” she said.

The
gobernador
glanced at his touch-screen phone on the table and saw that the reception was low. He insisted that everyone in the family use only encrypted phones. With Jorge being the only person he regularly spoke to about sensitive affairs, however, he used an alternate means of communication when his normal phone was out of reception range: his daughter Anita’s cell. He took the phone from Gloria and looked at the number on the screen. It was a pay phone from which he had received calls many times.

“Are you watching this?” he heard Jorge say.

Juan sniggered. “He’s gotten thinner since I last saw him. He’s lost quite a bit of hair, too.”

Jorge chuckled, but only briefly

“This is bad, isn’t it?” Juan said.

“I’m afraid so. With our friends joining the hunt, it’ll be harder to do anything.”

“There’s just too much happening at once. That thing last week. Penélope. Our friends back home. And now this Fifth Avenue thing.”

“I agree. But what’re you gonna do?”

Juan frowned and poured himself some more wine. “I think we need to take a step back here.”

“Boss?”

“There are too many things happening. I think we need to prioritize.”

“Okay.”

“I have to make sure my relative is fine.”

Jorge remained silent.

“I know that doesn’t please you, my friend.”

“No, it doesn’t. For all we know, relatives might be acting against the best interest of their families.”

“I understand what you’re trying to say, but I must believe blood is still blood.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Delay all dealings back home and let’s correct things here.”

“But—”

“I won’t argue with you on this, Jorge. I have to believe that you’ll stand by me like you always have. Relatives are one thing, but there’s the other thing, too.”

Jorge remained silent for a moment. “I’ll get it done,” he said finally.

Juan placed the phone on the dining table and lit a cigar.

***

A blue background filled Tobias’ laptop screen before trees came into view. “We’ve got something,” he said. Annabel quickly returned to the sofa with a glass of water.

The camera lingered on the trees for a few seconds before zooming in on a number of high-rise apartments. It focused on one in particular: a silver building about twenty stories high. Tobias moved closer to the screen but couldn’t see anything of interest.

The camera changed direction a few minutes later with the zoom off. It focused on the entrance to the silver building for a few seconds before a blond-haired man with tanned skin walked out. He wore a sandy-colored suit and carried a briefcase.

Tobias immediately recognized him. “That’s Connor Murray. The guy murdered last week. He’s been all over the news. What’s that got to—”

“Just watch it,” Annabel said. “We’ll know what’s going on in a second.”

Tobias watched as Connor walked toward a black Mercedes, the camera following from the side. As he reached to open the driver’s door, he paused and turned in the direction of the camera, worry filling his face. He squinted for a few seconds as if trying to hear something. He shrugged and squeezed the handle before his body shot toward the camera. He lapsed into a fit of spasms.

Tobias jumped back. ”What happened?!”

Annabel remained silent and continued watching. Rolling on the ground, Connor shuddered as he tried to extend his hands backward. He moved around spastically, and as his back moved toward the screen, Annabel pointed. There was blood on the ground and on the back of his suit. “Someone shot him,” she said. “Look at the way he flew forward. It wasn’t the person filming who did it.”

Tobias nodded and leaned closer. A silver Lexus with no visible plates pulled up. Two men stepped out of a back door, both carrying double-barreled shotguns and with pistols strapped to their waists. Annabel leaned forward, still unable to hear any form of audio.

A minute later, the front doors opened and two more men stepped out. One was gaunt and wore a black jumper, while the other had gray hair pulled into a ponytail and wore a black suit. He stared down at the man writhing in agony.

One of the two men armed with shotguns kicked the struggling man onto his back.

Tobias leaned forward. “Is that ... Is—”

“Yes,” Annabel said. “That’s Antonio’s uncle, Juan Cabrera, the
gobernador
of the family. The skinny man is Andrés Perez.”

“The
gobernador
?”

“The boss. He runs the whole thing.”

“Holy Christ,” Tobias said. He put a hand over his mouth and looked at Annabel. “How do you even know all this?”

“My best friend dated Juan’s nephew, remember?” She looked back at the screen.

The man in the ponytail appeared to be speaking to Connor, sometimes laughing. He became more animated as his face tightened and he raised his hands. One of the men stepped forward, pistol in hand, and pointed it at the man on the ground.

The ponytailed man stopped him, however, and pulled out his own pistol. Connor waved his hands in the air, but Juan laughed in his face. Seconds later, he fired at the injured man twice. Tobias noticed Connor’s hand slump and assumed he was dead. The
gobernador
fired four more shots at close range before laughing and getting back into the Lexus, which sped off.

Tobias and Annabel sat speechless as the Windows Media Player reappeared on the laptop screen.

“Holy fuck,” Tobias said. “They killed him in cold blood.” He walked toward the kitchen and squeezed his trembling palms together. “What I don’t get is how Penélope got it. Who made the recording?”

Annabel ruffled her hair. “None of this makes any sense. She told me she had something major on it, but she never told me what. How did she ... unless ...

Tobias returned to the sofa. “What. What’re you thinking?”

Annabel shook her head. “I don’t know anymore. I really don’t know. Anyone could have shot that video. A rival cartel. Even Antonio.”

“Antonio? But you said it yourself—he’s doing everything he can to get it back. And why would he do that to his own uncle?”

“You don’t know that man. He’s capable of anything.”

Tobias sat up and looked at her. “I don’t get any of this. Why are they all just after me? A lot of people in that apartment must have seen it.”

“Yeah, but no one will be crazy enough to report something like that. The family controls that whole apartment. Anyone thinking of talking to the police will probably get killed before they can pick up the phone.”

Tobias rose and paced around the sofa in an agitated state, taking deep breaths. He walked toward the curtain and studied every car parked outside. Annabel watched him for a few seconds before returning her attention to the recording. Tobias paced around, ending up by the bedroom door. He noticed her rewinding it a few times, repeatedly going over the final four shots that Juan fired into Murray’s body.

“We’ve got to do something,” Tobias said. “The longer we stay here, the guiltier I look.”

“You really need to stop talking right now,” Annabel said. “We need to think this whole thing through.”

Tobias returned to the couch and sat beside her. “What’s there to think about? We have some serious evidence. We need to use it.”

“For what?” she snapped, anger smeared on her face. “This just shows Juan’s guilt in Connor’s murder but doesn’t clear your name. The FBI still thinks you killed Penélope.”

Tobias buried his face in his hands. His heart started beating so fast that he felt as if it would pop out of his chest. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and grunted. He looked up to see Annabel gazing at him curiously with her legs crossed. He sighed. “Obviously, someone made that video to blackmail Antonio’s uncle. We just need to think who.”

“That list could go on and on,” Annabel said. “He’s the head of The Dominguez Organization. They’re huge. Anyone could want to blackmail him, even Antonio.”

“You said that earlier, but it still doesn’t make sense.”

Annabel shrugged. “Come to think of it, that’s the only thing that does make sense. How else could Penélope have had the recording on her? Unless she was working with someone else to take Juan down. Maybe even the police.”

“You think?”

Annabel banged her head against the arm of the sofa twice. “I don’t know anymore. None of it adds up.”

Tobias leaned his forehead to the wall for a few seconds before turning to face Annabel. “What if we did the same?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve got the video, right? He won’t want to go to jail. What if we blackmailed him?”

Annabel stood up in a huff, glared at him and walked to the kitchen, where she lit a cigarette.

“Just hear me out,” Tobias said, running after her. He lit a cigarette, too, cursing himself for restarting a habit he’d taken so long to kick.

“And what exactly do you think we can get out of Juan Cabrera, even with this recording?” She rolled her eyes at him and took a drag on her cigarette. “If we try and blackmail him, it will make him more determined to see us dead. And if Antonio did make the tape, he’ll also make sure there’s no evidence of that. What do you think happens to us then?” Her breathing relaxed. “You need to get all thoughts of blackmail out of your head.”

Tobias stubbed his cigarette in the sink with almost half of it left. He filled a glass with water. “Okay. I guess I’m just scared. You have to understand, this kind of stuff never happens to me.” He walked back to the front room, Annabel close behind. “Put me in a room full of CEOs or directors and I’ll own them. Show me a girl who hates men and I’ll convert her.” Annabel smiled. “That’s what I do.” His voice became shakier. “I know I’m not the nicest guy when it comes to women. Yeah, I’m a bit of a player, but who isn’t?” He put a hand over his mouth and squinted. His eyes slowly turned red. “I ... I—”

Annabel held his right hand tenderly. “It’s fine. You don’t deserve this, Tobias. As angry as I am with Antonio, you shouldn’t be dragged into this, but it is what it is.” She put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. “But if we’re going to get away from this, you need to trust me.” She glanced toward the front door. “I saw the way you were when I was opening the door. I saw where your hand was.”

Tobias looked at the floor in embarrassment.

“I’ve lost something, too. She was the best person I knew”—she scowled—“and if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll find whoever killed her.”

Tobias stood still for a moment before taking a step back. “It’s cool. For better or worse, we’re in this together, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay then.” He sighed and arched his neck back. “So what can we eat around here?”

Annabel walked into the bedroom and returned with a medium-size suitcase. “First things first. We need to get rid of everything. Clothes, credit cards, everything.” She unzipped it to reveal at least four pairs of jogging bottoms, sweaters and sneakers.