was a mix of nationalities—born in Mexico, but with grandparents from Italy, Colombia, Brazil and Cuba—and that might well have helped him to become the kingpin that he was, in command of his multinational “family.” He was known to speak at least five languages, including perfect English.
“This is Anthony Barillo,” the man said.
Brett knew he should behave professionally, keep the man talking, try to get something useful out of him, but he couldn’t help himself. “Then you should know, you piece of total crap, that we will chase you to the ends of the earth to see that you pay for what you’ve done. Maria Gomez was innocent, someone’s mother, just like your own.”
Barillo didn’t seem offended by his words. His tone was even, dispassionate, as he said, “Special Agent Cody, my mother was a prostitute of the lowest order. She abandoned me, and I don’t know if she’s living or dead, nor do I care. But that’s another matter entirely. Here’s the thing you must know. I didn’t kill Maria Gomez. I didn’t even kill Miguel Gomez. That’s why I’m calling you. Word on the street is that you’re out for blood. Am I an innocent man? In life, that’s debatable. But in this instance, if you truly want to catch the killer of that lovely woman—yes, even I knew she was nearly a saint—you’re going after the wrong person.”
“Bull! Miguel was wearing a wire when—”
Brett broke off. Barillo had already hung up.
Furious, he hit Return on the call, but all he got was a recording saying he’d reached a disconnected number. He almost threw the phone across the room but caught himself before realizing the futility of the gesture. He would just have to get another cell phone, and Barillo would still be out there.
He called Diego—waking him up—to tell him about the phone call, and then he called Herman Bryant—whom he also woke up—to tell him about the call, as well.
“Man’s a bloody liar. He’s as dirty as a sty on Mars,” Bryant said.
Brett wasn’t sure just how dirty a sty on Mars was, but Bryant was famous for his strange turns of phrase. He also sounded frustrated as hell, which made sense. After all, he was head of a large task force that had so far failed in its efforts to stop the man.
Barillo always managed to keep his own hands clean, letting his henchmen pay the price of arrest. The FBI had taken down a dozen of his men. They never spoke against him. He was known to have a long arm that could reach into any prison—state or federal—in the country. “I’m surprised he bothered to call you. He’s wanted on a dozen murders. What’s one more?”
“I think it offended him that we thought he’d broken his own rule about not going after family, plus I think he genuinely liked Maria. Anyway, I needed to report the call to you.”
“Of course, thanks. I’m glad you’re in on this, Brett. You could be on the task force if you wanted. You know that, right? But at the moment, I’m glad you and Diego are taking lead on the Maria Gomez case.”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll keep you up on everything.”
“Any time of day,” Bryant told him.
They rang off. Brett knew that he had to get some rest. It wasn’t easy, given his adrenaline level after Barillo’s call.
His phone rang again; he stared at it. Again, a number he didn’t know. He answered but didn’t speak.
“Hello?”
It wasn’t Anthony Barillo, though this man’s voice was also accented. More of a tenor than a bass, though.
“Who is this?” Brett asked sharply.
“You lay off my father, man. He had nothing to do with Miguel or Maria Gomez. You understand? It will be harder for you if you don’t quit.”
Brett tried to control his temper. To a point, he did. “Listen, you gutless little tadpole. I don’t know which one of Barillo’s kids you are, but you just threatened a federal agent, so shut up or you just might find life getting hard for you. You were smart enough to get out of the family business, now stay smart and keep out of it.”
“Screw you!” the caller said. “My father didn’t do it—you got it?”
For the second time that night his line went dead. He thought about letting the matter go until morning, but it wasn’t that long since he’d woken the other men up, so... He called Bryant and Diego again, and both of them were as surprised as he was that both Barillo and one of his sons had called about the Gomezes’ deaths.
After he hung up for the second time he knew he had to go to bed; the next few days promised to be very long ones.
Sleep was elusive at first. He kept playing the case over and over again in his mind. He hadn’t been there when Miguel Gomez had burned to cinders. But he knew the agents and many of the officers who had been, and he knew that the accounts he’d heard were as accurate as humanly possible. The warehouse had been surrounded; it had been under surveillance for days before Miguel had gone in wearing the wire. There had been no other voices, so almost certainly no one else had been in there. Not to mention that only one set of charred-beyond-recognition remains had been found, with Miguel’s melted jewelry right there.
But—somehow—Miguel had survived. They’d found someone’s body, but not Miguel’s.
Maria had been murdered, too. Thrown from her balcony only minutes after Miguel Gomez had been seen in his neighborhood, behaving strangely.
At last Brett fell asleep.
At five thirty, his alarm rang. Blindly, he groped for the button to turn off the obnoxious buzzing he’d chosen because it guaranteed that he would get up.
He opened his eyes, ready to roll out of bed.
But he didn’t.
He froze.
Because there was a woman sitting at the foot of his bed. Maria Gomez. Her dark hair framed her pretty face, and there was a look of infinite sadness in her eyes.
“Miguel did it. It was Miguel, but it wasn’t Miguel,” she said.
And then she was gone. She simply faded into nothingness.
And he was alone in his room, frozen rigid, staring at the empty foot of his bed.
* * *
“You really should get your diving certificate,” Agent Cody told Lara.
She turned to look at him. They were on the Coast Guard cutter Vigilance. The day was just about perfect; the temperature was warm, but the breeze kept them from getting too hot. The sea was calm, and only a few white clouds puffed delicately above them. She and Rick were the only Sea Life personnel on the vessel, though Grady, Adrianna and Dr. Amory had been there to see them off before they joined Cocoa in her enclosure. Dr. Amory was fascinated by Cocoa’s preference for Lara. He said he’d never seen a bond form so quickly, and he’d been doing research on dolphins’ abilities for thirty years. But when they’d asked him if he wanted to come along, he’d said, “No. I don’t want to distract Cocoa from her task. She’ll be fine with you and Rick.”
Lara
