Page 27 of Resolution

“Cedars?” I was confused and the mariachis had returned. “Need fucking meds.”

“I’ll get those for you shortly,” said the nurse.

“Just going to the bathroom,” said Raven, squeezing my hand. “I won’t be long.”

“Okay.” I looked at Cassidy and Mike. “What happened?”

“You witnessed the murder of an FBI protected witness, Miguel,” Cassidy said, dropping my hand. He sounded disgusted. “How much do you remember?”

I narrowed my eyes because the bright lights in the room hurt. Mike walked away from the bed and a second later, the overhead lights shut off leaving the one over my bed the only illumination in the room. Moments later, he was back at his partner’s side.

“Thanks, Mike.” My whole face felt like it was on fire. I looked back at Cass. “Raven looks like shit. How long have I been here?”

“The shooting was yesterday morning.” My friend hovered over my bed, scowling. “You have a concussion.”

Yeah, someone had said that. I couldn’t remember who. “Concussion,” I repeated.

Cassidy nodded and then Raven was back, standing at his side again. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Head hurts.” I reached up to touch the wet cloth on my forehead. Underneath it, I could feel an enormous lump. “Christ.”

Cassidy frowned deeply. “What do you remember, Miguel? Anything other than the license plate. Did you get a good look at the shooter? It’s important.”

I tried to get comfortable, squirming as I tried to sit up a little more. I’d never learned how to get comfortable in a hospital bed. As the back started going up, it took me a second to realize that Cassidy was pushing a button on the bed.

“Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“What do you remember?” Cassidy was either really worried about me or trying to find out if I knew anything other than the license plate and vehicle description.

“Uh, I was standing in the coffee shop when a girl screamed. She started running away. The guy with her started to get up but he was shot in the back of the head before he could. He fell face down into his food.” Cassidy nodded. “There were more gunshots…maybe the shooter was trying to get the girl. I had my gun out when I ran outside and then heard a car start up. When I spotted it, he drove away. Is the girl okay?”

Cassidy shook his head. “She was shot in the back as she fled her boyfriend’s side…died before the ambulance got there.”

“Who were they?” None of this was making sense to me.

“Protected witnesses,” said Mike.

“I know. But who were they? Protected from who?”

“Rufus Modelo, sicario in the Sanchez Cartel out of Guadalajara,” Cassidy said. “The FBI is being cagey but from what we’ve been able to put together, they think she was his girlfriend. It appears that she went to one of his friends to turn him into the cartel to save herself after he made contact. Mike and I think they decided to take her out along with Modelo to tie up loose ends. The poor girl wasn’t expecting to be shot in the back for her trouble.”

Mike continued the story, the way he always did when his partner stopped to take a breath. Good partners could do that and normally, I could follow the two best friends. Right now, though, my head was splitting, and it was taking a great effort.

“The FBI had him in witness protection in one of their safehouses, all set to testify against Rafael Sanchez, until he escaped through a bathroom window when he was supposed to be taking a shower three days ago. He was invisible for almost three days, hiding from the cartel, until he made himself visible by making the call to Gina.”

“And Rafael Sanchez is who now?”

“Half-brother to Oscar Castillo, the current head of the Sanchez Cartel,” Cassidy replied.

“Gina was Modelo’s girlfriend?” I asked.

“Yes, Gina Cardoza,” Cassidy said as Mike nodded. “Did you get a good look at the shooter?”

I slowly shook my head. “No. I was inside the coffee shop when he shot the guy. I ran out to try to get a look at him, but he was gone. A car started up which drew my attention and the next thing I knew, the shooter was tearing out of the parking lot and I was memorizing the license plate. He’d barely gone when the FBI showed up. You know the rest.”

“Okay,” a different female voice said from the vicinity of the door. With the wall of men between me and the entrance, I couldn’t see her but there was no mistaking the authority in her accented voice either. “Mr. Huerta needs to take these pills.” A small black-haired nurse appeared around the foot of the bed, holding a small plastic cup. She smiled brightly when she saw me. “My patient needs his rest.” She hefted the pills and shook the plastic cup in Cassidy’s face. I wanted to laugh at his expression. “And he needs these pills.”

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