Page 43 of Where Secrets Lie

Hez would have gotten his order to go and enjoyed it in the comfort of his apartment upstairs, but Ed had asked to talk in person, and he’d been vague about the subject. The risk of bugs went unspoken between them, so Hez suggested meeting for beignets and coffee. The odds that someone hid microphones here were slim, and the rain and restaurant noise would mask their conversation.

Ed walked into Petit Charms, collapsing a dripping umbrella as he pushed through the glass double doors. He glanced around the dining area, and Hez waved him over. The waiter came by with a coffeepot as Ed settled into his seat. Hez pointed at the plate of beignets in front of him. “Dig in. I got the apple ones.”

“Awesome, thanks!” Ed took a long sip of his coffee, holding the blue mug with both hands. “And thanks for meeting with me. I know you’re supposed to take it easy.”

Hez smiled and pointed to the ceiling. “Nothing easier than taking a walk down one flight of stairs, and I’m always looking for an excuse to eat here. What’s up?”

Ed set his mug on the red-painted tabletop. “Remember Hernando Morales?”

“Sure. He’s the guy the Coast Guard caught fishing off the Gulf Coast last year and charged with drug smuggling. I haven’t heard from him since we got those charges dismissed.” Hez always suspected there was more to that story than Hernando admitted, but the government hadn’t been able to prove it. “What about him?”

Ed cleared his throat. “He, uh, wasn’t fishing.”

“Oh, really? What was he doing?”

Ed took a beignet and picked at it. “Smuggling looted artifacts from Mexico.”

Hez nodded slowly. “That explains why the feds were convinced he was smuggling, but they were never able to find the drugs.” He paused. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”

“Because I just confirmed it a couple of weeks ago.” Ed lowered his voice. “Hernando is our source inside the smuggling organization.”

“Really? How did that happen?”

Ed grinned. “I called his mom. We had her number in the case file, so I gave her a ring and explained that the man who got her son out of an American jail needed help catching some criminals looting Mexico’s proud heritage. I said Hernando might have gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd and mightknow something about what was going on. Maybe he could do the right thing and repay a debt of honor at the same time? She thanked me for the call and said she would talk to him. Two days later, he called me. He said he’d help, but he made me promise not to tell a soul—not even you. Sorry.”

“But you just told me,” Hez observed. “Did he change his mind?”

Ed finished his beignet and took another. “Yeah. When I told him the DA couldn’t get another warrant without his name and some other corroborating information, he agreed. He didn’t like it, but he’s pretty desperate. These guys almost caught him after they stole my phone.”

“They got his number from your call history?”

“Yeah. Fortunately, it was a burner phone. Still, the smugglers somehow managed to figure out the store where he bought it, and now they’re checking out every person who bought a phone from that store.”

Hez frowned. “Maybe they have a local cop on their payroll.”

“Could be. Anyway, he says they’ll find him soon. He’s living on borrowed time—and so are his mom, wife, and baby daughter.”

Hez took a sip of his coffee. “Does he know who’s receiving the shipments in the U.S.?”

Ed shook his head. “This organization is very compartmentalized. Now that the feds know his name and face, he can’t come to America anymore. His current job is to pick up the artifacts at illegal digs and take them to a trucking company in Mexico City. He doesn’t even know the real name of his contact at the trucking company.”

“When he used to come here, who did he meet with?”

Ed shrugged muscular shoulders. “He didn’t know that either. His job was to pick up packages from a ship offshore and bring them to a beach in Pelican State Park and hide them in the seagrass ten feet behind a broken bench. Someone else would pick them up from there. Once he got caught by the Coast Guard, he had to switch to the Mexican part of the operation, of course.”

Hez ate the last bite of his beignet, chewing slowly as he thought. “Well, we can go to Hope now, and this should be enough for her to get a warrant—but the police won’t be able to execute it until another shipment comes through. They might be able to make a referral to Mexican authorities, but that’s it.”

Ed nodded. “That’s what I figured. He says he’s supposed to deliver another shipment to Mexico City tomorrow. He thinks that means it will leave the following day and cross the border the day after that.”

Hez drummed his fingers on the wooden tabletop. “So we have three days to get our act together. And we have to get it right this time—we won’t get a third chance.”

***

Monday morning, Savannah sat with Hez, Ed, and Dominga at a back table in University Grounds. The noise of steam wands frothing milk and the din of student chatter would drown out their private conversation. It was ten o’clock and the coffee shop was abuzz with excited voices discussing Sunday night’s basketball game. She spotted Will Dixon’s dark head two tables over with a couple of the cheerleaders and the team’s star center. He waved to them, and Savannah returned the greeting.

She inhaled the rich aroma of espresso before taking a sip of her peppermint mocha. “You have an update, Dominga?”

Dominga nodded and tucked a strand of long black hair behind her ear before she logged in to her laptop. “The smugglers posted another article for sale late last night. The auction ends in an hour, and it will be available for delivery in New York City in three days.” She turned her computer around to show Savannah and Hez. Ed leaned in close to her side, and a blush ran up her neck.

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