Page 26 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
“You want us to treat him with respect because he’s a first responder?”
“He’ll get that from the police. I’m giving you this information so that you have a shot at catching him by surprise and getting to the real truth.”
Zeyla’s eyebrows rose.
“We can do that,” Ramon said.
“There’s a time for concessions and union reps, and there’s a time for the out-of-towners to puncture a hole in the façade.”
The line went dead.
“Well, wasn’t that interesting,” she said. “We should pay this guy a visit tonight.”
“We can hit the twenty-four-hour store afterward and get you some clothes.”
She said, “That would probably be a good idea.”
“What about your laptop and the flash drive Maizie was trying to get into?”
She shook her head slowly. “Whatever Milo was trying to tell me is long gone now. He died for nothing, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“We can get justice for him.”
“When your buddy Miguel just waltzes in whenever he feels like it?” She shook her head. “A guy like that has a plan. And by now, he’s probably destroyed all the evidence.”
Was she regretting walking away from Milo’s body and leaving him in the place where he’d felt safe? Ramon wanted to counsel her to let go of the past and keep moving forward, searching for justice. But with the evening he’d had and thereminder that he would never be free of his history, he wasn’t sure that was even something a person could do.
So he said nothing.
“Let’s go shake down a firefighter.”
CHAPTER
TWELVE
“This is boring.”Zeyla shifted in her seat, adjusting her position. She took a sip of her soda, now down to the end, so she made a lot of noise trying to get the last few drips out of the mountain of ice in the cup. She dropped it back into the cup holder and grabbed a pen from the little tray under the radio, tapping it over and over on the handle of the door beside her.
Ramon reached over and put his hand on hers. “Trust me, I feel you. Last time I was on a stakeout behind an FBI bar in Phoenix, Jax let me go inside and ruffle some feathers, at least.” He figured telling her a good story would distract her. “A couple of weeks later, I did some real PI work, taking photos and following one of their agents. He was dealing drugs out of the back of the bar and a bowling alley a couple of miles away. The cops caught him selling to some teenagers.”
“And?” She lifted her hand. “Is that it?”
Ramon looked at the firehouse across the street, a few buildings down. They could see the parking lot out front where Drew Chamberlain and the other firefighters on his shift were about to get off for the day.
The sun had long set, but still, he couldn’t see any stars. He wouldn’t have said that it bothered him, but he was beginningto understand Kenna’s need to be out in the wilderness rather than surrounded by buildings and people. There was something inherently claustrophobic about metropolitan areas, and he hadn’t realized that until he left Mexico.
She was still waiting for him to explain, so he said, “Cops and the FBI like to think that they get along. They’re supposed to cooperate these days so we don’t have another 9/11 type incident. But deep down, the rivalry is still there. The chance for some local LEOs to take down the high-and-mighty special agent corrupting kids in their precinct? I figure I did the Phoenix PD the favor of the year.”
“I prefer door-kicking stories. Or ones where you’re forced to put a knife in the bad guy, content knowing that he’ll never hurt anyone else ever again.”
Did she actually believe that, or did she just talk a good game? Sure, the girl was trained. But she’d been through all kinds of things as an operative and a double agent. Right now, she seemed a little more fragile than she pretended to be.
He said, “That makes me wonder why you’re insisting on just getting this guy’s DNA instead of putting a stop to these kidnappings. Why not take him down?”
“I’d rather kick a firefighter.”
“I have some other ideas that might work better than kicking. But we’ll leave that on the list, maybe as a last resort.”
“See? Was that so difficult?” Her body language shifted to fully alert. “He’s on the move.”
