Ripped Apart Page 14

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I’m fine, Mama, finish your tea,” Maria Ruiz said to her mother seated next to her.

  “No. You’re not fine and I don’t want any more tea.”

  Maria bit her lower lip as her mother shoved aside the half-empty teacup and rose from the dining table.

  “I speak of how pale you are, how distant you seem, and you tell me to drink tea. You’re my beloved daughter and I see you fading away in front of me.”

  “I’m not fading away, Mama. I ate most of my lunch—”

  “You eat, yes, but you’ve so little to say to me lately.” Magdalena Castillo came around the dining table to Maria’s chair and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t shut yourself away in grief, Maria. Share your thoughts and your heart with me like you used to, that’s all I ask. It’s not good to keep everything inside.”

  Maria met her mother’s concerned gaze and nodded, but she didn’t want to sit and talk. She didn’t want to be downstairs with Magdalena suffering through another unexpected visit so soon after the last one or forcing herself to eat when she didn’t feel hungry. All she wanted was to be upstairs with Daniel.

  She wanted to be sitting by his bed. She wanted to be squeezing his little hand and stroking his soft blond hair.

  She wanted to lay her palm upon his small chest and feel his strong, steady heartbeat—

  “See? There’s that secret smile again. You think of Daniel, don’t you?”

  Maria gave another nod and her mother’s anxious expression softened.

  “If you think so often of him and smile, some of your pain must be lifting. It’s good, Maria, very good. I think it’s time we resume some of our favorite pastimes. How can you stand this place anyway? It’s nothing but dust and cattle. Let me take you into town today to go shopping—”

  “No!” Maria rose so suddenly that the chair almost tipped over, while her mother had jumped back in surprise.

  “Maria?”

  “It’s too soon, Mama, too soon. A few weeks, maybe, but not yet. I…I don’t feel well.” Maria ignored her mother’s outstretched hand and hurried out of the dining room.

  What was she to do? She didn’t want to leave Daniel. He needed her.

  Eduardo had been so angry at her last night, telling her that Manuel had threatened to send them to Los Cabos if she wasn’t able to reassure her mother that she was doing better. She’d tried but Magdalena still wasn’t satisfied, and now she wanted her to go shopping in Monterrey—an impossible thing. Desperate, Maria spun around to face her mother who followed on her heels.

  “I’m not ready, Mama, please don’t make me go into town.” She sank to her knees and immediately Magdalena threw her arms around her.

  “No, no, of course not, another time, Maria. Forgive me for rushing you. I wish Eduardo would take you away, if only for a few weeks. I’m sure you’d feel so much better. I’ll ask Manuel to speak to him again.”

  “Yes, Mama, talk to Manuel.” Her mind racing, Maria pulled back from her mother’s embrace to meet her eyes. “I want to go away. The ocean. I could walk on the beach. There are so many memories in town and even here at the ranch. I need some time to grow stronger. Maybe for a month or two—”

  “As long as you like, Maria, I’ll have Manuel see to it. Oh, my poor girl…”

  As Maria was enfolded into another warm embrace, she felt an incredible rush of relief.

  She wouldn’t have to leave Daniel’s side. And if they went far away, Magdalena wouldn’t be visiting very often and asking questions and suggesting things that would force Maria to spend time away from her son.

  “Here, let me help you up.”

  For such a petite woman, Magdalena had no trouble assisting Maria to her feet. Her mother had a fierce will that belied her small stature. The determined look in Magdalena’s black eyes told Maria that she was already thinking of what she would say to Manuel.

  “Thank you, Mama.” Wanting nothing more than to hurry back upstairs, Maria gave her mother a hug and tried to shrug off thoughts of Eduardo’s impending reaction to the news that he’d soon be accompanying her and Daniel to Los Cabos.

  He would be furious. He’d made it very clear to her last night that leaving Monterrey was the last thing he wanted to do.

  Maria couldn’t suppress a smile.

  Eduardo could go to hell. He knew he had no choice now but to do anything she demanded of him.

  “Another smile on your lips, that’s good.” Magdalena brushed a strand of hair out of Maria’s face. “I’ll call you as soon as I return home and talk to Manuel. Don’t trouble yourself over a thing.”

  A quick kiss on Maria’s cheek and Magdalena was gone, her high heels clicking across the polished wood floor. Maria waited no longer but turned and rushed toward the staircase. She ached so badly to see her son that she trembled.

  “Mama’s coming, Daniel. Mama’s coming.” She was almost to the top of the stairs when the male nurse hurried to meet her, his expression somber. Her heart jumped. “What’s wrong? Daniel?“

  “He’s developed a slight fever, Mrs. Ruiz. The doctor told me to find you. Nothing serious yet, but he thought you should know all the same.”

  Maria was already running down the hall, the nurse not far behind her.

  * * *

  “That Carson bitch is in Mexico?” Eduardo had half voiced the question to himself, already sensing the answer before the Facilitator spoke into the phone.

  “Maybe. No way to be certain—at least not yet.”

  Fuck. Eduardo squeezed his eyes shut and banged his head against the back of his leather chair, his temples throbbing so mercilessly he thought he might scream.

  First Maria, panic-stricken, had called his downtown office to screech and wail into the phone that Daniel was running a fever and must surely be dying. When she had finally passed the receiver to the cardiologist, the man had assured Eduardo that he had everything under control—except for Maria.

  Might a mild sedative for his wife be in order? Eduardo had barely shrugged into his suit coat to leave at once for home when another call had come into the office.

  Manuel.

  His brother-in-law had just spoken with Magdalena who’d informed him of an unsettling incident with Maria that day at lunch—and that Eduardo had better find himself aboard a flight bound for Los Cabos with Maria in tow no later than tomorrow night. Not for two weeks. Not for a month, but for as long as Maria wished to stay until she felt she could once again live happily in their home in Monterrey. Eduardo could return every other week to attend to business but for the most part, Manuel wanted him to remain by Maria’s side.

  Eduardo glanced at his watch that read two o’clock and wished for the hundredth time he’d not accepted any calls before leaving for a rendezvous with his mistress. Luisa had phoned him, too, bitching and moaning that he was late and had spoiled her surprise to model a new negligee for him when this last call had come in from the Facilitator—forcing Eduardo to put Luisa on hold.

  She was still on hold…or maybe she’d hung up by now. Meanwhile the Facilitator waited silently on the other end of the line for Eduardo to say something, no matter his head pounded like it might explode.

  “Mr. Ruiz?”

  “I’m here.”

  “My contacts are still seeking more information. All I know now is two people, a Canadian couple named Matt and Kathy Fisher, bought one-way tickets to Tampico out of Austin, Texas. It’s too much of a coincidence to ignore, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Eduardo didn’t answer but rubbed his temples, his eyeballs feeling like they were on fire.

  “There’s no record of them flying into Austin, either. Maybe they’re legitimate tourists and drove a rental car from someplace else in Texas…or maybe Clare Carson and her friend decided to take matters into their own hands and make a trip to Mexico under assumed names. Insane, but not too far-fetched. Xavier might have spilled his guts after all. What do you think?”

  What did he think? There wa
sn’t enough profanity to express his sentiments at that moment, and Eduardo wasn’t even going to try. “If she’s come on her own—with her friend, whoever the fuck he is, then U.S. authorities might not be involved.”

  “Right. A good thing at this point.”

  “So now we need to check every hotel register in Tampico. I know who to call up there. They’ll keep an eye on the airport, too. I’m not going to take any chances. Whether these two—what did you say were their names?”

  “Matt and Kathy Fisher.”

  “Whether they’re tourists or not, I want them eliminated. No questions.”

  “What about the airport here?”

  Eduardo massaged his temples again, overcome by a violent urge to smash something.

  Tampico was a port city with a popular beach area where tourists flocked that wouldn’t be too difficult to search, but Monterrey with its urban population of over three million was entirely another matter. If that Carson woman had come here to try and get back her son, Eduardo would most likely have to wait for her to make a move first rather than attempt to find her.

  Suddenly the forced vacation in Los Cabos wasn’t looking so bad to him. It might buy him some time for his people to ferret out the bitch and her accomplice whether she remained in San Antonio or had ventured into Mexico…

  “I’ll post some of my people there, too,” Eduardo said finally as the thought occurred to him that she might have somehow altered her appearance—if she was smart. “We need a photo of the woman.“

  “Already taken care of, courtesy of The San Antonio Express News. They printed a front page photo of her in this morning’s paper with her son—excuse me, your son.”

  The front page? Fucking wonderful. Monterrey’s newsstands carried Texas newspapers. At this rate, he’d have to keep the boy under wraps for months before they’d be able to introduce him as their son. This whole Clare Carson thing had become a lot hotter than he would have imagined, but then again, what had he expected?

  It would have been different if Xavier and Francisco had accomplished their mission and blown her brains out, the fucking idiots. The matter would be settled and done.

  “Something you should know,” he said, deciding to give the Facilitator a heads up on his plans. “I’m thinking about taking Maria and the boy out of here for a month or two.”

  “Might be a good idea, especially now. Got a destination?”

  “Baja somewhere, but nothing’s set. I still expect your assistance at this end. Don’t forget what I told you about not disappearing. I meant it.”

  The line fell silent at the other end for a long moment until the Facilitator cleared his throat.

  “I haven’t forgotten. When do you plan to leave?”

  “By tomorrow night. The kid’s got a fever, so maybe sooner. I’ll let you know. For now, fax me that photo.”

  “Already done.”

  The fax machine beeped across the room and Eduardo hung up the phone.

  After the last forty minutes of telephone calls, the silence in his office was deafening. Too bad he didn’t have any time to enjoy it. His head still pounding, he got up from his desk and went to the fax machine, the transmission waiting for him in the paper bin.

  He stared for a long moment at the photo, rage making his face grow hot.

  So this was the woman who was causing him so much trouble. She should have been a stinking corpse by now. Instead she stared out at him from the fax with her pretty face, her engaging smile, and her arm wound protectively around a blond-haired boy.

  Maria’s Daniel. His Daniel.

  “You’re not getting him back, bitch.” He wanted to crumple the photo in his fist, but he needed to fax copies with the boy’s likeness cropped out to his contacts in Tampico and to the people he planned to post at the Monterrey International Airport.

  If Clare Carson had been crazy enough to come to Mexico, she wouldn’t have been able to alter her physical appearance that much. She was still a gringa. She’d probably stick out like a beacon somewhere. All his people had to do was spot her.

  Then she and her friend would die.

  * * *

  “My God, this city is huge.” Clare stared out the ninth floor hotel window, the view unobstructed due to construction across the street.

  The metropolis sprawled across a valley surrounded by smog-shrouded mountains, a great expanse of concrete and pale earth baking in the blinding sun. She’d never felt such a dry heat. The taxi from the airport had no air-conditioning, and had crawled through unimaginable traffic to reach their hotel.

  The traffic along the street below was thick, too, honking cars and soot-belching buses vying for space with street vendors while the jarring sound of jackhammers assailed her. Clare doubted if Jake would have heard from the bathroom even if she’d shouted at him, the noise was so great.

  Overcome by the sheer magnitude and commotion of the place, she shut the window and leaned her head against the dusty pane and tried not to give into despair.

  Tyler was out there somewhere.

  Probably in Monterrey’s affluent San Pedro district, Jake had told her a moment ago when he’d thrown open a window to air out the stuffy room that stank of cigarettes and switched on the AC. In the exclusive residential area across the city to the southwest, imposing walled compounds protected and insulated the rich. Their hotel lay near the airport in a city touted as one of the safest in Mexico but growing more violent by the month thanks to the exploding drug trade, Jake had added before he’d disappeared into the bathroom.

  She hadn’t seen him look more fatigued and tense. He had spoken little during the flight, and virtually nothing in the taxi except to give directions in Spanish to the driver.

  He’d hardly touched her either, leaving her to wonder if he thought that playing the newly married couple at this point might draw unwelcome attention. A grim pall hung over him, the danger of their situation clearly heightened now that they’d arrived in Monterrey.

  Clare left the window and sank onto the bed. She doubted that even a cold shower right now would make her feel less overwhelmed.

  “I’ll be gone for awhile,” Jake said behind her.

  Clare twisted around to stare at him. “What? You’re leaving me here?”

  “At least you know about it this time.” He moved to the opposite side of the bed and unzipped the duffel bag, dumped everything out and then zipped it back up. “Don’t leave the room. Don’t answer the door unless you know it’s me. Don’t pick up the phone unless you hear two rings, silence, then two more rings.” He dug into a front pocket of his jeans and tossed some wadded bills on the bed. “If I’m not back by noon tomorrow, take a cab to the American consulate and ask for Mike Reed. He’ll help you. We go back a long way.”

  “Is that who you’re meeting tonight?”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t need to know about you yet, okay? Not until I’m sure he can help us. Trust me on this one.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you.”

  “Good, then we’ve got no argument.” He grabbed a light jacket and shrugged into it, then picked up the empty duffel bag and headed for the door. Clare got up from the bed and followed after him.

  “You’ll find some candy bars and a couple of Cokes in the backpack.” He opened the door and stepped into the hall. “I’ll bring back some food later. Hit the deadbolt behind me.”

  He shut the door in Clare’s face, his footfalls moving down the hallway before she’d even raised her hand to the lock.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Okay, Wyatt, how is it I’ve lost nearly all my hair when you haven’t aged a day?”

  Jake shook his head as Mike Reed ran his hand across his receding hairline, his once blond hair turned a silvery gray. “Too many military haircuts, maybe. Who knows?”

  “But I’m only a year older than you. Just wait. You’ll catch up when you hit forty.” Mike twisted around in his chair to flag down a waiter in the crowded bar and gave Jake a moment to study h
im.

  It was true. Mike was growing bald and he’d developed a visible paunch since Jake had last seen him four years ago. Embassy service was obviously a lot softer than Special Ops, but it surprised Jake all the same.

  Mike had always prided himself on a six-pack stomach and the motto, “Leaner is meaner.” He still looked fit in his blue jeans and casual shirt, but Jake could swear Mike’s nails had been groomed and his face, though lined around the eyes, looked as smooth as a baby’s. Was he getting facials? Jake came close to sneezing from Mike’s citrus-smelling cologne. God, times had changed.

  “Beers okay?”

  Jake nodded and the waiter went to get their order while Mike leaned forward in his chair.

  “So what’s the deal? I still can’t believe you’ve come back down here.”

  “Why? Was I supposed to hide out like some chicken shit forever? I want to know who the fuck killed my wife.”

  Mike’s hazel eyes flared and Jake knew he’d surprised him. Startled himself, too, to spill his guts so abruptly but what the hell?

  He felt as tightly wound as a coiled spring, long pent up emotion nearly choking him. With Mike still silent and staring at him, Jake took one of the local beers delivered to the table and downed half of the bottle in one swallow.

  “Damn.”

  Jake set the bottle on the table with a sharp thud. “I’m thirsty. What of it?”

  “Not the beer, Wyatt, but what you just said. Are you fucking crazy?”

  His instincts pricked, Jake felt every muscle in his body grow tense. He lowered his voice. “You know something, don’t you? I can feel it. I bet you guys in communications were real busy after I disappeared—scrambling to find out what the hell was going on. My wife raped and murdered. A bomb blowing up my car a minute before I got behind the wheel. Wondered if the ripple effect might somehow touch the diplomatic corps, right? The criminals running this country know we’re all interconnected—”