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They were on their way home from the doctor’s office when Mindy turned to him. “We should think about names.” It was a discussion he’d been hoping to avoid. Not because he didn’t want to hear her ideas, but because any time it came up he could only think of his dead son. “Yeah, I guess we should.” “If it’s a girl I’d like to name her Stephanie. That was my grandmother’s name, and she…she meant a lot to me growing up. I’d stay with her sometimes when my da got crazy.” “It’s a pretty name. And if she’s anything like her mother it’ll be perfect for her.” He kept looking straight ahead, focusing on the road and not the thoughts careening around in his head. “And if it’s a boy…” “I…I don’t know.” He eased on the brakes as the light ahead turned yellow. “Ok, that’s not quite true. I do kinda know.” “So long as it’s not Elvis.” He laughed. “No way I’d cut in on Stan’s turf! Naw, it wasn’t anything that fancy. I was thinking about my brother. Raphael. He’s why I became a cop, and the only reason I was a half-decent one.” “I like that.” She smiled. “Raphael if it’s a boy and Stephanie if it’s a girl. See? That wasn’t so hard.” “You keep leaning forward like that somethin’ else is gonna be hard.” She giggled and unbuttoned three buttons on her silk blouse. “How’s that instead?” “Lady, you’d better hope we don’t hit too many more red lights on the way home. We might not make it out of the parking garage.” “Who says we will? Remember those pregnancy hormones?” She ran her tongue over her lower lip. “We hit another red light we won’t make it out of the garage.” Sonny Crockett was barely back at his desk when Lester briefed him on what had happened with Ramona. “One thing bothers me,” he said when Lester finished. “Why the hell would Jangles tell her all this?” “That one’s got me too, boss. Although the reports seem to indicate Jangles isn’t really a bad guy. Just not very smart and caught up with the wrong role model.” “Yeah. Not the first one like that we’ve seen.” Sonny thought back to all the young, dumb kids he’d busted with Vice. Including a few who didn’t survive their own bad choices. “Nowhere near the first. Still…” “You think it’s a trap?” “Maybe, but if it’s on the up and up we can’t ignore it. You said Jangles was gonna text again tomorrow?” “That’s what she thought. She’s pretty convinced he wants to help her. There’s some kinda trust there, boss. Trudy and Gina are reaching out to old CIs, but there might not be much.” “Maybe he kept the gang off her. I just hope her trust isn’t misplaced.” He sighed. “Look, there’s not much we can do until she hears from Jangles again. You and Stan are doing great work. Keep at it, and let me know if that phone comes on again.” After Lester left he turned so he could see the sprawling green lawn through the wide office window. Arguing with the contractors had left him drained, but also with an understanding of how much more needed to be done here. And how little time he actually had to chase this new thing. Wiggins, the big threat, was gone now. Whatever Rendozo and Jangles were up to had to take second place now. Even if he didn’t want it to. If he didn’t keep the pressure on, the contracts would fall even more behind. That would throw off his entire plan for expanding the facility and improving treatment options. Things that had been promised to some of the outside donors. It wasn’t something he could leave to Gary, or dump on Angie and Jenny. Almost on cue the office door opened. He hadn’t really seen Angie since the whole dealer story broke. She looked tired, but the old spark was starting to return to her eyes. “Blondie, Angie needs a word.” “What’s up? You kick another construction worker’s ass?” “No.” She sat down without waiting for him to wave her to a chair. “But Angie’s worried. Them sweaty mens is hanging ‘round like they own the place an’ not workin’ like they should.” “We’re on that, Angie. Just got done shouting at their bosses about that very damned thing. Now what’s really on your mind?” She looked at him for a moment, then dropped the act. “I wanted to make sure we’re good, Sonny. I know that story wasn’t good, and I made more work for you.” “We already talked about this, Angie. We’re good. Hell, your ass would be out the door if we weren’t.” “You think you can get this big ass out the door you got another thing comin’, Blondie. Angie kick your scrawny ass any day of the week.” “And twice on Sunday. Yeah, yeah. I heard that line before.” He grinned. “But I could use your help. You wanna keep an eye on that Ramona?” “Little bit who thinks she barrio tough? Yeah, Angie can watch her. Maybe keep some of the other girls from kicking her skinny backside.” “She’s a lead right now, but I think she’s got a good chance to straighten herself out. She’s not in too deep.” Angie got up with a grin. “Don’t Blondie worry. Angie watch her good.” Straightening her too-tight leopard print dress she tottered out the door on heels that were, as usual, about two inches too high for her. Shaking his head, he turned back to the window. Dealing with Angie was always a kind of out-of-body experience. He kept her around because she was damned good at her job, and also because of how close she’d been with Caitlin. But even after all these years she was still something of a mystery to him. Something he couldn’t really afford any more. Once the Ramona thing was over, he’d have Rico do a full check on Angie. Just to make sure nothing else was hiding in her shadows. “Did Angie find you?” He smiled at the sound of Jenny’s voice. “Yeah, darlin’. She did. Sent her off to keep an eye on Ramona.” “She’s still worried…” “Yeah. I told her she didn’t need to be. She’s as much a part of this place as that damned lawn or the walls of the house.” “Good.” She came over and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Do you think they’re done?” “I don’t know. Lester just asked me the same thing. I don’t know what the hell this Rendozo’s up to, and I can’t spend too much time on it now. We’re starting to fall behind on the renovations, and that throws everything else off for months.” He paused, feeling her fingers grip. “Do you think they’re done?” “I don’t know. Something…something just doesn’t feel right. And you’re sure you don’t know this guy?” “Rendozo? Not really. I put him in touch with Rico back when we were working a case like I said, but I never saw him after that. He seems to think he knows me…or knows Burnett in any case. But I don’t remember squat about the guy. Hell, he could’ve walked right up to me and if I hadn’t seen that picture from Robbie’s I wouldn’t have had the first damned idea who he was.” “And the other girl?” “I don’t know that, either. Maybe she’s in trouble. Or maybe this Jangles punk is trying to put the scare in Ramona.” He sighed. “Either way I gotta focus on the House now. Jimmy and Wiggins are both dead, and with Haskell gone, too, that court case is gonna end itself in a few days. Miami-Dade’s still looking for Rendozo for the double homicide, anyhow. At least that’s the last I heard. Guy’ll be too busy running to make trouble. Last thing he wants is to go back upstate.” She nodded without speaking. She’s not sure, and I don’t know if I am, either. Damn it. But I can’t spend much more time on this. No matter how much I want to. “I know. We have to focus on the House. I see the financials, Sonny. You’re right. Maybe more right than you know. But I can’t…” “Yeah. I can’t shake the feeling either, darlin’.” Reaching up, he gave her hand a squeeze. “Tell you what. It’s after five. Why don’t we call it a day and head back to Tranquility. We can sail back up to the marina or just stay here. And I’ve been thinking. Maybe we can take Stan and Gina and Rico and Mindy for a cruise soon. We’ve got the berths, and it might be the last chance they get for something like that before the kids come.” “You think they’d want to?” “Hell, I don’t know. But we can ask. I know Stan gets a bit green around the gills on boats, and Rico ain’t exactly the seafaring sort. But Gina sails some, and I think Mindy does, too. Or did back home.” He shrugged, realizing how dumb his idea sounded once he put it into words. “It was just an idea I had.” “I like it. Really, Sonny, I do. Let me look her over and see how things look. I know we have the two aft berths, but I don’t know how comfortable they’d be for them.” “Yeah. I wondered about that, too. It’d be nice if we can make it work, though. Give them some time out away from everything.” “What about Martin and Trudy?” “We’ll take them later. But, yeah, I’d like that, too. Now that we actually can make time for stuff like that.” Hector Rendozo was still thinking about the girl the next morning when he sidled out of his hotel and headed for the café. They’d had a few drinks after her shift, and he’d played it super cool. Didn’t even try to pick her up. Not yet, anyhow. But he’d stop by the club after the meet today. And maybe the next day. Once they’d finished the job he’d take her home and seal the damned deal. He’d settled into what was now almost their usual table and ordered coffee by the time the other two arrived. Jangles, as usual, was grinning from ear to ear. “She bought it, man,” he said as soon as they sat down. “The whole thing. If text could cry I’d have to toss this phone and start over.” “Good to hear.” He turned to Ramon. “You ready to work?” “Always, Hector. But I been hearing noise. Miami-Dade’s sniffing around for us. Remember Miguel? He said some of them plainclothes Homicide dudes been in his place asking questions.” “Let ‘em. We finish with Tubbs and then we go to ground. Take some time to relax, like around Lauderdale or someplace. Get outa Miami for a few weeks.” He grinned. “Those damned Columbians’ll start killin’ each other again and they’ll forget about two lawyers.” “Takes money to hide.” “We got that covered. We’ll do the split right after Tubbs is gone. Like I already said, man. You gotta have some faith.” “You think that newspaper guy…” “Naw, Jangles. He’s probably shittin’ his nasty blue suit, waitin’ to see if Burnett’s gonna sue him too. Or just take him out.” Ramon nodded. “That’d be classic Burnett. Let the heat die down a bit and then put two in his head.” He raised his hand like a gun, his long index finger the barrel. “Bang, bang. Nice and neat.” “You want me to text Ramona again?” Hector grinned. Jangles was like that. Simple and to the point. “Yeah, man. Same time you did yesterday.” He went over what he wanted Jangles to say, making him repeat it twice. “You get her that, and we’ll be in position.” “You think Tubbs’ll bite?” Hector shook his head. “Ramon, man. Show me a cop that don’t have a soft spot for a girl in trouble and I’ll show you a gay cop. They all think they’re some kinda knight on a white horse or some shit. When money don’t work, a girl does.” Jangles chuckled. “An’ the best part is the girl’s real. She ain’t in no trouble, but Ramona ain’t gonna know that. An’ she’s got no way to check in there. All she knows is what we tell her.” “It’s sneaky as hell, Hector. No doubt. If it works.” “It’ll work, man.” Hector grinned, feeling the weight of his Beretta in his waistband. “You two just be sure you got your pistolas an’ are ready to move when I call. Once she gets that I figure we gotta be ready to move fast.” They talked for a few more minutes, finishing their coffee and eyeing each other in the way of men who don’t trust but don’t have a choice. Hector tried to keep his face blank the entire time, knowing Ramon in particular would be looking for clues or weakness. Might have to turn him into gator chow right after Tubbs he thought, watching the skinny hipster eat the last of his toast. We’ll see. At least Jangles ain’t gonna cause trouble. Finally he pushed away from the table, tossing a twenty near his empty cup. “Got things to do,” he announced. “Be ready for my call. And Jangles, you send that message on time.” “No problem, boss. Consider it done.” He nodded and headed out into the growing heat. It wasn’t much of a walk to the strip club, and he found himself looking forward to watching his new discovery dance. Her eyes lit up as soon as she saw him, and he settled in next to the rail with a narrow smile and a five dollar bill. Two dances and she’d be on the floor with the drink tray. And by tomorrow night she’d be in his bed. Life was good. Stanley Switek sat in the back of the Roach Coach daydreaming. Part of his mind was focused on the static in his headphones and the bouncing needles in front of him, while the other part remained fixated on what Gina had done the night before. Tubbs wasn’t kidding about those pregnancy hormones. Damn, was he not kidding! So far it had been a slow afternoon; Lester back at the House and him hiding in the scant shade of the lower level of a parking garage. Still, he had it better than Randy. Jangles didn’t live in the best neighborhood, and keeping a loose eye on the place was a job Stan didn’t want to think about. The car phone jarred him out of his electronics-induced trance. “Stan? It’s Lester.” “No shit. Who else has this number?” “Hell, anyone? Gina? I don’t know. Anyhow, another message just came through. He’s wanting Tubbs to go to some old swamp tour dock. Says the girl’s hiding there from this Francisco character.” “Did he say Tubbs?” There was a pause. “She just handed me the phone. It says ‘security guy,’ but that has to mean Tubbs. Rico’s taking it that way, anyhow.” Stan was about to tell Lester he was imagining things when one of the panels lit up like a Christmas tree. “Hang on, man. Got a hit on Jangles’ phone.” He hit the switch to start the tape and jump his headphones to the line. It wasn’t much. Just a voice he knew was Hector. “It’s on. Move.” And then nothing. “Shit. It’s on.” He switched back to the car phone. “Les? He’s on the move. I’ll turn Randy loose. I’ll need the exact location of the old tour dock, too.” He barely heard Lester’s acknowledgement before he killed the call and entered another number. One he wasn’t eager to call. “Yeah, captain? They’re moving.” He looked at his own cell phone and read off the directions Lester had just texted. “The message to the girl told Tubbs to meet there at seven tonight. Jangles is already on the move.” The voice on the other end was the very whisper of death. “Call Mather. Give him the location. He’ll know what to do.” “You got it, cap’n. Calling him now.” Stan hung up and hit the button activating Randy’s tactical radio. “I wouldn’t want to be in those assholes’ blue suede shoes,” he muttered as he waited for Randy to answer the call. Martin Castillo hung up the phone, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond the glass door to the patio. This is it. The last stream of tracers. And he knew what needed to be done. He changed in the shed, hanging the black suit carefully on a small clothes rack and changing into faded jungle fatigue trousers and the cut-down jacket with a black t-shirt under it. The CAR-15 still smelled of gun oil, and he tested the weight and balance before pulling the loading lever and feeding a live round into the chamber. He dropped extra magazines into the baggy pockets of the jacket, two per side. More than enough for what he anticipated, but extra just in case things turned. From old habit he shut off the single overhead bulb, plunging the shed into darkness. As his eyes adjusted he could see light leaking in thin lines around the doorframe and making the painted windows glow with a dull black light. The air was still, thick. Not unlike the air in the sandbagged team rooms he’d grown familiar with years gone now. It was a thickness he associated with death. He felt rather than heard a vehicle approach, and the knock on the door was familiar. Stepping out, his eyes narrowed against the sun, he saw Randy Mather dressed in similar fatigues. “Brought a ride,” he said simply, waving toward a battered Jeep that had seen better years. “Lifted her a couple days back and kept her stashed for this.” Castillo nodded. “You have your rifle?” “Right in back.” He nodded toward the carbine. “Looks like you’re ready to rock an’ roll.” “It’s been a few years.” Randy’s grin wasn’t pleasant to see. “You don’t forget that stuff. We’d better move. It’s a drive an’ they got a bit of a start on us.” They drove in silence for a time before Randy pressed two fingers to his earpiece. “That was Stan. Tubbs took the bait. He’s moving now.” “Have Switek and Franz remain in place. I don’t want anything to come back on them.” “They know, Marty. An’ they ain’t the kind to move on their own. Sonny, on the other hand…” “I’m counting on Tubbs keeping him in the dark. He does that sometimes. Especially when it’s something personal.” Randy nodded, the wind around the Jeep’s windshield whipping his hair. “That Hector called this one right sure as hell. Ain’t no way Rico can ignore a girl in danger. He ain’t built like that.” “None of us are.” “True. But only those two would run off alone thinkin’ they can take on the world.” Castillo nodded, his mind playing through possibilities. “What do you know about swamp tours?” “Traps for dumb-ass tourists who want to see gators. Usually some doofus an’ his cousin with an airboat an’ too much Bud for their own good. If this is one of those docks it’s gonna be like the Delta. Open, flat, muddy, but with gators instead of VC.” He chuckled. “More your country than mine. I was always I Corps. But it’s good, open rifle country.” “Good.” Castillo felt the wind whipping through his own hair, bringing back memories of helicopter rides into the middle of nowhere. “You’re sure about this? You can just drop me off…” “Not a chance. Rico’s a friend. I ain’t got too many of those. An’ like you said, he can’t do anything without screwing up the life he’s built. Me? They ain’t even gonna know I was there.” “I can ship the rifle back for you. I have contacts…” “Got that covered. You just worry about how we’re gonna play this.” Nodding, Castillo turned his thoughts inward. It was hard not to think of the Laotian mountains now. Or the hordes of NVA moving down the Ho Chi Minh trail. He’d run more missions in Laos than he could easily count. Or wanted to count. The CAR on his lap felt like an old friend now, its cool metal comforting under his fingers. Without the badge he felt himself reverting to an earlier time. Maybe a more simple time. Find the enemy. Kill them. He could almost feel Ti Ti in the back seat of the jeep, watching him with that odd grin of his. “I’m gonna stash the Jeep here. We can hike the rest of the way in. Ain’t more’n a klick by my map.” “Good.” Castillo felt the Jeep lurch as it left the road, then jolt along as Randy guided it into a stand of thick greenery before killing the engine. “They ain’t gonna see it here unless they’re lookin’. And I doubt they’ll be lookin’.” Castillo nodded, watching as Randy pulled a rifle case out of the back and opened it. “That’s not your usual rifle.” “Nope. Ruger Mini-14. The redneck’s M-16. Shot it in yesterday an’ she’s good to about 400 yards. 600 in a pinch. She’s clean, too. Numbers burned off. But if someone digs hard it goes right back to that redneck arms dealer we took out a few years back.” Castillo nodded again, not wanting to know where Randy had stashed the weapon, or why. He understood trade secrets, having more than a few himself. “We’ll stay clear of the road. Watch out for snakes and alligators, although we shouldn’t have to worry about either until we get closer to the water.” Ricardo Tubbs stopped thinking about the time he saw that Carmelita was supposed to meet this Francisco at some old dock at seven. Ramona’s face was streaked with tears as she held the phone out to him, not able to speak through her fear. The rational side of his mind said it was a trap. Screamed it was a trap. But his heart said he couldn’t take the chance it wasn’t. He didn’t need another innocent life on his conscience. He thought for two seconds about talking to Sonny, but then dismissed the idea. Sonny would go in too fast, too hot. Maybe getting the girl killed if he spooked the gang leader. And if it was a trap Sonny would scare them off and the whole mess would start over. No matter which way he looked at it, he had to go alone. Smiling, he handed the phone back to the girl. “Don’t worry, Ramona. Rico’s gonna get her for you. I just gotta find this dock they’re talking about. You go ahead an’ let him know I’m on my way.” “I…” She sobbed. “Be careful. Francisco usually has people with him.” Rico patted the Walther P-88 through his suit coat. “So do I, Ramona. So do I.” Lester was waiting for him in the security office. “Look, Rico. You can’t go alone.” “Sorry, Lester. I gotta. If the girl’s really there, too many dudes will spook this cat. An’ if it’s a trap, the last thing I wanna do is scare the chumps off an’ have to wait for them to come up for air again.” Bushing his coat aside, he pulled out the German semi-automatic and checked the magazine. The sound of him chambering a round echoed in the quiet of the office. Setting the safety, he stuffed the pistol back in his holster and checked the two spare magazines on the left side of his belt. Lester shook his head and opened the bottom desk drawer. “At least put on ol’ faithful. Just in case.” Grinning, Rico took the ankle holster and his old Chief’s Special and pulled up his left pant leg. The Velcro gripped tight, and he went through a series of kicks to make sure the .38 wouldn’t shift. “Solid. Thanks, Lester. I might owe you one.” He turned and felt his eyes go serious. “Keep an eye on Mindy for me. I don’t want her gettin’ ideas and trying to come after me. Her an’ Trudy honestly. Where’s Stan?” “Off doing something for Castillo.” “Don’t you give that big lug any ideas either. Or Sonny.” Rico paused, then grinned. “But he’s in meetings with Towers until eight. Score.” He saw the worry on Lester’s face and chuckled. “It ain’t all that, Lester. I’m just checkin’ out a lead.” He drove like he was on autopilot, threading the pool Mercedes in and out of traffic without blinking. He’d grabbed the pool car in case there was a girl to transport, and if not he hoped it might throw any ambusher off for a few seconds. The regrets were starting to bounce around in his head. Maybe he should have brought one of his people. It wasn’t like they were simple rent-a-cops. Any one of them had years of experience. But he couldn’t bring himself to put any of them in danger meant for him. The sun was starting to slide into the ocean by the time he turned off the main road and onto the dirt one leading to the old tour dock. Cracking the window, he could smell the swamp. Thick dead, rotting air with a punch all its own. It reminded him of hot summer nights back in New York when the trash collectors were on strike. The road snaked around patches of muck and random clumps of stunted trees until it finally opened up on the edge of a wide swath of stagnant water. In the gloom he could see a cluster of rickety shacks and a low wooden dock extending like a finger into the swamp. An old Ford Granada was parked near one of the shacks. The kind of car someone had lifted and blown the exhaust on without bothering with the engine. A cheap pimp’s car. Shutting off the Mercedes, Rico stepped out into the muggy heat, his hand close to the edge of his suit coat. Slipping on his Ray Bans, he looked from the car to the shack and back. “Carmelita! If you’re here, come on out. Ramona sent me!” Wood creaked as the shack door opened and a slim figure came out. “You’re not Francisco.” “No. Ramona sent me to keep you safe from him.” He squinted into the shadows. Yeah, it’s a girl. No question. But I don’t think she’s alone. He could feel the fear radiating from her like a physical thing. “Come on out an’ we’ll get out of here. Is that your car?” She turned to the car like she was seeing it for the first time. “No. I…” The single gunshot tore a hole through her chest, sending her spinning against the wall of the shack. The second shot finished the job, and she slumped to the ground leaving a red smear on the stained boards. “Now ain’t that a damned shame? Cheating ex-cop kills his lover an’ then himself.” Rico could feel the rage flooding cold through his chest. “You son of a bitch!” “So you met my mother? Piece of work, ain’t she?” Hector Rendozo appeared out of the shadows between the two shacks, a Beretta gripped firmly in his hand. Rico could see movement off to his left, and was surprised when the Grenada’s truck popped open and a skinny man with a pump shotgun emerged. “Yeah, don’t get no ideas, cop. We got you surrounded.” “Why kill the girl?” “Why not? Makes for a good story in the papers. An’ don’t feel too bad for her. Ramona didn’t know how bad she really was.” Jangles came into clear view now. Only the man from the trunk remained nameless. “Yeah. That dumb bitch thought ol’ Caramel was pure as driven snow. Shit, that girl’s killed more dudes than I have.” “Now you go slow an’ toss that pistol out.” Hector took a step closer. “I know you got one there.” Rico eased the Walther out and tossed it to the ground. Inside he was fuming, mostly at himself. I should have brought someone else! What a chump! “So why me, Hector?” “You’re the one who locked me up. Took those years from me. Now you die an’ I use that to get an in with Burnett an’ the others.” He grinned, looking pleased with himself. “Now you get over there by the girl an’ we’ll tie this up nice an’ neat. Ramon, why don’t you…” Ramon started to turn when his head disappeared in a spray of blood and bone. The high crack of a rifle took all four by surprise, but Rico recovered first. A rifle. That means Randy! Spinning, he dove away from the open space and scrambled for a spot behind the Mercedes. As he moved his right hand found the familiar grips of the Smith & Wesson at his ankle. “Smoke that bitch, Jangles! Smoke…” Hector’s voice was lost in the rapid explosion of three shots from off to their left. Coming out of the muck, Rico saw a figure in fatigues who looked like some kind of swamp ghost. The small black rifle at his hip looked familiar, and the three rounds that tore through Jangles’ chest sent a clear message. Martin Castillo’s voice was death’s whisper. “Drop the Beretta. Now.” Hector started to shake, but the pistol hit the ground with a thud. “You can’t…” “Yes, I can. You came after my people.” Rico started to raise his hand, but lowered it when the carbine spoke again and Hector Rendozo passed from this world to the next with six rounds in his chest. Martin Castillo looked at the office door. “I don’t know…” Trudy took his hand. “You can do this, Marty. You have to do this.” He nodded, not quite able to look her in the eye. When the door opened, he got to his feet. The man was somehow smaller than he’d expected, but in a way much larger. Like Ti Ti had been. HIs voice was thick with Texas. “You must be Marty. Sonny told me some about you. Call me Tex, an’ come on in. Ma’am, there’s coffee if you want it. We might be a bit.” Mindy and Gina were belowdecks with Jenny working on supper when Sonny finally cornered Stan and Rico back by the wheel. They’d been on the water for six hours now, and this was the first chance he’d had. “So Randy and Castillo just took them out?” Rico nodded. “An’ I do mean out. I ain’t never seen anything like it. Those chumps didn’t stand a chance.” Stan chuckled. “Miami-Dade’s got nothing. But I think some of Elvis’ kin might have put on some weight out there.” Sonny shook his head. “I guess we should have known. Marty isn’t one to take things lying down.” He shot Stan a quick glare. “You could have told us.” “And risked his wrath? I ain’t that stupid.” Stan grinned. “But you know something? It’s all over now.” Rico nodded. “Yeah, I think he’s right.” Sonny nodded, thinking about Marty and his first appointment with Tex. They’d be in session by now, and he thought back to his first appointment with the skinny vet. “Yeah,” he said, looking out toward the water. “Yeah, I guess it really is over. Finally.”

“And you’re sure they were all there?” Randy nodded. “As sure as I could be without going in. Rendozo was there for sure. An’ I saw Jangles show up later. There might have been one going in between those two, though. Skinny kid who looked like he could swing either way if you know what I mean. Near as I could tell through the window he sat down with Rendozo and was there for the full meet.” Martin Castillo nodded, looking out toward the water. His plain black suit felt like an old friend, even though it had been weeks since he’d worn it. “And you’re sure the text went out after the meeting?” “Yeah. I checked timelines with Stan. What did Trudy say about it?” “That Jangles told the girl it was still on.” Even through his sunglasses the late afternoon sun was bright enough to make him squint. “They’re still in play.” “Yeah, but for what? That’s what bugs me, captain. What’s their target?” He thought back to the dream. The direction of the tracers. Some of it was hard to sort through, especially in the cold light of day. But he trusted the dreams. “Tubbs. He has to be the target.” “Why?” “He made the arrest and testified at Rendozo’s trial. Even if they knew Crockett had been a cop, I don’t think they’d believe it. He’s too well-known as Burnett, and that was how Rendozo asked for him when he stopped by Cann’s club. And Crockett was the one who set up the deal that got Rendozo busted.” “Makes sense, I guess. Jimmy already took a shot at Sonny, and who the hell knows what those two lawyers were up to when they got their tickets punched.” Castillo nodded. “They may have been trying to cut their losses. But Rendozo wasn’t ready to stop. He’d see them as a threat. Someone who could go to the police and ruin his plan. Haskell had been the one who failed at his defense, after all. He had no reason to trust the man.” “So we assume it’s Tubbs.” Randy slipped on his own dark glasses and moved to the edge of the deck. “How do we play it?” They were alone at the house. He didn’t expect Trudy home for another hour, and he’d planned the meeting with that in mind. “We need to draw them out.” “Do we want to involve Rico?” “Not if we don’t have to.” Castillo turned away from the setting sun. “I want nothing to come back on them.” “Makes sense to me. An’ I’ve got spare barrels for the Remington back home.” “You don’t need to be involved once we know what they’re intending.” “Yeah, I do. If for no other reason than to patch your ass up again if you get shot.” Randy chuckled. “There’s at least three of them, remember? If things go south, I can drop at least one from a distance. That buys you time to act.” Castillo didn’t quite trust his voice, so he nodded. Images kept bouncing through his head. Explosions in distant jungles. Bright muzzle flashes on dark Miami docks and streets. He’d lost too many people over the years. It wouldn’t happen this time. “When do you head back home?” “Three days from now. I’d love to extend, but my boss is gettin’ anxious. Says they got some case or another.” “Maybe we can use the girl to push them into moving before then. I’ll talk to Trudy. See if she thinks it will work. I don’t want to endanger the girl.” “You an’ me both, Marty. I…” “Don’t worry about it. You have your duty there. We’ll just do what we can before then.” “Yeah.” He paused. “You an’ Trudy want to meet me at Pete’s? I want to check in with the ol’ bastard before I have to leave again, an’ if it’s gonna get busy soon…” “Tonight is a good night,” he said, finishing Randy’s thought. “I think she’d like that. I’ll call and have her meet us there.” It was early enough the dinner crowd hadn’t hit Marshal’s Ribs yet, and they got a good table in a reasonably quiet corner. Pete came out of the back as soon as he learned they were there, and sat down with his usual George Jefferson grin. “You dressed like you workin’, Marty. I hope that ain’t true.” “Just a side project, Pete.” “Nothin’ to do with those shootings?” “Well…” Pete Washington shook his head and then laughed. “Hard to walk away from the damned job when trouble finds you, ain’t it? An’ then you go and drag my wayward deputy into it with you. This wouldn’t happen to involve a waste of space named Hector Rendozo, would it?” “Seems like you’ve got some side projects, too.” “I like to keep my hand in from time to time.” Pete grinned. “But I got intel that ol’ Hector sure had it in for some guy called Cooper. Blamed him for his prison time an’ all. And where you find Hector, you’ll find his sidekick Juan. An’ where Juan is, there’s usually this character called Ramon. Ramon’s a squirrelly lookin’ character who used to be part of the Carrera organization. Word has it he was part of Burnett’s party when Cooper tried to engineer a deal.” “So Ramon would know Cooper was a cop.” “You might think so. But he’d also be convinced Burnett was Burnett, an’ not some cop called Crockett.” Pete shook his head. “You runnin’ some kind of soap opera over there, Marty? This whole thing sounds like one of those plots from ‘As the Stomach Churns’ or somethin’ my missus might watch.” Castillo had to laugh. “When you put it that way, it kind of does. But thanks for the intel, Pete. We didn’t know anything about this Ramon until just now. And it does confirm who I thought Rendozo was after.” “And your lovely wife just arrived. If you’ll excuse me I’ll got get started on the drinks an’ burnt ends. I know how she loves ‘em.” Trudy was still wearing her green work dress, and Castillo had to shake his head at the number of heads that turned to watch her pass. Both men and women. “I should’ve know it was you who got him up to no good,” she announced with a smile when she saw Randy. “Guilty as charged, ma’am.” He turned to Castillo and winked. “But it’s worth it to see you in that dress.” “Glad you approve, but you’re not my audience.” “It looks beautiful on you, my love.” Castillo smiled as he leaned over and kissed her. “How was work?” “Busy. We’re figuring out how to cover when Mindy and Gina go on maternity leave, and then there’s all the excitement from the shootings and all. I expect Stan already told you about Ramona.” “Yes. And Pete gave us some new intel on Rendozo and his people. We know Tubbs is his target. Has been the entire time.” “That’s not good. Should I tell Rico?” “No. Mather and I have it under control. At least for the next three days. With Blair gone now, it’s up to us.” She nodded. “That guy was impressive. Quiet, but impressive.” “His job demands it.” Castillo changed the subject. “Pete said he was getting drinks and burnt ends ready. It seems he knows your reputation.” It was almost ten by the time they left, full of good food and just enough alcohol to have made the evening interesting. Castillo followed Trudy back to the house, saying goodnight to Randy before he drove his rental car back to his hotel. Trudy watched the receding tail lights, her face sad. “It’s been good having him here. Both of them, really, when Dave was still in town.” “Yes.” He paused, feeling the last of the alcohol in his system. “I got an appointment with Tex. It’s in two weeks, but…” “I’m glad. If that’s what you need to do.” “I think so. He may want to talk to both of us.” “Fine with me. If Sonny and Robbie trust him, that’s good enough for me.” She was still looking at the road, a patch of darkness inside more darkness. “You know, I thought all this was over.” “So did I.” He wanted to touch her, but sensed her mood. She needs some room. I understand. “Sometimes things happen outside our control.” “I know. And I know it’s nothing you or anyone did. But we’d settled into such a nice place. Shows at Downbeat. Friday nights at Pete’s. All those things people outside the Job do and take for granted.” “I know. And we’ll be doing those again. Soon.” He paused, then kept speaking before he lost his nerve. “I thought something like this would happen before now. OCB made many cases, and many enemies went with those cases. Two years is a long time considering how many people we put away.” “It is.” She turned to face him. “I’m not blaming you, Marty. Please don’t ever think that. I was always afraid in a corner of my mind Midas would show up again. Or some of those crazy Free Cuba militia goofs we put away. When it didn’t happen right away, I fooled myself into thinking it never would.” “And it may never again, my love. Gordon Wiggins was a special case, and he’s the one who brought Rendozo into play. We’ll probably never know what he was intending to do, but his target was Crockett and Caitlin’s House. More the House than Crockett I think. Renfro just smelled a chance to create a scandal, and there was no way any of us could have anticipated Jimmy Campbell or whatever his real name was.” “I know. At least part of me does. But another part…it feels like when my brother was killed, you know? The illusion of being safe is gone. I…” He paused for a moment. “I think you should come with me. To see Tex. Loang Koa always said a fear shared is a fear dispelled. I didn’t know what he meant then, but I think I do now.” “He was one of those Hmong, wasn’t he?” “Yes. A very wise shaman. And, I think, a friend. When the end came he was one of the Hmong who followed Vung Pao to Montana. One of their CIA liaisons helped them settle there.” Castillo smiled at the memory. “They all called him Hog. I’m sure Loang is dead now, but at least he was in mountains.” “I think I’d like that. To go with you, I mean.” “Good.” He reached out and put his arm around her, feeling her press against his side. “Now why don’t we go in and have some tea? I have to meet with Mather and Switek in the morning, so I’ll be up early.” The three men met at a small café in Little Havana. It was a favorite of Castillo’s, and he dropped in more regularly now that he was off the Job. Switek grinned as he sipped coffee. “I left Lester with the Roach Coach to keep an ear on things, but Jangles has been quiet since last night. Only ordered a pizza.” “Good.” Castillo was wearing one of his plain black off-the-rack suits and Ray Bans, his mind fully into the work. “I think we’re entering into the end game of this. The text to Ramona indicates Rendozo is still in play, and he’s getting closer to his goal.” “What do you think he’s after?” “Tubbs. Tubbs was the one who arrested him and whose testimony was instrumental in his conviction. I think he wants to work for Burnett, and aims to buy his way in by killing a former cop.” Randy nodded. “Makes sense. Like you said, he’s got no way of knowing Crockett’s cover.” “And even if he did, he’d never believe a cop could get away with what Sonny did with the Manolos and Carreras.” Stan shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t believe it, either.” “It works in our favor now. We only have one target to watch.” Randy shifted in his chair. “If it was me, I’d try to get Rico away from everyone else. Out somewhere with no witnesses and good locations for dumpin’ bodies.” “Swampland.” Stan’s voice was firm. “Best choice. No one out there’s gonna say a thing about a few gunshots, so long as they ain’t aimed at them, and the gators are damned good at cleaning up criminal messes. Only question is how they get him out there.” “They’ll use the girl somehow.” Castillo caught the waiter’s eye and raised a finger for another coffee. “It’s the only reason they would have left her in play. We’re sure they don’t suspect she’s working for us now?” “As sure as we can be.” Stan scratched his chin through his scruffy beard. “I’ve got that phone on monitor 24/7. It hasn’t come on since they sent her the message yesterday. She says she’s not supposed to check in. They contact her, and then she answers.” “Stay on it. Jangles, too. This new player, Ramon? I think he’s just a shooter.” “Yeah, but he was in the Carrera organization. Low on the pole, but there. That might be the other reason they’re going after Tubbs. Sonny did out hm as a cop.” Castillo nodded, not wanting to go down old paths and open old wounds. “I’ll have my phone with me at all times. Keep me in the loop and be ready to move. We only have Mather for three more days, and after that we’ll need to make new plans.” “With any luck they’ll move before that. These clowns ain’t shown much in the way of patience.” “True, but they plan well. We need to be on our game.” A handful of hours later and four blocks over, Hector met again with Jangles and Ramon. He’d lingered outside, letting the other two arrive first before sauntering through the door and joining them at their table. They hadn’t been followed. Jangles greeted him with his usual goofy grin. “Hey, man! I was startin’ to think you’d passed out with some girl an’ forgotten about our meet.” “Never happen.” He settled into the chair they’d saved for him and gave the place a quick once-over. “Is our girl still in business?” “Yeah. She came back right away.” Ramon shifted. “You got a plan yet?” “Matter of fact, I do.” And Hector wasn’t kidding. It had started sprouting in his head soon after he’d left the café yesterday, and bloomed overnight. “We gotta get Tubbs away from that place, right? An’ off by himself? So…” He talked for almost ten minutes, going back once or twice when Ramon had a question. Jangles just sat and listened, grinning wider as the thing progressed. When he was done, Jangles laughed. “I like it, man! Simple, but sneaky at the same time.” “You think the girl’s up to it?” “Sure. Like I said, she’s pure gangster. She’ll do what I say, when I say it.” Ramon shook his head. “I gotta say it’s sneaky all right. You think he’ll fall for it?” “He’s a cop. Cops are chumps. You know that. They always fall for a big deal or some ‘innocent’ in danger. They can’t help their damned selves.” “Yeah. Burnett used to talk about that, too. Said most of ‘em were either greedy or suckers. He never trusted the greedy ones, but said you could use the suckers.” He paused. “We gonna need Miguel or any of his crew?” “No. Not yet. Maybe once we deal with this Tubbs and get a meet with Burnett.” Hector kept his eyes flat. He didn’t plan on adding anyone to the crew, let alone some punks Ramon knew. Even Ramon was a risk. Jangles was dead-loyal and could keep his mouth shut. He still wasn’t sure about Ramon. “So when do we start?” “Today.” He went over the contents of the first message with Jangles. “She has to get that today,” he finished. “Tomorrow we send the second part and get that cop puto out to the spot.” He finished his coffee and smiled. “We meet here again tomorrow, but an hour earlier than the first time. Same thing goes. One of us doesn’t show, the others scatter.” “Why don’t we just call, man?” “Cops can listen to phones, Jangles. They can’t hear this. We call, they know when you’re moving and they can follow you. This way it’s harder. An’ I don’t think Miami-Dade can sit on all of us 24/7. Especially when they got no reason.” Ramon nodded. “Yeah. From what I hear that lawyer shooting thing is at a standstill. They’re busy chasing old Wop guys for it, ‘cause the one dude’s parter was in bed with the mob or some shit.” “Good.” Although Hector did wonder about the source of the information. Does Ramon have a source inside Miami-Dade? Ain’t gonna ask now, but it’s something to look into later. “So long as they’re playing with themselves and some damned Godfather fantasy I’m happy.” He turned back to Jangles. “Take care of business and I’ll see you two tomorrow.” Back on the street, he let the feeling of satisfaction wash over him. They were so damned close to being done! To being ready to move on to the big deals and real action. Part of his thing with Tubbs was personal, but it was also practical. What better way to impress your way into a working crew than by killing a cop? Even if he was an ex-cop now it would still carry weight. Burnett may have had his reasons for hiring the guy, or maybe Tubbs had threatened to expose his past if he didn’t get a high-paying gig. He’d heard stories of prison about cops like that…dirty bastards from Vice who’d parlayed their knowledge of rackets into protection jobs with the same crews they’d been sworn to bust before turning in their badges. Odds were Tubbs was no different. The route back to his hotel took him past a strip club, one of the few in this part of town. Even though it was early he could hear the music thumping through a door covered with black paint to keep tourists from peering inside. Grinning, he opened the door and let the bass beats wash over him. There were worse ways to kill an afternoon… The girl on the main stage was young and had the insecure moves of someone working her first or second shift taking her clothes off. A college girl looking to make some extra cash, maybe, or one of the runaways who flocked to Miami looking for the sun but finding only misery in the shadows. Hector didn’t care either way. She had nice tits, great legs, and looked like she’d do almost anything for fifty bucks. And when he could see her eyes in the surplus disco ball lighting the stage she didn’t look strung out. Another bonus. He got up on the rail and started off with ones like the other two losers; fat older guys with NASCAR t-shirts and bottles of Bud who couldn’t quite stop drooling on themselves when they looked at her. He switched to fives as soon as she awkwardly undid her bikini top, holding them so she could take them without getting too close to the other two. When it was time for the bottom to come off he upped the ante to tens. By the end of the song she was even smiling at him - a real smile, not on of the mechanical ones all strippers learned in their first hour on the job. And he had to admit she was pretty. Light skin and brown hair that hung just past her shoulders. He’d shifted to a table by the time she came out with the drink tray, wearing cutoffs and a black t-shirt emblazoned with the logo AC/DC on the front and the album cover from “Highway to Hell” on the back. They kept it cool enough inside he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra, and he almost chuckled when he saw her smile when she spotted him and headed straight for his table. “Can I get you something?” Her voice was throaty but not especially deep. He liked it. “Yeah. A beer. Don’t care what brand so long’s it’s cold.” She smiled and started to turn when one of the Bubbas from the floor ambled over. “Guess you didn’t see it, sport. We got claim on this filly.” “I don’t think so.” Hector pitched his voice low, but with an edge a smart person wouldn’t miss. Bubba wasn’t smart. “Look, you damned greaser, we…” Hector stood, letting his shirt open just enough for the butt of the Beretta to peek out. “An’ you must not speak English. She’s with me.” “Uh…hey, man. Sorry. My mistake. Me an’ Ed didn’t mean nothin’.” The girl giggled as the fat man stumbled back to his friend. They talked for a moment, one Bubba more animated than the other, and eventually both headed for the door. Only then did she let out a long sigh. “Thanks. Those two were up there for my whole set. The only ones. I was afraid…” “No worries. An’ if they let you, bring a beer for yourself. Or a drink. Whatever.” He sat back down, not trusting himself to say much more. He’d known he’d fall for her as soon as he walked in and saw her on the pole. His damned weakness. But it was all good. She’d be his prize for a job well done once Tubbs was gator chow somewhere in the swamps. And maybe past that. A good player needed someone on his arm, and she looked to fit the bill. So long as she was clean. He’d learned long ago you never trust a junkie. No more than you would a dealer who dipped into his own supply. Ricardo Tubbs was flipping through time cards when Lester burst into his office. “The phone just went live again,” he said, short of breath from making the run from the main surveillance desk to the office. “She’s still in group, but should be done in about ten minutes.” “Solid.” Rico dropped the cards, his mind turning. “Hang on, Lester. I wanna do a little test. See if she comes to us with the message.” “See if she’s playing it straight? I like it. I’ll tell Stan to back off and wait.” Rico through about asking him how that would work, since Stran was in the Roach Coach off on some mystery Castillo mission. But he didn’t. Don’t hurt to let Team Elvis think they’re pullin’ a fast one he thought, gathering the cards into a neat pile again. Though you’d think they’d remember the cameras on the gates. “You do that,” he said, hiding his smile. “An’ let me know as soon as she reaches out.” It felt like only a handful of minutes had passed when the phone buzzed. “She just had one of the guards call me,” Lester said, excitement clear in his voice. “I’ve got her bringing Ramona down here with the phone.” “Send her to interview two. It’s more relaxed.” Rico got up, buttoning the lower button on his Armani suit jacket. He could feel the old spring coming back into his step. It was like old times. Almost. Ramona was a pretty girl, especially with her hair gathered back to accent her fine cheekbones and bright eyes. She was sitting in the corner chair when Rico got to interview two, and it was plain she’d been crying. “I heard from Jangles,” she said as soon as the door opened. “That’s what Lester said.” He sat down in one of the other chairs, careful to keep Lester’s vantage point clear. He also raised a finger, signaling the tech specialist to start the video recorder. No way I’m gonna be alone in here with her without some kinda safety net. He knew Lester could see everything from his perch on the other side of the glass. “What did the chump want? And remember, you start telling lies this is all over.” She sobbed. “It’s not about the job. He…” She looked down at her hands and then opened the flip phone. “He said one of my friends from the block is in trouble. Bad trouble.” “Have you answered him yet?” “No. I wanted you to see.” He looked at the blocky digital letters. “And Carmelita’s your friend?” “Yes. She’s pretty. Too pretty. I know one of the gang honchos wanted her for his girl. She wouldn’t go with him. But things change.” “Look. Text him back. Find out what’s going on.” Rico could see the pain in her eyes. It wasn’t fake. He’d have Jenny or Trudy talk to her later to make sure, but he’d worked the streets a long time. This girl wasn’t faking it. She was scared. Not for herself, but for someone else. “We might be able to help her.” Nodding, she sobbed again and started tapping keys on the small keypad. Then she hit send and laid the phone down on the table. “She was always the good one. Good in school. Her grandma kept her good.” “And those chumps wanted her?” “Yes. They tried to get me to bring her to them. But she’s my friend. I couldn’t do that to her.” Her eyes flashed angry. “I made bad choices, sure. But some were made for me, you know? I wouldn’t do that to her.” Rico nodded without speaking. He’d seen it before. Girls tricked into the life by their friends. Their mothers’ boyfriends. Sometimes their own mothers. Anyone who went on about the morals of the street was either a damned idiot or didn’t know the first thing about the streets. “You must think I’m a bad person.” “No, Ramona. I don’t. I think you did what you could with what you had, and some people who shouldn’t have turned on you did. But that’s over now. You told me that when you said you didn’t want your friend to go the same way you did.” She smiled, a faint thing through the sadness in her eyes. “This place…it gives me hope even though I haven’t been here long. Some of the other girls have really had it bad. If they can turn things around, I should be able to.” She was about to say something else when the phone buzzed for attention. She looked down at it and started to shake. “I was right. Francisco is after her.” “Who?” “He’s a jefe in one of the Little Havana gangs. A bad man.” Rico nodded. But something didn’t add up. “Why would he tell you this? When there’s nothing you can do.” “He says he wants to help. He’ll let me know tomorrow what is to be done.” She snapped the phone shut with another sob. “But how will I…” “Look, let me get ahold of Nichole.” He turned to look at the mirror, knowing Lester was already punching numbers in the phone. “She can help you figure some of this out, and then get some sleep. You have my word we’ll help your friend.” He stayed with her until the guard came to escort the girl to Nichole’s office. Then he headed for the tech room, his eyes dark and intense. He could feel the anger, the old cop anger, running through his body now. Times like this he wished he had Sonny’s Burnett focus. But he didn’t. He just had good old fashioned New York street cop anger. Lester looked up from his two monitors. “Already on it, Rico. I backdoored into Miami-Dade and I’m trolling the gang database for anyone in Little Havana’s structure named Franciso. Should give me the phone book, but then I can trim it down based on position.” “Solid. Let me guess, you believe her, too.” “Hard not to with those eyes, boss. But yeah, I think she’s got a friend named Carmelita and she thinks she’s in trouble. If she is in trouble or not’s a whole other question, though.” “Yeah. I thought of that. We gotta be sure.” “I’ll do what I can. Maybe call Trudy and Gina, too. See if they have any old CIs who might have some information.” “Do it. I gotta get back an’ make a couple of adjustments to the rounds schedule tonight.” When Mindy came down to get him so they could leave, she found him staring at the computer screen. “Hey, babe…we gotta get going.” “What? Oh, sorry.” He rubbed his eyes, understanding how much time had slipped past him. “I got caught up in that whole Ramona thing.” “Trudy told me about it. She talked to the girl after Nichole was done.” Mindy came around the desk and touched his shoulder. “She thinks the kid’s telling the truth.” “At least as far as she knows it.” Rico sighted. “I don’t think she’s playin’ us, either. What I want to know is if Jangles is playin’ her.” Before Mindy could answer, Lester came through the door. “I don’t know if he is or not, boss, but there is a guy named Francisco in the top tier of some Little Havana bunch called the Barrio Banditos.” He grinned. “Yeah, I know. Lousy name. But they’re a nasty bunch. Some drugs, mostly weed and a bit of crack now and then. Their main trade is girls. They grab ‘em, break ‘em, and then turn them out. Vice hasn’t made much headway, but they think they might even sell ‘em to other gangs.” “No wonder she’s scared.” Rico turned to Mindy. “We’re gonna help her as best we can. Don’t worry.” Then he turned back to Lester. “Can you fill Sonny in? I think he’s still meeting with those contractor chumps. I gotta get moving. Mindy’s got a doctor’s appointment.” “I thought you forgot.” “Never, pretty lady. Now let’s get the hell out of here before we start gettin’ nasty calls from that battle-ax nurse.” “Rico! She’s not that bad.” “They say that about Atilla the Hun, too, but I ain’t gonna test either one.” He grinned and shut down his computer. “Tell Sonny to call me if he has questions.”

Ricardo Tubbs was on the rooftop patio of Casa Cooper when he got word that Wiggins and Haskell were dead. Lester made the call, telling Rico he’d told Stan to get his fat ass home. “We let Castillo know,” he finished. “And I called Sonny just before you.” Rico nodded even though he knew Lester couldn’t see him. “Solid. And you think it was Hector and his crew who pulled the trigger on those chumps?” “None other. He went in before they did, and disappeared as soon as the shooting stopped and that smoke grenade went off.” “Gotta give him that. Smart trick. Gets everyone runnin’ around like maniacs, every kinda unit in the world rolling, and no one’s thinking to look for a shooter ‘cause they’re afraid the place is burning down.” Rico had a thought. “No one took out the main pole, did they?” Lester’s laugh was long. “No, I think Noogie’s still got his place of honor. I talked to a buddy on Miami-Dade and he said they found the burned-out grenade over by the third stage.” “They got any idea…” “Naw. Robbery gone bad. Mob hit on Haskell with Wiggins being collateral damage. They got no clue. Almost makes you feel bad for them.” “Almost.” Rico’s voice left it plain he didn’t feel the least bad for Miami-Dade. “Thanks for letting me know.” After hanging up the phone, he turned and looked out over the neon skyline of Miami, the street noises floating up through the humid air to fill his ears. He could feel the familiar weight of the Walther P88 on his right hip, and it brought its usual comfort. “Who was on the phone?” Mindy stepped through the patio door, her body wrapped in a sheer green nothing. She caught him staring and giggled. “I figured I’d wear it before I get too big.” “Pretty lady, you are beautiful in that. And always will be.” He drew her to him and kissed her. “And that was Lester who just called. Wiggins and Haskell both got whacked tonight. Looks like it was Hector and his crew.” “Any idea why?” She looked up at him, her eyes bright. “Lester didn’t say, but if I was guessin’ I’d say the lawyer chumps wanted to back out of the game and Hector wasn’t gonna let them. Miami-Dade’s playing it as a robbery gone wrong or some shit.” “Typical.” She rested her head against his chest, and the floral scent of her perfume filled his nose. “Does this mean it’s over?” “I don’t know. I’d like to think so, but Wiggins was after Sonny mostly, I think. That was where the bad blood was. This Hector? I got no clue what he’s about. Maybe he was just the hired help, an’ maybe there’s more to it than we know.” “You busted him, didn’t you?” “Yeah, but he was just another chump goin’ to do time. Nothin’ special that I remember. And I was just cleanin’ up. Sonny set the table with him.” “Something about it.” She looked up at him, and he could see the lines of her body though the green lace. “I don’t know. What are the chances of them hiring a guy to do their dirty work who you happened to put away?” “In this town? Not as bad as you’d think.” He chuckled. “Sonny an’ I ruined more than a few days back when we were OCB. Lotsa dudes ended up doin’ time. Some of them held grudges when they got out, others just wanted to get on with their lives. This chump? He’s got money now. He might just fade into the street, doin’ his little deals and finally get blown away by some other dealer tryin’ to make a name for himself. Lotsa stories end that way around here.” “I know.” She sighed and pressed herself against him. “And I’m ready to go inside if you are. But there’s just something…” “Let it go, pretty lady. We actually won one without havin’ to get our hands dirty. I’d say that calls for a little celebration.” “I thought you’d be happy.” Sonny looked from the phone to Jenny. “I am, darlin’.” “That’s not what your eyes say.” “Oh, I’m glad Wiggins is dead. And the world’s a better place with Haskell pushing up daisies next to him. It’s this Hector that’s got me thinking. What’s his angle?” He waved his hand. “Yeah, I know he was hired help and all that. But he whacked the guys who were paying bills. Now what’s his game?” “Has he contacted Ramona?” “Not as far as I know. And I think Lester would burn the lines up with the news if he had. So she’s still in play.” “He’s not finished, Sonny. Whatever it is he’s doing, he’s not done yet. And that means you and Rico are still in danger.” “Why us?” “He hasn’t looked at anyone else, has he? He’s been focused you or the House ever since he turned up.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked out toward the water. “And he was looking for you before…at Sanctuary.” “Yeah, he was. And that was before Wiggins and Haskell jumped into bed.” Sonny shrugged. “Tomorrow’s plenty of time to worry about him. Right now it just feels good to know the last asshole who tried to have Caitlin killed is dead. And in Rizzo’s no less. Goes against every classy bone in Wiggins’ body.” “Did you hate him?” “I don’t know, darlin’.” He paused, staring down at the deck. “I never thought about it, I guess. He took a shot and missed, and I helped put him away for it. At the time I was pissed at him, but I guess I didn’t hate him. Not like I hate Hackman.” She nodded and walked around the wheel to sit beside him. “At least Stan can spend time with Gina now.” “Yeah, there is that. Be nice if we could wrap Hector up with a bow for Miami-Dade, but I’m not gonna waste much effort on that. We’ll see if he tries to reach out to Ramona and go from there. If he doesn’t, I’d say he’s packed up his tent and moved on.” “So long as you’re sure.” Her blue eyes were intense as she stared at him. “We need to be sure, Sonny.” “We will be, darlin’. We will be.” He kissed her forehead, trying to push his worry back down in his chest. It was hard not to get spun up when Jenny got this way. “I’m gonna leave Stan and Lester on it for a couple more days, and maybe have Trudy reach out to her CI, Marco. See if there’s anything the streets know that we don’t. But I think Ramona’s the key. If he leaves her alone, he’s done. If he reaches out, he’s not.” “You’re right. And I shouldn’t worry.” She paused, then smiled. He saw some of the fear slip from her eyes. “I need to talk to Angie tomorrow. We need to start planning for when Mindy and Gina go on maternity leave.” “Rico an’ I talked about that earlier. It’s gonna be tough, but we’ll manage. We might be able to bring Trudy on full-time. And maybe you…” “I’d love to help out.” “Yeah, I know. We’ll figure it out once it gets closer. Schedules and all.” He turned away from the side of the boat and headed for the companionway. “I don’t know about you, but I got an early morning tomorrow.” Sleep didn’t find Sonny often that night. He woke up once, when Jenny slipped out of the queen-sized berth and walked barefoot through the aft suite and to the companionway. He thought about following her topside, but from the light sounds of her footsteps on the deck she’d had one of her dreams. After that sleep never returned, even after she finally came back below and slipped into bed next to him. It was like there was something in the air. A light charge like touching your tongue to the poles of a nine-volt battery. He’d done that a few times growing up, once on a dare from a cousin at some family get-together and later just to show how tough or cool he was. This felt like that, except it was all over his body and not just centered on the tip of his tongue. He laid there under the sheet, listening to Jenny’s measured breathing once she fell back to sleep. Watching the scenes behind his eyelids as the past replayed itself like an old movie running through a broken projector. He’d thought he’d feel some kind of relief when Wiggins was killed, but instead there was nothing. Just a stuttering image of his face when he’d been arrested. Jimmy’s wild eyes jerked past, and he saw the image of Celeste dancing out by the pool at the Carrera mansion as if it was happening just in front of him but through mosquito netting. Then Ramona took her place, her young eyes wide and scared as Sonny told her how it would be if she didn’t help them. And behind it all was the grainy image of Hector Rendozo he’d gotten from Robbie’s security system. It was actually a relief when the sun started to stream red through the portholes and the alarm sounded its cry. They’d tied up at the House dock, so it was a simple walk to work instead of a drive. Jenny was chipper as ever, but Sonny looked at the world through heavy eyes and a foggy mind two cups of coffee had done nothing to dispel. He nodded to Gina as he plodded through the outer offices. She smiled at Jenny and then turned to Sonny. “Long night, Crockett?” “Kinda. Didn’t sleep very well. How did the girls do last night?” “Good. Everyone’s settling back down, I think. With the cops gone most of them can pretend it didn’t happen.” She shook her head. “The doctors have two they’re spending extra time with, but they don’t think it set anyone back too much.” “Good.” He turned to Jenny and touched her arm. “I think Jenny’s gonna shadow you some today. With you and Mindy going on maternity leave at the same time we gotta make some plans.” “I told Sonny I wanted to help. And with fundraising season coming up…” “Girl, it’s always fundraising season around here.” Gina grinned her big, sloppy grin. “But yeah, I could use the help. And you might have some new ideas, too. I feel like I’m getting in a rut with benefits with Trudy’s art, concerts, all that high-brow stuff.” “We’ll see what we can do.” Jenny kissed Sonny quickly and then walked off with Gina, her voice getting faster as she started going through ideas. Shaking his head, Sonny headed into his office and sank into the comfortable desk chair. He wanted to take another run at Ramona, or better yet have Rico do it, but he also knew it was too early in the day. She’d be in one of the early counseling sessions, and then some screening and maybe group before lunch. Firing up the computer, he tapped in his access code and pulled up her schedule. Maybe we can get her after lunch. Looks like there’s a gap… They’d scattered just after the shooting, exactly as Hector had planned. He’d gone to bed with a smile on his face, picturing the shock on Wiggins’ smug face when the first shots boomed out. The black bag was under his bed. Later he’d shift the money someplace else. Someplace safer. It was mid-morning before he ventured out, walking the half-hour it took to get to the little café where he’d told them to meet. The sun was warm on his shoulders, and he took his time getting there. It felt good to walk, and to pretend he had all the time in the world. He got there just before eleven…a good ten minutes before he’d told them to meet him. Ignoring the tourists at the outside tables and the shifty older men toward the back, Hector picked a table close to the main door but away from the wide windows looking out over the patio and the street. It was a reasonable compromise, and he didn’t want the old hoods in the back getting nervous. When the waiter came by he ordered coffee and settled in to wait. Ramon was actually the next to arrive, and he grinned when he saw Hector. “You know, this place has the best damned orange juice in town? No kidding.” He waved to the waiter and ordered a large. “And some pasteles. I haven’t eaten since last night.” “You still up for this?” Hector leaned across the table, keeping his voice low. “I mean really up for this? ‘Cause I ain’t done yet. If you ain’t up, say so now an’ Jangles and I walk outa here.” “Naw, man. I’m in. One hundred percent. If Cooper’s a cop like you say, he needs to go down.” He grinned. “An’ that looks good to the others, no?” Hector nodded. “Ups our status we take out a cop. Even if he’s an ex-cop. Tubbs musta been good if he could get that close to Burnett. Good enough for the man to hire him now.” He thought about Wiggins’ story again and shook his head. It was one way to explain Cooper, but not everything Burnett did. Ain’t no cop can get away with all that. Before Ramon could say anything else, Jangles came in and sat down with a sigh. “Long night, Hector.” “Yeah, but our time’s come, mano.” He paused when the waiter came with Ramon’s damned orange juice and pastry. “They gonna get lazy now that Jimmy made his play an’ the two lawyers are dead. Leaves us a clear field.” “What about Ramona?” “Yeah. We gonna need her.” Hector sipped his coffee, letting the plan form in his mind. It wasn’t quite there yet, but he knew they’d need the girl. “You might reach out. See that she’s ok an’ let her know her work ain’t done.” Jangles nodded. “What about the cash?” “We do a split once Tubbs is dead. We’ll have to lie low for a bit afterwards, so you’ll have cash to do that. We all know cops chase harder when one of their own goes down, even if he’s retired or whatever.” Ramon spoke up, his mouth full of puff pastry and cream cheese. “How we gonna do it? I can’t see us pullin’ a Jimmy or whatever and jumping that damned fence.” “I’m workin’ it out. But no, we ain’t gonna jump no fence. Way I see it, we gotta draw him out somehow. Get him away from his people an’ all that. It’ll be harder now after all the noise, but maybe we get lucky an’ they’re all lazy thinkin’ things are done.” “You think they’d know about us?” Hector looked at Jangles for a moment. “Ain’t no way. None of us have been near the damned place, an’ none of us had a public fight with them like Jimmy an’ Wiggins did. No, as far as they know we’re just some dumb spics waiting to park the cars.” Hector grinned. “It’s gonna be fun proving them wrong. Only way we can lose is if Ramona gets caught.” “She’s careful. I got her up on that shit, man. The phone gets hidden when she ain’t using it, an’ text is short an’ quiet. No roomie can overhear it.” “But what if she starts calling her girlfriends or what the hell ever?” “Ramon, man, the girl’s pure Little Havana. She knows the score.” Jangles chuckled. “An’ she thinks Hector will waste her if she fucks up.” “Ain’t no think about it. I will waste the little puta if she screws this up.” Hector looked at his watch. “Jangles, you reach out an’ let her know we’re still in business. We meet here again tomorrow, only an hour later. If any of us don’t show, the rest assume the cops are involved an’ lay low. Got it?” Jangles nodded, but Ramon chuckled around another mouthful of pastry and coffee. “Man, you watch too many of them spy movies, Hector. We got this.” “You ain’t been inside, have you, Ramon? Naw. You’d be someone’s bitch still if you had been. We do it careful, none of us go inside. We get stupid, we go inside. And I ain’t doin’ that again. We clear?” He waited for Ramon to nod. “Good.” He tossed a twenty on the table. “Let ‘em keep the change.” Back on the street he struggled to control the hot feeling in his chest. Ramon was an idiot. Maybe when this was done he’d go the way of Wiggins and Haskell. There was the other lawyer, Watkins, still out there, too. There was no way to tell how much Haskell or Wiggins had told the idiot. Still, he was a problem for later. After Tubbs had been solved. Sauntering down the sidewalk, Hector let ideas float through his head, even though the girls in bikinis all conspired to distract him. What he needed was a way to draw Tubbs out away from the rest, and he figured the easiest way to do it was through the girl. It was the how that kept spinning in his head. He knew he’d break it sooner of later, though. One thing about prison, it had tought him focus and patience with his own planning. His mind would get there if he gave it the time and space to work. Sonny looked down at his white canvas shoes. “I don’t remember some of it,” he finished, “but I know whatever it was I had feelings for her. I must have, because I let her walk.” Tex nodded, setting his pen down on the pad on his desk. “Yeah. An’ there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. You were in a rough place, Sonny. A really rough place. Hell, after losin’ your wife you mighta been havin’ what us shrink types call transference. You were movin’ what you felt for Caitlin onto Celeste. An’ that head trauma made it worse.” He paused for a moment. “Or maybe you just saw somethin’ in her she didn’t see in herself.” “I never really thought of it like that, Tex. Hell, I tried not to think about it for years. After I let her walk, I pretty much erased her from my memory. Stuck it away like some of that other Burnett stuff.” He sighed, then looked at his watch. “Guess I’ve taken up enough of your time.” “Don’t sweat it, troop. I cleared the afternoon anyhow.” Tex grinned. “And I guess I gotta thank you for the call I got the other day. Some spooky guy wantin’ to set up an appointment.” “That must be Castillo.” Sonny chuckled. “He’s a tough guy, Tex. No two ways about that. But he’s stretched. Hell, I think he was in country before either of us. Maybe Cuba before that. Laos and Thailand after.” “So he’s seen some shit. Copy that. But it’s got a way of catchin’ up with you, no matter how bad-ass you are.” “Yeah. He’s married now, and off the job like me. I think…” Sonny paused, sorting through his thoughts. “I think he wants to make sure he’s running right now. And how to adjust when you don’t have duty telling you what to do as soon as you get up in the morning.” “Roger that. I see a lot of guys who crash and burn when they try to make that jump.” They talked about nothing and everything for a few more minutes, and then Sonny was out in the sunshine and steering the Daytona toward Sanctuary. It had been a few days since he’d talked to Robbie, and he felt a need to see his old buddy again. Robbie was in his office, mulling over what looked to be sales receipts, and he grinned when the security guy showed Sonny in. “Sonny! It’s been a minute, man! It too early for a celebration?” “Not if it’s that single barrel bourbon you got me started on.” Sonny grinned as Robbie hugged him before heading for the liquor cabinet and returning with two cut crystal old fashioned glasses and the familiar bottle. “Don’t drink anything else when I’m not out front,” he said, pouring them each an early afternoon measure. Robbie poured his drinks based on the time of day, more as they day progressed. “So what brings you by my little shack?” “Had a drop-in with Tex and just happened to be in the neighborhood.” Sonny sank into one of the overstuffed leather club chairs with a sigh, feeling the smooth heat of the bourbon flow over his tongue as he took a sip. “Been a hell of a last couple of days.” “Yeah. I saw the news about the shooting out there. And then those two lawyers. Ain’t you suing them?” “Yeah. Miami-Dade had to question us about that, too.” Sonny snorted. “Like I’d want to off two guys I was suing. You don’t get money from bodies. They’re dealing with our lawyer now.” “That Towers guy? I bet he enjoys kicking them in the nuts.” “I think he does. For a former prosecutor he doesn’t have a high opinion of most of their command staff these days.” Robbie nodded. “So what was the deal with that kid? Some crazy Romeo type tryin’ to get his girl?” “No.” In short sentences he told Robbie about Celeste and Jimmy’s connection to her. “Man, only you, Crockett.” He laughed as he refilled glasses gone empty during the story. “Something like that, man. Oh, and in the good news department, Stan and Gina are pregnant.” “No shit? First Rico and Mindy and now those two. What the hell you got in the water out at that place of yours?” “I don’t know. But Stan’s happy as hell. So’s Gina. Both scared, too, I think.” “They’ll do fine. You know that as well as I do.” Robbie leaned back in his chair. “I still remember that night Robbie Jr. was born. Man, I was so spun up I didn’t know what the hell to do. So scared I’d screw everything up but…” “But you did fine, man. Aside from that little rough patch with your mob family, but that happens to the best of us.” “Not you, though.” “No. I had the perfect family. Great parents. You name it. And my first marriage ended in divorce. Haven’t talked to Billy in years now. His choice, and I ain’t gonna push myself into his life. My second wife was murdered by an asshole I got off death row. So yeah, I almost think it’s better if you come from a messed-up family. At least you know what doing the wrong thing looks like.” “Speaking of which, how’s Jenny?” “She’s great, man. Best thing that ever happened to me. And she keeps telling me I’m the best thing that ever happened to her, so we must be doing something right.” Sonny looked over at the stack of papers. “Looks like I’m keeping you from stuff that needs to get done.” “Naw, just going through the books. I gotta tell you, Sonny, that Lester is a Godsend. Nights he’s doing his thing my profits jump.” He laughed and shifted his voice to an approximation of Lester’s stage voice. “DJ Tango Foxtrot in the house!” “Yeah. It’s funny. He’s such a quiet guy normally. But those lights go down and he changes.” They talked for a few more minutes about the intricacies of club business and then Robbie looked him square in the eye. “Do you think this trouble’s done now, Sonny?” “I don’t know. With Jimmy and those two reptiles dead I’d like to think so. But Hector’s still out there, and we never figured out what part he was playing in all this. Especially since he showed up here looking for me before everything kicked off. I don’t suppose he’s been back since?” “No, and my people have been watching for him. I’ll let you know if he does show.” “Thanks, Robbie. And thanks for the drinks. I’ll let you get back to work.” He chuckled. “I should at least show my face out at the House.” Downshifting the Daytona to make the turn onto the House’s private drive, Sonny enjoyed the feeling of the wind in his hair. He still had no idea how Jenny had found the car, or how much she’d paid for it, but he loved how it took him back every time he drove it. He showed his ID to the gate guard, waiting while they ran in through the swipe system, and then drove through to his parking spot by the side doors. Out on the wide lawn he could see one of the smaller, advanced groups sitting in a circle going through their afternoon therapy in the fresh air. It was hard to believe that only a few days ago someone had been killed just feet from where he stood. He ducked into the Security office before heading upstairs, catching Rico going through some files at his desk. “Find any lost treasures in that stack of stuff, partner?” “Naw. But I was gonna call if you didn’t wander in before four.” Rico chuckled and came around the desk to slap his partner on the arm. “We just got a ping on that fancy gear Stan and Lester left. Ramona turned on that phone about ten minutes ago.” “Has Jenny talked to her yet?” Sonny returned the arm slap. “I would have been here sooner, but I had to make a couple of stops.” “Solid.” He could see Rico wanted to ask but knew he wouldn’t. “She hasn’t yet. We were gonna wait until that phone shut down again. It did, but she’s in group now. Jenny’s gonna catch her as soon as they’re done.” “Good. Maybe Jenny can just take her to her room or something. We need to keep Ramona as relaxed as we can. Unless she tries to play us.” “Solid. That’s what I was thinkin’, too. I talked to the therapists earlier, an’ they agree with us. She’s not a bad kid, not really. Just in over her head and startin’ to see there are choices she can make.” The afternoon inched by. Sonny sat at his desk, going through some of the more mundane aspects of his job and trying not to look at the clock or his watch. Jenny would stop by as soon as she was done talking to Ramona, and watching the time wouldn’t change that. So he waded through expense reports, a proposal for another fundraiser, and a construction update. When he finished the last report, right down to the last line of excuses, he snatched up the phone. “Get Gary on the line.” When the lawyer picked up, Sonny read him the last four lines of the report. “It sounds to me like they’re spinnin’ crap and that they’re really close to having the first set of completion penalties kick in.” “I was going to call you about that report. Sounds like we’re reading it the same way. I’ve got a letter drafted for your signature I’ll send over as soon as we’re done.” “Good.” He paused. “What about the suit?” “The judge is reviewing the evidence. Since two of the four parties are now dead, he might just go ahead and rule. That Watkins is barely competent to wipe his own ass, let alone participate in his own defense, and with the other one doing Federal time…” “Yeah. Keep me posted. If we can just settle the damned thing and fold what we get after your expenses into the trust I’ll be happy.” “I’m handling this one pro bono, Sonny. So we’ll get everything we can from those bastards.” “Thanks, Gary. I owe you one.” “No. No you don’t. I actually feel like I’m doing something good now, Sonny. Helping these girls instead of locking them up for things that aren’t always their doing. I’ll get that letter done and to you before close of business today.” Sonny turned to look out the window, knowing full well Gary Towers was giving up a five figure fee for handling the suit. It still amazed him the impact working at Caitlin’s House had on so many people. He was still lost in thought when Jenny came in, followed closely by Rico. “She got a text from Jangles telling her things were still on.” Jenny sank into one of the chairs on front of the desk and smiled. “Nothing else.” “What does she think that means?” “She’s not sure.” Jenny looked from Sonny to Rico, her blue eyes bright. “She’s not holding anything back. I’m sure of that. She’s scared, but more of being kicked out of here than of him or Hector.” “Did she say anything about Hector?” “She doesn’t really know him. Only what she heard from Jangles.” “Makes sense.” Rico nodded. “Hector was locked up until not long ago, so she wouldn’t have had much of a chance to meet the chump.” “That’s what she said. She said Jangles knows him from way back. But she never met him. She said Jangles has some other friend. A guy named Ramon. She thinks he’s gay, but doesn’t know for sure.” “So there’s maybe three of them out there.” Sonny thought for a moment. “Not likely Hector could have recruited more. Not with him being locked up. Hell, at the rate guys in his line of work get killed off now Jangles is probably the only one he knew who’s still alive. And that’s only because Jangles is small time. Kinda reminds me of Izzy back when we were OCB. Knows just enough to be useful, but not enough to kill.” “What’s the plan?” “For now we don’t have one, Rico. Like it or not, the next move is up to Hector. They might just be keeping her in place because they don’t know what to do next. I don’t want to push her.” He shook his head. “Yeah, I know the old Sonny would have. But this isn’t a case and her life’s worth more than that. If she spooks and bolts, they’ll likely kill her themselves. And that would be on us. I’ve got enough of those to carry around.” “Solid. I agree, partner. We let her stay with therapy and get better. If they reach out again, we just adjust and go from there.” Jenny nodded. “I’m glad you don’t want to push her. She’s being honest with us. As honest as she can be, anyhow. It scares her…trusting someone.” Sonny thought back to the absolute hate he’d seen in Stan’s eyes after they found Larry Zito in that gym shower. Set up to look like he’d died from an OD. He thought of how much his pushing too hard had cost Stan, or so many before and even after him. “She can trust us. I’m not gonna push her into any kind of situation. If it comes down to it, we’ll find another way to smoke those idiots out.” “If they even stick around. Maybe the lawyers were getting cold feet and Hector thought they’d rat him out to save their own hides.” “Could be. Anyhow, have security keep a discrete eye on Ramona still. I don’t want her to bolt and ruin her chance.”

Rico’s suit looked fresher than his face, and when he walked into the office his usual bop was missing. Nodding to Jenny, he flopped down in one of the chairs across from Sonny and rubbed his eyes. “Long night,” he said without looking up. “Things ok at home, pal?” Sonny caught Jenny’s eye and nodded toward the coffee maker. “Yeah. Solid. Just had to spend too much time with those idiots from Homicide after you left. Steve fended ‘em off pretty well, but they wanted to know about security protocols, how the kid got in, all that shit.” He accepted a steaming coffee cup from Jenny with a smile. “Thanks, lady. Already had one, but this is a many coffee morning. I can tell.” “Did Stan pick up any traffic with Ramona after the shooting?” “No. All quiet on that front. I talked to her after the cats in the bad suits left. She said Jangles would have texted her if he wanted her to get out. She’s sure of that. Stan also said the lawyers had a meet with that Hector chump last night. He said Randy was sitting on Jangles and tailed him as far as Rizzo’s. The lawyers were in there for about ten minutes, Hector and Jangles stayed an extra five or ten, and then everyone split.” “And no way to tell what the meeting was about?” “Not really. But even if Wiggins and Haskell are out, it looks like Hector and Jangles are still in.” Rico shook his head. “No idea why.” “Yeah, and that bothers me. What the hell is Hector’s interest in this? He’s gotta be more than hired help, and I can’t see him sticking with it just to impress Burnett.” He shot a look at Rico. “And I don’t think we wanna know how Stan found all this out.” “Stan who?” Rico chuckled. “Probably not, but I’m not gonna hang him out to dry if anything comes back on us.” “No. I’m not, either. I just wish I knew what Castillo was up to.” “Yeah. He’s been distant lately. Even for him.” “I think he’s protecting both of you.” Jenny’s voice was low. “You have things to lose here. He’s clean.” “Yeah, and if there’s anyone who could pull something off and leave no trace, it’s Castillo.” Sonny smiled at Jenny. “You’re probably right. He did arrange for Blair to show up, and he’s obviously got Stan and Lester making moves in the field for him. I’m sure he’s got his reasons, but I’d feel better if I had an idea of what he thought was coming.” “I could talk to Trudy.” “No, Rico. I don’t think that would accomplish anything aside from pissing her off. Marty might not have told her what he’s up to, and if he did odds are she’s working with him.” He snorted and turned to look out the window. Yesterday’s clouds were starting to slip away, and the blue sky promised a hot day. “Much as I don’t like it, I think we’re just gonna have to be content to be passengers on this one.” “Yeah, and I know how much you hate the back seat.” Rico chuckled. “I ain’t too fond of it, either.” He turned to look at Jenny. “Maybe you could talk to Ramona again today. We leaned on her a bit hard yesterday, and maybe a face she thinks is friendly would help. I don’t think she’s told us quite everything she knows.” Jenny nodded. “She’d hold something back. Maybe not on purpose, though. She just might not think it’s important.” Sonny nodded, watching calendar reminders pop up on his computer screen. “I’ve got a meeting with the good doctors in five minutes, and you can bet they’ll want to talk about yesterday. I don’t think I’ll be free until lunch, so whatever you two work out is fine with me.” He finished his coffee and looked at the door to his conference room, feeling his nerves go cold. “Can’t say I’m looking forward to this one.” “Better you than me, Sonny.” Rico laughed and got to his feet. “Yeah, yeah. Guess it’s why I get the big bucks.” He was on his way through the door when he realized Rico hadn’t said anything about Stan and Gina. He’d have to ask over lunch…it didn’t feel right to not do something for the two of them, no matter what was going on right now. The meeting went about as he’d expected: him making apologies and trying to sort through any damage four or five Miami-Dade cars might have caused to the treatment program along with the shooting. In the end it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared, but it ran longer than he’d hoped. “So what do we do about this girl?” Nichole Jessup fixed him with her dark eyes. Sitting beside her, Catalina Sanchez nodded. “Good question. I told her if she’s straight with us, and so far she has been, she can stay in the program.” He raised his hand. “Look, she’s a kid with problems, right? Maybe not as bad as we’re used to, but she still could use our help.” He smiled in spite of himself. “And she helped us find some holes in our screening system.” He paused for a moment. “ALL our screening systems. It wasn’t just Rico who got fooled by her.” Nichole opened her mouth, closed it, then looked down at the table. “You’re right. We all missed it. Except maybe Jenny. She thought something was off about that girl early on. It was Catalina’s turn to nod. “And you’re right about her needing our help.” She turned to her fellow doctor. “Actually she’s a good test for how we could work with someone else who’s about to slip into that life.” She turned back to Sonny. “She’s right on the edge, correct?” “Yeah. I’d say so. All she’d have to do is hook up with the wrong guy and she’d be done.” Catalina nodded. “Maybe we can try some of those early intervention techniques we’ve discussed. It might not be something we’d normally do here, but it could help some of the other programs in the region.” Sonny nodded, knowing he’d started the two on one of their endless theory discussions. “I’ll leave you two doctors to it. But just so we’re clear: so long as she plays ball with us she stays in the program. If she doesn’t, she’s gone. Consider it her first test in meeting her obligations. And hold as many extra counseling sessions as you think you need for the rest. If we need a temp doc or two, consider it approved.” They took over one of the back tables in the cafeteria, and for a moment Sonny almost thought he was back with OCB. Just the team clustered around a long table eating whatever food they’d snatched from the line or brought from home. Drinking coffee and mulling over a fresh case. It was a comforting feeling that faded almost as quickly as it had arrived. Gina looked up from her Cobb salad. “So you gave them the green light to bring on support if we need it?” “Yeah. It just made sense. Some of these girls could be really rattled by what happened, and they might need the help.” Rico nodded, winking at Mindy sitting across from him. “I know I could use some TLC after that.” She giggled. “So could I, mister. And I’m the one in a delicate condition.” Rico chuckled then turned to Sonny. “Speaking of delicate, how are we going to handle tonight?” Sonny took a bite of his hamburger to buy himself some time to sort out his thoughts. “Not much we can do,” he said at length. “We got no official standing. No real resources.” He turned to Trudy. “Unless Marty’s got something up his sleeve. I don’t want to put you on the spot, but it would be nice to know if something’s going down.” She nodded, but he could tell from the look in her eyes they weren’t going to get the full story. Can’t blame her for that. Marty’s careful and he doesn’t want anything to come back on us. Puts her in a tough spot, though. “As far as I know he’s gonna have Randy do some tailing work and Stan and Lester are still on retainer.” “Fair enough.” Sonny caught Rico’s eye and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have asked. I know you’d tell us if he picked up anything bad.” They spent the rest of lunch talking like the old friends they were, Jenny repeating Sonny’s comment about there being something in the water when it came to Mindy and Gina. Sonny smiled and went along with the chatter, but behind the smile his mind was working. As they finished, he looked over at Rico. “Hang on a second, Rico. I wanna talk about how we might handle any part-timers the good doctors bring on.” Jenny picked up on the hint in his voice. “I’ll go back up with Gina. We need to talk about the next donor event.” Once everyone was gone, Rico turned to Sonny. “You know we already got procedures…” “Yeah, I do. I just wanted to see if you had any ideas about what we could do for Stan and Gina.” Rico started to say something, then paused. When he spoke again his voice was low. “Sonny, you gotta stop trying to make it up to those two.” “What? I’m…” “Sure you are, man. I get it. You still feel bad about Zito, and you got a past with Gina. I get that. But it’s just that now, partner. Past. Switek may still have some hard feelings. Only he answer that. But the last few years you proved to him you’re a different man than you were back then. You gotta let it go.” Sonny started to speak, then closed his mouth. Thoughts and feelings battled each other in his chest and head, and for a moment the hiss of the HVAC turned into a roaring cyclone. Then he shook his head, bringing it all together. “You’re right, Rico. Hell, Stan’s told me more than once we’re good. And if Gina was still pissed she wouldn’t have come and told me about the baby.” He looked up at Rico and laughed. “But you know me, man. I don’t let things go well.” “Yeah. You’re one of the biggest chumps I know when it comes to that.” Rico laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “What should we do? Not a damned thing. You know the ladies already have baby showers and all that mapped out for months to come. What we gotta figure out is what the hell we’re gonna do when they both go out on maternity leave at the same time.” Sonny shook his head. “Shit. I didn’t think of that. You’re right, partner. What the hell ARE we gonna do when they both go out?” With a sense of relief he turned his thoughts to that problem. It felt way more manageable than the whole thing with Wiggins and Hector, whoever the hell he really was. Hector crawled out of bed sometime around noon. He only knew the time because the hotel room TV was running one of the local news programs with the volume turned down. “Should have shut the damned thing off last night,” he muttered as he headed for the bathroom. He grabbed a quick lunch from a diner down the street from the hotel, then headed back to his room. Pulling the Beretta out of his waistband, he went about stripping and cleaning the auto-loader. He did his best planning while he was focused on other things, and the physical routine of cleaning the pistol was perfect for his thoughts. Wiggins and Haskell had to die. He’d decided that last night as soon as they showed their true colors. Never trust a fuckin’ lawyer. Especially when they tell you to trust them. The two men knew too much, and they were both slick enough to toss the whole thing back on him and claim they were just along for the ride instead of calling the shots. Even with his tapes, they’d try to turn it back on him if things went bad. And like all lawyers they could be convincing as hell. Like that bit about Burnett being a cop. If he didn’t know what he did about Burnett he would have fallen for it. He didn’t think they’d have any security with them. He’d been careful to play dumb most of the time…getting them to underestimate him. Still, he’d bring Jangles along and have Ramon already in the place just in case they surprised him. That meant he’d meet up with those two about eight or so. Have a drink, go over things, and then give Ramon time to fade into the Rizzo’s crowd. Locking the slide back into place, he slammed a full magazine into the butt of the Beretta and worked the slide. Then he set the safety and loaded two extra magazines. Just in case. He’d make his call from the convenience store down the block and then chill for a couple more hours. Looking out the window, he tried to control his excitement. In another few hours the lawyers would be out of the way, he’d be three hundred large richer, and they’d be two steps closer to dealing with Tubbs. And he still had time to work on a couple of surprises for Rizzo’s. It was hot in the Roach Coach, even with the fans going. Stan Switek wished they could run the air conditioning, but he always remembered what Rico had told him years back about being able to spot a waiting vehicle by the puddle of condensation under the engine. So he and Lester suffered through it, moving the van every couple of hours so they could run the A/C or setting up like they did today in the shade of a parking garage. But with their reduced resources it was a balancing act. They could monitor one of their taps well and the other with static, but not both well. He’d opted for Jangles today, since he was their only direct link to Hector. Haskell was small change, and Castillo didn’t think Wiggins would act without Hector’s gun close by. And Hector never seemed to move without Jangles. Process of elimination. Randy was out there somewhere, too. Keeping a loose watch on Jangles’ place. Process of elimination again. So far they hadn’t been able to pin down where Hector was staying, but there was always the chance he’d slip up and have Jangles lead them there. And even if that didn’t happen, Jangles didn’t seem to do anything except wipe his ass without checking with Hector first. Lester scratched his chin through his beard. “Man, is it about time to move again?” “Naw, but we’re in cover. Go ahead and fire her up for a few minutes. We can always move up a level if we have to.” “That’s true,” Lester said as he moved through to the driver’s seat. “We did test the system on every level here. Only the underground part was bad.” Stan nodded, forcing himself to focus on the panel in front of him and not the image of pregnant Gina that kept dancing around in his head. He’d been excited at first, but now he was starting to get scared. What if I screw things up? What if it turns out I am like my dad? No…I ain’t like that. No way. What would the King do? Hell, he’d fry up a peanut butter and banana sandwich and chase some high school girls. Can’t do either one. He smiled at the thought. Then almost laughed as he remembered Gina’s reaction to his suggestion they do a nursery with a Hawaiian theme and blue suede curtains. The floor of the van vibrated as the engine caught, and then a blast of cool air entered the rear cabin as Lester pulled back one of the blackout drapes. “If we keep doing this, we gotta add some ducts back here,” he said as he came back to his seat. “Make things a hell of a lot easier.” “Yeah. But really, how much more of this kinda thing are we going to do?” Lester chuckled. “You never know, Stan.” Stan could only nod. Lester was right. You never knew. Not when you were working with this crew. And on a day like today when Jangles wasn’t even ordering pizza it was enough to make you want to gouge your eyes out. But Metro-Dade had given him years of experience with waiting. Running surveillance was all about the waiting. If there was action, odds were it happened because you did something wrong. Or someone else blew your cover. A smile flashed across his face as he thought about the time they’d been working a pawn shop sting and the screen had fallen out of an old TV, exposing their camera and Larry’s shocked face to the world. That had been their first encounter with Noogie, a self-proclaimed freakazoid who’d later become one of their more reliable CIs. Years later, dead from an OD on bad heroin, his ashes ended up in the main pole at a stip club called Rizzo’s where Noogie had been the star DJ. There were days Stan found himself missing the crazy little bastard, who’d also given them tips leading to the arrest of one of the nastiest pimps he’d even come across. “Stan? We got some action on Jangles.” “Hunh? Oh, sorry. Got it.” Stan flipped on the recorder and shifted his monitors away from Haskell’s tap. He recognized Hector’s voice right away, and prepared for the usual short message. Hector didn’t disappoint. “Usual spot. Eight. Bring Ramon.” Lester snorted. “That guy does not waste words.” “He’s careful. He stays on the loose, he’ll go far if he gets some ambition.” Stan grinned, then let his eyes go flat as he reached for the radio. “I’ll let Randy know the bird is taking wing.” “Do we stay on it?” Stan thought, weighing the options. “I’d say we shut down and get some food. If Jangles is meeting with him, Hector’s not gonna be doing anything else. We can come back up if Randy loses him or if he sees something developing.” “Makes sense. I’ll shut it down while you call our cowboy.” Hector sat near the back of the bar where he could see the door and had his back to the badly-painted wall. He figured two hours should give them plenty of time to go over the plan and make sure Ramon was in position before it all kicked off. He glanced at his watch and then the Bud clock over the bar. Almost eight. Right on time, Jangles came through the door, Ramon close behind him. Jangles looked around, spotted him, and headed through the light crowd to the table. “Hey, man! What it is?” “I got a pitcher coming. We gotta have clear heads tonight. At least for the first part of the night.” Hector nodded to Ramon. “You ready for real work, mano?” “You bet, Hector.” Ramon slid into his seat, his eyes clear and focused. Good. No weed or anything else. “Just tell me the deal.” “Those two fancy gringos are starting to get cold feet. I don’t want anything coming back to us.” Jangles nodded. “Yeah, man. He’s right. The one? I think he pissed himself last night. More than once.” Hector cut off Ramon’s giggle with a glance. “That means we gotta take care of things. I ain’t done with that place yet, though. One more thing to do. But we need to take care of this first.” “What’s the payoff?” Figured he’d ask that. Punk. “Three hundred large. Split between us. The girl gets some, too. We’ll need her again before this is over.” Ramon nodded, his eyes calculating. “What’s the split?” “What I say it is. When the work’s done. You got a problem with that?” “Not me, man.” Jangles’ voice was rapid. “Split goes by risk, right? Fair to me.” “I got no problem, Hector. So long as it’s fair.” Maybe your split will be 147 grains. “It will be. But we gotta get there first.” Hector paused while the waitress left a pitcher of beer and three glasses. “And if you’re done whinin’ we can get on with this.” “You still recording these punks?” “Not this time, Jangles.” He grinned, then started talking in a low voice, outlining things on the table top from time to time with his index finger. Finally, he handed Ramon a bag he’d picked up from an old contact not half an hour before he’d entered the bar. “Anyone got any questions?” Ramon shook his head. “Seems simple enough. I’ll move as soon as we’re done with the beer.” “Good. Get there at least fifteen minutes early. Half an hour’s better.” “You got it, Hector. I know my part.” “Good. Jangles, you an’ me can hang here for a bit. I don’t want to get there much before ten. Hell, maybe even be a bit late.” “What if they don’t bring the money?” “Like I said, mano, then we take it outside. You hang back but be close just in case.” Hector shook his head. “But they’ll bring it. They want to be done with us, an’ the quickest way they know is pay an’ go.” Jangles laughed as he sipped his beer. “They’ll be goin’, all right.” “Yeah, they will.” Hector’s eyes went cold. “They really will.” It was just before ten when Hector and Jangles walked into Rizzo’s, brushing past the goons at the door like they owned the place. What the hell Hector thought as he headed for a table near the back door. After tonight we just might. He could feel the attitude flowing through his veins, turning his eyes dark and empty. Two skinny punks who looked like lost frat boys were sitting at the table, looking up at him as he and Jangles walked over. “That’s our table. Didn’t you see the reserved sign?” The one with darker hair looked like he wanted to argue. “I don’t see any damned sign.” Hector grinned a skull’s grin and lifted the front of his shirt just enough to let the Beretta peek out. “You see it now?” “Uh…yeah. My bad, dude.” He turned to his buddy, whose face had just gone a funny shade of white. “Let’s go someplace else, Chip. I ain’t into this scene any more.” “Try Caramel down the street.” Jangles grinned like he was trying to be helpful. “It’s more your kinda place.” Hector held his grin until they sat down. “Nice one, mano. Sendin’ them to the gay strip club.” “Just trying to be friendly.” Jangles grinned, but Hector could sense his nerves behind the smile. “I just saw Ramon over by the third stage.” “Good. Perfect place for him.” Hector’s eyes lit up. “And I just saw our boys come through the door.” He pitched his voice low and even. “Just keep your eyes open, Jangles. That’s all you gotta do. That and make sure the way to the door’s clear. You good?” “Sure, Hector. I done this in my sleep.” I ain’t too sure of that, but nothing for it now. And it looks like the fruity one has a bag with him. Even better. Hector waited until the two men sat down to break out his business smile. “Our girl’s still in place if you’ve changed your mind.” Wiggins shook his head. “I’m afraid friend Arthur here just doesn’t have the nerve for it any longer. Do you, Arthur?” He didn’t wait for the man to answer. “And I have pressing business on the West Coast. Things that require my personal attention. I’m sure you understand.” He laid the black nylon gym bag on the table. “Still, here is what we agreed to. A sign of good faith, yes?” “Jangles, check it.” Hector watched as his friend unzipped the bag and riffled through some of the bundles of bills, keeping the whole thing hidden with the edges of the bag itself. “It’s all good, Hector.” “Hector, is it? I thought Hank seemed an odd name for you.” Wiggins turned to Haskell, who had sweat rolling down both sides of his pudgy face. “I think this concludes our business, doesn’t it, Arthur?” Hector shifted in his chair, letting his hand fall to his lap as if he’d relaxed after being tensed up. “I almost feel bad. You didn’t get what you wanted out of all this.” “No, but there’s always tomorrow.” His hand closed over the grip of the Beretta, warmed by contact with his body. “Not always, my friend. Not always.” His thumb found the safety and flicked it off as the pistol cleared the top of the table. The first shot was always a risk with the Beretta’s heavy double-action trigger. But after that it was smooth as melting butter. Two for Wiggins, two for Haskell They were messy, hurried shots, leaving the bodies jerking and twitching as they tangled with their chairs and crashed to the floor. From the corner of his eye he could see smoke billowing from the third stage and through the ringing in his ears he caught Ramon screaming “Fire!” at the top of his lungs. On his other side he saw Jangles making for the door, clearing a path for him with a strength you wouldn’t expect from his scrawny frame. The hot Beretta was back in his waistband before he took two steps, and in a handful of heartbeats he and Jangles were in the alley, cutting up and away from the screams and smoke that was starting to roll out the back door. They cut between two buildings, then turned again and met up with Ramon near a row of parked cars. “The gray Ford,” Ramon said, turning and heading that way himself. They were in the car and driving into the warren of streets making up Little Havana before the first patrol car arrived on the scene. Martin Castillo had been helping Trudy with the last section of her new composition when the phone rang. As soon as he picked up, Randy’s voice filled his ear, slightly hollow from being patched through by the Roach Coach. “We got a situation.” “Explain.” “I’m outside Rizzo’s. That dump strip club we seem to go to more than is healthy. I tailed Jangles and Hector there after they met Ramon at another bar. Ramon left first, and then those two headed for Rizzo’s about half an hour later. The two lawyers showed up just after Jangles and Hector. They had a bag with ‘em, so I’d guess they brought the rest of what they owed Hector.” “Did you go in?” “Nope. Stayed outside. If anything went south I got no solid local cover.” “Good move.” “Not five minutes later I hear shots, and about the same time a smoke grenade goes off an’ flushes everyone out like quail. Next thing I know there’s naked women on the sidewalk, two dead bodies inside, an’ no sign of Hector or Jangles.” Castillo knew his knuckles were turning white as he gripped the phone. “Anything from Miami-Dade?” Stan’s voice cut in. “We’re on their frequencies, captain. Report is Wiggins and Haskell both took two in the chest, and there were nine mil casings on the scene. And right after the first shot someone set off that smoker. If I was still a betting man, I’d put big money on it being Ramon.” Castillo nodded. “We underestimated Hector. It won’t happen again. I don’t think we’ll see any more movement from them tonight. Shut Team Elvis down.” At some point Trudy had stopped playing and come over to stand next to him. He’d been so absorbed in the conversation he hadn’t noticed. “What happened?” “Rendozo and his people killed Wiggins and Haskell. Switek says Miami-Dade hasn’t put the pieces together, but Mather saw them all go into Rizzo’s and then there was gunfire.” She touched his arm. “Does that mean it’s over?” “No. The girl is still in play. If Rendozo was going to cut his losses he’d pull her out. Or at least tell her to keep a low profile. But there’s been no communication.” Castillo looked out the kitchen window at the shifting shadows beyond the faint arc of light from the house. “Rendozo’s still out there, and we don’t know what he hoped to get out of this. And he has more resources now. Mather saw Wiggins carrying a bag when he went into Rizzo’s.” “Do you think he’s after Sonny?” “I don’t know. Ramon used to work for the Carreras and Rendozo worked with Sonny as Burnett a few times before Tubbs arrested him.” “Maybe he’s after Rico. If he sent him away, that’s enough reason for most of them to look to settle a score.” “It’s possible.” He kept looking out the window, letting the shadows fill his mind so the pieces would sort themselves. “We need to check the files, but I think Ramon was with the Carreras when we tried to put Cooper inside. And Tubbs was using Cooper when he arrested Rendozo.” “So they’d know he was a cop.” “Yes. We know Wiggins was after Sonny. So was Jimmy. But Rendozo always seemed like he didn’t fit. This might be why.” “Are we gonna tell Rico?” He turned and rested his hands on her shoulders, easing her close. “Not yet, my love. I don’t want him to overreact. And if Rendozo is after him, it will be simple for Mather and I to provide cover.” Inside he felt the dream converging. Three tracer streams, and now there was only one. Hector Rendozo. “We may need to put the girl in play ourselves. Would you be willing…” “I’ll talk to her. Me and Jenny.” Trudy smiled. “She seems to like Jenny. And she likes the House. Sonny already threatened to kick her out if she plays us, and he means every word. She knows it, too. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with Miss Ramona.” “Good.” Castillo rubbed the bridge of his nose, fighting to push the thoughts to the back of his head. Hector and his crew would need to go to ground for at least a few hours to avoid Miami-Dade, so there was time to get things in order. And tonight he had Trudy. He smiled, feeling the mental lurch as his brain shifted gears. “Why don’t we go finish that piece? It feels really close, and I know you wanted to premiere it at Downbeat next week.” She smiled at the mention of Rico and Mindy’s favorite jazz club. After they left the force she’d taken a few gigs there from time to time, and Castillo knew she didn’t like to admit how popular she was or how much she enjoyed playing for an audience. “Yeah, I guess I should. It’s kind of in honor of them, after all. And maybe Gina and Stan now.” He let her lead him to the piano, enjoying the sway of her firm body as she walked. Every moment he was with her reminded him how lucky he was. And how blind he’d been for most of those years at Metro-Dade. Sitting next to her on the piano bench, he touched the music paper with a finger. “I’ll turn pages, my love. Let me know if you need anything added.”

Stan ripped off the headphones and turned to Randy, who’d squeezed himself in the back of the Roach Coach as soon as he’d arrived. “Wiggins just got off the line with Haskell. They’re setting up a meeting tonight.” “Where?” “He didn’t say. Hector’s supposed to pick the place. But it’s at ten.” Stan grinned. “Great work on that fast tap, Les ol’ buddy. It was as clear as if we were on the other side of the wall with a stethoscope.” Lester grinned. “Glad to hear it. About got mauled by a damned pigeon putting it in.” Nodding, Stan turned back to the console, watching the needles jump as Haskell hung up his phone. “And how much do you wanna bet he calls Hector from a pay phone?” “He do that often?” Lester answered before Stan could speak. “We don’t know yet. Ain’t had the tap on the line long enough. But it wouldn’t surprise me. Hector only uses pay phones, and there’s five close by Haskell’s office.” Stan nodded. “Yeah. And we don’t have the resources to tap all those. And it’s too damned hard to get eyes on his office without sticking out like a sore thumb. That’s the problem with those damned strip malls.” “I could try.” Stan looked at Randy and then the map they’d taped to one of the bare walls of the van, doing the math in his head. “Naw,” he said finally. “You’d never make it. Not unless Haskell had to take a major shit and got lost in the bathroom. Just too much ground to cover, and it’s not late enough for the streets to be really clear.” “I gotta agree with Stan, Randy. Even though I know your driving.” “I’d like nothing better than to get eyes on this asshole.” Stan’s words were quick. He could feel Randy’s anger building and wanted to head it off. “But we just don’t have the damned tools. Not like we did. We did get a tap on Jangles’ place, too, and maybe Hector’s dumb enough to tell that moron exactly where to go.” Inside he doubted it. All Jangles had done since they got ears on his phone was order pizza and call other goofballs he seemed to know. One, Ramon, might be of interest, but the number tracked back to a dive bar in the middle of Little Havana. “That’s something I could do. Get eyes on this asshole Jangles. He’s the link to the girl, so they’ll have to bring him in if she’s gonna do anything else for them.” Stan nodded, working the odds in his head. “Yeah. That’s not a bad idea. His place is on the far edge of Little Haiti. Run-down dump of an apartment building if I remember right. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb being a gringo and all, but we gotta work with what we have.” “You’d be amazed how quick I can disappear.” Randy’s smile reminded Stan of a wolf he’d seen on a PBS show growing up. All teeth and no humor. “No, I don’t think I would.” He reached under the console and pulled out a field radio. “It’s got enough range to get from here to there. We’ll keep ears on and buzz if he starts moving before you’re in position.” Randy grabbed the radio and took another look at the map. Stan knew he was burning the directions into his brain. “Thanks. And if Sonny asks, I made you guys do this. It’s all on me.” “No way, man. I…” “Sarge…just do it. I don’t want you guys going down.” Stan nodded, seeing the urgency and a hint of pain in Randy’s eyes. “You got it, Randy. Good luck out there.” “No. Remember what Moneybags and his team said to each other before that hit on Unit 8? Make your own luck. That’s what we do, sarge.” Stan nodded. “Make your own luck, Randy. We’ll see you later.” “Count on it.” Then he was gone, the slamming of the van’s back door marking his passing. The humming of the equipment was the only sound aside from the occasional tapping of rain on the sheet metal roof of the roach coach. Finally Lester cleared his throat. “Am I the only one who’s got a bad feeling about all this?” Stan grinned, but knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “No, Lester old buddy. You are not the only one with a bad feeling. And I’ll be damned if I know why I’ve got one.” “You gonna call Gina and let he know you’re gonna be late?” “I will in a bit. You can call your lady first, ol’ buddy.” Stan shifted his focus as Lester dialed the car phone. He figured Gina was busy enough with the aftermath of the shooting Randy had described. That and he wasn’t sure what he’d tell her. He did like lying to her, and it felt like almost anything he said would be a lie. She’d been irritable enough as it was, and it wasn’t even her time of the month. No, I’ll just tell her the truth. Put it all out there and let the damned chips fall where they will. Decision made, he settled back into the routine of switching between the hissing empty space on their taps, waiting for something to happen. He finally got through a little before eight. Gina’s voice came clear over the line, and she sounded irritated. “Yes?” “Hey, baby. It’s me. Look, Lester and I are…” He hitched, and then stuck to his plan. “We’re running surveillance for Castillo on that lawyer and one of Hector’s friends. They’ve got some kind of meeting coming up, but nothing’s broken yet. So I don’t know when I’ll be home.” “I…” She started to snap, and then her voice changed. “I’m sorry, Stan. I know I’ve been bitchy the past few days.” “Naw, it’s my fault. We started doing this about a week or so back, and I didn’t want you to worry…” “No. That’s not it. I…” She stopped again. “I didn’t want to do this over the phone.” “Do what?” His heart fell though the bottom of his stomach. “I…Stan, I’m pregnant.” “WHAT?” Lester heard him through his own earphones and ripped them off with a startled look. “You’re what?” “Pregnant. I wanted…I found out Monday and didn’t know how to tell you. I wanted it to be special, and then I couldn’t come up with anything and I started to wonder if you’d be happy and…” “Relax darlin’. I’m happy. You bet I’m happy.” Stan looked over at his partner and grinned. “Gina’s pregnant.” “Wow. Congratulations, guys.” Lester looked around the van. “Look, I got this if you wanna split.” Gina heard him. “You stay right there, Stanley Switek. Finish your job and then come home. Mindy’s been telling me all about pregnancy hormones, and she wasn’t kidding. But you need to finish that for Marty. And Sonny. It’s important.” “I love you, Gina.” “I love you, too, Stan. I’ll be waiting.” “She wants you stay?” “Yeah.” Stan was still staring at the phone, his brain spinning as it tried to absorb what he’d just heard. “Yeah,” he repeated. “That’s what she said. And then something about pregnancy hormones.” “Oh, yeah. I heard about that back when Franklin in the lab and his old lady had their first kid. He said the first month or so was unreal. Like he could barely get out of bed unreal.” “Maybe I’d better see how much vacation I’ve got banked up.” Stan chuckled. But his head was still spinning. I’m gonna be a dad. Who the hell would have thought? Lester slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re gonna be a great dad, Stan. Although God help her if you have a girl. You’ll be embarrassing her until she graduates from college.” “Damn right. What better way to keep the boys away?” Stan laughed and forced himself to turn back to the console. “Much as I hate to say it, we’d better get back to work. They’ve been quiet for too damend long.” Almost on cue the dial representing Jangles’ phone lit up. “Incoming.” Lester flipped the recorder switch and slipped on his headphones in almost the same motion. Stan was a heartbeat behind, switching his own monitors to cover the same tap and pulling on his headset. It wasn’t much. Stan recognized the voice as Hector’s, and wondered how the hell Haskell or whoever had gotten to him so fast. “You know the spot. Ten minutes.” Then a dial tone. “Goddamn!” Stan grabbed the radio, hoping like hell Randy was able to hear him. “Bozo is on the move.” “Copy. In position. Out.” Lester looked at Stan, his face looking like a glass etching in the yellow-blue light from the panels. “Now what do we do?” “What we usually do, Les ol’ pal. We wait. But first I’d better check in.” He reached for the phone and keyed in Castillo’s number. “See what the boss wants us to do.” Yet even as the phone rang he could hear Gina’s voice echoing in his head. I just gotta keep it together for a little bit more. Then I can go home and see her. Martin Castillo was on the deck watching the remains of the day when Trudy stuck her head out the door. “It’s Stan. He sounds excited.” She smiled. “He must have called Gina.” Castillo nodded, turing away from the dying sun and heading inside to take the call. He guessed Gina had called Trudy as soon as she got the test results, and the two had spent almost an hour on the phone giggling and talking about babies. But he didn’t think Switek would be calling him about that. He took the phone with a nod. “Switek.” “We got movement, captain.” Old habits died hard with Switek, especially when he was under stress. “Randy’s mobile and following Jangles. We picked up a call from Hector telling him to move. My guess is it’s a payphone so they can go into more detail. We monitored Wiggins and Haskell earlier, and I think Haskell pissed himself three times during that call.” Castillo listened without expression as Stan went over the details of the call. “Short version is they’re meeting in a bit over an hour at someplace Hector picks.” “And you’re sure both Haskell and Wiggins wanted out?” “Haskell sure as hell did. Wiggins? Who can tell with that Masterpiece fruit?” “True. Have they tried to reach the girl?” “No idea. If they have, Sonny and Rico haven’t told us.” Castillo thought for a moment. “Let Mather stay with Jangles. See where they go and where they meet. We still don’t know where Hector’s staying or what he’s doing when he’s not meeting with them, so there’s no point in monitoring them any more tonight unless Jangles reaches out to the girl.” Castillo looked at Trudy and winked. “Go home, Stan. Celebrate your child. Gina called Trudy. And send Lester home, too. At least once Randy checks in. Keep him covered, but once they scatter he can head back to his hotel. We don’t have enough resources to tail Hector, and he’s the one we need to know more about.” Trudy waited until he hung up to kiss him. “I’m glad you sent Stan home.” “They deserve to celebrate. And it’s true that we don’t have enough resources to follow Hector. He’s smart enough to spot a lone tail, and once that’s blown we might never see him again.” He smiled. “It’s hard to remember we don’t have the resources we once did.” “Do you really think they’re done?” “I don’t know, my love.” The dream still haunted the back of his mind. Three tracer trails, and they’d only taken out one threat. “I’d like to think so, but I also worry about wishful thinking. We can’t afford that, especially now.” He looked back out the window. “Not when all of them have so much to lose.” “How will we know what they plan to do?” “The girl. If they reach out to her again they’re still in business. If they don’t, or she’s told to drop it, we know they’re scattering. Or at least some of them are.” “What do you mean?” She moved over and slipped her arm around him. “I don’t think Hector will quit easily. He’s got something else driving him. Something personal. But I don’t know what.” “How can you tell?” “He brought in too many of his own resources. Jangles. The girl. At least one other person. If he was just in it for the money he’d do his best to keep anyone else out. It makes his cut smaller.” Castillo shook his head. “No, Hector Rendozo is in this for something else. Something personal. He won’t just walk away.” Then he smiled and changed the subject. “How did Gina seem?” “Excited. Nervous.” She chuckled. “Kind of what you’d expect from a first time mother to be. I know she and Stan have been trying for a while now.” She shook her head. “You’d think raising one big kid would be enough for her.” “Switek will make a good father. He’s got the instincts and he has experienced what not to do. Sometimes I think that’s more important than coming from what society thinks is a good family.” “It’s funny, you know? Of all the members of the old unit, the first two who have kids are Rico and Stan. I still have a hard time picturing Rico married, and with Gina there was always Sonny in the background.” “She finally moved on.” He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “And then she saw what was waiting for her the whole time.” “Sounds kinda familiar.” She leaned against him, and he could feel the warmth of her body through his shirt. He kissed the top of her head, his nose filling with the scent of her shampoo. But the doubt still lingered in the back of his mind. Even if the lawyers walked away, there was one stream of tracers still out there. Hector didn’t like Rizzo’s much at all. Most of the girls were nasty, the sound system sucked, and the drinks were watered down. But it was a great place for a meeting you didn’t want observed. He watched the bleached blonde with fake tits spin around the main pole, wondering again if the rumor he’d heard about one of the DJs having his ashes in the pole was true. Rizzo’s was the kind of dump that made you think it was. He’d picked one of the back tables to avoid the noise by the bar, only to find he’d traded that for the tinny blare from one of the club’s blown speakers. But it let him see the door well enough, and he partly stood up and waved his arm to get Jangles’ attention when the goofball showed up. Stopping only to get a drink, he made his way back and sat down. “Man, that was some bad shit with that camera dude.” “Yeah, and it’s got those puta lawyers running scared.” Hector took a drink from his beer and leaned across the table. “You heard from Ramona?” “Naw. She’s waitin’ to hear from me.” Jangles grinned. “She’s a good girl like that. Only reason she’d call me is if she got kicked out.” “An’ no news is good news.” Hector smiled, starting to feel some of the swagger come back. He’d been sitting in his hotel room when the TV ran the story of the events at Caitlin’s House, so he’d been expecting Haskell’s call. But that didn’t mean he liked it. He could almost hear the old dude shitting his pants, but the promise of money got him to agree to the meet and name Rizzo’s as the place. Jimmy had been a moron, no question, but with the girl still in place they had cards left to play. And he had to get Tubbs out in the open. The two lawyers in their tailored suits stood out like turds in a punchbowl as they walked through the club to Hector’s table. Hector grinned as he saw Haskell flinch every time one of the girls got near him, but he also noticed Wiggins didn’t flinch. Dude might have more to him than I thought. Gotta watch that one. He smiled as they got within ear shot. “So. Have a seat an’ we talk.” Haskell started babbling as soon as his ass touched the chair seat. “We have to stop this. There’s no point in going on. There’s…” Wiggins laid a hand on his arm. “Calm, Arthur. Calm. We have to assess what happened today, yes? See if there is still room to accomplish what we want.” “Where’s that asshole editor? I want to slap him up for letting his mutt off his leash.” Hector leaned in, laying it on thick for Haskell’s benefit. “Oh, I think he has troubles of his own, Hank. Yes, I think he does.” Wiggins smiled that odd smile of his. “You see, he’s being sued on top of everything else. So yes, he won’t be joining us for some time.” “What if he tells what he knows?” “I expect you have some friends who can see to his needs in prison, Hank. It’s to our benefit, you see. Both of us.” “Yeah, but I don’t know what the kid expected. You don’t run up on Sonny Burnett like that.” “That’s the thing of it, you see.” Wiggins leaned back in his chair and a superior look floated over his face. Hector suddenly wanted to punch him. More than once. “Things aren’t always what they seem. Take our friend Sonny Burnett. He and your friend Cooper have some things in common.” “How? Cooper’s a cop.” “So is Sonny Burnett.” Hector shook his head. “No way, man. Ain’t no cop gonna pile up bodies like Burnett does.” “I don’t know the details of it, I’m sad to say. But Sonny Burnett’s real name is Sonny Crockett. He was a detective on the Metro-Dade force not too many years ago.” Burnett a cop. Fucking hell! That changes a few things. “Guess that explains why he hired Tubbs.” “It also explains why he’s been able to parry our plans so easily.” Wiggins looked over at Haskell, who was plowing through his third scotch and soda. “And the demise of friend Arthur’s nerves.” Hector nodded, trying to keep his anger and excitement off his face. Knowing both Burnett and Cooper were cops made things a hell of a lot easier. His main target was still Tubbs, but if he took out this Crockett at the same time it would be a hell of a bonus. And he knew he’d rather have a pissed off ex-cop after him than Sonny Burnett. If it was true. “Our girl’s still in place. What’s the plan?” Haskell’s voice rose almost a full octave. “We have to call it off! Don’t you see that?” “Calm down, Arthur.” Wiggins smiled at Hector. “He’s a bit overwrought, but I think he’s correct. We’ve taken serious losses, and Renfro can still make trouble for us in his own way.” He raised his hands. “But I don’t expect you to take a loss, Hank. I’m prepared to pay half of what you would have gotten if the operation had been a success. It’s only fair, since you had expenses of your own and ran certain risks on our behalf.” Hector shifted, feeling the familiar weight of the Beretta. “I guess that’s fair.” “Excellent. We’ll meet again here tomorrow night at the same time. I’ll bring the money you’re owed and our business will be completed.” He turned and grabbed Haskell’s arm. “Come along, Arthur. Let’s get you home, shall we?” Somehow Jangles managed to keep himself under control until they were gone. Then he exploded. “What the fuck is this, Hector? Man, we gonna just…” “Shut up, Jangles! Here’s how I see it, mano. They just made taking out Tubbs easier. We don’t have to worry about Burnett. And the dude’s gonna pay us three hundred large for showin’ up.” Hector looked around. “I never gave two shits about that damned plan they had. It was just a way to get Cooper out in the open. Now we know, an’ they’ll think it’s over since that crazy punk got himself shot.” “You’re sayin’ you trust those lawyers?” “Not for a second, Jangles. They’re lawyers. They tell me the sun’s shinin’ I look out the window to check first.” Jangles nodded, but Hector could still see fear in his eyes. “You think they’re tellin’ the truth? About Burnett bein’ a cop?” Hector thought for a moment. That one still bothered him. Finally he shook his head. “No. I don’t think I do. Look, man. We both know how many punks that guy planted. Not fake, but serious ‘one to the head’ kinda planted. No way you can fake that. An’ no way a cop gets away with that an’ keeps his badge.” “Yeah. That’s what I was thinkin’. I know they can fake some stuff, but not that. And Ramon saw him put a dude down once. Like you said, man…” Jangles raised his hand, forefinger and thumb out mimicking a pistol. “Bam! One in the head and done. No way a cop gets away with that.” He looked down at his drink. “So why’d they tell us that?” “Maybe to make us think we could take out Burnett.” Hector shrugged. He knew Jangles was right. No way Burnett could be this dude Crockett…even if there had been a Crockett. Tubbs and Cooper, though? That was a sure thing. “So, we still gonna need Ramona?” “Maybe. Keep her in play, but don’t have her start no hassle.” “You got it, Hector. What about Ramon?” “Maybe. I’m workin’ on that.” Hector looked around Rizzo’s as if seeing it for the first time. It was close, dim, and smelled of stale beer, cigarettes, and God knows what else. Perfect. Just fuckin’ perfect. “Look, man. How often does some punk get greased in here?” Jangles scrunched up his forehead. “Every month or so?” “Somethin’ like that, genius. So what’s two more bodies on that pile? An’ lawyers in the bargain. Fuckin’ place should have a parade in our honor.” He patted the Beretta through his shirt. “Ain’t no one knows us here. It ain’t a regular spot for us. Two apiece and then we’re gone out the back before those fat putas by the door can unstick their asses from their stools.” “Yeah. I ducked out that door once while you was away. Opens onto an alley with good runnin’ paths both ways.” “We’ll have us a look an’ then get the hell out of here.” Hector started to get up, then paused. “Hey, man. You know if it’s true they stuck the ashes of one of the DJs in the main stage pole?” Sonny Crockett looked out past Tranquility’s bow at the rolling waves. He’d given his statement to the punks from Homicide and then cut himself loose. “You know where to find me if you need anything else,” he’d said before turning on his heel and heading for the Daytona. Jenny had barely been able to keep up, and once in the car all she’s said was “We’re going to sea tonight.” He didn’t argue. The water was still choppy in the back trail of the storm, but he didn’t really notice. The wind kept the sails full, and behind him Jenny piloted the boat like the expert sailer she was. He didn’t mind the wind. It kept the ghosts at bay. Celeste! He hadn’t heard the name for years, and hadn’t thought of her for almost as long. Like most of his time as Burnett some things were her were blurry, while others stood out in sharp focus. He could feel Jenny’s curiosity behind him like it was a physical thing, but he also knew she wouldn’t ask. Not directly. She’d wait until he was ready. “Could you take in the sails a bit? We don’t want to run to Cuba.” “Sure. I figure we can just sail straight to the House in the morning.” He busied himself with the lines, glad for the physical distraction while his mind worked through it all. That first night out by the pool at Carrera’s house. How she’d turned on him and then come back. For what? He was never really sure. She said love, but he wasn’t convinced Celeste could ever love anyone but herself. Still…he’d let her walk. The boat slowed, rolling a bit as Jenny adjusted her course. Her voice was a whisper over the rustling sails and slap of the ocean against the hull. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.” “No, darlin’ I do what to tell you. It’s just…complicated.” Sonny sighed. Then he told her as much as he could remember about how he’d gotten involved with Oscar Carrera’s young wife. “I think we started off using each other,” he said as his voice wound down. “Maybe it turned into something more. I don’t know. I do know she saved my ass, and I owed her. So I let her walk.” “What happened to her?” Jenny hadn’t said a word while he talked, just let the words sink in. Her blue eyes seemed if anything deeper, like they were about to swallow Sonny’s soul. He didn’t mind. “I don’t know. There were little blips at first, then nothing. I think she was going west. Trying to get as far away from Florida as she could.” He sighed. “Can’t say’s I blame her. Never knew she had a brother, though. I added a few people to the payroll when she asked. Kids from the neighborhood was how she always described ‘em. Never big jobs, though. Drivers. Loaders. That kinda thing. He might have slipped in there.” He sank back on the cockpit settee, feeling random droplets of rain splatter on his face. “To be honest there’s lots of that stuff I don’t remember too well.” “She meant something to you.” It was a statement, not a question. And there was no anger in it. Maybe some sadness, but that was all. “I don’t know. I guess she did, but I don’t really know what. This wasn’t long after Cait was murdered.” He paused, feeling the rain grow from random drops to a regular barrage. Still, he wasn’t ready to go below or move under the cockpit awning. “I guess I saw her sometimes when I looked at Celeste.” Jenny said nothing. Instead she got up and worked the crank expanding the awning until it covered the entire cockpit. “We should probably aim for one of the small islands,” she said, waving her hand in the direction of the flickering radar display and the charts. “It’s going to be dark tonight and I don’t want to end up a cruise ship’s hood ornament.” “Jenny…” “I understand, Sonny. I do. That guy you locked up for me after we first met? He was something like Celeste for me. I don’t know how it happened, or how I really felt about him.” “I should have told you…” “Don’t be silly. It was over. Long over. And it wasn’t really you. Not like Cait, or that doctor, or the architect. Or even Caroline.” She smiled and touched his shoulder. “Celeste is one of those things you see in the fog and aren’t sure what they are.” She paused for a moment, her eyes still deep. “Do you think it’s over?” “I hope so. With Jimmy dead I can’t see Wiggins wanting to risk more exposure. I doubt prison agreed with his delicate disposition, even if it was only Club Fed instead of what he really deserved. He won’t want to go back. And Haskell is even weaker. By the time Gary gets done picking his carcass clean he’ll be lucky if he has a refrigerator box to call home under the expressway.” He smiled, but it was a real smile this time. “That Hector’s still out there, but he’s small time.” She nodded, turning back to the wheel to adjust their course. “I hope so.” He looked past her at the ripples of their wake. “So do I, darlin’,” he whispered into the wind. “So do I.” Gina was waiting for them in Sonny’s office the next morning. “I wanted to be the first to tell you, Sonny,” she said. “Stan and I are pregnant.” Sonny paused for a moment. “Is there something in the water out here? Maybe I should get it tested. First Mindy, then you. I’m gonna lose half my command staff to maternity leave.” The he grinned and took her in his arms. “I’m happy for both of you, Gina. I know you’ve been trying…” Jenny smiled and joined the hug, her arms somehow embracing them both. “This is really great news.” She paused and Sonny could hear the twinkle in her voice. “If it’s a boy are you going to name him Elvis?” “Definitely not!” Gina took a step back, her eyes bright and the smile still wide on her face. “We already talked about that and I told Stanley there was no way any child of mine would be named after an alligator. Or that boy with the guitar.” Her smile changed. “But we did agree if it’s a boy we might name him Larry.” Sonny swallowed, fighting to knock back his own tears. “I think Zito would like that, Gina.” Jenny touched his arm. “We should check on Ramona.” “You’re right, darlin’. But congratulations again, Gina. You and Stan are gonna be great parents.” “Thank you, Sonny. That means a lot. I…” She paused. “I wanted to be the one to tell you. Because of our past.” “I know. And I want you to let Stan know the two of you can have a week off as soon as this is settled. Take some time. I’m gonna do the same for Rico and Mindy.” He walked over to the big desk and sat down. “If Stan and Rico are here could you have them come up? I want to go over what happened yesterday. If Stan’s out working, don’t bother to call him in. I like his perspective, but I don’t want to interrupt anything he’s working on for Castillo.”

Sonny got to his feet and left the room without saying a word. He knew Jenny would keep working on the girl. Getting her to open up a bit more about the plan. If there was a plan. Right now he wanted to see what Rico and Blair thought. Blair didn’t beat around the bush. “I think she’s finally telling the truth. She’s clueless, but Hector does scare her.” Tubbs nodded. “Same here. She’s bein’ straight, Sonny. And she’s in way over her pretty little head.” “Yeah. She is. Can you put some extra eyes on her without it being too obvious?” “You got it. Gonna let her stick around?” “Yeah, unless Jenny digs something out that changes things.” He looked through the one-way glass. “She’s just a kid like the rest of ‘em at the end of it. Had it easier than most we see come through here, but she still deserves a chance.” “Solid. I’ll get Lita to set something up. She’ll brief Tiny when he comes on.” He started to leave, then turned. “How do we use this?” “We don’t. Wait for Jangles to reach out to her. See what he’s after. Then we can come up with something.” He looked back in the room and saw Jenny starting to get up. “Looks like they’re done in there.” Rico nodded. “You should head back to the boat, partner. Jenny looks like she’s beat, and we got things here. After that press conference I think these boys will lay low for at least a couple of hours. They gotta get their plans adjusted, too.” The reporters leaving had been an unexpected bonus, drawing enough guards off for Jimmy to get over the fence and into the shrubbery in closer to the house. The rain still leaked from a heavy gray sky, but it wasn’t as heavy as before. Not that it mattered. He was soaked, and would stay that way until this was done. What mattered was the Beretta was dry. Keeping low, he moved on the building side of the bushes, guessing any cameras would be focused more on the side facing the fence. On this side of the wire the focus was more on keeping people in. He moved slow, an inch every few minutes, until he could see the staff parking lot. A handful of guards were still pulling apart the podium and collapsable tent they’d set up for the dog and pony show, and he could see a few staff members moving their cars back into their usual spots. Now that he was here, close enough to the place to touch the white walls, he realized he didn’t really know what he’d do when he saw Burnett. Then he smiled. Who am I kidding? I know exactly what I’m gonna do when I see him. From looking at the guards, Jimmy figured he wouldn’t make it very far before one of them dropped him. But he didn’t care. Angel was gone, his sister might as well be dead, and his dream of a better life was dead. All thanks to Burnett. They’d had a chance, but those damned lawyers had screwed it up. They always screwed things up. And Renfro was an idiot. He could feel anger warming his belly. I tired to tell them what Burnett was. What he was capable of. But they didn’t listen. He did wonder why Burnett hadn’t had him killed after the second time they caught him coming over the fence in his usual spot. Maybe he didn’t know who I was. He wouldn’t know the same, and I don’t know if he’d recognize me if he saw me. I wasn’t very high on the totem pole back then. He smiled. But they’ll know me now. Jimmy Campbell. The man who killed Sonny Burnett. Watching the doors through gaps in the leaves, he started imagining how it would go. He could just shoot from cover, but then Burnett would never know who’d killed him. No, it was important that he know. He wanted to see recognition in the man’s eyes, and maybe even a hint of fear, before he died. That was what mattered. The rain turned into mist, and then an occasional drop as the sky started to lighten. The Beretta was starting to bite into his stomach, so he eased the heavy pistol out and held it ready in his right hand. Let’s see. Round chambered. Safety off. Finger away from the trigger. Don’t want to be like that idiot back at the Carrera estate who blew his own junk off because his finger got stuck in the trigger. He shook his head to clear water away from his eyes as it dripped from his hair. That’s when he saw the doors open and a mid-sized man come out. The clothes were different, but he’d know that profile anywhere. There was a girl on his arm, another blonde piece of fluff, and maybe someone behind them. But he didn’t care. Jimmy Campbell came out of the bushes at a run, the Beretta held in front of him in a steady two-handed grip. “Sonny Burnett!” He almost didn’t recognize his own voice. “This is for Celeste!” He was just close enough to see Burnett’s eyes when he started shooting. Sonny stopped just inside the door while Jenny pulled on a ratty sweatshirt she’d salvaged from some forgotten corner of the St. Vitus Dance, his old sailboat. “I’m a California girl still,” she said with an apologetic smile. “It looks cold out there.” Behind them Steve Blair snorted. “Ain’t no such thing as cold here.” “Now you sound like your uncle.” She turned and smiled at him before taking Sonny’s arm. “It was a good idea to leave early.” “I can’t take any credit.” He kissed her on the forehead. “It was all Rico’s doing. I think he just wanted to get us out of the way so he could get some work done.” He looked back at Blair. “You gonna insist on walking us out?” “Damned right. It’s part of the drill.” Blair narrowed his eyes to slits. “Always escort the principle to the vehicle. Be ready to follow in chase vehicles if the situation requires it.” “I always hated close protection.” Sonny paused. “Naw, I can’t say that. I met Caitlin on a protection assignment.” The outer doors hissed open as they tripped the sensors and Sonny let the smell of the rain wash over him. “Good, clean air for a change.” He walked out and turned toward the Daytona. “Maybe we should…” “Sonny Burnett!” He turned toward the shout and saw a thin, wet form break from the manicured shrubs in a shower of droplets and leaves. Then he saw the gun and pushed Jenny down and away from him, going by reflect for the Smith & Wesson that wasn’t at his hip. “This is for Celeste!” The name froze him in his tracks. Something flashed by to his right, moving faster than he thought possible. One arm shot out, pushing him to the wet pavement as the first shots boomed from the charging figure. Something burned across his arm, and he heard shouts from the guards inside the entryway and further out toward the gate. Something sliver came up, and the familiar boom of a .45 filled his ears. Jenny had scraped her palms open breaking her fall, and bright red blood mixed with murky water on the pavement. Standing in front of her was Steve Blair, smoke tricking from the wide muzzle of his Smith & Wesson 4506-1. Sprawled less than ten feet away was the body of Jimmy Campbell. Blair’s single shot caught him right between the eyes, ending any difficulties but making identification dicey. “Sonny! Did he…” “I’m ok, darlin’.” He answered first, then felt along his body. Aside from a deep graze on his arm, and a torn pair of pants, everything seemed fine. Blair walked over and kicked the Beretta away from the lifeless hand, then kicked the body once to check for movement. It was casual and professional, telling Sonny this wasn’t the first time the younger man had swept up after a fight. “Sorry about the pants, boss.” “Forget it. That was some shooting.” “I should have seen him coming sooner.” “Naw. He wasn’t something we expected.” Sonny turned and nodded to the flood of guards coming from the building. “And now we gotta explain all this to Rico. You gonna need any cover from Miami-Dade?” Blair smiled. “No. Not Special Agent Dawson, FBI. You might want to act surprised when I tell them that, though.” “Yeah. Plausibile deniability I think the legal types call it.” Sonny took a final look at Jimmy Campbell’s body before taking Jenny in his arms. “Trudy tried to call, and when you didn’t pick up she called me.” Martin Castillo looked from the phone to Randy’s concerned face and back again, seeing the flashing red light on the machine for what felt like the first time. “I must have not heard it.” “Yeah.” Randy took in the cut-down jungle top with a glance. “It gets like that sometimes, doesn’t it? Anyhow, that Jimmy Campbell took a shot at Sonny.” He raised his hand. “The kid’s dead, thanks to Steve. From what Trudy said he put a round through Jimmy’s face neat as you please and then blew off Miami-Dade by posing as an FBI agent.” Castillo nodded, letting the information sink in. “So Campbell broke?” “Yeah. He was shouting something about Celeste when he started shooting. Trudy said Tubbs is beating himself up about how the kid got inside the wire in the first place.” “Remember the NVA sappers? Where there’s a will, there’s always a way. Even for an amateur like Campbell.” “Yeah.” Randy touched his shoulder. “Are you ok, Marty?” “Yes.” He paused, then shook his head. “I suppose I am now. It all came back to me this afternoon when the rain came.” “Nam?” Randy nodded in answer to his own question. “I get that, too. Some days worse than others. And you were there a hell of a lot longer than I was. Look, grab what you need and I’ll drive you in. Trudy’s worried, and I figured you’d like to look the scene over. The worst of the Miami-Dade morons should be gone by now.” “Of course.” He shook his head to clear it and turned toward the shed. “I need to grab something first.” He felt better with the big .44 under his arm, concealed by his shirt and the cut-down jacket. Randy drove the rental car expertly through the late-afternoon traffic, losing most of it when they turned toward Caitlin’s House. They’d been silent most of the way, and Castillo saw that suited Randy as much as it did him. Only when they got close to the gate did the former marshal speak. “I guess the press conference went pretty well. Old Towers laid it on ‘em hard and thick from what Trudy said.” “He’s a good man for that.” Castillo showed his ID to the guard, who checked it against his face and nodded to his partner who finished with Randy’s before letting them through. “Has there been any word from the rest of Team Elvis?” “They’re holding station, keeping the ears on. They wanted to come back but I told ‘em to stay put. This is gonna rattle some of their cages, too.” Castillo nodded. The breathing had helped, but he still felt like his head was packed with cotton. Or split between now and thirty years ago. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, and he struggled to focus. He could see red and blue lights washing over the close-cropped lawn, painting alternating waves on the white wall of the building. “Someone should tell them to turn their rollers off.” “You know cops. Always gotta advertise.” Trudy was the first to the passenger side of the car. “Are you ok? I was worried when you didn’t pick up.” He took her in his arms. “Thank you for calling Randy. I’m…I’m ok now.” “It’s partly the dream isn’t it?” He looked past her to the yellow tape. The tarp draped over something flat in the grass. And the knot of men in bad suits trying to wrestle answers they’d never get out of Steve Blair. “It might be. I don’t know. What happened here?” She told him in short sentences. “We don’t know how he got in, but Rico’s going back through the camera tapes. It wasn’t his usual spot, though.” “He was smart enough to avoid that. Maybe he’d been coming in that way on purpose to draw off attention.” She nodded. “That was the first thing Rico though of before he started cussing. Sonny and Jenny are in with him, trying to calm him down.” Castillo nodded, thinking back to sappers with satchel charges gripped close to their bodies. “It’s almost impossible to plan security against someone who’s willing to die to accomplish their goal. And Jimmy seemed intent on getting what he thought was revenge against Sonny.” “Is Celeste really dead?” “I have no idea. And if she is, Crockett had nothing to do with that.” Castillo stared at the tarp, spotted with water from the intermittent rain. “But Jimmy wouldn’t have understood that. I think he was broken well before this, and something Wiggins or Renfro did pushed him over the edge.” He told he about the call Stan and Lester had monitored. “Maybe it was the story about the girl. He might have thought it put her in danger, especially with what he thought he knew about Burnett.” Castillo rubbed his eyes. The fog was thinning now, but a part of him was still back in those mountains. “Possibly. But we’ll never know now. When are they going to be done with Blair?” Trudy smiled and touched his arm. “As soon as he’s tired of listening to them talk. He’s got what looks to be real FBI identification, and some kind of priority order that had them on their radios five seconds after he showed it to them. He came prepared.” Castillo thought back to the man he’d given Blair’s number to those few years back. “I’d be surprised if he wasn’t.” The colonel had been one of the most thorough men he’d ever known, and any organization he worked for would have had to meet those standards. “We should go see Crockett and Tubbs.” He turned to Randy. “You want to stay out here in case he needs some back up?” “Sure. Plus I wanna see how his FBI act plays out.” Randy chuckled, folding his arms and grinning as Blair’s finger started stabbing one of the Miami-Dade detectives in the chest. “Especially since he’s just gone into J. Edgar Asshole mode.” As soon as they were inside, Trudy slipped her arm around his waist. “Are you sure you’re ok? I was scared when you didn’t answer the phone.” “I’m sorry. I was…” He paused, debating. “I don’t know what I was. I was doing breathing exercises. Trying to come back from the Laotian mountains. Right when the rain really started. Then Randy was at the door.” “You’re allowed, Marty.” She tugged at his waist, bringing them both to a stop. “You’ve carried us for years, and it’s gotta take a toll. And all that stuff from back then…I don’t pretend to understand it, but it has to hurt, too. Jess, Ti Ti, Gus. All of them. It catches up with all of us eventually.” “I know.” He was silent for a handful of heartbeats. “I’m going to talk to that counselor Crockett has been seeing. Both he and Robbie swear by him. I hope…” “No, that’s good. I want to help, but there’s some things I just can’t do.” She smiled up at him, reminding him once again why he loved her with all his being. “Do what you need to do, my love. So long as you always come home to me.” “Of course.” He smiled and kissed her lightly. “I can’t imagine a life without you. Not now.” They found Sonny and Rico in the security room, Jenny standing off to one side with a tall woman Castillo vaguely remembered was in charge of the day shift. The partners were staring at a bank of monitors, Rico not quite barking commands at a sweating control operator. “Back it up just a bit. There. That’s where the chump came over.” “I got here as soon as I heard. Mather’s outside in case Blair needs backup. What’s the situation?” Sonny chuckled, but Castillo could see he was still pale. Being shot at had a way of draining the color from anyone’s skin, especially if it hadn’t happened for a few years. “I don’t think that Blair needs any backup at all. He’s on it in spades.” “Yeah.” Rico shook his head, turning away from the monitors. Castillo tried not to smile when he saw the look of relief flooding over the operator’s face. “As soon as those chumps from Miami-Dade rolled up he started putting them through the wringer and hasn’t let up yet.” “What do you know so far?” “You mean aside from Jimmy being Celeste’s brother?” Sonny’s voice had a bitter tinge. “That might have been good for me to know.” Rico cleared his throat. “That’s on me, partner. You had enough going on, we didn’t want you going all cowboy and chasing off after Jimmy.” Sonny started to snap, then seemed to collect himself. “Yeah. That’s probably exactly what I would have done. And then we might have missed Ramona.” He gave Castillo the short version about the girl. “That makes sense. And there’s no way anyone could have predicted Jimmy’s actions. He snapped. Maybe because of how they were using the girl.” Castillo paused, his nerves finding refuge in the familiar work. “Are you sure Jimmy never knew you as Crockett?” “No way he could have. He vanished around the time Cliff started taking over, and by the time he started trying to be a cop I’d left the force that first time. We kept the Task Force pretty much off everyone’s radar except the Marshals.” Sonny paused. “And when he started shooting he yelled Burnett. Not Crockett or anything else.” Castillo allowed them a thin smile. “And what would Sonny Burnett do to that girl? The Burnett he thought he knew, at least.” “Make her disappear.” Sonny raised a hand as Jenny started to say something. “I didn’t usually kill people, but if you send them away and no one sees them go, the first thing every trafficker assumes is that you killed them.” “Maybe he thought the girl’s life was in danger. We’ll never know now.” Castillo looked at the frozen, flickering image on the monitor. “He crouched in that rain for almost three hours before coming over the wire. And then waited for at least another hour. He was dedicated.” “And now he’s dead.” Rico’s voice was flat. “That’s great an’ all, but the question now is what are those other chumps gonna do?” “Crockett, you know Wiggins better than we do.” “And that ain’t sayin’ much. I only met him a few times, and he liked to hang in the background and let Fremont do most of the talking.” Sonny’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “He’ll weigh his options. Risk versus benefit and all that business crap. That’s what the guy is at the end of the day. A damned lawyer turned businessman. With that body out there, he’s probably lost the Post, and I’ll bet Gary’s little fire and brimstone show earlier helped them on their way. Even with narco money they ain’t gonna like being sued.” “And their new backers won’t appreciate either the attention or the drain on their bank accounts.” Sonny nodded, and Castillo could almost see the gears turning behind his eyes. “They might take one more shot with the girl. One more lurid headline just to see if anything shakes loose. I’ll bet that snake Renfro has at least one more story all lined up and ready to go.” He looked back at Jenny. “But we’ve got Ramona turned. She’ll let us know when they reach out, and we can manage the response.” “She’s a scared kid, Martin. She knows if she doesn’t help us she’s back on the street in under an hour.” Jenny paused. “And if she does help us she gets to finish the program.” Rico cleared his throat. “You know, I ain’t seen Team Elvis during all this.” Castillo nodded. “They’re working for me. It’s better you don’t know how or why. But they’re working now.” Rico nodded. “Gotcha. So what do we do now?” Castillo saw Sonny look at him before he replied. “We let Miami-Dade finish jerking off in the parking lot and then go home. Not much else we can do except make sure Gina has all the support she’ll need on the phones. This will hit the news fast. Hell, it probably already has. But I don’t expect anyone to work overtime. Have her draft a statement and I’ll push it out under my name before we leave.” He grinned. “Throw in some crap about cooperating with an ongoing Federal investigation. That should give Wiggins and his crew indigestion.” Castillo nodded. The fog had vanished in the heat of work, and it felt good to have his entire self back in the game. Almost like old times. “Do it. I’ll have Team Elvis keep working on their end.” “Keep us informed, Marty. You and Randy don’t need to do this alone.” Castillo’s smile was thin. “Maybe not. But it’s better that way for now. I’ll let you know if anything develops. You have my word.” He found Randy and Steve Blair talking just inside the side doors. Randy was still laughing at something Blair had said when Castillo and Trudy approached. “Hey, boss. The kid’s got chops! He let those local yokels have it with both barrels.” Blair nodded. “They had some lieutenant with them who started making trouble until I waved my FBI credentials under his nose and threatened to arrest him for interfering with a Federal investigation. Fed him a whole line about how Jimmy was involved with a Mexican cartel and had been making credible threats against employees at Caitlin’s House. Police veterans. By the time I was done I think he’d shit himself and went to hide in the unmarked unit over by the edge of the lot.” “Good work. Let the colonel know I appreciate the loan. Tell him I owe him one.” “You know the colonel?” “Let’s just say we met in a different time and place.” Castillo smiled, not wanting to think too much about the firefight in Laos when his team had blundered across an NVA ambush and saved a Marine Force Recon patrol. The man had been a lance corporal back then, and they’d stayed in touch in the odd way people in the covert world usually did. “I’ll be sure to do that. And now I’d better get back out there.” He nodded toward the knot of uniforms near the patrol cars and the cime scene techs on their knees by the tarp. “The natives look to be getting restless.” Randy waited until Blair was gone. “He’s a sharp kid. No question.” “His father would be proud.” Castillo watched through the rain-streaked glass as Blair strode back toward the scene, his arms moving as he appeared to be barking orders. “Be sure to let Dave know he did a good job.” “I will.” Randy looked from Castillo to Trudy. “What’s the plan now, boss?” “Why don’t you link up with the rest of Team Elvis? Let them know what happened here and tell Switek it’s his call about how long to remain on station. Trudy and I are heading home. We’ll just be in the way here, or I will at least.” He gestured back toward the security office. “Crockett and Tubbs have things in hand here.” “Maybe Rico can have Mindy watch the evening news while Gina’s drafting that statement.” Randy chuckled. “I’ll bet the newsrooms are going crazy over what happened out here today.” Castillo nodded to Trudy, who turned and headed for one of the phones at the guard station. “Good idea. We need situational awareness of what’s going to be driving Wiggins and his people to act. Aside from Ramona they’re deaf and blind.” Gordon Wiggins stared at the TV screen in his room, his knuckles going white on the glass of scotch as he tried to control his temper. That’s not just slipping the leash, Renfro. That’s going stark-raving crazy. What the hell was he thinking? The earnest blonde wearing too much makeup and a top unbuttoned just far enough to leave only the color of her nipples to the viewer’s imagination opened with the breaking news about a shooting at Caitlin’s House and followed up breathlessly with a recap of the earlier press conference. Maybe I should have told the little idiot Burnett was a cop. But I doubt he’d have believed me. He’d met Renfro at the paper, and the news about Jimmy’s sister and her connection to Burnett had come as a shock. “Wish I’d have known,” Renfro had muttered as he watched Wiggins flip through the clippings and pictures of Celeste Carrera. “Would have made a hell of a leade - ‘The Saint Banging the Sinner.’” Wiggins just grunted, not wanting to get into what could have been. But he’d figured they’d be able to ride it out. And Renfro had assured him Jimmy wasn’t violent. “Oh, he’ll throw a damned fit like a schoolgirl,” the fat man had said with a smug smile on his face. “But he ain’t got the balls to do anything else. Maybe try to mess up that press conference somehow, but there’s a restraining order on him. He ain’t gonna get past the front gate.” And like an ass I believed him. Wiggins stared through the screen, thinking back to the last time he’d seen the scrawny photographer. How could such a good plan be bunged up by someone so minor? At least the girl was still in place. Campbell would have caused a big enough distraction he hoped Crockett didn’t think to look for the source of the story. Maybe they’d moved too soon there, too, but with Haskell getting nervous he felt they’d needed to do something. And that was another problem. Friend Arthur and his lack of nerve. Let alone the blubbering moron Watkins. The room phone jangled, interrupting his thoughts. He snatched it up on the third ring. “This had better be important.” Haskell’s shaking voice filled his ear. “What the hell happened, Gordon?” “A minor setback is all, Arthur. Breathe easy, old friend.” Wiggins took a deep drink of his scotch. This was the last thing he needed. “Minor setback my ass. First that pompous prick Towers says he’s going to sue the Post and anyone else involved in that slanderous article, and now the media’s saying Campbell tried to shoot Burnett.” There was a pause, and he could hear the man’s labored breathing. “We’re screwed, Gordon. Screwed!” The last word was almost a shriek. “Calm, Arthur. Calm. Getting hysterical never solves anything.” Wiggins drained his glass and looked around for the bottle. He’d bought his own, tired of having to keep ordering the little room service trifles that barely filled a grown man’s glass. “When I spoke with Renfro this afternoon he assured me they had another story in the works. Maybe two. And the girl is safe, is she not?” “But he could have told them about us!” Wiggins paused. He hadn’t considered that. What if young Jimmy had been mortally wounded and talked before he passed on? The news hadn’t been clear about that at all, and it was a cause for worry. “Do you have any contacts in the police? Someone who could give us more information?” “No. Not after what happened with Francis.” There was a pause. “What about Renfro? He must have one or two.” “Perhaps. But I don’t think friend Renfro is going to want to do much to help us. He’s got his own ample backside to cover. Campbell, after all, did work for him.” “So maybe it will all stall out there? At the paper?” “Perhaps.” He could hear the desperation in Haskell’s voice. But he also knew this wasn’t the time to lie. “Or Renfro might give us up to save his own hide.” He looked at the amber whiskey in his glass, the melting ice dancing in it like small diamonds. “I think maybe we need to meet, Arthur. You, me, and Hank and maybe that associate of his.” We can still walk away from this. Cut ties with Renfro and get away clean. “It’s time to decide, Arthur, if we continue with this project or cut our losses.” There was another pause. “I don’t know if Hector will go quietly.” “I’ll pay him off.” Wiggins hated the thought of depleting his resources further, but he hated the thought of going back to prison more. “He responds well to money, yes? And he should have a voice in the decision, since it’s his girl who’s on the inside now.” He could hear Arthur breathing on the other end of the line. Then the man sighed. “I’ll set it up. When and where?” “Let Hector pick where. It will make him feel safer about things. As for when, let’s say ten tonight. Let me know what he says. And, Arthur, try to calm down?”

Sonny hung up the phone with a curse. Then he heard a chuckle and remembered he wasn’t alone in the office. “Lawyers not agreeing with you?” “Naw. Nothing that dramatic.” He smiled in spite of himself. He’d discovered Steve Blair had that effect on him. Guy would make a hell of an interrogator if he was in my old line of work. Of course I guess he might be, in his own way. “But you know prosecutors. Always gotta have the last word.” “Never dealt with them much.” Blair’s tone was conversational, but there was something lurking behind the words in his normally bland hazel eyes. “But Feds? They always have to have the last word.” “You’ve got some history with them. Not that I’ve got any call to pry. Hell, I’ve got my own beefs with J. Edgar’s finest.” “I’m sure my uncle Dave told you some of it. He can’t help himself when someone starts talking about how great the FBI is. Or how bad they are.” Blair smiled, but it missed his eyes. “He always starts off with something like ‘you have no idea’ and then goes.” Sonny nodded. “Yeah. That’s pretty much how it started.” He paused, not sure how far he should go. “Did they ever find out what happened?” “No. The just closed the case as a car accident.” Blair’s eyes went hard, and Sonny felt like he was looking in the mirror at Burnett. “But it wasn’t. No way. They reassigned the SIAC not long after it happened, too. Kicked upstairs to Washington. That never happened from the Butte office.” He paused, and the eyes cooled. “You got family around here?” “Yeah. Don’t talk with ‘em much, though.” Sonny shook his head. It had been ages since he’d thought about his family. “I got a con artist named Jack for a cousin, my dad’s one of those working class handy guys, mother bakes pies and tends to the kids.” He chuckled. “Nice South Florida working class family.” He paused, sorting his thoughts. “My dad was one of the ones who always had time to play catch. Taught me to tinker on cars and power boats. That kinda thing. I was good at ball, and on my way to be the first in the family to graduate from college.” “You played football?” “Yeah. Wide receiver. There was talk about the NFL, but I always knew I was too small for that. And there was that little thing overseas called Vietnam.” “Dave talks about that sometimes. Usually after he’s had a few too many with Randy.” “Yeah. My dad was in World War II. Never talked about it much, but he always said you had to answer when your country called. That’s hard to do when you’re on a football scholarship.” The words turned in Sonny’s head, and he decided to tell the truth. “I banged up my knee in practice. Nothing big, but it was something I could milk. My buddy, Robbie, had already decided to decline his scholarship for the next semester and enlist. A little play-acting, and that knee became ‘career ending’ and the scholarship went away. No scholarship, no reason to stay in school. No school, no deferment. Robbie and I enlisted in the Marine Corps on the same day.” “And no one figured out that a real knee injury would have gotten you disqualified?” “I think my dad did. It really pissed my mother off. She was the one who was big on college and all that. He pretended to be angry, but I think he was proud deep down. You know, that I was doing my part when so many others weren’t. We never talked about it, though.” “He still alive?” “Yeah.” Blair was silent for a time. He turned away before he spoke. “Maybe you should talk about it. With him. You never know…” Sonny nodded, feelings he’d kept buried for years balling up in his chest. “Yeah. I probably should.” He looked at the phone on his desk and sighed. “I gotta get this. It’s Gina, and I’ve ignored that light three times now.” He snatched the receiver off the cradle and hit the button. “Yeah, I know I’ve been ignoring you. I was talking with my security department in here. What’s up?” “About time you answered, Sonny Crockett. I was about to kick the door down and come in after you.” Her voice was tight, and Sonny could almost see the two red spots on her cheeks. “Gary’s going to talk to the press at two. That’s an hour and a half from now in case you forgot how to tell time, too. He wanted to know if there was any chance any part of that story could be true, and I told him no. Don’t tell me I’m wrong.” “You’re not. Rico screens his people better than anyone I can think of. And I’ve got Stan and Lester coming back in to run some sweeps of the rooms while the girls are in orientation sessions. Come to think of it, Jenny should be talking to two of them now.” “That was the other thing I was wanting to tell you. She’s done with one, Kelly I think the name was, and she’s in with Ramona now. And you’ve got some ass kissing to do with Dr. Jessup. She was not happy.” “She’d better remember who signs her checks at the end of the day.” Sonny sighed. “Look, I know she’s got her schedule, but we’ve got a situation here and Jenny thinks something wasn’t right about those two girls. I’ll make nice with her if Stan and Lester come up empty, but if they don’t…” “Yeah, yeah. I get the picture. Gary said he’ll stop by after he deals with the jackals at the gate. His words, not mine. And you tell Stanley I want to talk to him when he’s done with the sweep.” “You got it, Mrs. Switek.” Sonny chuckled as Gina snorted and slammed down the phone. “Italian/Cuban anger issues. You don’t wanna get on the wrong end of those, let me tell you.” Blair nodded, still looking out the window. “You said Jenny was talking to two girls she had a bad feeling about?” “Yeah.” “You mind if I take a look at their files? There might be something there.” “Knock yourself out.” Sonny slid the slim folders across the desk. He’d had copies made the day before along with the other two and had been planning to look through them again before all this shit kicked off. “Fresh eyes and all.” “Different eyes.” Blair turned back toward the desk and sat down. “And it’ll make me feel like I’m doing something useful.” “I know how that feels.” Sonny sank back in his chair and picked up the phone, calling down to Rico to let him know about the press conference. “And you got any update on when Stan and Lester will be here?” “Not long now, Sonny. Stan called and said they got hung up in traffic. Something about an 18 wheeler and some old guy’s mobile home. But they’ll be here before Gary starts dancing with the press.” “Good.” Sonny looked at the schedule on his computer monitor. “The girls will be busy until at least one, so they should have half an hour to do their sweep. If that’s not enough time, have them wait until after lunch when the second part of orientation starts. That’s when the other girls are in classes or treatment, too, so they’ll have a clear field. Last thing we want…” “Is for one of the girls to see them and get the wrong idea. Or a couple of wrong ideas.” Rico’s laugh echoed up the line. “We’ll handle it, boss. But you might wanna keep a low profile when the press are around.” “That’s strictly Gary’s show now. If this sweep turns up anything, he thinks we’ve got solid ground to go after the Post for quite a bit.” Rico said what he’d not wanted to bring up. “Assuming our house is in order, at least. And it is, boss. No skeletons in our closet we didn’t put there. I hope Gary’s right, though. I’d love to see those chumps at the Post go down.” “You and me both, partner. But we gotta look at what’s best for the House now.” Sonny chuckled. “Yeah, I can’t believe I said that, either. But there it is. You want me there when they do the sweep?” “Naw. I plan on keeping it low-key. I ain’t even gonna be there.” “Good. I’ll check back later this afternoon.” “Solid.” Blair looked up from the folders. “Sounds like Tubbs has everything in hand.” “Yeah. He’s good that way. Method to my madness. Or something like that.” He looked at the papers. “Those fresh eyes see anything yet?” “I don’t think it’s this one.” Blair waved a hand over Kelly’s file. “She’s got too much ‘wrong place at the wrong time’ in there. A girl on the edges who got caught before she could get in really deep. But this one” - he raised Ramona’s file a hair - “something ain’t right with this one.” “Anything in particular?” “Not so much one thing, but lots of little things. Keep in mind I’m no cop, but they train us to go undercover for extended periods in very hostile places. And that means you gotta look genuine no matter what.” A faint smile played across his lips. “And that also means you can spot people who aren’t.” “And this girl isn’t?” “Not completely. I’d say she’s a girl who’s had a rough time in life.” Blair flipped through the pages. “Not many arrests for someone who claims to have been turned out three years ago. When she was fourteen. Like I said, I’m no cop, but they also don’t look like the right kind of arrests.” “What do you mean?” Sonny leaned across the desk as Blair turned the folder so he could read. A familiar, sinking feeling was starting to form in his gut. Was I even paying attention when I looked these over? Or did I just nod and wing the whole thing? “Looks like she’s got double digits in the arrest column. A solid winner.” “Yeah. But if you compare it to Kelly’s it doesn’t look the same.” Blair spun the other folder. “See? She’s got arrests for soliciting. One or two minor in possession arrests for a bottle of vodka in her purse. And an assault that got dropped when the victim didn’t show. The note says she claimed she was defending her corner.” “Yeah. Pretty routine hooker stuff. We used to see that all the time.” “Now look at Ramona’s. A couple of MiPs, a couple of misdemeanor assaults that were dropped but look like neighborhood squabbles to me.” Sonny nodded as he read the street names. “Little Havana. Gang turf, not a hooker stroll.” “So she’s a tough kid. But you know what I don’t see? Solicitation. Not a one. A couple for drugs, but pot each time.” Blair shook his head. “Maybe she’s just lucky and managed to stay under the radar. Or only put out for other gang members. But the only sign of prostitution I could find was the complaint that got her picked up just before she came here.” “What kind of complaint?” “The best kind. Anonymous caller complaining about ‘nasty hookers’ outside a café on the edge of Little Havana. At least that’s what the note says. For all I know it’s in the middle of the bay.” “No, that’s the edge of Little Havana. I think I know the place. Not a normal corner for the working girls, which might explain the call.” “I don’t know, Sonny. Like I said, I’m not a cop. It just seems thin to me compared to the others. But maybe she just got lucky, too, and happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.” Sonny nodded. Slowly. “What does your gut say?” “She’s worth another look. Kelly strikes me as lucky. Ramona looks like someone’s making her luck for her.” He closed both folders and slid them across the desk with a small smile. “But my line of work makes you paranoid real fast.” Sonny nodded, taking the folders putting them in his shred bin. They were only copies, and they’d served their purpose. He knew Steve Blair was some kind of spook…he’d been Company once but appeared to have left them and moved on to someone far more serious. He didn’t want to know who. “Stan and Lester will look at all of them, but I’ll make sure they look twice at Ramona. If she’s got any comm gear in that room, they’ll find it.” “There’s no other way someone could get word outside?” “The girls are restricted from phones, and we monitor their calls. Ramona hasn’t called anyone since she arrived. Stan checked. And Rico’s people are solid. She couldn’t be slipping a message through one of them.” “Then we wait.” Blair looked at his watch. “You gonna listen in on the press circus?” “Naw. I’d just want to get involved, and Gina and Rico would kill me if I did that.” He grinned. “I’m not exactly known for my calm and soothing disposition at things like that.” “Yeah. I heard about you slugging a reporter at one once.” Blair leaned back in his chair, and Sonny saw a shadow pass over his eyes. “I get the feeling, though. After my parents were killed the FBI wanted to trot me in front of the cameras. Orphan of the FBI or some shit, I guess. Uncle Dave put a stop to that pretty quick, though.” “If you want to go down and watch the show, be my guest. Gary usually is worth the price of admission, and I think he’s kinda fired up about this one.” “Thanks but no. Cameras don’t agree with my retiring disposition.” Or career. “Yeah, I guess they wouldn’t. Might not be a bad time to grab some lunch, though. Jenny might be done talking to those two, and we can see if her gut agrees with yours about Ramona. Stan and Lester won’t do their sweep until after lunch.” The earlier rain still clung to the trees and undergrowth running a clean ten feet away from the perimeter fence. Jimmy kept inside the green shelter, moving along the line and away from his usual entry point. He’d done that on purpose, making Burnett’s people focus too much energy on one section of the fence and possibly ignore others. He’d abandoned his old Datsun after rolling it off the road so it wouldn’t attract attention. But he’d also seen the flock of cars passing through the outside gate and knew Burnett must have called some kind of press conference. No way he couldn’t after that moron Renfro ruined everything. Asshole. Him and those damned lawyers. The Beretta was warm in his waistband where it had absorbed his body head. The girl was still in danger, and it would be worse after the press had been herded away. He knew they wouldn’t stick around long enough or ask the really hard questions. They never did, and Renfro’s story hadn’t given them enough meat to really sink their teeth into. If there was anything going on in the treatment center, Burnett would tie up every loose end as soon as the idiots with the cameras and recorders left the area. And the girl was just another loose end. One good thing about the number of times he’d jumped the wire in his old spot…he’d gotten their response times down to the second. Some of the guards would be tied up with the press, and if he’d known about it he would have tried to slip in with them. But he’d make it work just the same. Pausing just back in the bushes, he sniffed the air and smiled. It smelled like more rain was on the way. He didn’t care about getting wet, but he did care about the cameras and monitoring systems being obscured by the rain. Moving a few more yards to the right, he looked at one camera pole and then another, timing their movements and watching for the handful of heartbeats he’d need when both cameras were pointing elsewhere. He had to give the fat guy and his skinny partner props. They knew their business. There was no way he’d be able to get in through his usual spot. They’d nailed it down with cameras, sensors, and God knows what else. But that inevitably left gaps…areas they hadn’t improved because they were focused on the one vulnerability. At least that was his hope. Now he just had to wait for the rain to start again. Crouching in the brush, he could feel the cold water soaking through his jeans and the shoulders of his surplus camouflage jacket. The thick air started to turn to a mist, and he knew the rain was close now. A stray gust of wind rattled the trees, and he smiled. Something else to degrade their sensors. He’d take all the help he could get now. He could still see the House even with the increasing rain; a white blob rising out of a sea of perfectly manicured green. In some ways it wasn’t unlike the Carrera compound. Big, white, and just out of reach for someone like him. But he’d learned things there. Like how to take care of problems. He’d learned that from the man himself. Sonny Burnett went at problems directly. And solved them permanently. Looking around as the rain drummed on the leaves overhead, he collapsed in on himself. He figured Burnett would leave at five. He’d seen that once or twice, and he’d also learned Sonny Burnett could be a creature of habit. Once he got in, he’d take him in the parking lot. The black Daytona was hard to miss, and he knew he had to make his move before Burnett got to the car. He figured the man would feel safe here, which was why he was risking this instead of tailing him and trying something later. Outside of the compound Burnett would be his usual wary, animal self. But here, he’d be relaxed. Slow. Lazy. He relaxed a little, settling in for the wait. He hated to lose the rain, but better that than to try to hide somewhere inside the compound. Besides, the heavy gray sky told him the rain would be his companion for a time yet. Sonny looked out at the rain streaking down the cafeteria’s picture window. “Glad I put the top up this morning. One thing I don’t need is a Daytona bath tub.” Sitting across from him, Jenny smiled and touched his thigh with her foot. “The leather doesn’t like rain, either.” She turned and smiled at Steve Blair sitting at the right side of the table. “Thank you for watching over him.” “Just doing my job.” His cheeks colored just a hair, and Sonny choked back a smile. “No. You’re helping people you don’t really know because your uncle asked you to. And I want you to know it’s appreciated. Very appreciated. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him.” “How did the interviews go?” Sonny jumped in to change the subject, setting down his coffee cup and looking at the remains of his lunch. The few fries could wait. He also wanted to spare Blair any more uncomfortable moments. “Kelly’s just lucky.” She said it with the same certainty Blair had not more than an hour before. “She wasn’t in the life too long and got rounded up before she could get in too deep. Her pimp doesn’t deserve to be breathing still, but I think she’ll be ok.” “What about Ramona?” Jenny’s eyes narrowed. “She’s something else again. Says the right things. Even cries at the right times. But she’s too clean. I don’t know how else to say it. The other girls have scars. Ones you can see and ones you just feel. She doesn’t have either. Or not the same ones. She’s got tattoos like the others, but they’re not the same kind. More like gang tattoos than the kind of things pimps use to mark their girls.” She toyed with the remains of her salad with a fork. “But she’s good. I can see how she fooled Victims’ Services and Nichole. And she’s been hurt by people. Just not in the same way or for as long.” Sonny nodded. He knew part of her evaluation was based on whatever feeling she got from Ramona, but he also knew she’d never mention that around someone new. “Steve looked at her file and came to pretty much the same conclusion. She’s got gang ties. No question. But he doesn’t think she’s ever worked the stroll.” “I think he’s right.” Blair cleared his throat. “But why’s she here? That’s the big question.” “I’ll know for sure once Stan and Lester do their thing.” He raised a hand. “I don’t doubt what either of you say. But it’ll take some physical evidence, too.” Blair nodded. “Yeah. Especially if you’ve got a doctor or two to convince.” “She’s pretty.” Jenny’s voice was very matter-of-fact. “And she cries well. I mean really well. And on command.” She paused. “I’d like to be there when you talk to her.” “Sure. We can use one of the observation rooms. I’d like Steve to watch, too.” He turned again. “If you’re willing, of course. Another set of eyes.” “Of course. I’ve done one or two interrogations in my time.” He looked at his watch. “Tubbs should be done herding the cats soon. Did you want him there, too?” “Yeah. You two outside and us inside with her. Assuming Stan and Lester turn something up.” Sonny looked at his own watch. “They should be starting in about fifteen minutes, give or take.” “When the girls are off the wing.” Jenny nodded. “That’s a great idea.” Half an hour later they were sitting in Sonny’s office, Rico finishing the last of his own salad snatched from the cafeteria on his way up. “Finally got rid of those idiots,” he said around a forkful of lettuce. “You missed Gary at his finest, though. All full of righteous fury and indignation. He was really letting those chumps have it.” “Good. He mention any legal action?” “Yep. After he read them a textbook definition of libel. ‘In case you slept through that part of your law and journalism class’ was how he put it.” Jenny giggled. “You impersonate him really well, Rico.” “Heard him in court enough times, and he’s got one of those voices that kinda grows on you.” “Yeah. Like a high-priced rash.” Sonny chuckled. “But you do sound damned close to the man himself.” “So what’s the score on these two girls?” Sonny filled him in. “Both Jenny and Steve think there’s something off with Ramona,” he finished. “I’m just waiting for your boys to come back with their fancy toys.” “That gadget Lester stumbled on is really something.” Done eating, Rico tossed the container in Sonny’s trash can. “It picks up those cell phones so long as they’re on. He tried explaining it to me, but I got lost as soon as he got past the on switch.” Sonny saw Blair nod from the corner of his eye. “My people are working on something like that, too. So you think she smuggled a phone in?” “No other way she could reach the outside.” “Yeah, I told him about our security.” Sonny turned to look out the window, seeing the rain still slanting down from a gray sky. “Only way she gets word out is with one of those. But she’d have to be careful to keep from being overheard.” “The newer ones can send text. Like e-mail, but shorter.” Blair smiled. “If I was a betting man, I’d bet she’s doing that.” Sonny nodded. “And here they come.” He got up as Stan and Lester came through the office door, Lester carrying a device in a black leather shoulder bag and Stan holding something up like it was a prize marlin. “Behold! The warriors return victorious!” With an exaggerated flourish he waved his arm and set a small black rectangle on the desk. “A brand-new cell phone, complete with saved text messages. Hooked this little prize just one floor down in the new patient wing. Hidden under the mattress of one Ramona.” Lester grinned through his dark beard. “We did reverse lookup on the number she was texting. It’s registered to a Juan Franco, better known to the patrons of Rizzo’s and other dive bars as Jangles.” “Hector’s buddy.” Sonny nodded slowly, staring at the plastic rectangle. “You’re sure it’s hers?” “Yep. She scratched her name inside the case.” Stan chuckled and sat down in one of the empty chairs in front of the desk. Lester followed suit. “We dumped the saved messages. She checked in with this Juan right after she got here, again that night, and a couple of times since them. She sent him a couple of guards’ names, Kelly’s name, and some other general stuff.” “All things that might show up in an article.” Sonny looked at Stan. “Great job guys. Get the names of the guards to Rico so he can brief them just in case those maggots at the Post try to run anything.” “You got it, boss.” Stan started scribbling on the pad Sonny slid over to him. “What do we do about Jangles or Juan or whatever the hell his name is?” “Not much we can do. Maybe put a tail on him and see if he leads us anyplace interesting.” Sonny looked over at Rico. “Right now I think we need to talk to Ramona. Rico, you’ll be outside the room with Steve. Jenny and I will do the initial interview. If that doesn’t work we’ll switch it up.” Rico pulled out his own phone and started punching numbers. “I’ll get Lita to pull her from her session. Where should she take her?” “Observation 1. And tell Lita to take her time. We need to be there waiting for her.” The observation rooms were designed for therapy, not interrogation, but Sonny didn’t have time to rearrange one to suit his purpose. All he could do was mess with one of the fluorescent fixtures so it flickered like an erratic heartbeat and turn the air conditioning down to chill the air. Little things, but he wanted Ramona as off-balance as he could manage. “Welcome to the B Team,” he said with a smile as he waved Jenny to a seat. “I wish Marty was here. He’s really good at this stuff. Me? I get by. Tubbs and I usually traded off on the good cop/bad cop routine, but it might be best if you stuck with good cop.” “You don’t think I can be mean?” “I know you can, darlin’. But I want her to look for a friendly face. That and you’ve talked to her before.” The door opened and Lita led in a short, thin girl with dark hair and pale skin. Without a word, the former DEA SWAT team commander pushed the girl into the one empty chair and left without a word. Damn! Perfect way to set the tone. She’s a pro. Sonny sat at an angle away from the girl, making a show of examining his fingernails. Jenny sat directly across from Ramona, and from the girl’s body language he could tell she smiled when she saw Jenny. Ramona had a soft voice to match her pale skin. “Jenny! What’s all this…” “Who gave you the phone?” Sonny spoke while still looking at his fingers, his voice pitched somewhere between bored and half-asleep. She turned, eyes wide as she seemed to notice him for the first time. Or pretended to. He caught a quick flash of calculation in those eyes. “What phone? I don’t…” Jenny seemed to pick up on what he was doing. Sonny guessed she’d been on the wrong side of more than a couple of interrogations back in her smuggling days. “You’re in trouble, Ramona. Lots of trouble. I hope you understand that.” “But I…” And the tears started. Sonny almost laughed. Jenny hadn’t been kidding about that. “This is my one chance…” “To tell the truth.” Sonny finished her sentence for her. “You get once chance. Blow it, and you’re gone.” “I want to help, Ramona. I really do. And he’ll listen to me. But you have to be honest with us. It’s the only way you can get out of this.” She reached across the table and touched the girl’s hand. “You want to finish the program, right? You want to get off the streets and have a life., right?” “I…yes. My pimp will kill me if you…” “You don’t have a pimp.” Sonny’s voice was a thin whisper now. “You never had one. You’ve never been on the stroll. Never had to wonder if the guy whose car you just got into was going to pay you for the blowjob, rape you, or just kill you. You’ve never lived that life.” “You don’t know!” “Yes, I do, Ramona. I know all about you. Litte Havana isn’t a stroll. Not where you were picked up for that little possession beef. And Jangles? He ain’t no pimp.” “See, Ramona? We do know. But we can also help you. But only if you help us.” “I can’t…” “No. What you can’t do is stay in this program if you keep lying. The phone’s yours. You were texting names of people who work for me.” “See? We know. There’s no point in trying to hide it now, Ramona.” Jenny gave the girl’s hand a squeeze. “You like it here, don’t you? Good food. A chance to get clean. To get help. Maybe help some of the other girls. Some of them have had really hard lives.” “Lives that make yours look like a private girls’ school. Can you imagine being turned out when you were twelve, princess? Raped and turned out? No, I bet you can’t. Hooked on smack so hard you’ll do anything, and I mean anything, to get that next fix. Bet you can’t even begin to imagine that.” His voice was a hiss barely audible over the HVAC system. The tears were real this time, forcing themselves from someplace deep inside Ramona and making her whole body shake. “It wasn’t my idea. It was Jangles. He told me to do it. Said there was good money for me if I did. But I don’t think it was his idea, either. He’s got this friend. Hector. He scares me. I think it was his idea.”

With everything that was going on, Sonny decided to keep Tranquility at the marina instead of casting off. It wasn’t that he wanted to, but more he felt he had to. If anything kicked off he needed to be close by and easy to reach. And he was neither if they were ten miles off the Miami coast. He was sitting topside in the cockpit behind the polished wheel nursing a beer and watching the sun do its slow dive into the red-tinted water. It was hard, trying to relax with everything that was going all. All the moving pieces, and nothing he could do to control any of them. Jenny’s voice broke into his thoughts. “You gonna stay up here all night?” “Naw, darlin’. Just waiting for my damned brain to stop spinning at high speed.” He shook his head and raised the bottle to his lips. “But so far it ain’t happening.” She nodded and sat down next to him, her blonde hair billowing as a stray wisp of breeze caught it. “I talked to Angie today. She’s better, and even called me Little Blondie again.” “She’s tough.” Sonny shook his head. “Tougher than those idiots thought. And Gary’s got a nice defamation piece that’s almost ready to hit the courts.” He was silent for a time. “But I don’t think they’re done yet. Not if Wiggins is involved. He’s gonna want to ruin the House, and if I go down with it so much the better. That Angie story was just an opening shot.” “Caitlin hasn’t come to me for a couple of days.” She said it like she was talking about an old friend who just hadn’t called recently. “It’s been nice, being able to sleep.” “Maybe it’s that we know about Wiggins now. Know who the main threat really is.” He took another drink and set the bottle down. “Now I know how all those people on the other side of my cases felt. The ones who kept calling for updates. There wasn’t a damned thing they could do, and I used to get pissed at them for bothering me. Now I know what it feels like. The helplessness. Maybe it’s worse, because I know what I would do if…” “We have to stay focused on what we can do.” Her voice was soft and firm at the same time. “Let Gary hit them in court. We can keep that rat Jimmy away from the girls. That’s what matters, Sonny.” She paused again. “Don’t let it eat at you.” “You’re right, darlin’.” He turned and kissed her, tasting the raspberry in her lip gloss. “What did you think of the new girls?” “Troubled. Like they all are.” “Did you sit in on all the interviews?” “Just two. Angie got free and I wanted to talk to her as soon as I could. So I didn’t hear Kelly’s or Ramona’s.” He nodded, thinking back to the schedule he’d seen. “So the last two?” “Yes. I’m gonna try to talk to them tomorrow, though.” She looked out over the water, and her posture changed just a hair. “Something about those two…” “What?” “It’s nothing.” “No, Jenny. If something ain’t right about them, I want to know.” “I read their files. Veronica and Monique both came from bad places. Turned out early. Drugs.” She shuddered. “All the bad things. But Kelly and Ramona? Their files were light. Especially Ramona’s. They just don’t feel like the kind of girls the House usually gets.” Sonny nodded. “I’ll make sure you get time with them tomorrow. Nichole might complain, but I’ll remind her who signs her damned check. With everything that’s going on I need to know if we have girls in the House who might not be what they seem.” “You think this Wiggins would try to sneak someone in?” “He’s a lawyer. I wouldn’t put anything past a lawyer. Besides, if you want a scandal, what better way to get one than to make it yourself?” He shook his head. “But they could also just be two girls who happened to be in the right place at the right time and been given a chance to straighten their lives out.” “I know.” She smiled and ran her hand along his shoulder. “I know we can’t cast off, but it feels so strange being moored.” “As strange as being tied up?” She giggled. “No. That feels good.” He tipped the beer bottle up, draining the last of its lukewarm contents. “I don’t know about you but I’m kinda hungry. And maybe then we can see about making some lines fast.” She was still snuggled tight against him when the alarm unleashed its persistent buzz. Flailing with an arm, he managed to turn it off without sending the clock crashing to the floor. “Is it time already?” “Yeah, darlin’. Afraid so. We just got time for breakfast and then we gotta get moving. It doesn’t look good if the boss is late.” He knew something was wrong the second they hit the main gate. “Mr. Tubbs said come right to his office,” the guard said as he checked their IDs and swiped them in the new system Lester had installed. A former State Trooper, he’d had years to master the blank look behind mirrored aviator sunglasses. “He didn’t tell me why.” “Don’t worry about it, Karl. Rico isn’t much for talk in the morning until he’s had at least two cups of coffee.” Sonny accepted the IDs with a grin and put the Daytona in gear. Jenny lost her smile the second they were out of earshot. “Something’s up.” “Yeah. Don’t I know it. Maybe they caught Jimmy jumping the wire at Charlie 3.” He turned into his usual parking spot. “You go ahead and see about meeting with Kelly and Ramona sometime today. I’ll find out what’s got Rico’s panties in a twist.” “I’m gonna wring that damned chump’s neck!” Rico glared up at Sonny, his Armani suit looking a bit rumpled. “And I’m not kidding!” “Calm down, Rico. I’m supposed to be the excitable one, remember?” Sonny grinned and hooked one of the arms of his Ray Bans in the neck of his light blue t-shirt. “What’s got you so fired up?” “That.” Rico waved a hand in the general direction of a crumpled newspaper on his desk. “And you ain’t gonna be so white bread calm when you get a look.” The headline was big and bold, centered above a picture of Caitlin’s House the Post had lifted from the website. “Sex for drugs? That’s the best that asshole can come up with?” He tried to laugh, but he could feel the anger building. Turning cold in his chest. As he skimmed the dense lines of newsprint the anger kept growing. “So he’s claiming one of the guards is extorting sex from the girls in exchange for drugs?” “More than one guard. And he’s hiding behind that ‘sources claim’ bullshit reporters use when they’re making stuff up.” Rico’s eyes were dark and dangerous. “Damn thing goes on to page two. And he’s got photos of some of the girls. Old ones, but still…” “None of them are still here?” “No. And none of them support his claims. Looks like he’s using mug shots, though.” Rico snorted. “Gotta make them look as bad as you can. Damned chump.” Sonny nodded, still staring at the paper. He couldn’t convince his fingers to reach out and turn it to page two. “How many calls has Gina fielded?” “Too damned many. But here’s the thing, Sonny. There’s details in that article he’d have to get from inside. The number of girls on each wing. How many guards work night shift. All stuff we don’t release, but it’s in there.” “So you think we’ve got a leak?” “Yeah.” Rico looked down at his desk top again. “I gotta say I do. I’ve been goin’ through the files since this damned thing hit my desk. It could be one of the people we let go, but most of them didn’t last long enough to make it to the treatment wings. I don’t think it’s anyone here. I already talked to Lita, an’ Tiny stopped by before he left. They’ll look at their people, but I think we’re solid.” Sonny shook his head. “It only takes one. But I ain’t gonna fall into that whole ‘we got a mole’ thing. You trust your people, that’s good enough for me. Hell, it’s gotta be.” “Just to be sure I’m gonna pull the swipe logs and check it out myself.” Rico forced a smile. “Gotta say that damned system Lester put in might just save our bacon. It’d take a certain kind of access to leak details like this if you’re a guard. The construction guys don’t have that kind of swipe access, so I think we can rule them out pretty easy.” Sonny nodded, still feeling the anger balling in his stomach. “Keep it quiet, though. We’re just verifying.” Sighing, he reached out and picked up the paper, finally forcing his fingers to work. “You mind if I take this? I’m gonna comb through it and then call Gary. I think this time we gotta speak through our own lawyer.” “You think Wiggins cooked this one up?” “Gotta be, Rico. It’s slick enough to have come from him.” He paused, then said what he’d been thinking. “If it’s not one of the guards, it’s gotta be one of the girls.” “They don’t have access to phones, but one of ‘em could have snuck something in.” Rico paused for a moment and then cut loose with a real smile. “And we might have them there. You know that bug detection stuff Lester was playing with? He’s got one that can pick up cell phone signals. It was kinda by accident, or so he claims, but if one of those girls has a hidden phone he’s gonna be able to find it without a real search.” Sonny nodded, feeling some of his anger drain away. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now I gotta head upstairs and make some calls.” Gina looked up as he walked by her office door and pointed at the flashing line of lights on her phone. “You’d better get someone on this,” she said with a very thin smile. “I’ve had calls from the papers and local TV since the Post hit the racks. And one national call.” He stopped and shrugged. “I gotta read through the damned thing first. Tell them we’ll have a statement soon and no comment until then. I’m gonna hand it over to Gary while we do an internal investigation.” “It’s…it’s not true, is it?” “Of course not, Gina. You know Rico’s people. Do you really think any of them could do something like this?” “No…but you know how it is sometimes, Sonny.” He thought back to Scotty Wheeler coming apart beside him in the front seat of another Daytona all those years ago. “Yeah, I do. But Rico’s on it, and he knows what’s at stake.” Turning, he caught sight of the younger man who’d become something of his shadow in the building. “Come on, Steve. I’m heading for the office.” Blair shrugged. “I can hide behind a post if that makes it easier.” Sonny chuckled. “Naw. I’m just giving you a hard time. This was Rico’s idea, right? You might as well come in and have some coffee. And it sure as hell won’t hurt to have some fresh eyes look at this shit.” He thought back to something Castillo had said to him years before in another case. “I’m too close to it.” Gordon Wiggins did his best to hide a smile as he spread orange marmalade on a slice of toast and watched the morning newscast in his hotel room. The mingling smells of coffee, bacon, and possible victory combined pleasantly in his nose as he took a bite and turned up the volume just a hair. If the Angie story had been a dud, this one had the velocity to go national. The news teams on all three local network affiliates had been drooling all over themselves ever since the story broke, and so far there’d been no comment from Sonny or Caitlin’s House. And the longer they stayed silent, the more traction the story gained. It annoyed him that the girl hadn’t really been his idea. That meant they still had to deal with Hank or Hector or whatever the man called himself. But if this kept going like it was, he figured it would be money and time well spent. Sipping coffee, he smiled. A worthwhile investment, even if it’s short term. “It must be so frustrating for you, Crockett,” he muttered as he picked up a slice of crisp bacon. “The great cop brought low by a tabloid. Maybe I’ll need to make sure they include your real name in the next installment, yes?” He’d already decided they needed another article. Maybe two more just to make sure the nails were fully in the coffin of that laughable project called Caitlin’s House. In a way he was surprised the reporters hadn’t managed to put two and two together on their own. But then they weren’t really reporters these days. They were decorations reading what other people wrote. It made what he was doing easier if he was honest, but there was a part of him that missed the old days. Looking at the carefully sculpted cleavage of the blonde reading the latest update he smiled. It was a very small part that missed the old days. Her assets were better to look at than Walter Cronkite’s. He almost dropped his coffee cup when the room phone rang, but he’d mastered himself by the third ring. “Yes?” Hank’s south of the border accent filled his ear. “Man, Jangles is about to shit three bricks. That story? Man, what are you thinkin’?” “We have to strike while the iron is hot, Hank. Or at least that’s what friend Jake said.” Now came the lie. “I was as shocked as you and your friend when I saw the news and read the paper. But he assured me this is the best way to do it, Hank. Keep the place in the spotlight. Those were his exact words.” Actually it was what he’d said when he told Renfro to go ahead and run the piece, but Wiggins figured what Hank didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. And by ‘him’ he meant Gordon Wiggins. It was of no great concern if Hank hurt himself or that idiot friend of his. “And something like this is sure to draw Burnett out. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” There was a pause. Wiggins hadn’t expected that. “Sure.” And hesitation in the voice. “But we gotta be more careful. Burnett’s a smart one. If he starts digging he’ll find where that story came from.” “Perhaps. But perhaps not. Friend Jake assures me he’s got more where that came from. Those were his exact words.” And they were. But Wiggins didn’t think the other stories would hold much weight. Not without more information from the girl Hank’s pet idiot had managed to slip into Caitlin’s House. “They just need a few little touches. A face to go with the harrowing tales, perhaps.” “So make one up. That’s what you lawyers do, ain’t it? Make shit up?” “I appreciate your concern, Hank. Really, I do. Let me talk to the others and we’ll sort something out. I expect it will be taken care of by this evening. Shall we meet?” “I’ll let you know. I got my own talkin’ to do. See if I can get Jangles to stop pissin’ himself.” There was a click, and the hollow dial tone filled Wiggins’ ear, Sighing, he hung up. This was something he hadn’t fully anticipated. Renfro had jumped the gun a bit with the story, true, but if this idiot Jangles was about to lose it, he might pull his girl out of things completely. And that wouldn’t do. Not when they were so close. Still, he’d work it out. He’d salvaged bigger messes in his time, and with fewer resources at his command. His coffee had gone cold, and he was freshening it with more from the thermal carafe when the phone rang again. This time it was Renfro. “We got a problem,” he announced with no introduction. “The kid slipped his leash. He hasn’t been in this morning.” “I don’t see what the big deal is. He’s useful, true, but so what if he drops out of sight? We have what we need, don’t we?” “It’s not that.” Renfro paused. “Gordon, I found some things in his desk you need to see. Can you come by the paper in an hour? Use the back entrance.” “It’s important?” “Yes. Very.” “Very well. I’ll be there. But this had better not be a waste of my time, Jake.” “Oh, it’s not. Trust me. It’s not.” Stan shut off the recorder and looked at Lester in the front of the Roach Coach. “Did you get that, amigo?” “Yeah. Ol’ Masterpiece Theater don’t like being called down to the trenches, does he?” “No, and I can’t say I blame him. Renfro’s so damned slippery he’s a workplace hazard all on his own.” Stan shifted his headphones and scratched an itch behind his right ear. “Although I guess we gotta thank him for pinpointing Wiggins’ location with that call. Bastard hosted that last meeting in his own hotel. No, what’s got my blue suede shoes itching is what he said about the kid slipping his leash. You think he means Jimmy?” “Can’t think of any other kid they both know.” Lester nodded slowly. “There’s that other lawyer. Watkins. But if he was going off the reservation it would have been Haskell calling. And Renfro wouldn’t know about Rendozo’s pal. So by elimination that leaves Jimmy.” “But what’s so bad?” Stan paused, listening to the static on the phone line. The tap was still open, and he found white noise often helped him think. Let the pieces float into place instead of jamming up in his head. Lester used techno for the same effect. “Unless they didn’t know Jimmy was Celetse’s sister. Maybe that’s what ol’ Jake found. They might have no damned clue skinny little Jimmy is after Burnett. And that story didn’t have pictures. Maybe Jimmy decided they needed some.” “It’s a damned shame we weren’t able to wire Renfro’s office. Or even get a look at the damned place. If he had a speakerphone I might have been able to rig something passive on it so we could listen in.” “Yeah, but at least we know they’re meeting and it’s something that’s got ol’ grease bag rattled. That’s something we wouldn’t have had a few days ago.” Stan reached for the mobile phone. “I’m gonna let Castillo know what’s up. He can pass it on. What Rico don’t know can’t bite him in the ass later, right? You wanna get us close enough to the Post loading dock so we can get pictures of ol’ Masterpiece going in and out? A picture might not be worth a thousand words in this case, but it sure as hell can’t hurt.” “Yeah. Hopefully they don’t take too long, though. Rico wants me back before two so we can do a walkthrough with the sniffer to see if any of the girls have cell phones hidden in their rooms.” Nodding, Stan looked at the digital clock on one of the consoles in the back of the van. “Even if ol’ Gordie runs late we got plenty of time. Might not get to see him leave, but we should see him going in.” He punched in numbers. “I’m callin’ Castillo. Try not to hit any old-timers, ok?” Castillo listened mostly, interjecting a single word question now that then. When Stan was quiet he held his own silence for a moment, looking out the sliding glass door at the clouds gathering over the ocean. “And he said slipped the leash? Those were his exact words?” “They were.” Stan’s voice shifted as he answered something Lester must have asked. “We’re almost on scene. I gotta get ready.” “Good. Once you’ve confirmed Wiggins is in there, return to your monitoring location. We don’t need to take any unnecessary chances.” “We may need to split up. I think I got a fix on Jangles’ location and want to recon it for ears.” “Do what you think is best. But be careful. Things are happening now.” “You got that right.” There was a click, and Castillo heard the hollow dial tone before he hung up his phone. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. Stan was right. Things were moving now. Fast and furious. He had no doubt Sonny could handle the latest broadside in the media, and in any case that was well outside his areas of expertise. With Blair running close security he didn’t have to worry about the House, and Sonny could look after himself any other time. It was what Trudy had told him about Jimmy that worried him. Castillo had never known much about Celeste Carrera, let alone her having a brother. A loose cannon like that could easily be the third stream of tracers from his dream, and Jimmy qualified as being from the past in spades. He wondered if even Crockett knew Celeste had a brother. Somehow he doubted it. Burnett hadn’t been one to poke into the past, and he doubted if Celeste would have been forthcoming if he had. She hadn’t made it where she had by being careless or talking too much. He thought about calling Trudy but discarded the thought at once. She could look after herself, and he didn’t want her wondering about what he might do. She’d need all of her focus where she was, especially if Jimmy went too far. Rubbing his eyes again, he snatched the cut-down fatigue blouse off one of the chairs in the dining area and headed for the workshop. The carbine was right where he’d left it: locked in the gun rack glistening with a very faint sheen of oil. Streaks of faded green pain still marked the plastic fore grip and parts of the receiver and collapsing stock, reminders of another time and a very different place. It all came flooding back as soon as his fingers touched the cool metal. Hours spent in dank ready rooms in isolated forward operating bases in Laos and South Vietnam, his team checking and rechecking their weapons. Making sure the magazines were the same ones they’d used on the range a handful of hours before. Like SOG they tested their weapons by firing a full combat load of ammunition through them and then reloading the same magazines. Any that failed on the range were discarded and replaced, until each man had at least twenty magazines that didn’t jam or misfeed. He inhaled. The smell was always the same no matter where they were. Sweat, cordite, and small arms lubricant. No tobacco. It carried too far in the jungle and could give a team away like a neon sign. Let the NVA and the idiot Pathet Lao smoke. It made them easier to find. And to kill. These were all memories Martin Castillo had packed tight away, buried behind a wall of duty and never-ending police work. First with DEA and when that soured Metro-Dade. Always busy. Always cases to work and people to train and protect. But now that was gone, and the memories could break through the remaining barricades and look out at the daylight. He knew he’d held them in too long, and maybe when this was done he’d get the number of that guy Robbie and Sonny talked to. Tex. But that was for later. He wasn’t aware he’d slipped on the vest until he felt its familiar weight on his shoulders. Outside the sun was swallowed by the gathering clouds, and a gust of wind rattled the door of the building. His smile was old. It wasn’t monsoon season, so nothing could stop the mission. Blinking, he pulled himself back. This isn’t Laos. It’s Miami. Focus on the problem. And the mission. Not the past. He moved his hand from the carbine, reaching into his pocket for the gun rack key. The room swam for a heartbeat and came back into focus. Castillo blinked, and then a crashing boom told him it had been lightning and not something else. Heavy, slanting rain began pounding on the roof, driven inland by the rising wind. But it also cleared his head. He took the carbine and a claymore bag of loaded magazines back to the house, setting them both in the corner by the door. But he wasn’t sure why he’d gone out there in the first place. There was no target. No mission. Sitting on the floor, still aware of the rain hammering on the windows, he closed his eyes and started breathing. In…then out. Centering himself. Driving out everything but the rhythm of his breath. Focus. Calm. Little by little, the memories slid back into their hole. Today replaced yesterday. He was still sitting there, breathing, when Randy Mather knocked on the door. The phone rang again, a jangling sound poking at the edge of his consciousness. Jimmy Campbell ignored it. He’d gotten good at ignoring things that poked at the edge of his consciousness. He knew it would stop. Sooner or later. The other things didn’t stop. He could still feel the anger balling in his gut when he thought about Renfro and his damned story. The greasy bastard looked so fucking proud of himself, sitting behind his desk toying with the life of a girl he didn’t know and never would. “Hey, Jimmy,” he’d said in his best ass-kiss voice, which wasn’t very good. “Relax, man. It’s just a trick. Something to draw Burnett out. You know the drill.” “And you don’t know Burnett, asshole. He’s not one of those TV stars or politicians you can fuck with. You poke him, he pokes back. Hard. He’ll go looking for the girl.” “So what? So he kicks her out and she goes back to earning on her back? Not our problem, my friend.” The memory brought a smile to his face. He doubted Renfro had expected him to lunge across the desk at him. Might even have made the fat bastard shit a bit. He ain’t used to threats. Not the physical kind, anyhow. “How many times I gotta tell you? You don’t know Burnett! He’s not gonna kick this girl out. He’s gonna kill her. But not before he sweats her for everything she knows.” “Come on, kid. He runs a damned rehab center for junkie hookers. He ain’t gonna…” Jimmy had almost told him then. Told him what he knew about Burnett and what the man was really capable of. But he hadn’t, and he almost regretted it now. Instead he’d knocked the man’s stack of papers to the floor with a disgusted sweep of his hand. “Do your own research for once, Jake. Go have a look at Sonny Burnett, say around ’88 or ’89. Then tell me what he ain’t gonna do.” That had been over an hour ago, and his damned phone had rung six times since then. He figured it had to be Renfro. No one else had his apartment number, and he’d gone straight here from the paper. No point in sticking around now that Renfro had screwed everything up. Sure, they’d run a few stories, but he really doubted if the big man and those idiot lawyers he was working with had any idea what they’d done. Looking around the tiny apartment, he felt a smile blooming on his thin face. The other one, the guy they’d called Hank, probably knew what they’d done. He had the look of someone who might have worked for Burnett back in the Carrera days, and at least came from the right part of Miami society to know Burnett by reputation. His real reputation, not the load of crap Jake Renfro seemed to buy. He wasn’t sure what the lawyers knew, but that was lawyers for you. Even they didn’t know what they knew until it was too late to do anyone any good. He tried to remember the picture of the girl. She’d been pretty enough. Almost as pretty as Angel but nothing close to his sister. And he knew by the time Burnett got done with her the girl wouldn’t be anything to look at. Assuming they ever found a body. They had boats at Caitlin’s House, and there was a lot of water only a short distance away. Burnett was a bastard, but he was a smart bastard. Jimmy figured that was why he was still walking free today. And a guy had to be both smart and ruthless to walk away from the ruins of the Manolo and Carrera organizations without so much as a scratch or a parking ticket. He looked at the pictures again. He’d tried calling her. Finding her. Nothing worked. She’d just disappeared. Maybe she’d gotten desperate or greedy and reached out to Burnett. There was no way to know, but the thought gnawed at him, just like his visions of what would happen to this girl. His mind floated back to the old days. The sprawl of the Carrera mansion patrolled by flocks of squat men with small, dark sub-machine guns. He’d been little more than a speck of dust then…a part-time runner and gofer with ambition and little else. But he’d heard them talk. Burnett. Cliff. Some of the men below them like Vazquez and Cortez. Always it was the same. Take out the biggest threat first, then sweep up. Do it quick and clean. The gun was locked in his small desk next to the table he used to eat and cook. He hadn’t shot much, but he kept it clean and loaded. Something he’d learned from Cortez. He looked at the picture of Celeste, the one taken by the ocean where she was smiling bright enough to blind the sun, and knew what he had to do. He shook his head as he unlocked the drawer. More like admitted what he had to do. He’d know it for some time. The phone started ringing again. Stuffing the Beretta into his waistband and pulling out his shirt to cover it, Jimmy snarled and ripped the phone cord from the wall. “Don’t bother me, fat man,” he said to the empty apartment. “I’ve got man’s work to do. You wouldn’t fucking understand.”

Ricardo Tubbs waited outside the women’s restroom on the second floor of Caitlin’s House. “I thought it was called morning sickness for a reason.” The retching stopped. “They should just call it the I’m puking my damned guts out for no reason sickness.” “Nope. Too long.” He grinned. “You gonna be ok?” “I think so.” There was silence, then the flushing of a toilet and the sound of running water. Moments later Mindy came out, wiping her face and mouth with a paper towel. “That was a waste of a damned good breakfast.” “We’ll get you some good lunch. Something that’ll stay down. Once we figure out what that is.” He smiled and slid his arm around her waist as they headed back to her office in the admin wing. “Let me know when you’re ready an’ I’ll meet you down there.” “I’ll call.” She smiled and kissed him. “By the way, did Trudy tell you what she was looking for?” “Not really. Just stuff on Wiggins, I think. How he’s connected to Haskell and what local muscle they might have.” He let that old Tubbs bop back into his step as he thought about the connections. All the pieces floating around. It used to be his job to put those together, and some days he found he missed the mental exercise. “That and that chump who was looking for Sonny. Hector something or another. And Campbell.” He shook his head. “He’s got that girl runnin’ in more circles than even I can count.” “Maybe I can help her. Now that the girls are settled in I’ve got some spare time up there.” She smiled. “Catalina’s distracted with the kitchen staff again.” “That’s a fight even she ain’t gonna win.” He slid his hand down to cup Mindy’s backside. “Tell you what, you do some checkin’ an’ I’ll do a bit on my own, too. On Campbell. That little chump bothers me an’ I can’t put my finger on why.” Back in his office, Rico told his secretary he had an important project to work on and shut the door. It wasn’t his thing, the closed door, but it let his people know he was seriously busy and not to bother him unless the place was burning down. And he’d need the time. His skills were a bit rusty, and at least one of his old contacts had retired to someplace north of Lauderdale. Thanks to Lester’s skills his database logon still worked, and he made short work of what Miami-Dade had on one Jimmy Campbell. “Funny,” he muttered, scrolling down the file and back up again. “Kid don’t seem to have existed until about five years ago. Ain’t no one just appears outa thin air. Unless he’s got a jar of peanut butter an’ wants to mess with Trudy’s head again.” Ignoring all the failed attempts to join local forces, as well as the lapsed PI license, Rico dug deeper. He toggled to another screen and tapped in a search command. “Got you,” he muttered again, taking notes in his old flip-top pocket notebook out of long-learned habit. NYPD always inspected that notebook, and it was a rip if you didn’t have one…worse if you hadn’t entered something. Police records might not have much, but the court records were sometimes full of surprises. Like this one. Jimmy Campbell wasn’t the chump’s actual name. Scrolling through the file, Rico paused from time to time to pick out details. Jimmy was his right first name, that much was true. But he’d legally changed his last name to Campbell in 1992…right around the time he and Sonny had come back to Miami. New beginnings and all that shit, I guess he thought as he scribbled down a date. The original last name didn’t mean anything to him, either, and there was some crap about a step-father named Campbell, but the name of one of the witnesses made his heart skip a beat. “Damn. Celeste Carrera. Sister.” He’d never really met Oscar Carrera’s much younger wife, but the pictures he’d seen made it pretty damned clear why the scion of the Carrera cartel wanted her for himself. As, apparently, had his son Miguel. It also went a ways toward explaining why Sonny Crockett had also taken an interest. Granted it was during his ‘time away’ as Burnett. Sonny never talked about Celeste. Never even mentioned her name. But the intel reports he’d seen at the time indicated their relationship had been both intense and serious. The role she’d played in his removal of the two Carrera men wasn’t completely clear, but she’d obviously played some kind of role. One she’d tried to repeat when Cliff King looked to take down Sonny. Rico leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming absently on the desk. Even after her betrayal, Sonny had let her walk. One of the few examples of mercy that could be attributed to Sonny Burnett. That alone told Rico he’d cared for her. Deeply. But the implosion of the Carrera organization also meant she’d be forever on the run. Different names, different cities. Trying to stay one jump ahead of her past. It might be life, but it wouldn’t be a good one. A search on the brother’s real last name turned up a handful of small busts for small deals. A kid trying to make his mark in the new family business, maybe. On the fringe of the Carreras looking in. It must have pissed him off to see his future shatter like a vase hit by a train. And then his sister gets sent away. Thrown away is maybe how he’d see it. The fingers kept drumming as he stared at the monitor. It went a long way to explaining the kid’s fixation on Caitlin’s House. He must have found out after that girl of his went through. Angel I think they said she called herself. Toggling screens again, he searched the internal records and felt his lips tighten into a thin, grim smile. Campbell hadn’t appeared on the radar at all until Angel had come in. Then he started popping up at Charlie 3 and a few other places. Once she got out it got worse. That must have been when he found out Sonny was here. Burnett back in his life and taking another woman from him. He couldn’t tell Sonny. He knew that much. And there was no way he could stick close enough without drawing a lot of attention. He turned it over in his head, then smiled. Reaching out, he picked up the phone. “Yeah. Have Steve Blair drop by the office. Thanks.” Even after being around him for a few days, Rico found he couldn’t get a read on Dave Blair’s nephew. The younger man with the hazel eyes was competent, confident, and quiet. He’d also noticed the man had a way of disappearing in a room. He’d be there, but you’d forget to notice him for a time. But he’d also seen him qualify on the range and knew the younger Blair had his uncle’s skills, just with pistols. And he used a big stainless steel Smith & Wesson just like Sonny’s. “What can I do for you, boss?” The voice was soft, level, and with no clear accent. Just the kind of voice to disappear in a crowd. “I’m gonna need you to keep tabs on Sonny for a few days. Don’t know how long yet.” He waved for Blair to come around the desk. “This kid we thought was just a topless photo-taking reporter? He’s turning out to be a bigger threat.” Blair read the words on the screen quickly. “Yeah, I’d say he is. A revenge-motivated nutjob is always the worst kind of trouble. I’m not Sheepdog trained, but I’ll do what I can.” “Sheepdog?” “Sorry. In-house language from…the place I work. They’re our surveillance and protection people. Damned good at their jobs, too.” “So what do you do?” The eyes changed for a moment, and Rico caught a glimpse of something cold and empty. “I’m more of what they call a blunt instrument. My division…solves problems.” “Solid.” Something told Rico he didn’t want to know any more. Maybe it was Blair’s eyes, or the way his posture changed. “The thing is I don’t want to tell Sonny. He’d want to go running off after this kid and that would make things worse.” “I agree. He’s not a cop any more, but he forgets that sometimes.” Blair’s smile was thin, and reminded Rico of Castillo’s. “I’ve got more latitude.” “You think you can keep an eye on him, at least while he’s here?” “You bet. This kid got any standoff capability?” He saw the confusion in Rico’s eyes. “A rifle. Some way to hit from a distance.” “Not that I can tell. He tried out for damned near every police force in South Florida, and none of them noted he had any rifle skills. Hell, one of ‘em put a note in his file saying he was more dangerous to himself than anyone else on the range.” “Still…determination can make up for lack of skill.” Blair looked at the screen again. “But he’d want to see Sonny up close before he died. So he’ll try with a pistol. Maybe a knife, although I don’t think he’s got the balls for that.” “Yeah. The way he used that girl he ain’t got much in the way of guts. But lots in the way of crazy.” “I’ll shift upstairs and keep an eye on him. If you give me access to his calendar I’ll start looking for windows of vulnerability and plan my moves around those.” “You got it. And Steve? Thanks. I owe you one.” “No. I still owe you guys. You have no idea.” Blair stared at the screen for a few more moments, and then he blinked like a camera shutter. “I’ll let you know first thing tomorrow if I need anything else.” Rico sat for a time after the door closed, staring at Jimmy’s flickering picture on the screen without seeing it. It felt strange going around Sonny like this, but Blair was right. If they said anything Crockett would be off like a hound on a scent. And they couldn’t afford that now. With the new girls and the expansion project there was just too much at risk. Mindy’s call snapped him out of his trance, and he locked the computer before heading to the staff cafeteria. There were only a couple of mid-shift guards in the open room, and he nodded to them before finding a table in the back. Someplace quiet where he could sit and just be with Mindy before the afternoon’s work began. She smiled when she saw him, running her hand over the middle of her blue dress. “I feel like a whale,” she announced as she sat down. “You’re not showing a damned thing.” He smiled and touched her hand. “Did you want me to bring you the salad?” “No. I want one of those cheeseburgers Sonny aways gets. With the bacon. And fries. Don’t let them cheat you on the fries.” She smiled, her blue eyes sparkling. “Preggo appetite. Odds are I’ll go all sorority girl and throw it back up in an hour, but it sounds so good right now…” “You got it, pretty lady.” He kissed her forehead before making his way to the long counter and the mysteries of food service. She was halfway through her burger when she noticed he’d only been toying with his salad. “Something’s on your mind,” she said as she ran three fries through a lake of ketchup on her plate. “Yeah. Guess there is. Don’t be surprised if you see Steve up on your floor more often. Especially around Sonny’s office.” “What’s going on?” “I did some digging into Jimmy Campbell. Turns out he changed his name a few years back.” Rico chewed his salad without tasting it, which annoyed him because he loved the cafeteria’s thousand island dressing. “One of the people who signed as a witness was his sister.” “So?” “Her name’s Celeste Carrera.” Mindy shook her head as she ate the fries. “Carrera…isn’t that one of the crime families Sonny took down when he had his break?” “Yeah. Celeste was the wife of the father, lover of the son, and also Sonny’s woman.” Rico gave her the short version, or at least what he knew of it. “He let her go as far as I know, an’ she disappeared right after.” He didn’t want to say anything else, and Mindy picked up on his mood. “And the kid was on his way up?” “Not really, but it probably felt like it to him. I’ll bet he’s got some serious dislike for Sonny.” “That would explain why he keeps coming after the House. I’ll bet he didn’t even know Sonny was here until that girl of his came through.” “Yeah, and he could blame Sonny for that, too. Two of the chump’s female meal tickets gone, courtesy of Sonny Burnett. Or so he’d think.” “And you sent Steve up to keep an eye on him? Good move.” She smiled. “I like him, but there’s something about him. He’s…” “Distant. Like he’s there but he’s not. I’ve seen him shoot, though. He’s damned good. Think of Dave but with a pistol.” She shook her head. “So if they have a plan, you think Jimmy will stick with it?” “I don’t know. That’s why I moved Steve.” He chewed some more salad. “You find any dirt on the others?” “Nothing we didn’t know about the lawyers. But that Hector Rendozo…he’s interesting. You’re the one who busted him, you know.” “Hell, I don’t remember. They all kinda blur, you know? Low and mid-level chumps tryin’ to move up were a dime a dozen back then. Sometimes two dozen for a dime. Besides, if he remembered me at all it would be as Cooper.” He shook his head. “How’d he end up with those legal buzzards?” “Haskell defended him once. I’d bet he also did some strong-arm work for the old guy at least once before that. And since Wiggins doesn’t know anyone in Miami he’d have to work with whoever Haskell dug up. The senior partner who’s in Club Fed for the duration is the one who had all the good connections. At least that’s what my contact down at the Federal courthouse says.” She finished her burger and smiled. “I could almost eat another one, but I don’t want to until I know this one’s going to stay put.” “Yeah, and we’d better get back to work. Or at least I need to. Got a meeting with Stan in another half hour or so.” He smiled. “Something about a new sweep he wants to try.” “Just be sure he checks with Catalina first. Last time he didn’t and I had to deal with an angry doctor all afternoon.” Dave had flown out the day before, leaving Randy Mather the sole occupant of their hotel room. He didn’t mind, but it did feel strange without his partner close by. They’d been friends since they were little kids, hunting buddies and later a scout-sniper team in Vietnam. It always felt strange when he worked without his partner. His Remington M700 rested in a black rifle case on the bed, and his hands were going through the motions of oiling and reassembling his customized Colt M1911-A1. But his mind was on the folders scattered across the now-spare bed. He’d made a couple of calls to the marshal’s office and gotten some workups on Hector Rendozo and his known associates. He at least still had some official standing as a senior detective in the Butte-Silver Bow police department, so he could call in favors the others couldn’t. He snorted as he wiped down the recoil spring of the Colt. There wasn’t much to Hector, and less to the punks he palled around with. Number one on the list was a skinny wanna-be named Juan who’d picked up the street name Jangles somewhere. The kid looked to have tried his hand at just about everything and come up short each time. Wanna-be pimp who got beat up by one of his girls. Wanna-be pot dealer who smoked most of his stash and was so high he tried to sell the rest to a uniformed patrol officer in his car. Wanna-be hit man who’d shot himself the foot while trying to get the jump on his one and only contract. There were a couple of others, but they seemed to drift in and out. But not Jangles. He slid the spring over the guide rod and locked the barrel bushing into the slide. Hector wasn’t much better. He’d been busted by Tubbs back in ’88 and did his time on the strength of that arrest. But the deal had originally been with Burnett, which explained why he was looking for Sonny’s cover identity again. None of it was especially new, at least when it came to Hector. It was Jangles who’d grabbed Randy’s interest. He thought back to Basic, when the DIs would home in on whoever they thought was the weakest and go to work on them. ‘A chain’s only as strong as its weakest link, and there ain’t no weak links in my fuckin’ Corps’ was what Corporal Dawson had always shouted when he found someone he considerer weak. He snorted as he slid the slide back on the frame, pulling it back and then pushing the slide stop through the barrel lug to complete reassembly of the tuned Colt. This bunch Wiggins assembled had more weak links than a dime store bike lock. Haskell. The younger lawyer Watkins, who seemed so far over his head Randy was surprised he hadn’t drowned by now. The kid from the Post. This Jangles fuck-up. The only ones who really seemed to have their shit together were Wiggins and Hector. Renfro could go either way. Done with the pistol, he checked the loaded magazine before snapping it into the frame, working the slide to chamber a round, and putting on the safety before slipping it back into his hip holster. ‘Cocked and locked’ the Colt aficionados called it. Kind of how Castillo had him poised in the hotel. Safe, but ready to go at a second’s notice. Getting up, he walked to the window and looked out over the city that had been a big part of his post-Vietnam life. And like Vietnam he had a serious love-hate relationship with the place. Mostly hate. It was too damned humid, too damned expensive, too much neon, and too full of that fake Southern stuff he hated so much. Like their damned Rebel flags. Hell, you boys lost the damend war. Get used to it. He didn’t mind some of the food, and the girls were good to look at so long as you didn’t harbor any real expectations. He had kind of liked the old Miami, but it was disappearing in upscale developments and pricy things they called urban reclamation projects. In other words push out the people who’d lived there for years and replace them with coke-snorting executive types who’d stay for a year or two and get busted or move on. Chuckling, he turned away from the window. Got one of my grouch moods comin’ on. Maybe I need some range time. He knew that would help, but it wouldn’t hit the real reason his mood was coming on. He knew Castillo put a lot of stock in his dreams, and Randy had seen too much in his own life to doubt them. And if Jenny was having them too, that was just doubling down on a bad sign. But he felt like they were drifting. Reacting instead of acting. He knew there were limits on what they could do, and he’d almost shouted for joy when he found out Stan and Lester had started running illegal taps. Things got sloppy when they drifted, and the wrong people got killed when things got sloppy. Looking at the folders, he snorted again. He’d expected some kind of ramp-up once they got all the names in a row. Something from Castillo indicating it was time to go ahead and start shaping things to their advantage. But there’d been nothing. Just acknowledgement something was happening. Putting Steve Blair in place was another defensive move. A good one, but still reactive. One thing Randy had learned from the Task Force years was they were successful when they took the initiative. He wondered now how much of that had come from Sonny’s Burnett focus. The way he took a problem apart and latched onto the main parts and smashed the weaknesses. Castillo was always decisive, but he was also deliberate. Sometimes to a fault. But he also knew they couldn’t bring Sonny in. He had too much on his plate with the House and everything else. And Rico, with a kid on way, was likewise tied down. That really left Team Elvis to pick up the slack. To try to get inside the plan and break it. Randy weighed the pros and cons in his head for a minute, then reached for the phone. Castillo might be pissed, but he could live with that. He couldn’t live with anything happening to Rico or Sonny. “Stan? Yeah, it’s Randy. We need to talk, sarge.” Bomber’s was a dive bar announcing its existence with flickering neon and decor that looked like it had been stolen from either a World War II B movie or a Night Ranger video shoot. Randy smiled as he approached the door. The place had figured in a number of their Task Force cases, and he had the same kind of affection for it a hot rodder might have with the first old junker he tried to ‘tune up.’ It was also the kind of place you weren’t in any danger of being spotted by other former Task Force members. Stan and Lester were already at a table back close to the pinball machines. Wearing his old jungle boots, faded jeans, and a ‘don’t fuck with me’ look, Randy moved through the light wanna-be biker crowd untouched and pulled up a chair, turning it so he could see the back door. Stan was watching the front, so they had all their angles covered. As soon as his butt touched the bottom of the chair, Stan poured him a beer from the almost-empty pitcher and signaled the bored waitress for another. “Dave make it out ok?” “Yeah. He and Debbie should be cuddled up back in Butte by now.” Randy sipped his beer with appreciation. “Thanks for takin’ the time, guys.” “Hey. It’s Team Elvis. Or most of it, at least. No way I’m lettin’ my guys down.” Stan grinned, droplets of beer showing in his trimmed beard. “But this ain’t no class reunion.” He paused as the girl arrived with a new pitcher. “Thanks, darlin’. Keep the change an’ keep ‘em comin’ until we tell you not to.” Lester eyed Randy. “You must be wondering about the same thing we are. Why are we sitting on our hands?” “You read my damend mind, Lester. That some new gadget you cooked up?” “Naw. Been workin’ on it, but with Stan so close it keeps getting overloaded with boobs and butts.” “In my defense, it’s Gina’s boobs and butt and no one else’s.” Stan chuckled and poured himself another beer. “But I’ve been wondering the same thing.” Randy nodded. He could feel his thoughts coming together. “If we keep sittin’ back, sooner or later those assholes are gonna find a weak spot. Hell, we don’t even know what they’re after. Or if they’re all after the same damned thing.” Lester nodded. “Ever since we got the ears working we’ve been kinda wondering the same thing. We report and nothing comes back.” “I get it. It ain’t legal without warrants and all. But hell, we’re the ones who get nailed if anything goes south and we aren’t kicking up a fuss.” Randy nodded. “At least for now, I think it’s on us. Look, I’m part of the Marshal’s fugitive task force back in Butte. So’s Dave. I’ll give you all the cover I can. Say I hired you as a contractor to get a bead on someone we think ran here. Anything I can do, I’ll do. A career ain’t worth shit if you get friends killed to keep it.” “That’s where we are, too.” Stan looked around the bar. “Hell, Gina and I are tryin’ to have a kid, and I know Lester and Nikki are getting serious, too. But what’s it worth if we can’t back up our friends?” Feeling tears starting to stretch the corners of his eyes, Randy just nodded. “So what have we got?” “Not much.” Lester’s voice was level. All business. “That Renfro cat doesn’t seem to like his phone much. A few calls to Jimmy that went unanswered. One to Haskell saying the story’s ready. And six orders to some sandwich joint around the corner from his office.” “You got anything new on Jimmy?” “No, but I think Rico might.” Lester shook his head. “That kid’s all kinds of on-edge.” “I think we can ignore him for now. Dave’s nephew is doing close-in security on Sonny for the immediate future.” Now it was Lester’s turn to nod. “Good. Never met him, but if Dave says he’s ok that’s more than good enough for me.” Stan poured them all another round and grinned when the waitress reappeared with a full pitcher seconds after the empty one hit the table top. “Keep the change and keep ‘em coming, doll face.” “You’d better watch it with that talk or Gina will slap the taste outa your mouth.” “Naw. Lydia there’s one of my CIs. Gina actually put me on to her.” Stan smiled and changed the subject. “I want to open our ears a bit. This Hank or Hector or whatever he calls himself is careful. He calls in from payphones mostly, so I can’t get a fix on him. But I’d like to expand to Haskell.” “Do it.” Randy thought for a moment. “And have you heard some whiney little bitch who calls himself Jangles?” “Not calling Renfro. I’ve heard the name, though. Once when Hector called him.” “I can get you his full name. He’s Hector’s main guy on the outside. They must’ve known each other before he got sent up. He’s the damned weak link in Hector’s little circle jerk.” Randy drained half of his beer. “I gotta be straight. Hector’s the one I worry about the most. The lawyers talk big, but like they say back home them boys is all hat an’ no cattle. Jimmy’s dangerous, but he’s three beers short of a sixer, so there ain’t much we can do with him. But Hector…those lawyers brought him in for muscle but I figure he’s got his own ideas about what’s gonna happen.” Lester’s head moved in a slow nod. “Makes sense. If I remember the timestamp on that surveillance camera footage they gave us, Hector was looking for Sonny before this Wiggins character even hit town.” He looked around for the waitress. “They still do nachos in this dump? I need something to soak up the beer.” “Yeah. I’ll order us the bomb bay size or whatever the hell they call it when she comes back by.” Stan chuckled, and then his eyes got dark. “We’ll see about adding ears to Haskell and if we can get a bead on this Jangles guy. If we can get inside their comms…” “We can get inside their heads.” Randy finished the old line with a smile. “And damn nachos do sound good right ‘bout now. You two do what you do best, an’ I’ll fly top cover. I got a feeling if Team Elvis don’t do something, we’re gonna be standing around picking up the pieces. An’ we don’t wanna be doing that.”

Just like old times. Stan let the thought roll around in his head as he sat in the back of the Roach Coach, headphones clamped on tight, letting the hum and click of the wiretaps move through him. It was like music; a strange kind of music only he could understand. The more he listened, the more he started to understand why Lester liked Techno so much. He felt someone tap his shoulder and slipped off the left headphone. “You getting anything yet?” “Just the usual Ma Bell chorus.” He grinned at Lester’s tired face. “You bring some coffee with you?” They were parked about a mile away from the Post building in an underground garage to escape the heat. Just inside the limit of the tap’s transmission capabilities, it was the best thing he could think of to stay off anyone’s radar. But the asshat wasn’t cooperating. Aside from one call to a bagel joint to order breakfast, Renfro hadn’t made a single call. Hadn’t gotten one, either. “You know, Lester, we need those damned banks of recorders again. Running ten taps or more at the same time.” Stan sighed and leaned back in the small bench chair in front of the console. “Man…those were the days.” Lester started to reply then pointed at one of the meters. “Don’t look now, but we got an incoming call.” Stan kicked on the recorder. Renfro’s rasp filled his ears. “Yeah?” The other voice was older. Cool. With a touch of accent he couldn’t place. “The same place as before. Twelve sharp. Be a good boy and don’t be late.” “Shit.” The one word echoed through the van’s interior. “I didn’t get a number.” “It’s cool, Lester. We got a time.” Shutting off the recorder, Stan handed off the headphones and traded places with his partner. “I gotta make a call.” Castillo picked up on the second ring. “Yes?” “It’s Elvis. Greaseball has a meeting at noon. We don’t have a location.” “We’ll see to it. Keep the tape rolling.” There was a click, and the buzz of the car phone’s dial tone filled his ear. “Castillo on the case?” “Yeah, like BO on that greaseball.” Stan slipped the receiver back in its case and slid back into the rear compartment of the van, pulling the blackout shade closed behind him. “I bet…” Lester raised his hand. “Outgoing.” Stan nodded, moving over to the push button reader. It was one of their little gadgets that read the signature of pushbuttons or rotations of a phone dial to get the number being called. He watched the flickering display and logged the call. As he’d figured, it was to Jimmy Campbell. Lester hit the record button and leaned back himself. “Renfro’s telling him to meet them at the same place, wherever the hell that is,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Jimmy’s whining and Renfro’s telling him to shut the fuck up and be there. Something about it not going wrong this time. The story’s airtight. He said that two or three times.” “Got it.” “You gonna call Castillo back?” “Naw. Jimmy’s pad is across town. Better they tail Renfro. That and Jimmy’s a paranoid little bitch. He’d probably be looking for a tail. Renfro? He’s too damned sure of himself.” Lester shook his head. “You’d better hope you’re right.” “Yeah. It’s a gut feeling, but I think it’s a good one. We also know Renfro’s gonna stay at his desk until the last damned minute. Jimmy could go bouncin’ all over town before heading for the meeting. No guarantee Castillo and Randy could latch onto him beforehand.” “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll take the next hour if you wanna catch a quick nap.” Nodding, Stan moved to the long bench seat on the other side of the van and laid back. But he knew he wouldn’t sleep. The other voice kept running back through his head, and he was pretty sure it had been Gordon Wiggins. It was the accent. Some weird combination of Brit and snotty New England. He’d only heard the man talk a few times, but it was the kind of thing that stuck with you like the aftermath of a bad convenience store burrito. Only a few minutes had passed before Lester asked what Stan had been thinking about. “You gonna tell Sonny?” “Not yet.” Stan sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Same thing I was thinkin’ about.” “You think that’s the right move?” “I don’t know. But he doesn’t know we’re running this op in the first place. He already knows Wiggins is out there somewhere. And if I know Sonny, the first thing he’d do is go runnin’ off trying to find the guy. Screw the House and all that.” Lester nodded, the earphone cord slapping against one of the consoles with the movement. “Yeah. You’re right. He’d get that look in his eyes and just be gone.” “He’ll be pissed when he finds out, but it was Castillo’s call, too.” Stan sank back on the improvised padding, making a note to himself for the twentieth time to get a better bench seat for the Roach Coach. “We’ll let those two duke it out while we hide on the sidelines.” “Great plan, sarge.” Lester shifted, hitting the record button again. “Another outgoing. He’s canceling some lunch date or another. Whatever this meet is, it’s gotta be important. I can’t see that slug missing a free meal for anything less.” “Neither can I, Lester ol’ pal. I just hope Castillo and Randy get into position in time.” Randy stared at the camera and shook his head. “How the hell do you even use one of these damned things?” “Point and hit the button on top once it’s focused.” Martin Castillo smiled as he eased the Mercedes into a parking space across from the Post’s open air lot. “I thought you snipers did surveillance.” “Sure, but with them old cameras you set up a tripod for an’ get under the black drape before you take a picture.” Randy chuckled. “That an’ Dave was usually the shutterbug. I was mostly on the spotter’s scope.” Castillo nodded and adjusted his Ray Bans before checking his watch. Eleven thirty. He’d take the chance and keep the car running, mostly so they could use the air conditioning. He didn’t want Randy to start whining about the humidity. Beside him, Randy raised the camera and clicked off a couple of test shots. “Got the front and side doors from here,” he said without lowering the camera. “You figure the usual place is far enough out he’ll have to drive?” “I think he’d drive if it was half a block.” “Yeah. He don’t seem like the type to break a…” Four photos rattled through the shutter. “He’s comin’ out now. Side door. Headin’ for the maroon Monte Carlo with the t-tops. Boy must think he’s a player or something with that ride.” “At least it’s easy to follow.” Castillo put the Mercedes in Drive and waited for the Monte Carlo to roll out of the lot. He waited until Renfro was at least half a block away before pulling into traffic himself. Working a solo tail was always hard, and it forced him to stay closer that he’d like. The up side was the Mercedes pretty much disappeared into the normal flow of Miami traffic Randy kept low, chuckling as he ducked. “Yeah, I know the drill. Did more than a few of these back with the marshals. One guy in a car looks a hell of a lot less suspicious than two. That an’ we don’t need pictures of him drivin’ the damned car.” Castillo nodded, making a right turn to keep the maroon car in sight. “Next time we’re getting you a car and some of Switek’s radios. I’d rather run a parallel than look like a rerun of Kojak.” But Renfro seemed totally oblivious to his lurking shadow. He took a leisurely route, keeping at or under the speed limit like he didn’t have a care in the world. Then his turn signal came on for the last time and the Monte Carlo turned into the parking lot of the midtown Hilton. Castillo rolled past, finding an open spot along the street that had some shade but still allowed him to see Renfro’s car. “We’re gonna lose him when he goes in.” Randy’s voice was flat. “They don’t know me from Adam, captain. I can go in and have a look-see.” “I’m not a captain any more.” “You are to me.” Randy grinned. “It don’t feel right callin’ you Marty without a drink in my hand.” Castillo chuckled. “I suppose not. And yes, go have a look around. See if you can spot who he’s meeting. I’ll hold here.” Left alone in the car, Castillo let his mind wander a bit. But it always circled back to the dream and what was happening now. Two of the tracer streams looked to be accounted for: Haskell and his connection with the Post and not Wiggins. Where was the third? Or were Haskell and Wiggins combined somehow, leaving two more individuals out there? He knew not to put too much trust in the dream…at least not how it looked literally. The lawyers working together made sense to him. They’d both have more or less the same goal: ruining Crockett’s reputation by destroying the credibility of Caitlin’s House. It also made sense that they’d try to use the paper and the unbalanced reporter to do their dirty work for them. He knew Wiggins could be violent, but only as a last resort and always through other people. He hadn’t seen which car he came out of, but Castillo’s lips twitched into a thin smile when he saw Jimmy Campbell speed walking to the front entrance of the Hilton. A quick glance at his watch showed it was just past noon. Leave it to him to be late. But what’s his significance? What are we missing about him? Castillo made a mental note to have Trudy dig a bit deeper into the skinny kid’s past. There had to be more there than a grudge because he lost his best lure for scandal photos. And if there wasn’t, the kid was crazier than they’d thought. Fifteen minutes had crawled by before Randy came out of the Hilton and ambled back to the Mercedes. “Let’s get the hell to someplace with a bar,” he said with a grin, setting the camera down on the seat next to him. “And then someplace where Stan can work his magic on this film. Got a few you’re gonna want to see.” They met up at Stan and Lester’s actual office, since the workspace in Caitlin’s House didn’t have a darkroom of any kind. Lester did the honors while Stan handed out cold cans of beer. “Sorry, Marty,” he said with a smile. “I don’t keep fancy stuff here. Lester an’ I are pretty basic Bud guys.” “It’s cold. That’s what matters.” Castillo sipped the beer, feeling the cold rather than tasting the liquid. It wasn’t long before Lester appeared with prints. “Nice job, Randy. You got some good ones here. Looks like Renfro and Jimmy clear enough. I’d guess the older dude is Haskell, but the big one…” “Gordon Wiggins.” Castillo’s voice was firm. “Who’s the other one?” “He looks kinda familiar.” Stan scratched his chin through his trimmed beard. “Hang on. That’s the guy Sonny had the pictures of from Robbie’s club. Hector Rendozo. He said he was lookin’ for Burnett and came in with another dude.” “What’s his story?” “Mid-level dealer tryin’ to move up in life. He got reeled in back in ’89, I think. I don’t think he got much time, and clearly is out now.” “Crockett arrested him?” “I don’t think so. But I don’t remember for sure.” Stan looked down. “I…I wasn’t at my best that year.” Castillo nodded. “And that’s partly my fault, Switek.” The words jumbled in his throat, then came out in a rush. “I’m sorry about that. Sorry I didn’t slow Crockett down before Zito was murdered. And even more sorry I let you down afterwards.” It felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest as he finished speaking, and he really didn’t know what to do now. Stan nodded. “Thanks, Marty. It’s behind me now, but I did blame you and Sonny both for a few years. Some days more him than you, other days the reverse.” Randy cleared his throat. “If we’re done huggin’ this out, is there anything about this Rendozo we need to know?” “He’ll be the shooter.” Castillo chuckled. Leave it to Randy to break a mood. “Out of that whole group he’s the only one who could be. But what’s his connection aside from wanting to find Burnett?” “I know Sonny didn’t think he was a threat.” Stan drained his beer and pulled more cans from the small fridge at the back of the office. “He guessed Rendozo was more likely looking for a job. Maybe he found one.” Lester looked at the prints. “But how did they find him?” “Excellent question.” Castillo stared at the photos, wishing they could speak or at least replay what was being said each time the shutter clicked. “We’ll know more once Trudy digs a little bit. I also want to know who he knows. Any physical threat will come from his direction.” “What about this Wiggins character?” “He hires people to do his dirty work.” Castillo looked at the close-up of Hector again, trying see through his eyes. “But I think he might have underestimated this Hector. And maybe Jimmy.” Randy nodded. “Yeah. You can’t see his body language in the pictures, but Jimmy was stressed. Twitchy. Even raised his voice a time or two at Wiggins while I was there. An’ Rendozo was watchin’ him close.” “I’ll have Trudy dig deeper on both of them. I think we’re missing something with Campbell, and I want to know what it is.” Hector Rendozo nursed his tequila and tried to conceal his disgust as Jimmy Campbell started talking again. “I gotta know the name of the girl…” “No, Holmes, you don’t. Period. That’s how it is.” Across the table Wiggins nodded. “He’s right, of course. None of us need to know who she is. It’s safer for her that way, you see. You do see, don’t you, Jimmy?” “Well…yeah, I guess. But…” Hector’s fist came down on the table. Hard. Glasses jumped, and at least four people turned to look from across the room. “There ain’t no but here, Holmes. Unless it’s the butt your head is rammed up into so deep you gotta open your mouth to wink. I ain’t tellin’ you the girl’s name and that’s all there is to it.” Wiggins sighed. “It really is final, Jimmy. Even friend Jake agrees. Don’t you, Jake?” Renfro nodded. It was grudging, but he nodded just the same. “Yeah. Look, Jimmy, I know things went bad for your girl. We gotta avoid that with this one. And after that cock-up with Angie we ain’t gonna get another shot.” The other lawyer, Haskell, shook his head. “Don’t remind me. You were sure that would work, Jake.” Hector chuckled. “You boys didn’t figure on Sonny Burnett.” Wiggins surprised him. “Hank is right. We did not figure on Sonny Burnett. That won’t happen again.” He turned and fixed Hector with speculating eyes. “How do you think he’ll handle stories about the girl?” “He’ll check his security people first. Make sure there ain’t nothin’ to the story. Then he’ll try to figure out if any of the girls are talkin’ out of turn.” Hector paused, trying to fit what he knew about Burnett into what they were about to do. “He’ll come out to the press again hard like he did this time. But all his checkin’ will buy us a couple of days to plan the next move.” He paused, looking from one man to the next. “We do have a next move, right?” Wiggins’ eyes shifted, but his voice projected confidence. “All in due time, Hank. All in due time. Of course there’s a next move. But now is not the time to get into it.” There ain’t no next move. Not from these pussies, anyhow. You can see it in their damned eyes. The lawyers think Burnett’s gonna fall from one blow. Not damned likely. But he grinned, playing the dumb Chico to Wiggins’ Man. “Yeah, I get it. Gotta stay focused on what we’re doin’ now.” Still, he watched Jimmy out of the corner of his eye. The kid had a major hard-on for Burnett, and he didn’t look happy with the waiting game. “So we just lob in softballs and let Burnett hit ‘em out of the park? That’s the plan?” “Jimmy. You gotta play it cool. We’ll need pictures of the compound for the follow-on story. I figure this girl’s good for at least three front page numbers. More if we find any kinda gap in what those perverts out at Caitlin’s House are saying.” “I don’t suppose there’s any way your girl can create some evidence?” Hector shot Haskell a disgusted glare. “No more than you can create any kinda manhood in your pants. She’s gotta keep a low profile if she’s gonna be useful. Names. Dates. That kinda stuff.” Wiggins took control again. “Then we’re in agreement, yes? Hank, you will let us know as soon as you hear from the girl with news. I’m sure Jake here has a story already written and ready to go. Don’t you, Jake? And Jimmy will hold his peace and be ready to take the pictures we might need. Yes? Good. Then I bid you all good day.” Hector grinned, playing the stupid role until the others drifted away. After Wiggins and Haskell, Jimmy was the first to go, muttering under his breath as he went. Hector looked at Renfro and raised an eyebrow. “You better get that kid on a short leash, mano. He’s gonna make trouble for us.” Renfro sighed. “Don’t I know it? He’s always been kinda off, but once he found out Sonny Burnett was in back of this Caitlin’s House he went off the deep end.” “It ain’t good, mixin’ personal with business. He got something personal with Burnett?” It was a push, but he thought he’d read Renfro right. He had. “I don’t know for sure. Got him out one night and fed him some whiskey. Turns out he had a sister. Or has a sister. Don’t know if she’s still kicking or not. Anyhow, this sister had somethin’ to do with Burnett. And it’s because of her he’s got his beef on Burnett.” “I know Burnett from way back. From business.” Hector decided to unbend a bit. Just to clear the field. “That kid don’t want anything to do with him. Burnett would crush him like a bug. You might want to keep him clear until this is over.” “Didn’t think you cared about Jimmy.” “Don’t misunderstand. I don’t. But he’ll get in the way, and this is a big deal. I ain’t risking my commission because some damned kid got his undies in a bunch because Burnett banged his sister or whatever.” He let his eyes flash cold. “You get me?” Renfro nodded four more times than was necessary. “Yeah…I get you. I’ll do what I can.” Once the editor left Hector let a real smile spread over his face. He had the fools right where he wanted them. Nothing would happen without the girl. His girl. And he didn’t care about Wiggins and his next move. Hector had his own plans, and they didn’t include pussy lawyers, editors who smelled like a stale French fry, and definitely not little pussies with attitudes. He already had Ramon, and that was one too many. He just had to make sure the next big meeting was on his turf. When it all went down he wanted to make sure it went his way. Finishing his drink, he tossed a twenty on the table and headed for the door. He had time to get back to his own room and change before taking in a night on the town. Unless, of course, Ramona happened to text Jangles. He didn’t like doing business this way, all remote with nothing face to face. But it was the only way. And probably his only way to get to Cooper or Tubbs or whatever his damned name was. Smiling, he hailed a cab just outside the hotel entryway. And there was the money. Even if he didn’t get the full million there was enough to do a couple of seed deals and get back in the action. Grinning, he looked through the partition at the driver. “What would you say is the best strip club in Miami? Hell, who am I kidding. It don’t matter right now.” He rattled off his hotel name. “That’ll do for now.” Jimmy Campbell managed to keep it together until he got to his small walk-up apartment on the edges of Little Havana. But once he locked the door, he let out a strangled curse and kicked the battered couch. Hard. Hard enough to feel it through his toe and all the way up to his chest. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Now his damned foot hurt like hell in addition to everything else. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from the Angie story, but it sure hadn’t been Burnett coming out in front of those reporters and telling them to fuck themselves. Now the bastard was warned, and that made him more dangerous than ever. Celeste hadn’t told him much about Sonny Burnett, but what little she had and what he’d learned since convinced him Burnett wasn’t a man you gave a warning to. Or one you wanted to piss off. Greasy Jake Renfro had managed to do both. Limping over to the fridge he pulled out a six-pack by the plastic holder and flopped back on the couch. He knew they didn’t take him seriously. Hank most of all. The man was little more than a two-bit street dealer, and he had the balls to look down his nose at him. But that didn’t matter, either. The beer was cold and good, settling his nerves a bit and mellowing his mood. He drank the first can without really tasting it, then took the second slower. Staring at the far wall as he drank. The TV was a black box reflecting his face, but it was too much work to turn it on. So he looked at the pictures he’d stuck to the bland off-white wall on both sides of the box. Some were of Angel, others were of various topless celebs he’d managed to ambush. The good-looking ones anyhow. And the two special ones on the left side. One of his sister, and the other of Sonny Burnett. By the third beer he was ready to go back to the problem. Now that Burnett knew they were coming, or that someone was, the whole picture changed. What Renfro wanted to do made little sense. How the hell do you embarrass a one-time drug lord who killed people for fun? They could play their games all damned year and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference to the man. It might annoy him enough to have them killed, but that would be it. And that wasn’t enough for Jimmy. Not by half. He let his eyes lose focus. Hank had someone on the inside. It would have to be a girl, and probably someone who’d just gone into the program. Jimmy still had contacts over in Miami-Dade he could tap for the list of the last group to go in, and he figured he could narrow down which one was in Hank’s pocket. He figured he knew why, too. Hank would try to concoct some story about guards trading sex for drugs. The kind of crap that sold the Post in the grocery store but wouldn’t raise an eyebrow anywhere else. Burnett could just fire one of the guards and hire him back later once he’d found Hank’s girl. Jimmy didn’t doubt for a second Burnett would find the girl. It was what he did. The fourth beer was usually when things started to come together. But it wasn’t happening this time. At least not like he wanted. Instead of things making sense it just got more cloudy. He could see his sister’s face. Hear her say she loved Burnett, then confess she tried to set him up, then cry about how she loved him again. He’d been surprised when Burnett just let her go, then furious when he figured out letting her live without Burnett was worse than killing her. Being pushed away by the man she’d given everything up for destroyed her. He chuckled and raised his can to the picture. “Part a that’s on you, sis. You tried to get him whacked, after all. Can’t expect the dude to up an’ forgive that just because you suck him off.” Still, he had to square things with the man. Maybe not totally because of his sister. He’d been tracking along, too, until the wheels came off the whole wagon and he had to run for it. The fifth beer usually saw him being that honest with himself, though it didn’t stick very long. It sounded better to frame the whole thing in his head about righting the wrong done to his sister instead of admitting he wanted revenge for his own plans getting blown to hell. Sighing, he dropped the empty can on the floor with the others. “An’ none of that shit helps me one damned bit with what I need to do,” he muttered to the empty room, popping open the last can and raising it in the direction of Burnett’s picture. He didn’t even know where it had come from now, but it captured the man perfectly. A suit so dark it might as well have been woven from the night. Hair slicked back and captured in a tight ponytail. And the Ray Bans. Always the Ray Bans. Everything perfectly in line. Pressed. Creased. Precise. He hated that picture. “Jus’ what the hell am I gonna do with you? Those fools thing you can be embarrassed to death. They ain’t too damned smart, are they? Me? I know better. But that don’t help me figure out what to do. I mean I can’t just…” He paused. Letting it sort itself through the sixth beer. “Hell…maybe I can at that. You were always a direct son of a bitch, Burnett. Maybe it’s time someone returned the favor.”

It was mid-afternoon when Martin Castillo pulled into the parking lot of Randy’s hotel. They’d waited for a time outside the Post offices. Long enough to get the lay of the land but not long enough to draw attention. When Randy said they weren’t likely to see Renfro again before dark Castillo just nodded and pulled away. As they drove, he filled Randy in about Wiggins. “We never thought he’d be released,” he finished just as they parked. “But now we know who’s behind at least part of this.” “You don’t think Wiggins is the only guy messin’ around behind the curtain?” “No. Not really. He has no ties to Miami, so he’d need to bring in local help.” Randy nodded. “Muscle anyhow. Ain’t no tellin’ how many former clients a lawyer might have scattered around. And he was a lawyer, right?” “At one time. Then he got into the music business.” Castillo shut off the Mercedes and looked through his dark Ray Bans at the parking lot. “Buy you a drink?” “Sure. Beats the hell out of sweatin’ in the car.” The hotel bar was almost empty, recovering from the lunch rush and gathering itself for the dinner and incoming flight crowd. Randy and Castillo found a booth near the back and ordered from a bored waitress. Neither man spoke, content with the quiet until the drinks arrived. Castillo spoke first. “Wiggins will up his game after the story with Angie failed.” “Yeah. He doesn’t know Sonny very well, does he?” “No. They only met a handful of times. And Wiggins and Fremont were always more interested in Caitlin.” “So we’re still operating kinda blind.” “Yes.” Castillo sipped his rum, feeling the ice cubes bump against his teeth. “We should know more once Switek gives us our ears, and I think Trudy and Mindy might be able to find some more information, too.” “I hate the waiting.” Randy chuckled and sipped his bourbon. “I can do it no sweat out in the jungle behind a pair of binoculars or a rifle, but this shit wears me down.” Castillo nodded. “I agree. But we have one big advantage over them. They don’t know we’re aware of them. Right now they think they’re safe. In control.” “They kinda are, Marty. We know the players, or some of ‘em, but we don’t know much else.” “Look at it this way. They know about Sonny and maybe Rico. I doubt if even Wiggins knows about me, and they don’t have any idea you exist.” “Yeah. There is that. And they ain’t gonna have a clue about Stan and Lester. Or Steve.” He laughed again. “I had a hell of a time convincing Dave to fly back home. But I’d rather deal with him being pissed than Debbie being pissed.” “He’s a good man.” “One of the best.” Randy looked down at the smokey bourbon. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he hangs it up in another coupla years. Debbie wants to have kids an’ all.” “And this life is no life for a family.” Castillo nodded his understanding. He’d lost track of how many failed marriages he’d seen in his time in service. CIA, DEA, Metro-Dade. The uniform didn’t matter. It was the Job that took the toll. “He’s making the right choice if he wants to have a family.” “Yeah. He knows that. Don’t know how long I’ll stick around once he goes, though.” Randy sighed. “I’m too damned set in my ways to break in some kid partner.” “It’s hard to step away, and sometimes you miss it. But…” “You can always dip a toe back in.” Randy grinned. “Like we’re doin’ now.” He left Randy sitting in the booth with his glass of golden bourbon, driving back out to the house by the water while there was still light. Trudy’s red Challenger was already in its usual spot, and he let the Mercedes roll into its normal place before putting it in part and shutting off the engine. She was waiting for him on the deck. “You should have heard Sonny,” she said, handing him a glass of iced green tea. “He really let the Post have it.” “Good. Maybe it will keep Wiggins and the rest off balance. We need to buy some time so we can figure out who else is in play with this.” She looked at him, her dark brown eyes questioning. “Stan sure took off in a hurry this afternoon. I haven’t seen the big guy move so fast since the last Elvis memorabilia auction.” “He had work to do.” “I’ll bet he did. Does Sonny know?” “No.” Castillo sipped the tea, preferring its simple flavor to the rum he’d had not half an hour ago. “And it’s probably better if he doesn’t know.” “Yeah. That’s true. He’d never sit still.” “How did the girls go?” She smiled. “Good. There were four, just like they said. God, it reminds me of some of those hooker sweeps we used to do back in Vice. They’re so young, but trying so hard to act tough.” “Things haven’t been easy for them.” He raised his hand as she started to speak. “And I know that’s not an excuse. But at least they have a real chance with the House. That’s why this is so important.” “I know. It’s worse when you catch them when they don’t know you’re watching. That’s when they look so scared and so young.” She paused. “I think I know why Gina does it now. So many of them must remind her of Odette.” “Did you learn anything else about Wiggins?” Castillo looked out toward the water. He’d seen enough misery in Southeast Asia to last a lifetime. “Not much we didn’t already know. Except that he went to law school with a certain Arthur Haskell.” Castillo nodded. “Now we know one player. Two if you count the editor Renfro.” “What about Jimmy?” “He’s a tool. It doesn’t make him harmless, but I don’t see this as being his idea. It’s too sophisticated.” “But what about Angelina Francis? His bait?” “That would make him mad, but I don’t think he could come up with something like the Angie headline. He wouldn’t have the pull with the paper. That had to come from Renfro. And only Wiggins would know about Angie. Mindy said Haskell had worked with the paper before? That’s the link between the two.” “Now what?” “We wait. The hardest part. We need to know who else is in play. It feels like something is still missing.” “When do you think Stan will start hearing voices?” He smiled. “Tomorrow for sure. Those two work fast when they have a mission.” “Good.” She took a step closer and slid her arm around him. “I don’t like not knowing, either.” Hector Rendozo looked from his drink to Jangles’ goggling eyes and back again. “Man, you better do somethin’ about that face before they throw a damn net over you and haul you off.” “Man! Don’t you get it?” He waved a small cell phone in front of Hector’s face. “That text, man? She’s in!” “Well why the fuck didn’t you just say so, mano? Why all this fancy jive shit?” “Aw, come on, man.” He looked around. “An’ don’t look now but Ramon’s on his way over.” “Ramon? I didn’t think you’d ever catch that bitch in a strip club.” “Lighten up, Hector. Ramon’s a good dude. Most times, anyhow.” Jangles turned to the approaching Ramon. At least he’s dressed like a real dude again Hector thought. “Ramon! How’s it hangin’, dude?” “Good, man.” The two exchanged hand slaps and Hector was afraid they’d end up kissing. “Hey, Hector. How’s tricks?” “Good. You still got that punk on speed dial?” “You mean Miguel? Yeah. Can’t say I trust the bitch much, but I can still get him.” “Good. He’s like Plan B. Really, really Plan B, if you know what I mean.” “Yeah. But, Hector, does that mean you got another way into this Cooper thing?” “Maybe.” “I get it, man. Play it close. I would, too, after that show Burnett put on for the TV people today.” Ramon whistled low. “I seriously thought he was gonna pop one of them reporters.” “Yeah.” Hector had only seen bits on the news, but Burnett’s intensity was real. He’d been watching for Cooper, or Tubbs to give him his right name. But the guy seemed to be good at staying under the radar. Or at least off TV cameras. “Guess the first move those lawyers made was a damned bust.” Jangles laughed. “I mean, why go after some bitch no one knows? That ain’t gonna do nothing but piss off Burnett if she’s a friend of his.” “Worse. She was close to his dead wife.” Hector shook his head. Must have been the damned newspaper guy who came up with that idea. All it did is let Burnett know someone was coming. And you don’t give a guy like him warning. “All it did is make our job harder. But we’re gonna pull it off.” “They called you yet?” “No. But they will. I think that damned story was all they had. You two ain’t heard anything about that puta reporter, have you? Jimmy or whatever his bitch name is?” They both shook their heads. “Naw, man. He’s been quiet. He was always a one trick pony, though. Him and that girl.” Ramon looked around, seeming to see the inside of the strip club for the first time. “How can you focus with all these tits on display, man?” “Focus, Ramon. Lotsa focus.” So he is a dude under those damned girl jeans after all. “And you’re sure this guy ain’t showed his head?” “Yeah.” Ramon’s eyes were locked onto a trim blonde with tits that almost looked real. “We got time…” “Hell, that’s the plan, mano. Business is done for now.” Hector looked over Ramon’s head and winked at Jangles. There wasn’t much they could do until the damned lawyers called, and with Ramona in place inside Caitlin’s House they had to wait for her to reach out. It was all about waiting now, and he found prison had left him very damned good at waiting. It was just past midnight when Hector unlocked the door to his hotel room. He’d left Jangles and Ramon in the not so tender clutches of a pair of bottle blondes with fake tits and mercenary inclinations. Shutting the door, he tossed his denim jacket on the bed and turned on the lights. They’d get whatever they paid for; likely in more ways than one. The message light on the room phone glowed red, and he smiled as he called the number. It was the older one’s voice. Haskell. “We need to talk. Call this number as soon as you get this. Someone will answer.” Hector scribbled the number on a small note pad and hit the button to delete the message. He pulled the jacket back on to conceal his Beretta and headed downstairs. There was a pay phone outside the convenience store across the parking lot he hadn’t used before. Haskell sounded like he’d been asleep, and Hector snorted. Damned fool gives out his own number. “Got your message.” “Hank? Good. Listen, the story didn’t go like we planned.” “Gathered that. Sonny Burnett ain’t the kinda guy you poke with a stick.” “Now we know. My, er, associates wanted to know if your plan was still good.” Hector paused for a moment, weighing options. “So far, yeah. We got someone inside, and now we wait.” “Wait? But they can…” “You don’t understand. Security in that place is tight. Like prison tight. Anyone we get in has to be careful they don’t get caught. They ain’t no use to us if they’re caught an’ fired.” No reason for him to know the person inside was posing as a patient. “That cat they got doing security knows his business, an’ Burnett’s gonna be double paranoid now that you idiots tipped him off.” There was silence for a time. “It wasn’t my idea, you see…” “Don’t matter who thought of it. It’s done.” Hector smiled, picturing the lawyer sitting on the edge of some overdone bed sweating and maybe pissing himself a bit. “Now we gotta move on with what we got. And that’s me an’ my crew. I’ll call you when I hear from the one inside.” Back in his room he poured himself a drink from one of the little bottles they stocked the mini-fridge with and chuckled. Haskell was scared. There was no doubting that. He didn’t think the bigger one, Wiggins, would be. Not yet, at least. He wanted them both scared. And he needed the damned paper out of the way. Their need for a story would get in the way of his need for information, and he didn’t think Ramona would be able to do both. Even though it was chilled, the whiskey warmed a path down his throat. Hector stared at the TV, seeing the pictures without registering the sound or what he was watching. Instead he let his mind spin through plans. Ways to get the paper out of the way before they ruined things. He didn’t care about the damned House, or even Burnett. It was Tubbs he wanted. All the rest was background noise. “So you think this guy who tried to kill your wife is back in town?” Sonny nodded, turning in his chair so he could look Bobby Crandall in the eyes. “Yeah, I do.” He didn’t mention Jenny’s dreams, even though he thought Tex might be one of the few outside of the old Task Force who’d understand. “He’s about the only one who’d know about Angie.” Tex chuckled. “I saw that press thing on the news. You handled it damned well, honestly.” “Did I?” “Yeah. You came at ‘em hard, but stayed in control. Burnett again?” “Yeah. It’s how those press goofballs know me, at least as far as the House goes.” He shook his head. “Probably a good thing, though. Means I stayed focused.” “So why come and see me?” Tex raised his hand. “Not that I’m sayin’ you shouldn’t, mind, but I wanna know what triggered it.” “Yeah.” He paused, then sighed. “It’s what comes next. That’s what worries me.” He leaned forward in the chair, clasping his hands in his lap. “Like you said before, most of my adult life’s been about action. And being in some system that let me act. Football, you hit the dude they tell you to hit. The Corps, you shoot who they tell you to shoot. Cop, you arrest who they tell you to arrest. And in each one you got cover if you do it right, an’ rules telling you what you can and can’t do.” “And you got none of that now.” “No. I don’t. And when someone comes after me or the things I love…” He shook his head. “I just ain’t sure I’ll know where the line is now.” “Funny how we all bitch about structure until we don’t have it.” Tex’s chair creaked in protest as he leaned back. “It shapes us without us knowin’ it. And you got three structures to fight with. The combat vet, the cop, an’ Burnett’s structure.” “Yeah. And I think it’s Burnett that worries me the most. He’s mission-focused, but at the same time he’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish that mission. Structure be damned. There were a couple of times with the Task Force when I had to let him out of his cage. It got the job done, but…” “Did you ever go off the rails?” “No. I mean not really. Pushed the edges a few times, but that was it.” Tex nodded. “That tells me this Burnett part of you still recognizes limits. Still sees that if you go past the edges the mission fails.” “Maybe you’re right, doc. Hell, even when he…I mean I was taking over the Carrera operation I never killed people who didn’t earn it in some way. I know that sounds bad, but there was always a limit.” “I’d be worried if you didn’t come in, or if you thought that line blurred.” Tex leaned forward again, his narrow cowboy eyes intense. “Again, Sonny, you’re doin’ good. You come in when you think things are goin’ off track, and you wouldn’t have done that a year gone. The House means a lot to you, don’t it?” “Yeah. It’s like the first time I’ve been able to do something good. Something that can help people. That was the worst thing about the badge. You only saw people at their worst and then handed them off to another part of the system. The House lets us catch the ones that want help an’ maybe start them on a different path.” “And if you see this Wiggins asshole on the street?” Sonny was silent for a time. “That’s the part that scares me, doc. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d do to him. I got no proof he’s behind it, but my gut says he is. Like I said, someone who was deep inside Caitlin’s life had to have done this, and he fits the bill. And he’d have a grudge for sure. But I honestly don’t know what I’d do if I saw him on the street.” “You think you’d slug him? Shoot him?” “I don’t know.” He buried his face in his hands, feeling his emotions wash over him. “In a weird way he’s responsible for my meeting Cait in the first place. And he’s not the one who killed her. That was…” “Hackman.” Tex interrupted him. “That was Hackman. His decision. He pulled the trigger. What you did to put him there has nothing to do with it. You gotta let that go, Sonny. I know it’s hard. Hell, I lost friends in the war to booby traps I thought I should have seen. Ambushes I should have spotted. You name it. And at first you beat the hell out of yourself for it. But you gotta let go, or it eats you alive. It ain’t easy. But you gotta forgive yourself.” “Have you?” His voice was harder than he’d anticipated. Tex was quiet for a moment, and Sonny was afraid he’d pushed the counselor too far. Then he spoke. “Yeah. I have. It took a long damned time, but I finally have.” He paused again. “Have you?” “No.” The word dragged itself out of the pit of Sonny’s stomach. “For David? Yeah. The hard ones are the ones after the war. My partner Eddie. Another cop named Larry. And Caitlin. All three of them were killed because I was stupid. Doing things my way without a thought for what could happen.” “Are you still that cop? That guy?” “No. I don’t think so.” “Why not?” Sonny looked down at his white slip-on shoes and started talking. “When I came back, one of the first things I tried to do was square things with people I’d hurt. Eddie’s widow is long-gone, and I figured I’d already screwed that one up enough there wasn’t any point. Larry…I owned up to Stan what I’d done there. Caitlin? All I could do is try to accept the mistake I’d made with Hackman.” He paused. “And I offered myself up a couple of times. Put myself in the line of fire so my friends would have a chance to survive. I wouldn’t have done that before.” “What made you do that?” “I got to thinking about something Evan Freed said before he died. He threw himself in the line of fire to save me.” Sonny shook his head, the memories still stabbing him in the chest after all these years. “I never told him I forgave him. I still carry that around with me. Anyhow, he looked up at me and said ‘now it’s your turn.’ I thought he meant to kill myself, you know? The simple answer. But then I remembered what he’d said before about a man learning from his mistakes. Gaining wisdom.” “You told me about this before. What’s different about it to you now?” “I never said how long it took me to understand what he really meant. I didn’t get it until I came back to the force. I think he meant it was my turn to be a man and learn from my mistakes. I don’t know that I gained any wisdom, but I think I finally did learn…” He looked up to see Tex nodding. “I think you did, too, Sonny. And it ain’t ever an easy thing. Owning your past and making some kinda peace with it. Lots of the guys I see, too many really, let their past own them. Or they’re runnin’ from it.” “Yeah. I was usually running from mine.” Sonny grinned. “Some parts more than others.” “We all do that sometimes. Nothin’ wrong with it, so long as it don’t become a habit or an excuse.” Tex paused and flipped back through his notes. “Talk to your ex-wife lately?” “Naw. That’s a chapter that’s over and gone.” “And your son?” “Same thing, really. Hell, his step-dad’s a good guy. I didn’t want to see that at first, but he is. And with a sister to watch I think Billy’s got his hands full. Let alone school and whatever.” “Do you think that squares with what Evan said to you?” Sonny started to bristle, then he smiled. “I get what you mean, Tex. Yeah, I think it does. Caroline wanted something I’d never be. Never really could be, even now. And Billy? I was always trying to wind things back. Pretend he was four again and start over. I tried to force Cait on him without even thinking what that might mean to him. They’re both part of the old me. The boy. Letting them go is what a man does. Letting them live their own lives without me getting in the way.” “And Wiggins?” Sonny shook his head. “You point guys were always sneaky. I won’t go lookin’ for him if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t have time with the House and all. But if he comes after what I’ve done…all bets are off.” Tex nodded. “Fair enough. A wise man knows his limits, both in what he can’t do and what he can do. Least that’s what one of my COs said before he put me on restriction for bein’ drunk and disorderly. I’m glad you came in today, Sonny. Shows you’re payin’ attention to what’s going on in your head.” “Thanks, doc. Look, I’ve been meaning to ask…you want to come by Caitlin’s House sometime? Have a look at what we’re doing? We don’t normally give tours or anything, but we’re getting ready to start on a facility for boys who’ve been hurt and I’d really like to have another set of eyes look at things. Eyes that ain’t stared at the thing for over a year now.” Tex nodded. “I’d like that. I’ve got a couple of friends who work with boys like that. They always say there aren’t enough resources for them in the area. Maybe I can give you their names when the time comes.” “I’d like that. We’re gonna need at least one or two specialists for them. Our staff’s good, but I don’t think they have enough experience with boys who’ve been hauled into the sex trade. Hell, my director of communications agrees. She used to work victims’ services and said the system just chews those boys up and spits them out more broken than they were when they came in.” “She’s not wrong.” Tex got to his feet and offered his hand. “Let me know a good time an’ I’d be happy to come by.” Back on the street Sonny adjusted his Ray Bans and ran a hand over his light blue t-shirt to press down any wrinkles before walking to the Daytona. He always felt better after talking with Tex, and this was no exception. And if the therapist could lead him to even one who’d be good working with boys he’d be even happier. To get that program running would require a different touch…a different approach. And he’d take any edge he could get. He found Stan waiting in the lobby outside his office, a smile on his face. “Sonny! You know that project Lester and I have been workin’ on?” Sonny nodded, opening the office door and waving the big man and his bright Hawaiian shirt inside. “I think so. The bug detecting one?” “Yeah. That one. Well, we got her running this morning. Thing can pick up a bug from over a hundred yards away. Homes in on the transmission frequency.” Stan’s eyes glittered with excitement as he rattled on about ohms and other things that were just so much black magic to Sonny. “But we also found out something else about it.” He held up a unit not much bigger than a cigar box with two small antennas. “You got a cell phone?” “Yeah.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out. “Turn it on.” When he did, a red light flashed on the front panel of the box and he could see at least one arrow start to jump. “This baby picks up cell phones if they’re on and transmitting or receiving. Guess we had some overlap in the frequencies.” “And that means what for us stupid football jocks?” “It means we can use this to find phones in the building. You know, those phones people aren’t supposed to have in the housing or treatment areas? Those phones.” “Well I’ll be damned. How accurate it is?” “It starts picking up a phone at about fifty yards, give or take, and can locate it within two feet. Lester and I did some basic tests right before lunch.” Stan shut off the unit and patted his gut with a smile. “No way I’m gonna miss lunch.” “Yeah. I don’t want to stunt your girlish figure.” Sonny laughed along with the tech wizard. “That’s really great work, Stan.” “I just sat and looked pretty. It was mostly Lester.” “Well tell Lester it’s fantastic work. I know we’ve had issues with phones getting in here in the past, and I always felt like a jerk turning some girl’s room over without real cause.” “We’ll be testing it with better antennas, but I’m thinking if we set one up at the guard desk at the entrance to each residential wing that would work. It should have enough range from there to monitor the entire wing, but we’ll test to make sure.” “Once you know, get all the guards trained up on its use.” “You got it, boss.” Stan grinned again, and then his face went serious. “Any word on the Post?” “Nothing since that press conference yesterday.” Sonny looked down at his desk. “Have you heard anything?” “Gina said the other papers are ripping their story apart, and that the TV people stopped mentioning it entirely except as ‘baseless accusation’ or whatever it is they say when they want a story to just go away.” “Good.” “But that means they’ll come at us harder next time, doesn’t it?” “I don’t know, Stan. I know Rico’s got his hands full between this and the new group of girls, so anything like this gizmo of yours you can give him to make his job easier is good.” He paused, rubbing his eyes for a moment. “And you might want to check Charlie 3 again. Just in case our friend Jimmy gets some ideas.” “I’ll do that, boss, and then see what Lester’s been up to. He was head-first in a bigger version of this baby when I came up here.” Left alone, Sonny pulled the daily report out of his in-basket and started flipping through the printed pages. He needed to stay up on both the construction and the new group of girls. With effort he pushed Wiggins to the back of his mind and focused on the progress reports from the construction contractor. It wasn’t easy.

It was two minutes before eleven when Sonny Crockett walked out the side door of Caitlin’s House and headed for the makeshift podium. Staff cars had been moved to make room for the assembled press, and he counted at least ten reporters and an equal number of bozos with both video and still cameras. A respectable turnout for something arranged so quickly, and he smiled in silent appreciation of Gina’s skill with the media. Then his face froze into the fixed Burnett stare as he reached the podium. He knew Steve Blair was behind him somewhere, settling in so he could watch the crowd behind his sunglasses. He let them chatter for the last minute, ignoring questions hurled at him from one or two of the newspaper scribblers in the front row. He was aware of Gina off to his right, and heard her whisper that the Post’s chief editor had shown up. “Jake Renfro,” she said. “He’s the greaseball in the third row back by the tall guy with the video cameral from Channel 8.” Sonny barely moved his head, looking down at the empty podium. He didn’t need a script - he knew what he was going to say. As soon as the second hand on his watch swept past the twelve he raised his right hand. “Thank you all for coming. I’ll take a few questions at the end, so don’t interrupt me now.” His voice was flat. Empty. Burnett empty. “There was a story, and I use the term loosely, on the front page of one of our lesser papers this morning. Our legal team is reviewing it now for possible action in the courts. Under the headline ‘Rehab Dealer?’ it claimed that one of our senior staff not only had a record for dealing dangerous drugs but continued to do so here.” He looked around, letting his cold stare touch every person in the crowd. “The only thing this so-called paper got right was our staffer’s name. “Angie was arrested once for drug possession. Fifteen years ago. There was no conviction, no felony record. Nothing.” He let the word settle into their brains. “Angie was born and raised in Overtown, and for those of you whose silver spoons got in the way, it’s not a vacation destination. Fifteen years ago she tried to get out the one way she knew how. And was caught. Soon after that, she was hired by my late wife as her personal assistant. And her life started to turn around.” He let the silence linger for five seconds. Then ten. “Caitlin’s House is about second chances. About helping people turn their lives around. And Caitlin was like that when she was alive. Angie is a valuable member of our staff. She can talk to the girls because she’s been where they are. And they can look at her and see there’s hope. That there are second chances.” He paused again. “For those of you who might be a bit slow, I’ll repeat: Angie has NO convictions, drug-related or otherwise. She made a mistake fifteen years ago. That’s it. And as I said, our legal team is reviewing every line, every word, of that so-called article. Caitlin’s House was, is, and will be a place for second chances. Anyone who doubts that, or lies about that, can expect to have their ass kicked.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant thing. “I’ll take questions now.” A blonde spark in the front row backed by a cameraman from Channel 4 raised her index finger. “So she has no convictions?” “Not a one. Call Miami-Dade if you doubt it.” An older guy who looked like he and his battered fedora had been seconded from the sports desk was next. “Why isn’t she out here answering questions?” “Why should she be? She works for me. It’s my call.” Sonny held his gaze until he looked away. “We run background checks on all employees. Every damned one. If Angie had any kind of record it would have shown up. An arrest isn’t a conviction. Ask any cop and they’ll tell you the same thing. A pattern of arrests is something else, but Angie hasn’t gotten so much as a speeding ticket in fifteen years. If someone’s paper had done their homework they would have known that. And to save some of you a question, nothing is going to happen to Angie. She’s a trusted and valued member of Caitlin’s House, and will remain one. She was also my late wife’s best friend, so yeah, I take accusations like this personally. That’s why I had our head of security review her case, and he agrees with my decision. As does our medical director and head of housing.” He looked around the crowd. “Any more questions?” There were a few, but he answered them with one or two words and then nodded to Gina. “Mrs. Switek will provide more information if you need it.” Then he turned and headed back inside, the cold of Burnett starting to fade from his veins. Rico was waiting just inside the door. “You really let ‘em have it, partner.” He chuckled. “I thought that dude from the sports desk was gonna piss his pants.” “Was it that rough?” “Maybe not quite, but it’s what they needed to hear.” Rico clapped him on the shoulder as they walked back to the security office. He was vaguely aware of Steve Blair lurking on the edges of his vision. Kid knows his business. No question. “And did you notice that chump from the Post didn’t say a word?” “Yeah, I did. Surprised me in a way, but I don’t think he expected me to come out like I did. I think he did piss his pants when I mentioned lawyers, though.” “Was that hot air?” “No way, pal. I called Gary before the thing kicked off and told him to have some of his sparks take a read through the thing. If there’s anything close to libel they’ll find it.” “Good. Angie’s damned good people. I don’t care what she did before. Like you said, it was a long time back.” “Yeah.” Sonny forced his head back to business. “How’d check-in go?” “Good, all things considered. We got ‘em in with no problem. Having those clowns in the side lot was a stroke of genius. They were so busy over there they didn’t notice the van come in the main gate.” “How do the girls look?” Rico shook his head. “Like they always do. Scared, but throwing a tough front. Young, even though this group’s average age is seventeen. But Catalina’s got them in hand. They’re in their rooms now, and then Nichole will give ‘em the standard orientation drill.” “We got enough security?” “Yeah. Don’t worry about it, Sonny. We got it covered. Lester’s got that new swipe system online and it’s working great. We’ll know where everyone goes inside the House if they have to enter one of the secure areas.” “Good.” Sonny paused while Rico swiped his ID to open the security office door. “Your people are doing a great job. No question.” He rubbed his eyes, trying to put order to the thoughts bouncing around in his head. “It’s the why of it I still can’t get a handle on, Rico. Why did they take a run at Angie like that? Hell…it’s the House they’re after. But why?” “You still think it’s the lawyers?” “They gotta be part of it, but…” His thoughts were interrupted by the Hawaiian-print shrouded bulk of Stan Switek bursting into the security office. “Guys! You gotta hear this! Sorry to bust in, Sonny, but I just heard back from my contact in the Federal prison system. Talk about a blast from the past. Name didn’t mean anything to me at first, but then I put the blue suede thinking cap on an’ the King himself whispered in my ear.” “Are you drunk, Stan? What the hell…” “Sonny…it’s a blast from the past, all right. Serious past.” Stan took a couple of deep breaths, trying to settle his nerves enough so he could talk. “What?” “Does the name Gordon Wiggins ring a bell?” Sonny felt like someone had slugged him in the gut. “I thought he was never getting out.” “Good behavior?” Stan gave his joke a weak smile. “Yeah, I know. Not very funny. My guy didn’t know why he got out, but it was a clean release. No parole requirements or anything. He took his one-way ticket to LA and then disappeared.” Sonny nodded, not really listening as a fog enveloped his brain. Wiggins and his late and unlamented partner had tried to kill Cait. More than once. Fremont was dead and buried, but Sonny was damned sure Wiggins blamed Caitlin for everything that happened. And what better way… “You think he’s behind this, partner?” “Makes sense, don’t it? The first shot was at the integrity of the House, not me.” “Wiggins was the big one, right? Sorry…I was kinda out of it then.” “Yeah, Stan. He was the big one with the goofy accent. Sounded like a Brit, but I was never sure if he was one or just watched too much Masterpiece Theater as a kid.” “Right. So, what do we do now?” “Not much we can do.” Sonny sat, his body limp in the chair as the reality of Gordon Wiggins being alive and free washed through his body. “Maybe see if you can find some pictures of him for Rico’s people. I don’t want him wandering in here with a fake press pass or something.” Stan nodded, then his expression changed. “I’ll do that. And I gotta run. I’m…I’m sorry, Sonny. Sorry that jackwad got released.” When they were alone, Rico leaned forward across his desk. “You cool, partner?” “Cool as I can be, Rico. Hell, he didn’t kill Cait. But after all these years it’s a shock, you know?” Rico nodded. “You really think he’s behind this?” “Yeah, at least part of it. Wiggins never had ties to Miami, so he’d have to find local help to do his dirty work for him. And some of them might have other plans. There’s plenty of guys in this town who’d like to see either of us go down. Or both of us for that matter.” “Yeah. It sucks being popular.” Rico reached for the phone. “Hey, pretty lady. Yeah, it’s me. Look, can you run a search on a chump named Wiggins? Gordon Wiggins. Yeah, Trudy should know the name. I wanna know if he’s got any ties to Miami. Any cats he’d go to for help.” He grinned and hung up. “We should know in a few if he’s got any irons in the fire in Greater Miami.” Sonny nodded, forcing the fog away from his brain. “Yeah, but we still got a job to do. Once that damned podium is out of the way, let people move their cars back and let’s get those new girls settled in.” Stanly Switek was still cursing as he fast-walked down the hall toward his small office annex. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself, or frighten the staff, by running, but he had places to go and things to do. Once through the door, he closed it behind him and grinned at a surprised Lester. “Let Castillo an’ Randy know Renfro was at the conference and should be leaving now.” He wiped at the beads of sweat dotting his forehead below his curly hair. “And tell Castillo Gordon Wiggins is back in play.” Lester nodded and switched on a radio. “Elvis to Hound Dog. Grease Stain is the visitor of the day. And be advised Gordon Wiggins is in play. Over.” There was an extended pause, and Stan could feel Castillo’s stare even at this distance. “Confirmed Wiggins, Elvis. Hound Dog out.” “You gonna tell me what the hell that means?” Stan filled his partner in quickly as he started running through a checklist in his mind and comparing it to the mental inventory he kept of the Roach Coach. More Roach Coach Lite honestly. Damn, but I wish we could have kept the original rig. Still…she’ll get the job done and then some. “So he’s probably a player but not the only one.” “We gotta know more, man. We just gotta.” Stan sighed. “Look, Lester. I already kinda committed myself to Castillo, but…” “But what?” “Our guys are out there deaf and blind. Randy and the captain are good, but they ain’t that good. Not when they don’t know who to swing at. I told Castillo I’d do whatever it took. But I ain’t dragging you into that.” “Screw that.” Lester looked up at Stan and grinned. “You know how damned dull it is sweeping for bugs day after day? And don’t give me the ‘it’s not legal’ line. I already know that. But we need to know who these assholes are and what they have in mind. Running something like they did about Angie just pisses me off. Whatever you got in mind, man? I’m in. All the way.” Stan nodded and swallowed to hide his emotions. “If we get caught…” “And who the hell is gonna catch us, Stan? We’re the best at what we do. Maybe the NSA could catch us, but there ain’t no one in Miami who can even come close. Old Steve Duddy was a damned amateur compared to us on a bad day.” Stan could feel the old fire building in his belly. “Then let’s get to planning, Lester ol’ pal. This one’s gotta be both fast and air tight. I’d say we’ve got two targets. That greaseball with the paper and old Haskell himself.” “I’ll start building some taps. You wanna build the tap grid for me?” “Ten-four, good buddy. I’ll pick out some prime real estate for your little friends.” Turning, Stan opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out one of their old grid maps of Miami. “And Gina laughed at me when I kept these things.” “Naw, man. She told you it was a good idea. I was there, remember?” “Don’t go messin’ up my good story.” Stan chuckled and unfolded the map. “We gotta figure the Post will be sweeping, if for no other reason than they got narco money behind them. Haskell might, but there we gotta watch for Feeb bugs tucked in the wires.” “I forgot about the tan suit, tan Ford crowd. You think those guys are listening to him?” “His partner went up on Federal time for mob connections, so it’s possible. We gotta play it like they are, though.” “No big thing, Stan. And I got ways to hit them even if they use those new cell phones. Satellite’s the only thing that might slow me down, but…” “I don’t think they’re using those. Too much green. The guys behind the Post’s money might be using ‘em, but I don’t think they’d trust greaseball with one.” “Yeah. He’d probably drop the damned thing or throw it at that Jimmy moron.” “Thanks for reminding me. Let’s toss something on him, too. Kid seems to be out in left field. Maybe he’s got someone out there with him.” Stan started marking points on the map. “I’d say we start with Jimmy and the paper. Haskell can wait a day. Hope you didn’t have plans tonight.” “Naw. Nikki’s visiting her folks over in Daytona. You think Gina will let you out without a leash?” “Just this once? Yeah, I think so.” He grinned. “And it wouldn’t be a big deal if you would have told us that one gig was actually a stripper tryout. Come on, man!” “You really get in trouble for that?” “Only because I wouldn’t let her try out with them.” Stan flashed his lopsided grin. “Get a couple of drinks in her, and Gina goes crazy.” Lester was about to reply when the radio beeped for attention. “Hound Dog to Elvis.” Randy’s twang filled the room. “This is Elvis. Send it.” “Greaseball went straight to the fry basket. Over.” “Copy that. Elvis is in business. Over.” “Outstanding. Hound Dog out.” Lester put the radio back in standby mode and grinned. “You don’t know how good it felt to say that.” “Oh, yeah, I do, Lester ol’ pal. You bet I do. Now let’s get this planned so we can get unplug our team’s ears. These morons are about to find out just what Team Elvis can do when it gets pissed off.” Packed into the Roach Coach, granted a less-capable version of their old Task Force ride, Stan felt almost at home. No, that wasn’t it. More like a piece that had been missing had fallen back into place. Lester was in the back slipping on phone company coveralls and checking over the new bugs he was going to put into place as soon as the sun sank a bit. “The more shadows there are, the less likely we are to be made,” he announced as Stan threaded his way through the back streets to the Post’s main offices. Stan nodded, the fingers of his right hand drumming on the jumper box. It was a smaller version of the device they’d used with huge success with the Task Force, and it would mask the number he’d use to find Jake Renfro’s internal extension. They’d talked it over before leaving the House, and decided they’d get Jimmy’s number by reverse dialing; reading the numbers Renfro called and making the connection that way. One random call the paper was enough, and he’d rather hit the higher-profile target first. “You playin’ Jail House Rock up there?” “Sorry. Guess I was.” Stan grinned and put both hands on the wheel. “If I didn’t get us lost, we should be there in about ten.” “I’m ready to rock and roll. Just park in an alley close to the pole and watch the magic happen.” Stan rolled the Roach Coach into an alley between two older buildings somewhere between renovations and falling down. He put it in park, but left the motor running. “This good enough?” He looked out at the long shadows and spreading gloom. It was that awkward point between quitting time and serious overtime; when you’d find the guys still working who needed overtime for whatever reason but didn’t want to draw too much attention from the boss. A perfect time for a lineman to check relays and generally tend to the magic keeping the phones working. At least it would look that way to anyone who happened to wander by. Lester didn’t answer. Instead he hefted his belt of goodies and slipped out the side door of the Roach Coach, letting it roll back on its own weight without latching. His coveralls were a dirty shade of gray or clean shade of black, and melted into the shadows with no effort. Soon Stan could see him scrambling up the pole using his boot spikes and then the handholds. Reaching over he switched on his hand radio and threw some switches on the jumper box. The radio crackled once, and Stan activated the mobile phone. It ran through the jumper box and came out showing a number out by the airport Holiday Inn, complete with air traffic noises. He dialed the number and waited. Renfro’s voice matched his wardrobe choices. “Editor. What you want?” “Jake Renfro?” “No shit, Sherlock.” Stan grinned, but his eyes glittered mean. “Very funny, asshole. You want a story or not?” “Who’s this?” “Someone who knows when a certain ex-governor’s daughter likes to meet her boyfriend. And then her girlfriend. That’s the kind of thing you boys run, right? And pay for?” Renfro’s voice changed. Stan could almost hear the greed dripping on the floor like hair tonic. “Could be. If the info checks out. Lots of assholes like to try to scam us.” “But I bet most of those assholes don’t drive for the ex-governor. I gotta get moving. You think it over, and I’ll call back at this time tomorrow. You don’t pick up, I take my business elsewhere.” Stan held his sharp laugh until he’d hung up the phone. That should have given Lester enough time to pick out the line and get his tap in place. Peering through the shadows he saw a dark shape move at the top of the pole and start back down. Soon the door slid open and Lester ducked in, a grin almost splitting his face. “Man, I don’t know what you told that asshole but he started lighting things up as soon as you hung up! It was easy as hell to find his line, and I got three numbers we can check in the bargain.” “I just told him a little tale about an ex-governor’s daughter, her boyfriend, and her girlfriend. Didn’t have the heart to tell him that was the plot line of Affairs of State, a little classic that took best picture honors in the Lauderdale Golden Bedpost awards back in ’88.” “How the hell…” “Larry Zito used to track all that stuff. He told me about that movie ten times at least.” I still miss him, too. “I shoulda known. Larry knew his porn. No question. He was freakin’ famous in the lab for that.” “We gonna need to set up a repeater?” “Naw. This new one’s got enough range to hit the House without too much trouble. Unless we get sunspots. But I’ve got one picked out just in case.” He settled in as Stan threw the van in gear and pulled out into traffic. “We should probably test it, though. Just to make sure.” “Lester old pal, let’s run it from the Roach Coach. That way if things go South…” “…Sonny and Rico are clear. I got ya, sarge. Probably get better reception out here, too. Less building in the way.” They ran the check from the van’s usual parking spot, and Stan grinned. “Five-by, Lester. We’re golden. And with the cop wiring this thing can run all night and not drain the battery.” Lester nodded. “You head on home, Stan. Gina’s gonna be pissed that you’re late as it is. Nikki’s gone for a few more days, so I’ll get things settled in here.” “Thanks, partner.” He slapped Lester on the shoulder, knowing he was right about Gina. She’d forgive him, though, once he explained what was going on. And what they were doing. Gina didn’t say anything until he was done explaining. “…so with this Wiggins back in play, we gotta know what’s going on. And that won’t happen unless Lester and I give the team some ears.” He sat down on the worn couch, a relic of his bachelor days. “I hope you’re not pissed.” “No, Stan. How could I be? Sonny and Rico have their hands full with the new girls and the renovations and all that, and this Wiggins thing has to be tearing Sonny apart.” She touched Stan’s arm. “Does he know?” “No, but Marty does. He’s kinda how we got involved in it. Him and Randy and Dave’s nephew are running something. And I don’t think he wants Rico or Sonny to know.” “They won’t hear it from me.” Gina smiled. “It’ll be our little secret. I can even let you know what they’re up to if that will help.” “I think it might. Trudy will be doing the same thing, but they don’t tell her everything.” Stan pulled her down on his lap and kissed her neck. “You, on the other hand…” “Stanley Switek! Put your hands on me this instant!” She giggled, the giggle turning into a long sigh as he followed her orders. “I promise I don’t have any contraband, officer.” “Now, ma’am, there’s only one way to be sure of that. I mean really sure. You’d best get them clothes off this instant unless you want to be in even bigger trouble than you are now.” He put on his best surly Southern sheriff look as she jumped to her feet and started unbuttoning her blouse. “And I know you ladies is good at hiding stuff, so I’ll be checking everywhere. And I do mean everywhere…”

He hated telling Jenny he was staying late at the House, but Sonny wanted to make this visit alone. He could see the red memory of the sun on the horizon as he walked to the pure white tombstones, and he held the white roses so no red touched them. The last thing he needed was a reminder of blood. The tombstone was warm to his touch, the day’s heat not quite pulled out by the freshening breeze. Normally he came while there was still more light, but this didn’t feel like a daylight conversation. “I know you mean well, Cait.” His voice was low, choked every other word by the feelings welling up in his chest and seeking their own freedom. “I get that you want to warn me. But it’s making Jenny nuts.” He paused again, seeing the name Will marking the son he’d never know. “I still love you, darlin’, but I love her, too. And I can’t stand to see her like this.” Looking up, he saw the ghost of a sailboat slipping over the calm water, its running lights blinking red and green as its sails caught the breeze. “We know someone’s coming, but we don’t know who it is. Not yet, anyhow. And I’m not on the force now. That makes it harder. And there’s Rico…he and Mindy are expecting a kid now. I should have told you that earlier. So I gotta watch out for them, too.” He paused again. “We heard you, darlin’. No one’s ignoring what you say, even if we don’t hear too good. You can let Jenny rest now.” Kneeling down, he laid the flowers in their normal spot by the stones. He spoke of the expansion plans, feeling silly talking to the breeze but knowing he had no choice. She deserved to know what was happening in the house that bore her name. “…and there’s four more girls coming in tomorrow,” he said, finishing up. “That and the expansion so we can deal with more high-risk patients and even boys. It’s hard work, but it’s the best way I know to honor your memory.” Sighing, he stood up. “I gotta get back, Cait. I love you, and Will, too.” He left the Dayton’s top down, and the wind whipped at his hair as he drove back to the marina. Sonny didn’t know if he’d just made an ass of himself again, but Jenny was so agitated he had to try something. And he had to admit he’d done it for himself as well as her. It had been too long since he’d visited the graves, and with the week ahead he figured he needed to make the visit while he could. Downshifting the Daytona, he made the turn and parked in his usual spot in the marina parking lot. Light flowed golden from the salon ports on Tranquility, and he smiled as he walked down the dock. Light meant Jenny was home, awake, and probably in a good mood. The marina was fairly quiet now that the frat boys had been booted from someone’s father’s boat. He could hear snatches of what sounded like Dean Martin floating on the breeze, and knew old man Marlioni was at it again down toward the far end of the dock. He grinned as he walked up the gangplank. Marlioni reminded him of his father in many ways, right down to the bottles of Budweiser and Deano on the stereo. “I was hoping that was you.” Jenny looked up from the salon table, her eyes bright. “I wasn’t sure how much longer dinner would keep.” “Yeah…took a bit longer than I’d hoped.” He smiled and unclipped his holstered Smith & Wesson 4506-1 before sinking into the settee and kicking off his shoes. “But with those girls coming in tomorrow I wanted to make sure everything was ready. And…” He debated for a moment, but figured she’d know anyhow. “I wanted to stop by and talk to Cait.” She nodded but didn’t speak. She was wearing a baggy button-up white cotton shirt he’d tried to throw away until he saw how good she looked in it, and the fabric flowed around her body as she got up and headed across to the galley. “I just heated up the leftovers from last night. I hope you don’t mind.” “Of course not, darlin’. That sounds great.” He paused again. “I just wanted to tell her…” “It’s ok, Sonny. You wanted to tell her to stop bothering me.” She forked pasta and sauce onto two plates and shut off the burner before coming back to the table with the food. “No. I wanted her to know that we’d heard her warning.” Reaching out, he closed his hand over hers. “I wanted her to know she wasn’t being ignored.” She signed, sitting down in a single, smooth motion. “Thank you.” “Look, I don’t know how any of this works. If there’s rules or what. I’m just a dumb hick cop over here. But it was really bothering you, and that bothers me. It was the only thing I could think of to do.” “It’s ok, Sonny. Really.” She looked at him and smiled. “If it helps, I don’t know how any of this works, either. I just know it does. Well, sometimes. There’s no switch I throw. You know, ‘on’ or ‘off.’ It just happens.” “Yeah. I guess I just hoped she might listen.” He looked down at the plate, finding his own smile again. “Maybe my bad attempt at Italian will taste better the second night.” “It was great the first night.” She turned her hand palm-up and squeezed his. “Can I come in with you tomorrow?” “You bet you can, darlin’. The new group needs to see everyone who’s involved in their care. I was gonna ask if you wanted to after we ate.” He spun noodles on his fork and took an experimental bite. “Hell, it does taste better the second day.” Morning came too soon, but he was glad to see the smile on Jenny’s face as she stretched. The sheet fell away from her upper body, and she giggled as she followed his eyes. “Good morning to you, too.” Leaning over, she kissed him lightly on the lips. “Caitlin said she was sorry.” “Oh.” The deck felt cool under Sonny’s feet as he got out of bed. He didn’t really know what to say. “Guess my talk worked.” “That’s what she said.” Jenny kept smiling as she reached across and ran her fingers along the line of his shoulder. “Now let’s take a shower and get ready to go in. Can we stop for breakfast on the way?” They stopped at a place he’d eaten in quite a bit during his early days in uniform, then less as he switched to plainclothes and rose in rank. But it felt right to look back in now, during his early days out of uniform. That and they had great eggs and served double portions of bacon. Jenny giggled as she watched him butter his toast. “So you used to come here back when you were just Patrolman Crockett?” “Yeah. It was a big morning on the town after working midnights.” He grinned, chewing toast and chasing it with a swallow of coffee. “And about all we could afford back then, too. I don’t think anything’s changed in here, either.” “Even the old guy at the counter?” “Yeah. He was there then, too. He might have been there when they broke ground to build the place.” Sonny caught the frazzled waitress’ eye and motioned for more coffee. Naw, she’s just tired he reminded himself. Probably the end of an all-night shift for her. He’d seen the look before; in his own eyes when he looked in the bathroom mirror while he changed, trying not to wake Caroline as he got ready for bed just before she had to get up. She always got angry if he woke her up before the alarm went off. “You’re thinking again.” “Yeah.” He told her the story, nodding his thanks when the waitress came around with coffee. “Guess I should have seen it that far back. The whole ships passing each other in the night thing.” “I had a boyfriend like that once. It was right after I got Vellamo and started working. He’d want me to stay at his place, then didn’t get why I had to leave for days at a time. I bet he’s still waiting for me to come back.” She smiled, touching his hand. “That’s why we’re good together. We come from the same place.” He nodded, chewing bacon and considering his second piece of toast. He knew they had to get going soon, but part of him just wanted to stay in the dingy booth drinking coffee and watching the sun play over Jenny’s thick blonde hair. To just pause time. Funny how it all worked. He’d either been rewinding things like Vietnam or wanting to pause moments like now for the last couple of months. But there was work to do. Work he had to do. Finishing his coffee, he raised a finger for the check. “We’d better get moving. If we’re late, Angie will kill us both.” He could feel the familiar weight of the CS45 on his ankle. He’d locked the bigger .45 in Tranquility’s safe before they left. “And I don’t have anything big enough to stop her if she charges.” The guard barely gave them a second glance as he hit the button lifting the barrier. He seemed distracted, and Sonny made a note in his head to mention it to Rico when he saw him. Funny. Those guys on the gate are usually on it. He pulled into his parking spot and shut off the Daytona, waiting a moment so he could admire Jenny in her tight black pencil skirt as she got out of the car. Then it was his turn to climb out into the rising heat, feeling a light breeze on his forehead. He was about to say something to Jenny when he noticed the look on her face and turned. Rico had just come out the side door at full speed with what looked like a paper in his hand. “Hey, Sonny. Jenny. We got problems.” “Yeah. The guy on the gate…” Rico stopped. “You haven’t seen it yet, have you? “Seen what? We had breakfast an’ came straight here.” Rico handed him the paper, his eyes dark. “This.” He saw the splashy masthead of the Post, and then his eyes dropped to the big black letters plastered across the width of the page. “Rehab dealer? What the hell is this?” “Read it.” He took the paper, unfolding it to reveal a big picture of Angie. It was older, and taken from a distance, but it was still Angie. There was no mistaking her. He read the first few lines, disgust building in his chest. “You’ve got to be shitting me…” “I don’t know how the hell they dug it up, Sonny. But it’s true. Part of it, at least.” Jenny’s voice was a tight snarl. “Angie’s a good person. I…” Sonny touched her shoulder. “I know. Let’s go inside and see what Rico found out.” He turned back to Tubbs. “How long has this been out?” “They dropped it early. Early enough to have at least ten reporters burning up the lines for comment. I think it made two of the local morning shows, and it’ll be all over the noon news.” As they walked toward the side door, Sonny could feel the pivot taking place in his head. His confusion, anger, everything turning into a cold, clear focus. Without realizing it he slipped on his Ray Bans and ran a hand over hair already pulled into the tight Burnett ponytail. When they were inside he spoke in a voice that was flat and distant. “What do we know?” Rico led them to his office. “We know part of it’s true. I already talked to Angie. She’s in one of the therapy rooms and she’s taking it hard. Says she let girlfriend, Blondie, and Little Blondie down. I’ve got one of the psych nurses in with her now just in case.” “Good. What part of this shit is true?” He tossed the paper on the desk. “She was picked up for dealing crack. Something like fifteen years ago. I put in a call to Narcotics and John Vallencio. He dug it up and said she didn’t have much weight, and worked with them to take down the next link in the dealer chain. He figured she was just trying to make ends meet the only way she knew how. Right after that she got hired on by Caitlin somehow and never went near any of it again.” “He’s sure?” “You know John, partner. He’s sure.” “You don’t think Angie…” “No, darlin’. I don’t. But I also don’t want any surprises. I’m going after those bastards at the Post, and I don’t want then to have any more ammunition hidden away somewhere.” He turned back to Rico. “Is Gina in yet?” “Yeah. She’s doing damage control.” “Get her down here.” Turning, he stared at the paper. Gina’s thick dark hair was mussed, and her eyes were red from crying. “Sonny…I…” “Don’t worry about it.” He watched Jenny step around the desk and slip her arm around Gina’s shoulders. Not too long ago that would never have happened. “I want you to set up a press conference for 1100. I want the noon news to have clips to run.” “How…how many reporters?” “Anyone who wants to show up.” He paused. “Including the Post.” He turned back to Rico. “Did that piece of gator shit run with a byline?” “Nope. Just ‘staff.’ But they did credit the photo to our old friend Jimmy.” “If they’re dumb enough to send him, have him arrested for violating the restraining order.” He turned back to Gina. “How’s Angie?” “Bad. She really feels like she let everyone down. She’s always so tough…” “I’ll talk to her. She doesn’t need to be at the conference. In fact it might be better if she’s not.” He could feel the gears clicking into place in his mind, meshing with what he knew. “This is their opening shot. Someone’s trying to get us off balance. It’s what I’d do. Rico, have your people on higher alert.” “Even the new guy?” “What new guy?” “Dave’s nephew. Trudy said he’s in town and between jobs and could use a few hours.” Sonny thought for a moment, his mind reeling back to their hunt for Doc. “Yeah. Especially him. He’s gonna have good tradecraft. He checked in yet?” “Yeah. He’s getting fitted for a uniform now.” Rico grinned. “And he’s got a stainless steel cannon just like you.” “Shows he comes prepared.” Sonny’s grin was thin and short. “I’ll talk to Angie first and then him.” He thought for a moment. “His name’s Steve, isn’t it?” “Yeah.” Gina cleared her throat. “I’ll walk you you to Angie, Sonny. Then I’ll start making calls.” She sniffed again and rubbed her nose with her forefinger. “Do you still want the new girls…” “Yes. Nothing changes because of this. I want reception and everything else to run just like normal. We’ll keep the press outside, away from the facility.” Rico nodded. “We’ll get something set up, Sonny. Don’t worry.” Jenny spoke up. “I’ll help sort out reception. Rico’s gonna have his hands full with everything else. I might grab Trudy, too.” The therapy rooms in Caitlin’s House were identical and as different as could be. Identical in size, but decorated differently depending on the intended use. Some had bright photos on the walls while others had more subdued lighting and a few stuffed animals close by the comfortable chairs. Sonny understood; many of the girls who came to the House had been hurt early and often, and the big teddy bears saw frequent use. Angie sat on one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner of the room, looking out a window at a portion of the manicured yard that hadn’t been marked for the addition. Her tiger-print dress was rumpled, and her makeup was sliding down her face where she’d been crying. At the sound of the door she looked up, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue already dyed the colors of a rainbow by eyeliner and foundation. “Blondie! Angie didn’t mean for nothin’…” “It’s ok, Angie. It was a long time ago. Even before you started working for Cait.” “Yeah.” She sniffed and wiped at her nose. “It was. I was dumb back then. Tryin’ to get out of Overtown the only way I knew. I did that once, and when I got caught I knew there had to be another way.” “And I was wondering when you’d drop the act.” She smiled and sniffled again. “Yeah, but it’s better when people don’t think you’re paying attention.” “Yeah, there is that.” He closed the door and sat down in the free chair across from her. “I don’t know how these bozos dug up that information, but I plan on setting the record straight in a couple of hours. You don’t need to be there. In fact, it might be better if you’re not. I don’t want reporters distracted when I let then have it.” “I can have my notice in…” “You’re not going anywhere, Angie. This place needs you. Hell, Jenny and I need you. You keep everything running, and the girls can relate to you in a way they can’t to our doctors. Hell, you, Trudy, and Jenny could have been just like them if you’d made one wrong turn. The mission of the House is everything to me, and if you think I’m gonna let you walk just because some little toothpick reporter printed some lies you don’t know Blondie very damned well.” “I knew there was a reason she loved you like she did.” Angie blew her nose, destroying what was left of the tissue. “I may need a minute or two…” “Take as long as you need. I know this is hard. But if you can, I’d really like it if you were able to help with the new girls when they come in today.” He smiled and patted her on her thick knee. “Just like you always do.” “Thank you, Sonny. I mean that. This place means everything to me, too.” She smiled and tugged some of the wrinkles out of her dress. “Now Angie gotta get ready, Blondie. New girls gonna need to know how things work around here.” Sonny smiled and touched her knee again. “You stick with it, Angie. Don’t worry about a thing.” He found Gina in her office, the phone glued to her ear. She raised a finger as he walked through the door. “He’ll be available for comment at eleven. Not before.” Hanging up, she gave him a wry smile. “You’d think they made the rules around here, not us.” “Yeah. You’d think. Though it is damned nice to be able to tell them to piss off sometimes.” She smiled. “I’ve got people from the three major stations and two of the papers coming out at eleven. I called the Post, but they wouldn’t say if they were sending anyone or not. I did remind them if Campbell showed up he’d be arrested for violating his restraining order.” She smiled. “You should have heard the girl whine then.” “I’ll bet. Ten to one the little weasel is the one who wrote that pile of shit to begin with.” Sonny perched on the edge of desk. “Where do you want me for this?” “I figured we’d use the staff parking lot. The covered smoking area has room for them, and it keeps them away from the main doors and the girls. Jenny and Trudy are already setting it up.” “Good thinking, Gina. We’ve got that damned surplus Metro-Dade podium I can hide behind, and the fourth estate can damned well stand.” He shifted back to the floor and started to walk out. “Sonny…how’s Angie?” “She’ll be fine. I told her we were behind her all the way.” He shook his head. “It was a long time ago, and she never make a mistake after that. I’d be a first-class idiot to let her go.” “She wasn’t convicted, was she?” “No. John said she turned CI and helped them bust the supplier. I think she might have gotten community service and a slap on the wrist. We would have turned up any felonies during the background checks.” “Why?” The one word carried so many questions he didn’t know where to start. “I don’t know, Gina. And I don’t think this is a one-time thing. Someone wanted that story to run to rattle us. To get us looking one way while they do something else. I don’t know who, and I sure as hell don’t know why. Not yet, at least.” “What about those lawyers?” “They could be involved. Hell, this is the kind of thing they do every day. But it ain’t gonna help their case one bit. That’s what’s got me confused. If they’re involved, what do they get out of it?” There were still too many missing pieces. Hell, he didn’t even know who the players were, aside from those assholes at the Post. And their game wasn’t obvious, either. Right now all he could do was roll with it, counterpunch, and keep his eyes open. “Could you see if that nephew is around? Our new guy,” The man hadn’t changed since Sonny last saw him. He’d delivered a recording from an old friend of Castillo’s…one that had changed Rico’s life forever. Probably for the better, since it told him what happened to his son. And the rest of the Calderone family. Blair had darkish brown hair and hazel eyes that gave away nothing about the man within. He was the kind of guy you missed in a crowd; the kind who was born for undercover work. They were back in Sonny’s office, and he sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk wearing one of the bland uniforms Rico had picked out for security personnel working inside the House. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Crockett. I just wish it was better circumstances.” “You and me both. And call me Sonny. Pretty much everyone does.” “Sonny it is.” The was a confidence to the man’s voice you might miss if you just looked at him. “I’m sort of a straphanger on this one. Where do you need me?” “I’d guess Marty brought you in more for close security, so that’s where we’ll leave you.” Sonny grinned. “Rico said you’re carrying a Smith like mine.” “If you carry a 4506-1, then yeah.” Blair smiled. “I’d ask if you were good with it, but I don’t want to insult you.” “It’s a fair question. Good on the range, and good in the field.” The hazel eyes went flat. “I think you know what that means.” “Yeah. I do. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that, but most of the people who don’t like me don’t tend to be very accommodating. Or dedicated to peaceful means of expression.” “I understand.” Sonny looked at the younger man again, for a moment almost thinking he could see the ghosts hovering around him. “Yeah, I bet you do. Not everyone does.” He paused. “You’re not a Company man these days, are you?” “No.” “Good. Never trusted most of them.” He turned and looked out the big window. “We’re gonna have a dog and pony show at 1100. Not sure how many press, and the Post may or may not put in an appearance. I’d like you fairly close.” “Normal VIP drill. You got it. Is Tubbs going to be there?” “No. I’m keeping him under wraps. If there’s someone gunning for us, I’d rather limit it to one shot at a time.” Sonny grinned again. “That and he’ll be busy coordinating security for the intake. We’ve got four new girls coming in today. The times overlap, and I want to make sure the press doesn’t get a look at any of them.” Blair nodded and got to his feet. “I’m gonna get to work, then. I want to take a look at the area you’re using for the conference. Talk to a couple of the security guys. Groundwork really.” “Knock yourself out. Anyone gives you any crap, send ‘em to me or Rico.” Sonny waited until the younger man was gone before letting out a long sigh and leaning back in his chair. The kid was solid as hell. No question. And he wasn’t really a kid, either. He had the same intensity as his uncle, but there was something deeper, too. He was the kind of guy who would see a mission through to the end, no matter the cost. Because he had nothing to lose. Martin Castillo hung up the phone and looked across the room at Randy, who’d skipped another convention training session to come out to the Japanese house close to the beach and far too many memories. “It’s started. The Post ran a story about Angie’s arrest fifteen years ago.” “What did Trudy say about Sonny’s response?” “He’s backing Angie and holding a press conference at 1100 to let them have it.” Castillo’s smile was thin. “His words, not Trudy’s.” “That sounds like the boss. Hit back hard and fast before they can launch another punch.” Randy set down his tea cup and smiled. “What’s our plan?” “She said he invited the Post, but they didn’t say if they’d send anyone or not.” Castillo sipped the last of his tea, his mind working through possible scenarios. “Contact Switek. See if he’ll let you know if anyone from the Post shows up and what car they’re driving if they do. We can tail them back from Caitlin’s House and see where they go. Who they meet with. Right now we don’t know enough about the players.” “You got that right. I’ll make the call now.” Castillo stepped out on the deck to give Randy some privacy for his call. He didn’t want the former deputy marshal to feel pressured in any way. It was also easier for him to think on the deck, out with the sound of the waves and the breeze rustling through the undergrowth around the house. He’d been afraid someone would use Angie’s background against them, and he cursed himself for not telling Sonny what he’d known about the incident. It might not have made much difference, but at least then he wouldn’t have been blindsided. It wouldn’t have been hard for someone to find, but they’d also have to know more about Angie than her first name. And they’d also have to know her relationship to the house, which wasn’t exactly common knowledge. Gina’s face was the one most often seen on TV when the House was discussed, followed by the two doctors and then maybe Sonny. But that lined up with Ti Ti’s message about fire from the rear…the past. Randy’s voice snapped him back to the present. “Stan said he’ll do it. He’s also got something else in mind, but he wouldn’t tell me what.” Randy grinned. “He sounded pissed, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if he an’ Lester turned their full bag of tricks loose against the Post.” “And he’d never say that where it could be recorded.” Castillo nodded. “Switek’s a true professional.” “He also said he’s still waiting on his Bureau of Prisons contact. He thinks the guy might have something for him.” Castillo nodded. Trudy had said something about Stan reaching out. Trying to find out who else might be reaching up from the past. “Good. Is Steve in place?” Randy nodded. “He’ll try to stay close to Sonny and Rico. More Sonny today since he’s gonna be more exposed.” “We’ll leave here about 1000.” Castillo looked at his watch. “In half an hour. That gives us time to get in position outside the compound. I’ve got radios so Switek can contact us.” “Yeah. He said he’d call it on frequency delta, whatever the hell that means.” “A low-band channel. Short range and hard to monitor.” Castillo smiled. “As I said, Switek’s a professional. He’s making it hard for anyone to listen in on us.” Randy nodded, reaching down and checking his custom .45 in its hip holster. “You taking that cannon?” “No. I have a Detonics with a six inch barrel. I’m not expecting contact this time out, but…” “Be prepared. Yeah, I know. You think they’d try anything this soon?” “No. This is an opening shot. Something to distract Sonny and Rico.” “That’s what I’m thinkin’, too. Big question is where’s the main effort comin’ from? And who’s the target?” “I don’t know.” Castillo stared out toward the water, trying to sort what they knew in his mind. It wasn’t there. Not yet, anyhow. “Maybe this will help us put some more pieces in play.”

“We can talk if you want. But if not, that’s fine, too.” She nodded and sniffed, her thick blonde hair tickling his nose as she leaned back against him. Her skin was cool against his, and he could feel her nipples hard under his forearms from the breeze. “I didn’t want to wake you.” “It’s ok. I woke up when you got up.” He pulled her closer. “Did you want to watch the sun come up instead?” “No. This is what she wanted me to see.” Jenny sniffed again, and he could feel her shivering against him. But it wasn’t that cold. “I’ve never felt her like this before.” He didn’t want to push her, but he’d also never seen Jenny like this before. It scared him. “Like what?” “Scared. Usually when Caitlin visits she’s happy. She was nervous with the first warnings, but now she’s scared.” “Maybe because you’re scared, darlin’. I know this whole thing has you worried, but we’re good. Rico’s got security raised, the renovation’s actually on schedule, and new girls are coming in this week.” He gave her a squeeze, and was surprised when she resisted. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” “No. It won’t. She’s telling me it won’t, but she doesn’t know why.” “What does the…her message look like?” He didn’t want to call them dreams, even if that’s what they were. Jenny was upset enough already, more than he’d seen her since the whole thing with Monaele Jankow. “Mainly just her face. Her hair’s down like in that one picture you have. The one I think is really pretty. Anyhow, she always says ‘look back.’” She raised her eyes to look at the red sky again. “Look back,” she whispered again. “And that’s all. And she looks afraid. Then she says ‘It’s my fault’ and the message ends.” She turned to look at him for the first time, her eyes red from crying. “How can it be her fault, Sonny?” “I don’t know, darlin’. Cait never stepped wrong in her life. Any troubles we had were things I brought to the table. Not her.” He paused. “Is there any way you can…ask her?” “I tried. She just shakes her head and says it again.” He nodded and kissed her forehead, tasting salty sweat. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on, darlin’, but we’re doing everything we can to make things safe, Rico and me.” But I don’t know how the hell to reason with whatever it is she’s talking to. Or whatever it is she thinks she’s talking to. “Maybe it’s got something to do with Hackman. It’s gettin’ close to the day the bastard tricked me into getting his death sentence commuted.” “Maybe. But she’s never done this before.” “I honestly don’t know. But I do know I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Or to us.” He forced himself to chuckle. “And I can be damned stubborn about things like that.” She let a weak giggle escape her throat. “I know. I’m…sorry, Sonny. I love you so much, and I…” “Don’t apologize, Jenny. There’s nothing to apologize for. Hell, maybe the news about Rico and Mindy has her unsettled, too.” “That might be part of it.” She rested her head against his chest. “Can we go make coffee? That sounds really good now.” “You bet we can.” He kissed her again, smiling when he saw light coming back into her blue eyes. “I might have some eggs in the icebox, too. Scrambled eggs with salsa sound good?” “I’m from California. Salsa always sounds good.” She stretched up and kissed him this time, her lips soft against his. “Thank you.” “I love you, Jenny. It’s what I do when I love someone.” He opened the ports to let the cool morning air push through Tranquility’s galley and across to the navigation station. They’d refitted both during Jenny’s remodel of what had once been Jankow’s boat, bringing both up to date with modern equipment and a layout designed for two people with occasional guests. He’d checked the small radar set as soon as he came below, grinning when he saw it was clear. Jenny’s old smuggling instincts always led them to isolated anchorages out of the main shipping lanes. Watching her settle into one of the side seats in the dining area just across from the galley, he still had a hard time seeing the art smuggler in the slender blonde who looked like she’d be more at home posing topless with a surf board. But that was part of what had made her so good at her old occupation. No one looked past the bright smile and high breasts to see the brain lurking there. He knew he hadn’t the first time he saw her walking down the dock at the marina to his old boat. The St. Vitus Dance had been his residence for years, first as part of his Burnett cover and then his whole life once Caroline and Billy left. She’d walked up to the gangplank like she owned the place, a six pack of beer in one hand and wearing next to nothing. Saying something about having a beer and they hadn’t met yet. Back when they both still smoked and he was trying to figure out if she was just some lady who’d gotten her boat in a divorce. “You’re thinking about us.” It wasn’t a question. “More how we met.” He smiled and stirred salsa into the eggs before adding them to the pan. “It feels like yesterday.” “Yesterday and a lifetime.” She smiled, a real smile this time. “I think about that every day.” “So do I.” It wasn’t a lie. Parts of that day still floated in front of his mind at least once, usually when he was waking up or falling asleep. “I thought we were done with this when you retired.” “So did I, darlin’.” He watched the eggs cooking, stirring them from time to time to keep them from burning. “So did I. And it has, pretty much anyhow. This…I don’t know what this is about. Maybe it’s got something to do with the court case. But that will be over soon enough. Gary says it’s a slam dunk, and even I know he’s right. We ship those bozo lawyers off to some Federal fun town and get on with our lives.” She nodded, her eyes distant for a moment and then pulling back into focus. “We should have Rico and Mindy out. Give them a nice trip before she gets too pregnant to travel.” “Yeah. We should. I don’t think Tubbs quite appreciates how much his life is about to change. She doesn’t, either.” He allowed himself a thin smile as he dished up eggs and poured coffee. “God knows I didn’t when I was in their shoes.” Shutting off the cooker, he came around the galley island and handed her a plate of eggs and full cup. “She can still sail, though, right?” “Should be early enough along she’s not dealing with the heavy stuff yet. Just wait ‘till Rico’s holding a bucket for her at three in the morning and then running out for pickles and peanut butter at three thirty.” Sonny grinned. “Yeah, I had to do that for Caroline. More than once until I wised up and stocked the house with pickles and peanut butter.” Jenny laughed, a musical sound in the cool morning air. “That sounds awful!” “Oh, it was. Took me about a year to be able to stomach the smell of peanut butter again.” Sonny sat down next to her, not wanting to admit his marriage had started failing right around the time he could smell peanut butter without gagging. That was when he’d moved from patrol to Robbery Division. “How many new girls are coming in?” He thought for a moment, glad the conversation had changed. “Should be four. Maybe five if there’s another one who fits the profile. We can’t take on any more high risk yet, so that makes it kinda tough.” “Why not?” “Catalina’s worried about security in the dorm wings, and I think she’s right. Once the renovations are done we’ll be able to handle more, but for now it’s better to be safe than sorry.” She smiled. “What have you done with Sonny?” “Yeah. Me with no risk? It just don’t seem natural.” He took a sip of coffee. “But I won’t take risks with the treatment of these girls. And if Catalina says stop, that’s what we do.” She nodded and forked up more eggs. “These are really good. You should cook more often.” “Yeah, yeah. I know. Especially since this really hot lady redid the galley so well.” “Now you’re just silly.” “Naw. She really is a hot lady.” He winked at her over the rim of his coffee cup. It was good to see her smiling again. At least she’d shed some of the gloom from her dream. Or whatever it was. Still, he couldn’t shake some of what she’d said. How could anything be Cait’s fault? I gotta ask Rico about this. Hell, maybe Stan, too. He’s damned good at thinking outside the box. “Good. Because we have a few hours until we need to start back. The water’s nice, and we can take a shower after.” The sun was a red memory on the horizon as Sonny used the auxiliary motor to guide Tranquility into her berth at the marina. Jenny was belowdecks sleeping, and he saw no reason to disturb her. They’d furled the sails about ten miles out, and he’d used the motor the rest of the way in. Coming back that way let her sleep, and also gave him time to think. It had been a long time since he’d seen her this worried, and it bothered him. There wasn’t really anyone he could talk to about it, even if he’d been inclined to. He guided the sailboat into her mooring spot, cutting the motor and letting the sixty foot twin-master settle into place before jumping over and making the lines fast. It was all second nature by now, but he found the work with his hands let his mind flow into places it might not otherwise go. Usually that was a good thing. Aside from the court case there was nothing in motion to trigger Jenny’s dreams. And he couldn’t see what suing a dirty law firm could have to do with it, either. It was as close to an open and shut deal as you could get, the accounting evidence so solid it might as well have been engraved in stone and brought into court by an old guy with a beard and long flowing robes. And it was all in Gary Towers’s capable hands. Sonny didn’t even anticipate having to appear. But maybe Rico or Stan would see something he missed. Once the last line was tied off, he stood for a moment on the foredeck, letting the sea breeze dry the sweat on his chest and turn his hair into a tousled mess. It felt good, just standing there with nothing in particular on his mind. He missed the job, the thrill of the chase. No question. But evenings like this he was learning to appreciate having nothing on his mind. Starting to understand why some of the old cops turned their backs on the entire business and never looked back. He wasn’t sure if he ever really could, but he was starting to get why they did what they did. “Are we back already?” He turned, seeing a shock of blonde hair in the gloom. “Yeah. I tied up about ten minutes ago. Figured I’d let you sleep on the way in.” She came topside, the thin white t-shirt hiding nothing of her body. “I’m glad you did. I was tired.” “Yeah. You looked it.” He looked out over the water, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I was just thinking how nice this is.” She smiled as a stereo down the dock started blasting something that might have passed for rap. “At least until the frat boys woke up.” “Yeah. But you know ol’ Mr. Levkowsky will be on 911 in about ten minutes demanding the SWAT team.” He chuckled, moving closer to her. “Boys best enjoy daddy’s boat while they can.” She smiled, then yawned and stretched, the t-shirt climbing high above her hips. “I might just go below and turn in. The nap was nice, but I’m still tired.” “I’ll be down in a bit. I want to make sure everything’s secure up here first.” He smiled as she ducked back below, and then his face changed. Walking up to the foredeck, he pulled out his phone and keyed in numbers. He waited. “Rico? Yeah, it’s me. Look, man, I think we need to talk. Yeah. Hold half an hour tomorrow morning first thing. And do you if Stan’s gonna be in? Naw, I’ll check when I get in. No, nothing’s wrong. Not really, I guess. It’s…” He paused. “It’s complicated. Yeah, you too, man. I’ll see you then.” Hitting the button to kill the connection, he looked out over the moored boats without really seeing them. Right on cue one of the ugly-ass green and white patrol units from Miami-Dade turned into the marina lot and activated its rollers. “You’d think with the fancy name change they’d find better colors,” he muttered as he watched the shadowy cops getting out of the marked unit and orienting themselves on the dock. He thought about giving directions, then stopped himself. He wasn’t one of them anymore, and when he’d been in patrol he hated wise-ass retirees trying to tell him what to do. Still, he stayed topside to watch the show. Or at least pretend to while he thought about tomorrow. He’d need to go in early, but the new intake gave him a good excuse. And that same intake was why he didn’t want to take up too much of Tubbs’s time. Poor guy’s gonna be stretched thin as it is. More so soon enough. I think it’ll surprise him just how fast nine months can go. He could see shadowy arms waving on the deck of a frat boy’s father’s cabin cruiser, punctuated by stabbing flashes from a cop’s MagLite. It was going to get interesting down there in about ten seconds, and he didn’t miss that part of the Job one bit. Drunks and domestics had been his two least-favorite calls when he was on patrol, and at least one of the D&D pair was going on down there. Absently he wondered if Billy had experienced that part of life yet. He doubted he’d find out; he’d checked out of his son’s life years ago. In some ways he envied Rico, but in others he didn’t. He was honest enough with himself to admit he wasn’t father material, even though a part of him kept insisting he was. But that part got smaller each year, and he’d noticed it more since he left the Job. Funtime down the way was over. The breeze carried a few barked “Get on the ground!”s from the two cops, and the MagLites steadied into spears tracking from one prone frat boy to the next. He chuckled and turned toward the companionway leading below. “Someone’s night just got damned expensive,” he muttered as he pulled the shutters closed. Bed was sounding good right about now. Gordon Wiggins looked from his single-malt scotch to the creased face of Jake Renfro. “You’re sure the girl won’t be enough?” “Yep.” Renfro stirred his Manhattan with a stubby finger. “She’s the hook, no question. But we gotta bait it first. Don’t catch no fish without bait, you know.” Wiggins nodded. He’d decided to meet with the editor without Haskell or that skinny punk Jimmy, and he was glad he had. “Oh, I understand, Jake. Really, I do. And I believe I might have something that will serve as bait for your hook.” He took a sip of scotch, feeling the ice cubes bump against his teeth. It was almost time for another, and he figured he needed it. Especially after watching the wretched editor stir his drink with his finger. Some people simply should not be allowed out in public. “You’re tellin’ me you got dirt on that place Jimmy didn’t find? I didn’t think that was possible.” “Jimmy seems a smart spark, no question. But his focus is too narrow. He only looks at the House as it is today, not what it was.” Wiggins caught the eye of the waitress and pointed at his glass. When she looked at Renfro he shook his head slightly. “He doesn’t think to look at the people involved. I do.” “That Burnett character’s old news. And he likes to sue. A lot. No way I’m…” “But this doesn’t concern Burnett, Jake. Don’t you see? There are others involved, people who were around Caitlin before he ever entered the picture.” He thought for a moment about telling Renfro what he’d learned about Burnett but decided against it. That was large-caliber ammunition, and he’d save it for a later time. “I don’t get it.” When the waitress brought Wiggins another drink Renfro killed his with a sloppy swallow and ordered another. “The two docs are pure as driven snow. Damn the bitches anyhow. I know Jimmy had hopes…” “Jake, you need to shut up and listen now.” The words had the desired effect, and Wiggins hid his smile. “How well do you know the staff at Caitlin’s House?” “Well…pretty good. Not Jimmy good, but…” “Then you will have heard of Angie, yes?” “Big black lady who wears dresses one size two small an’ looks like she’d kick your ass? Yeah, I know who she is.” “Very good, Jake. But do you know what she is? Or more to the point, what she was?” “You tellin’ me she was on the stroll? No way. I get some dudes might be…” Wiggins could feel the anger building. “Shut up, you moronic man. Do not speak until I’m through.” He sat up, letting Renfro sense his full size. “You understand me, yes? Good. Angie was not a hooker, but there was a time before she started working for Caitlin Davies and possibly during the early period of her employment when she was dealing drugs. Crack, to be precise. I have the evidence. She was never a big dealer, of course, but that’s not the point, is it? You can speak now.” “How come Jimmy never found this?” “He wasn’t looking back. Neither were you. Neither of you knew Caitlin Davies. I did. Angie had been with her for years, but there was always something more about her.” Renfro slurped his drink. “I can see the headline now: Dealer Running Rehab. Crack Attack.” His eyes started to glaze over. “Oh, man…it’s beautiful.” “I’ll get you the proof tomorrow, but don’t run the story until we know the girl is in place.” “Why?” “Once that story hits, they will be in damage control mode. Distracted from what’s going on inside. That will make it easier for her to do what needs to be done.” Renfro looked across the table and grinned, showing his stained teeth. “You’re one sneaky son-of-a-bitch, Grodo. This’ll make the perfect opening shot and put them back on their heels so we can follow up with some good photo stuff. I won’t say a word to Jimmy until it’s about to run. Otherwise the kid might get excited an’ blow his load too soon, if you get my drift.” Wiggins nodded, sipping the scotch and wishing he’d been able to find another way to do this. He hated being in close contract with Renfro for more than five minutes a week. He didn’t trust the man, and more to the point he was expecting the greasy hack to try to stab him in the back. But for now there was no other way. And once it was done he’d be back in LA. Arthur and his little piss-boy could sort out the damage. So long as Caitlin’s House was shattered and Sonny Crockett left blubbering in the remains he’d be a happy man. Ricardo Tubbs looked across his desk at Sonny, not quite sure what to say. Sonny wasn’t looking at him now,. He was staring at the desk top, drained by the task of telling about Jenny’s dreams. “So Caitlin says it’s her fault?” “Something like that. Look, I get it if you think I’m nuts with this. We got so much goin’ on now sometimes I ain’t sure that I’m not nuts.” “No, Sonny. Jenny’s been right too many times before.” Rico rubbed his forehead above his eyes, the tightness of a headache starting to send little throbbing warnings. “I’d say it means whatever this is dates back to her. Before you two met, maybe.” “So more damned ghosts.” “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.” He scratched at a spot under his beard. “I was talkin’ with Mindy last night. Did you know that chump Haskell represented the Post a few years back?” “No. I didn’t.” “Yeah. Some crap about faking pictures. Like the Post would ever do something like that.” Rico snorted. “But now we know there’s some kinda link there. Or could be. Maybe that’s why Jimmy keeps sniffing around.” “Could be. But that doesn’t explain Jenny’s dreams.” “Did the Post ever cover Caitlin?” Sonny shook his head. “No more than any other gossip rag did.” “What about the chump you punched out?” Sonny chuckled. “Man, you ain’t ever gonna let me live that down, are you? No, he wasn’t from the Post. Some California bird-cage liner, I think. Can’t say for sure. But I know he wasn’t local.” “How much do you know about her past?” “Mostly what she told me, and some I read later when…” Sonny lost his voice for a moment. “When I had to go through her things. That punk Lowe fleeced her old band pretty good, and there was the whole Will thing in there, too. But he’s dead. So’s Fremont, that record exec she was lined up to testify against.” “Weren’t there two record guys?” “Yeah…come to think of it there were. Frick and Frack I always called ‘em. One was a skinny little bastard with too much hair gel, and the other one was bigger. Had some accent, too.” He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his eyes. Rico could almost hear the gears turning in his old partner’s head. “Wiggins. That was his name. Gordon Wiggins.” “He caught Federal time, didn’t he?” Rico nodded in answer to his own question. “He’s still in, isn’t he?” “No idea, Rico. I…I didn’t pay much attention to it, really. And after Hackman…” “You’re allowed, Sonny.” Rico could feel his pain as a physical presence in the room. Even after all these years and Jenny on top of it. “Look. I’ll make some calls and see. Maybe he’s the ghost we’re looking for.” “He only knew me as Burnett.” “Yeah…just like most of Greater Miami’s underworld. How long did those two work with Caitlin?” “Years, I think. Hell, they were pushing the comeback after Lowe got hit. By them, actually.” Rico looked at his watch…his own watch now instead of an ornament ‘borrowed’ from a dead Panamanian dealer courtesy of the seized property room. “I hate to do it, but I got a security meeting in five. I’ll make those calls an’ let you know. And, partner? We got this. Tell Jenny Rico’s got this.” “Thanks, man. I got meetings, too.” Sonny’s smile matched the sadness in his eyes. “Just can’t get away from the damned things.” Once he was alone, Rico picked up the phone and hit a single button. “Hey, pretty lady. It’s me. Yeah, I miss you, too. Look, can you reach out an’ run a name for me? Solid. Gordon Wiggins. Would have been in Federal custody. Ain’t sure what he was convicted for, but that’s not a common name. Yeah, it’s for Sonny. Thanks.” Then he hung up and tried to focus himself for the meeting. But it wasn’t happening. Not yet, anyhow. Jenny’s dream and a good chunk of what was going on was dragging them back to a really bad place in Sonny Crockett’s life; one Rico would prefer to avoid at all costs. Especially now, with Mindy and a kid to consider. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ID wallet and dropped it on the desk. It fell open, showing the bad picture and official lettering framing it like one of those cheap cut-outs on the boardwalk back home at Coney Island. Reserve Officer my ass. That and a buck might get me a cup of good coffee. He understood they’d been spoiled with the Task Force, but only now was it sinking in just how few resources they had, and how little help they could expect from official circles. Even with a former district attorney driving the bus, getting a restraining order against Jimmy Campbell had been harder than it should have been. Old resentments and grudges came to the surface, and he knew how deep they ran. Especially in Sonny’s case. And Castillo’s, even though he didn’t know a single person anywhere in the Miami-Dade command structure who was brave enough to admit it. They were on their own. Any mistake they made would be amplified by all those grudges, turing a parking ticket into grand theft auto. The meeting started promptly at nine. Only Rico’s key personnel showed up: Tiny in his chair, Stan and Lester looking like they had back in the Task Force days, a tough former DEA tactical team member named Lita who ran day shift, and a handful of others. They sat along the sides of the small conference table, all talk ending as soon as Rico walked in. He grinned and sat down. “This was gonna be about the new girls coming in this week, but we got some changes to the program. The girls are still comin’, and we gotta be ready for that. But you all know that drill.” He paused, not quite sure how to frame what was in his head. “But there’s somethin’ else goin’ on. I don’t have many details now, and you’ll get more when I do. But someone outside the House is gonna take a run at us. The Post is involved somehow, so have your people keep a good watch out for that Campbell chump. We’re gonna increase our screening of new employees until further notice, and if any of you still have CIs from your uniform days I’d really appreciate it if you woke ‘em up.” Lita shook her head. She was a tall, angular woman with hot dark eyes and a focus on duty that reminded Rico of Randy or Dave. “Will do, boss. Any idea what the threat is?” “I wish I knew.” He spread his hands on the table. “We keep pickin’ up whispers, but nothing I can put my finger on. It’s got Sonny worried, and that’s good enough for me.” Stan nodded. “If that damn paper’s in it, I’ll increase monitoring both outside and in. Those maggots like to slip people into places they do stories on.” He looked around. “What? So I look at the thing when I’m waiting in line at the supermarket. So does Gina.” “Good.” Rico ignored the surprised looks around the table. “If we know how they usually roll we can plan countermoves. And I’d remind your people about the confidentiality agreement they signed when they hired on.” He raised a hand. “I don’t suspect any of our people, but it don’t hurt to put it out there. We’ve got credible information the Post was bailed out by Columbian funds a couple of years back, and those people can have deep pockets.” Tiny nodded. “Yeah. It’s about time for the ‘don’t be an idiot’ briefing again, so we can just move it up.” “Solid. Just remind ‘em that violating the agreement is grounds for immediate termination and possible prosecution.” Rico paused again. “Like I said, I think our people are clean. We do good work here, an’ they’re all part of that. But we gotta cover all our bases, too.” “I get it, boss. An’ so will they.” Tiny chuckled. “Hell, some of them got hit with lie detectors every six months at their old jobs.” Rico spent the next ten minutes going over the normal routine for admitting new girls into the facility. “…but we’re gonna change it up a bit this time. No one comes in with them. We’ll pick ‘em up with the van at Victim Services and drive them ourselves. Check all IDs before you load, and then again at the main gate.” Lita nodded. “You got it. Searches?” “We’ll let medical do that as usual.” “I get it. If you wanted pictures of the House from the inside, send in a driver or contract guard. Someone most people wouldn’t notice.” She smiled. “That’s how we used to scout locations before we hit them.” “Joo got it, meng.” Rico grinned. “You sound just like that dude who used to do the car commercials.” “Yeah. Izzy was our CI back in the day.” Stan laughed. “Yeah, and we got some stories about that bozo…” “Anyone have any questions?” Rico looked around the table. “No? Solid. Let’s get to it.” They all filed out except for Stan, who nodded to Lester as the other tech wizard left. Rico waited for the door to click shut. “What’s on your mind, big guy?” “Sonny talk to you? About Jenny?” “Yeah.” Rico waited. “I guess he talked to you, too.” “Not for long, but yeah. He said you were lookin’ for info on this Wiggins character. I got a contact in the Federal Bureau of Prisons who can run the name for us. He owes me like fifteen favors, so it’s no big thing.” “Do it. I wanna know if this cat’s still in Club Fed or if he’s on the street.” “You got it.” Stan got to his feet and then laughed. His big, free laugh always made Rico smile, no matter what mood he’d been in. “That was a hell of an Izzy impersonation. I’d almost forgotten about the little worm.” He grinned. “Don’t watch as much late-night TV as I used to.” “Marriage cutting into your TV time?” “Yeah. Well…sort of.” Stan’s eyes got a glint in them Rico recognized. “You know they got these cameras and recorders now? Well…” “I don’t wanna know, Stan.” “Aw, but you can make your own late-night…” “Out!” Rico pointed to the door, laughing with Stan as the big man headed out. “Let me know if you hear anything from your prison pen-pal.”

It was quiet in the office once what he thought of as his command staff left, and Rico sat for a time listening to the hum of the HVAC system and the cooling fan on his desktop computer. He hadn’t expected Stan to have a contact in the Bureau of Prisons, but the more he thought about it the less it surprised him. While he and Sonny had been chasing all the heavy-hitters, Stan and Larry had been running down a wide range of perps. And after Larry was murdered, Stan worked those cases alone or occasionally with another OCB detective. But he’d never had a regular partner again until the Task Force and his pairing with Lester. Rico didn’t like thinking about Larry Zito; it reminded him too much of both his weaknesses and Sonny’s. Sonny’s because the man had pushed too hard on that case, and his own because he hadn’t reined in his partner or tried to help Stan in the aftermath. He’d just put on his New York attitude along with his sunglasses and plowed on. “Not my damned finest moment,” he muttered, moving the mouse to wake up the computer so he could check the duty rosters. He needed to make sure there were enough guards on that day to pick up the girls, and arrange for overtime if he needed to call people in. He was about halfway though when he snorted and turned away from the computer. It didn’t feel right…working scattered inside of in the conference room on the tenth floor of the office building, or even back in the squad room at OCB. Now he was here, Sonny was God knows where, Castillo was on another planet, and their brain trust was on the next floor split between arranging rooms and teaching art therapy classes. Their ears were checking surveillance cameras, and their eyes were only in town for the week before flying back to Montana. The last time Rico had felt so alone was right after Rafael had been gunned down and he held his brother’s bleeding and shattered body in his arms. “Focus, man,” he muttered as he turned back to the computer. IT had just set him up with two monitors, and he looked at the spreadsheet on one screen while his calendar and e-mail lurked on the other. “We still go the tools, even if they ain’t in the same room. We GOT this.” He almost convinced himself of it before it was time for lunch. He met Mindy in the staff cafeteria, a small place with limited food options but great privacy. Treatment staff usually ate with the patients, and since security ate on a rotating, almost random schedule it wasn’t hard to get the room to yourself most days. Mindy was waiting at a corner table, her thick red hair tied back in a ponytail and her blue eyes bright. “How’d it go with Sonny?” Rico gave her the short version. “He’s worried,” he finished, opening a plastic bottle of orange juice, “and I don’t blame him. Stan’s gonna check on Wiggins, but too much still don’t make sense.” She nodded, taking a bite of her sandwich. The cafeteria might have issues with entrees, but their sandwiches were always first-rate. “If Haskell has ties to that paper, I can see why Campbell was crawling around. But why did he wait so long?” “Maybe it goes back to Wiggins. I don’t know.” Rico shook his head and rearranged his salad with his fork. No croutons. Damn it. “I wasn’t around Sonny much for that Caitlin case. Castillo stuck him on that detail as punishment, you know. Wanted to cool his jets after he got too aggressive. So yeah, I wasn’t there much. And he never really talked about it. I know he killed Fremont, an’ Wiggins got his ticket punched by the Feds, if you wanna call Club Fed a ticket punch.” “Hey! Those inside traders play rough!” She giggled. “But you think Stan will come through?” “Team Elvis always delivers, even when it’s at half strength.” Rico chewed his lettuce without tasting the dressing. “He’s got contacts all over the damned place. I should take you out to this restaurant north of here…the owner thinks he’s some kind of wise guy so he rolls out the red carpet. Best Italian food I’ve had south of Little Italy, though.” She nodded, looking him in the eye. “You think this is for real?” He let his answer roll around in his head before framing the words. “Yeah, pretty lady. I do. I don’t know how Jenny does it or what the hell she taps into, but if she’s that scared I’m worried.” “Good. Because Trudy said Castillo had some kind of dream, too.” “Now that is not good.” Rico put down his fork. “If those two are tapping into the cosmic mojo there’s some bad news coming down the line. I’ve got security stretched as far as we can go, even have Trudy coming in to work backgrounds and maybe a shift or two. Until we get more info, all we can do is wait.” Martin Castillo looked at the dark clouds hovering out over the water and smiled. Rain would break the heat and clean the air. Sitting on his deck, he’d watched them gathering since early morning, and now they were about to sweep in and unleash their cargo. He was looking forward to it. His sleeveless fatigue shirt billowed a bit in the rising wind, and he felt it wick the sweat from his longish hair as well. It wasn’t anything like the monsoon winds, but it would do. At least he didn’t have to worry about losing his air support here, unlike the dim mountains of Laos. When the weather closed in the birds didn’t launch. It was the kiss of death for too many teams, SOG and CIA alike. “Takes you back, don’t it?” Randy had skipped another training session and sat next to him on the deck, an opened bottle of beer near his feet. Like Castillo he was wearing an old jungle fatigue shirt, the sleeves rolled up in tight Marine style instead of cut away. “Goddamn monsoons shut the entire war down in I Corps neat as you please.” “It shut down the machines. The NVA kept moving.” “Yeah, don’t remind me. Little rice-propelled bastards anyhow.” Randy took a drink and set the bottle back down. “Dave wanted me to tell you we might have some help close to hand.” “How’s that?” Castillo kept watching the clouds through his dark Ray Bans. Waiting for them to start their quick slick toward land. “That nephew of his? He’s in town. Don’t ask me how they got in touch.” Randy pulled a small card out of the lower pocket of his jungle shirt. “He said to call this number if we need him. He also said the kid called that number you gave him.” “Good.” There! They’re spreading open. And the wind rises with it. All those things Ti Ti taught me…coming back to my mind now. “He was wasted with CIA.” “You figure we’ll need him?” “Maybe. There are too many moving pieces now.” The wind started to rise, driving salt air inland ahead of the rain. He could see it sheeting down from the clouds now in slanting dark gray lines. “Five minutes?” “More like three.” Randy checked his watch. “We get quick storms back home all the time. Read ‘em like a book.” He kept watching the old Seiko jungle watch. “And three…two…one…” The first heavy drops splattered on the deck and Castillo smiled. “Staying out here?” “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Damned rain feels good, an’ I still got beer left.” The first drops were big, hitting the deck with impact and sending smaller droplets arcing into the air. Then it changed to a steady downpour, slanting with the wind then coming straight down as the wind spent itself against the coastline. Castillo stood, feeling the water soak through his fatigue shirt but not wanting to be the first to give in to the elements. Then he thought back to something Ti Ti had said. It was after the first time they’d visited old Loang Kao. Rain is the tears of the spirits washing away your evil. Maybe they were meant to be in the this rain, so different from the normal late summer showers. Randy’s blue jeans had turned black from the rain water before he finally set down his empty bottle. “Reckon we should go in now.” He looked up at the shifting clouds. “Rain’s about to stop, anyhow.” Castillo nodded. “How did you know?” “We worked with SOG more than that one time with you. The Yards on those teams took a liking to me an’ Dave. Don’t rightly know why. Anyone, one of ‘em was some kinda shaman an’ he made us stand in the rain before a mission launch once. Said it was to wash the evil spirits away.” He grinned. “The rain was kinda like what we just had.” He got up from the wooden deck chair. “I heard back from Butte. The sheriff is ok with me takin’ two weeks on the end of this conference I ain’t really goin’ to. So you got me for that long.” “Good. It will break before that.” “Got any notion about what it is yet?” Castillo shook his head. “No. I did some surveillance on Haskell but came up empty. He went to court, met with the junior partner in the firm, and then went back to his condo. He never spoke to anyone that wasn’t involved with the current case. Of course we can’t tap his phones, so it’s not possible to be sure he’s not in touch with someone else.” They were inside now, the rain reduced to a few random drips from a grudging gray sky. Castillo pulled two more beers from the fridge and handed one to Randy, opening his own with a casual twist. “We know Haskell has ties to the paper. Trudy learned that much. But the dream showed at least three distinct groupings of tracers. We’re missing something.” Randy nodded, taking a long drink from his bottle. “I gotta ask, boss. You’re sure about the dream?” “Yes.” His voice was flat. “Yeah. Figured as much. Had to ask, though.” “I know. I would, too, if I was in your place. But the details are too consistent. So far we’ve found two players, but there might be at least one more out there.” Randy shook his head. “I hate to say it, but I think we gotta wait for them to show themselves. Hell, we ain’t got the resources now to find a damned thing. No warrants. No overwatch. Just you an’ me an’ maybe Dave’s nephew. An’ all kinds of fences around what we can do.” Castillo nodded, slipping off his sunglasses. “Do you need to get back to the conference?” “Naw. Afternoon’s some kinda door-kicker seminar. I ain’t no entry guy. I think Dave and I might go out to Pete’s place for dinner, though. You and Trudy want to go?” “Yes. It would be good to see him again.” Castillo remembered the card in his pocket. “I might call Dave’s nephew, too. See if he’d like to join us.” “Dave would like that. He don’t say much about it, but I think he feels kinda responsible for the kid. Even though he ain’t a kid no more.” No. Not after working for the Company. He’s not a kid at all. Castillo nodded. “I’ll call him when you head back into the city.” “Good. We’ll meet at Marshal’s Ribs about twenty hundred.” Randy left just before three, after they talked a bit more about the various cross-border missions they’d run and Montagnards they’d worked with. Castillo was surprised to find they knew some of the same people, and was able to let Randy know a few of them had actually made it to the United States. They raised their bottles to the others, likely killed in battle or in one of the North Vietnamese ‘rehabilitation’ camps that popped up like weeds in the South after the war. Old memories. The kind Castillo tried to keep boxed up with all the rest. Sometimes it worked. Other times… He reached into his pocket and pulled out the card, turning it over to read the number scrawled in black ink on the back. A hotel extension with a direct room number. Rolling the numbers through his head he came up with one of the chains close to the airport. Not first class, but not one of the by-the-hour dumps, either. Just the place a trained operative would stay to escape attention of any kind. The phone was answered on the third ring. “Two four seven.” It was a man’s voice, level and flat, reading back the room number. Castillo smiled in spite of himself. Solid tradecraft. “This is Castillo.” There was a pause. “I remember you. Who was the man who gave me the envelope?” “Moneybags.” Even better. “Your uncle Dave gave me this number. He’d like to meet you for dinner tonight at eight. A place called Marshal’s Ribs. Do you know it?” “I’ll find it.” The phone buzzed in Castillo’s ear as the man hung up. Under thirty seconds. Just enough to defeat a trace. I’m impressed. Castillo hung up the phone and looked out the sliding glass door, feeling the wet of his clothes wicking away as the air conditioning did its job. The nephew will be a huge help if he agrees. And if he has the time. There was no way to know what had brought him to Miami in the first place, and Castillo wouldn’t ask. He knew the covert world well enough to know if the question was asked, it would be answered with a lie. He’d changed into his working black suit by the time Trudy came home, and she smiled when she saw him. “I take it we got business tonight, my love?” “Yes.” He kissed her, feeling her warmth against him. He never tired of the feeling. “We’re meeting Dave, Randy, and Dave’s nephew at Marshal’s Ribs at eight.” “Nephew? Was he the one who brought us that tape when we were after Delgado?” “Yes.” The colonel must have called him. I would never have heard either way, but it would explain why he’s here. “He may be able to help Randy and I.” “Good.” Trudy looked at the wall clock and smiled. “I’d better go pick out something to make Pete’s heart skip a beat or two.” “And mine as well, my love.” She giggled and put a little extra into her walk as she headed for the bedroom. “Let me see if I can still fit into that little red dress…” They took the Mercedes, and Castillo pulled into a spot in the parking lot of Marshal’s Ribs at seven forty-five. “I thought we’d say hello to Pete first,” he said, looking over at Trudy. Her face was painted alternating red and blue by the flashing neon of the restaurant sign, making her look even more exotic and beautiful than usual. She giggled. “You just want to check the place out first.” “Yes. There is that.” He shut off the big car, imagining he could hear the engine ticking over the jukebox music leaking from the restaurant. He’d left the big Magnum at home, but a .45 rested comfortably in a hip holster and he knew Trudy had her MatchMaster in her purse. It had been her idea. Inside the air conditioning labored against the heat from both the kitchen and the crowd in the main dining room. It wasn’t bad for Monday night, but there were still more people than Castillo liked. Catching the eye of the hostess, he wagged his head. “Is Pete here tonight?” After she nodded he took a step closer. “Could you let him know Martin and Trudy are here?” When she gave him an annoyed look he leveled his dark eyes. “Now, please.” The stare worked its usual magic, and within moments Pete appeared from the kitchen, his frown replaced by a wide grin. “I was wonderin’ who scared hell out of that little girl. Marty! Trudy! Come on! Got a table in the back room just for you.” Castillo shook the offered hand, smiling back at the career U.S. Marshal. “There’s going to be three more, Pete. Dave, Randy, and Dave’s nephew. Is that a problem?” “Hell no! Just means I gotta bring three pitchers insteada one.” Pete led the way through the crowd, looking for all the world like George Jefferson strutting down a New York City sidewalk. The back room was actually a small private dining room Pete used on occasion for special events as well as feeding his staff after a long shift. After making sure they were seated, Pete grinned again. “So those two Jarheads is back in town? Must be that damned cop conference I keep seein’ the ads for.” “Yes. Randy might be staying on for a few days when it’s over.” “Be good to see those two again.” Pete got a distant look in his eyes for a moment. “You miss it sometimes, Marty?” “Yes. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.” He smiled across the table at Trudy. “But then I look at her and remember there are far more important things.” “Yeah. I do the same with Annabelle.” He grinned at Trudy. “Bet you didn’t know this ol’ dog was married, did you? I think you two’d get along great. Now I’ll go tend to the beer an’ get those specials started.” When he was gone, Trudy turned to Castillo. “Did you know he was married?” “No.” He let the word hang in the air for a moment. “Pete is a very private man once you get past his old Southern sheriff act.” He thought back to what he’d heard when the Task Force was active and seconded to the Marshal’s Service. “I think she’s his second wife. No one talked about his first marriage, but I got the impression it didn’t end well.” Pete returned with four pitchers of beer - two handles gripped in each massive hand. “Missy’ll be along directly with glasses,” he said, setting the pitchers in the middle of the table. And Ginny - that’s the little girl you scared hell out of - will send ‘em back as soon as they get here.” Pulling out a chair, he sat down with a sigh. “An’ now this ol’ warhorse is gonna have a beer an’ relax. Heat in that damned kitchen sure takes it out of a man.” Missy came and went, leaving six beer glasses and a tray with a pitcher of ice water and more glasses. Castillo poured the beer, handing a glass to Pete and Trudy before taking a sip of his own. Pete slugged down half his glass in one long swallow and let out a contented sigh. “Ya know,” he said with a smile, “somethin’ tells me this ain’t just a social call.” “No. It’s not.” Castillo took another sip. “There’s a situation developing at Caitlin’s House. It’s complicated, but I don’t want Sonny or Rico taking action.” “Yeah. Them being public figures now an’ all. Makes it tough.” Pete refilled his glass. “But you…” “I’m invisible.” “Not as much as you’d think.” Pete chuckled. “You leave a mark, Marty. You know the AUSA still talks about the Task Force? I think he misses all them easy convictions you boys an’ girls handed him.” “He mighta liked the easy convictions, but I’ll bet the bastard got writer’s cramp from all the shooting investigations.” Randy Mather’s voice was unmistakable, and he came through the door with a big grin and more beer. Dave was next, and Castillo recognized the man with dark hair and hazel eyes as Dave’s nephew Steve. “It’s damned good to see you two sons-of-bitches again!” Pete made the rounds shaking hands and slapping backs like a good ol’ boy running for re-election. “An’ you must be Dave’s nephew. Steve, ain’t it? I’m Pete. Used to try to ride herd on your uncle. Not very well, I should add.” Steve nodded. “That’s not what he says.” Then he looked around Pete to meet Castillo’s gaze. “I got a call like you said.” “Good. And you accepted?” “Yes.” Castillo nodded. He wanted to say more, but it would betray a confidence. Maybe later there’d be time. “Are you down for the conference, too?” “Between jobs. I knew Uncle Dave would be here and it just worked out.” His eyes narrowed. “I hear you’re out now.” “Yes. It was time.” Castillo rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Maybe past time. That’s the hardest part of this job: knowing when it’s time to go.” The younger man nodded and then turned to Trudy. “You must be Trudy. I’m Steve Blair. Dave’s nephew.” Trudy smiled. “I was there when you brought that tape down. We never really were introduced, though. It’s good to see you again.” They had beer, then some more beer. Food came, along with yet more beer. Castillo drank sparingly, noticing with surprise Steve Blair did the same. Randy also drank slowly, but Dave made up the difference for the other two. The ribs and burnt ends were spectacular, chased with mashed potatoes and cornbread spiced with jalapeños. They were just finishing the last of the bread when Pete pushed back from the table. “I’ll leave you boys an’ the lady to talk business.” He caught Dave’s eye. “Dave, you wanna come out an’ try a couple of new beers I’m thinkin’ of adding to the menu?” Castillo nodded, appreciating the gesture. “Thank you, Pete. I’ll close the tab when we leave.” He raised his hand. “I insist. You bought last time we were here, I think.” Once they were gone Randy leaned back in his chair. “I’m damned glad Pete did that. This ain’t somethin’ Dave needs to know about. Not with him goin’ back to Butte first.” Blair nodded, and Castillo could see the intensity in the younger man’s eyes. “I appreciate you keeping my uncle out of this. So what’s the deal?” Castillo locked eyes with the man. “I want you to know you’re under no obligation here. We’re going to be off the books, with no cover.” “That’s how my new job operates.” “I know.” Castillo thought back to the colonel, and wondered if he hadn’t made sure Blair would be here at this precise time. “I just wish we had more precise information.” “What’s the threat?” “We don’t know for sure.” Castillo poured another beer. “One of my former detectives runs a rehab center here in Miami.” He gave Blair the matchbook version of the history of Caitlin’s House. “We have reason to believe someone is going to try to damage the House’s reputation. And possibly attack both Crockett and Tubbs.” “Tubbs was the one whose son was killed? I’m in. Where do you need me?” Trudy cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking about that. Rico needs bodies for security. Why don’t we bring him in as a guard? That way he’d be close and could watch for inside threats, too. If that paper’s got narco money behind it we need to assume they might try using some of it.” Blair nodded. “That’s a good plan. I’ve got no local contacts so there’s nothing I could do on the streets.” He paused. “Do they issue weapons?” “No. You can bring your own.” “Good. I’ve got one with me. Not the same thing I use on the job, but I’m familiar with it.” He looked at Trudy. “How do you want to get me in?” “Should be simple. I’ll tell Rico you’re in town between jobs and could use a couple of weeks’ worth of pay. Odds are he’ll remember you, so that’ll make it easier.” “He might feel he owes you.” Castillo looked around the table. “We need to keep this as low key as we can.” Trudy nodded. “Stan’s got one of his contacts in the Federal Bureau of Prisons looking into recent releases.” She smiled at Castillo. “We’ve seen it before.” “Yes. And this is from the past, so it makes sense. Is Stan reporting to Rico?” She nodded. “I heard him talking about it with Mindy in the staff cafeteria. He’s worried, Marty, but still focused on his job there.” “Good. Dave, I know you can’t stay in town. We’ll keep Randy out of trouble for you.” “Never thought anything different.” Dave drained his glass and poured another beer. “Look. You best be careful. You ain’t got badges no more, an’ that reserve deputy crap or whatever it is they gave you ain’t worth the tin it’s stamped on.” Castillo’s smile didn’t touch his eyes. “No one will know we’re there.” “Yeah, and I know you ain’t got no choice. They’re your guys, an’ I know what that means. It’s just the rules are different when you ain’t got the badge.” He shook his head. “Hard change to make sometimes.” Randy chuckled. “You worry too damned much. We got this.” Hector Rendozo looked at the phone. He was tired, and Jangles’ voice was more grating than usual. “So what the hell are you telling me?” “She’s in, man! We got her in!” “Good.” It all started clicking now. “Look. I gotta make a call. You talk to Ramon an’ make sure that little bitch don’t do anything until I say, hear? Until I say.” Hanging up the pay phone, he dropped coins and dialed as soon as the bongs stopped and the dial tone kicked in. “I hope this is good news.” He recognized Wiggins’ accent right away. “The girl is in place.” “Outstanding. You might want to read the Post tomorrow morning, yes? Our first shot, if you will. How long will it take them to process the girl?” Hector thought back to what he’d read. And what he’d learned from one or two sources of his own. “Two days, maybe. So she should be good by Thursday.” “Excellent. You’ll need to meet with Jimmy before that. I know he can be a trial, but we need him to use the girl, you see.” “Sure.” Hector didn’t see, but that wasn’t his problem. But he was worried that Wiggins seemed to. Skinny bitch had crazy in his eyes. I meet him, I got my hand on my piece. “He got a number?” “Is it ok if I give him this one?” “Sure. I’ll be here tomorrow about the same time, an’ the next day. After that, he’s on his own.” “I understand, Hank. Really, I do. As I said, he’s a trial but he does have his uses. But as soon as those are used up…” “That’s extra.” “Of course, Hank. Of course. I’ll bring another installment to our next sit-down. We’ll speak again soon.” The dial tone buzzed in his ear until Hector hung up the phone and looked around the convenience store parking lot. One or two cars lurked at the pumps, and he could see a handful parked in front of the plate glass windows around the side of the building. He liked rotating his phones, and at least here he didn’t have to shout over a bunch of drunks or a club sound system. That and there was at least one good strip club between it and the hotel. He was glad Wiggins had brought up the money on his own. Stepping over a drunk passed out on the sidewalk, Hector went into the store and stared at the soda cooler before pulling out a plastic bottle of Coke and taking it to the register. It was even better he’d brought it up when it was just the two of them. He didn’t plan on cutting Jangles out. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t start arguments. The Coke was cold, and he ran the bottle across his forehead before opening it and taking a deep drink. Even though the sun had set it was still hot in the city, the day’s heat stored by the pavement and asphalt and conspiring to make him miserable. Still…things were moving now. Soon he’d be in position to deal with Cooper or Tubbs or whatever the guy called himself. Then he’d take the money and start making moves again.

Castillo waited until he heard the rental car start and make the turn back toward the main road before slipping off his sunglasses and looking at the deck with clear eyes. He was annoyed with himself for not thinking of the lawyers. But the hard part was over: Randy was on board. If things were going to be as bad as Ti Ti’s dream implied, he’d need someone else who was willing to go all the way. He let that phrase make its way through his head. Go all the way. For most of his life, Martin Castillo had been about law. Or he’d been able to wrap what he did in the cloak of authority and get on with things. That had been his time in Laos. But this was different. His friends were in danger…men who’d risked their lives for him more times than he cared to count. Ignoring the dream, and the threat, wasn’t an option. Maybe bringing Randy in was a mistake, but Ti Ti had been clear in the dream. He couldn’t do this alone. He was glad Randy had helped refine his thoughts about the lawyers. He hadn’t considered just how far back they went with Caitlin’s money, or how much it might have hurt them when Sonny fired the firm. But he also couldn’t see them as violent men. Sneaky and dishonest to the core, yes. But not capable of violence. But that didn’t mean they didn’t know people who were capable of such violence. If he remembered correctly the senior partner had been locked up for working with the Mob, and there was no reason to think the others didn’t have connections to that world as well. It was almost impossible to be a successful defense attorney in Miami and not come into contact with at least some part of the drug trade. Turning, he headed inside to make more tea. This wasn’t something that was easy to follow, and he had leaned in those jungles he did his best thinking with tea. He filled the strainer and waited for water to boil, letting it all settle in his head like tea would as it brewed. Three phone calls later he had more information. Galkowski hadn’t been glad to hear from him, but most of what they now called Miami-Dade was like that. The gaps he’d left had been filled by Pete’s replacement at the marshal’s service office, and what he didn’t know Fellows at DEA had been glad to answer. Castillo sipped his lukewarm tea and looked out the patio door. He took no notes, retaining what each man had said in his head. As he’d guessed, the law firm had ties to a number of industries, legitimate and otherwise. The senior partner, Francis, was doing Federal time for getting in bed with the wrong wise guys, but he wasn’t the only one who’d graduated from entertainers to the underworld. The other senior partner, Haskell, was more careful than his flamboyant partner, but DEA liked him for ties to a number of smugglers and mid-level movers and shakers in the cocaine scene. He’d even worked for a time for the Mendoza brothers, but had been smart enough to get out before that family business came crashing to the ground. He looked down at the scattering of tea leaves at the bottom of his cup. But those connections meant Haskell could get shooters if he felt the need. So the lawyers had both motive and now the means to cause problems. But something still didn’t click. If Haskell was after revenge, why had he waited so long? The time to move would have been when Francis was still free, and when Sonny was still on the Task Force. Not now, years after the fact. The tea was cold when he took the last sip. The more he thought, the more he was convinced there was someone else in play. Everything he’d learned said Haskell was passive; a facilitator rather than a doer. He might be able to find the shooters, but he wouldn’t be the one giving them targets or even deciding they were needed in the first place. His read on Francis was the same. So who? The Post remained a wild card, along with their reporter, Campbell. If there was anything on him, he knew Trudy would find it. But even if the kid had some kind of vendetta, it didn’t explain the paper’s interest. No, there were still too many pieces missing, and he’d been doing this long enough to know not to start making his own to fill the blanks. He was back on the deck, feeling sweat trickling down the curve of his spine, when he heard Trudy’s Challenger growling its way down the dirt road to the house. He let his thoughts roll, knowing she’d find her way to him. She was smiling when she came through the patio door, and he smiled in return, feeling his mood lift as soon as he saw her. “How long have you been…never mind. I don’t want to know.” She kissed him lightly on the forehead, her dark eyes sparkling, before sitting down in the wooden slat chair next to him. He listened as she told him what she’d learned about Campbell from her CI. “I guessed you were thinking about all this anyhow,” she finished, “so…” “I was. But not now, my love.” He smiled and covered her hand with his. “This Marco gives good information. But I let my thoughts soak up too much of the afternoon. I’m sure you’re hungry.” “I’ll help.” She got up and walked inside with him. “Rico asked if I’d like to make some extra money helping with security. At least until they get the renovation sorted out.” “Of course. He must be having trouble keeping everything covered.” Castillo moved behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, feeling her move back against him. “I hope you said yes.” “Yeah. I can’t leave Rico in the lurch. Sonny’s pulled in too many directions to do much, and Gina’s got her hands full with the promotional stuff and trying to get the expansion off the ground.” “You’re working on it, aren’t you? The dream, or the case, or whatever it is?” He nodded. “Yes. There’s no way I couldn’t.” “By yourself?” “No. Randy is helping. I talked to him today.” He left her for a moment, getting chicken from the refrigerator and staring to cut it on the counter. She watched him for a moment, and he knew she was waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she smiled. “I’ll start the rice.” “Thank you.” He cut the meat with sure, quick motions, the chef’s knife catching occasional flashes of sunlight slanting through the door. “He agreed to help.” “No surprise there. He’s loyal to you and Sonny.” She measured water into a pot and set on the stove to boil. “You still think it’s those lawyers?” “I can’t see who else it could be, although there’s always a chance I’m wrong.” Piling the chicken on a plate, he rinsed the knife and counter before turning his attention to garlic and green onions. “Haskell and Francis represented Caitlin Davies early in her music career, I think. Being cut off from the income from her estate must have hurt them. Especially once Francis got convicted in Federal court. Randy got me thinking about that angle.” She nodded. “And we know who else they represented. Wouldn’t be a reach for this Haskell to find a shooter or two.” “Yes, but he’s not a man who’d make that decision. He’d be quick to arrange something, but he wouldn’t think of it himself.” Castillo let his mind wander the same path he’d taken after Randy left. “There must be someone behind them.” “Maybe someone Campbell sold things to? Or tried to extort?” “Possibly. Although he seems like another tool and not an idea man. But the girl does explain his personal interest in the House.” “Maybe the lawyers are him and are looking to bring in shooters if that doesn’t work.” He nodded, his mind working. “I think I might do a little surveillance work tomorrow. Just to see if Haskell takes me anyplace interesting.” She added rice to the water, covered the pot, and turned down the heat. “Just be careful, my love. We can’t call for backup any more.” “I know.” But that’s not a new experience for me. The CIA trained me well. “I’ll finish the meat and vegetables once the rice is almost done. Would you like tea or something stronger?” “Stronger.” She smiled and kissed him lightly. “The drink at first.” “I’m tellin’ ya, man. This is girl is the one!” Jangles slapped the bar for emphasis, sloshing some of his beer on the stained wood surface. “I ain’t sayin’ she’s not, man.” Hector raised his free hand, glad he’d picked up his beer glass seconds before. He took a sip, letting the brew cool his tongue. “What’d you say her name was?” “Ramona.” “Don’t tell me it’s that punk Ramon with his junk tucked up…” “No, man! Nothin’ sick like that. Naw, this girl’s a sweet little piece of tail I’ve known for a couple years now. Keep an eye on her, you know what I mean?” “Didn’t figure you for a pimp.” “Naw. But I keep the dogs off her in exchange for a taste now an’ again. She’s got a little bit of a coke habit, but it’s nothin’ she can’t control.” “And you trust her because she puts out?” “No, man. I trust her because I’ve used her for deals before. Moving product, delivering money, small shit like that. And she always comes through. Even tested her a time or two with loose product an’ shit like that. Never touched it.” Hector nodded slowly. “Almost sounds too good to be true. She in the system?” “Got picked up a week ago in one of those hooker sweeps. She’s seventeen, an’ with the coke thing they’re almost sure to swing her into that program.” Hector shook his head. If she’s seventeen now, that means Jangles was hitting it when she was fifteen or sixteen. I gotta remember to shoot this fool once this is done. “Good work, man. You got a picture of her or somethin’? The lawyers want to see what they’re payin’ for. Actually the old one wanted to meet her, but if she’s in the system already that ain’t gonna work.” “Yeah, I got pics. Clean an’ not so clean if you get my drift.” “Good. Hang tight and I’ll go give ‘em a call.” They met two hours later in one of the nondescript sports bars covering the area within three miles of where the Dolphins played. Hector and Jangles got there first, half an hour early so Hector could look the place over and find the most isolated table he could. And make sure his recorder would pick up what he needed. Then they ordered food and were halfway through something the place called the ShulaBurger when the two lawyers and some skinny punk came in. “Who’s the bitch?” Jangles asked around a mouthful of hand-cut fries. “The reporter maybe. They did say they had a paper ready to run whatever shit we make up.” Hector looked down at the bloody mess of his burger, regretting he’d ordered rare. “You got the pictures an’ a good story for Ramona?” “You bet, man. I can even pretend to be her big brother if we need it.” He grinned. “It’s kinda her thing.” “I don’t need to know that shit. An’ don’t tell them unless they ask.” Hector kept track of the men, waving when they were in a spot where they could see the table. Reaching down, he activated the recorder. The big one, Wiggins, sat down across from Hector and smiled his strange little smile. “So Arthur says you have something for us, yes?” “Who’s the punk?” Hector let his gaze slide over the reporter, hiding a smile as he saw the kid bunch up. “Ah. Where are my manners? Jimmy, this is Hank. Hank, Jimmy. Jimmy’s a reporter. He’s going to help us with our objective.” “He ain’t cutting in our deal, is he?” Jangles’ voice had a whine to it that made Hector want to backhand him. “Of course not. We have our own arrangement with him and his paper.” The older one cleared his throat. “You said you had a girl…” Hector flipped the picture on the table. “Her name’s Ramona. She’s seventeen and already in the system. She’s screened through, and they’re givin’ her the choice to go into the House.” He watched as Jimmy the punk reached out and snatched up the picture. Something about him…I don’t trust the little bitch. “Yeah…she’s got that ‘daddy’s little angel’ look about her.” He set the picture down again with what looked like reluctance to Hector. “I can use that for sure.” Haskell was next to look. Hector noticed the big one, Wiggins, didn’t even glance at the picture. The older man cleared his throat again. “Yes, she’ll certainly look good on the front page. And you’re sure there’s no way we can meet her?” “Unless you want to be in the Miami-Dade lockup and hope you meet her before you meet your cellmate.” Hector suppressed a snicker at the look of horror on Haskell’s face. “I told you, she’s already in the system. Got picked up as part of one of those hooker sweeps last week.” Jangles spoke up. “She’s a bright one, too. Told some big story about a nasty pimp, and she’s got a small problem with nose candy. Those victims services broads got all teary-eyed over her. First time she’s been picked up, too. Looks better on their stuff, I guess.” Hector ignored the other men, fixing his eyes on Wiggins. He’d long ago decided the big man was the one who made the decisions, no matter what anyone else said. “So do we go with it? If not it’s gonna take weeks to set something else up. I got a line on someone who might be hired on there, but they watch the staff more than they do the girls from what I hear.” “I hear the same thing.” Wiggins held his gaze. “As you say, we go with it. If the girl’s to be paid, it’s your responsibility.” “Sure. Ain’t no big thing. Jangles visits her posin’ as her big brother, so he can set it up before she goes in.” Jimmy the punk kept looking at the picture after Haskell set it down. “I don’t suppose there’s any way…” Before Hector could speak, Wiggins raised his hand. “They know you there, don’t they, Jimmy? Don’t you think it would be a moronic move to show up at their front door?” He turned to Haskell. “Perhaps we should speak with friend Jake and see if there’s another reporter who can do the job.” “No. You’re right. Of course. But if there’s any way to get pictures of the inside, I can work with those. Make something nice for the front page, you know?” Jangles shook his head. “I hear they don’t go for pictures, but I’ll know more once she’s in there.” Hector nodded. He’d read about the visitation policy on the place’s web page. “Ok, mano. We get the girl in there. Then what?” Wiggins’ eyes changed. Hector figured he was the only one who noticed. “Then we manufacture a story. More than one, in point of fact. We put them out so fast the state will have to investigate. A public outcry is hard to ignore. Don’t you agree?” “What happens when they find nothin’?” Hector didn’t care either way. He had his own objectives with the place, and he suspected Jimmy the punk did, too. But better to play dumb. “It doesn’t matter, Hector. Once the accusations are made, the place is ruined. Donations dry up, you see. Funds are depleted in costly legal battles. Once it breaks, they lose. And you get the rest of your money.” Hector nodded. It was a slick plan, as far as it went anyhow. He’d need more to get at the cop who called himself Cooper, but it was a damned good start. Still, something ate at the back of his mind. “What about Sonny Burnett?” Wiggins raised his eyebrows. “What about him?” “Well, he ain’t the kind who just takes this shit with a smile.” “Oh, we have a trick or two waiting for Mr. Burnett, Hector. Never you fear.” He pushed the picture back across the table. “See to your girl. Let friend Arthur know when she’s inside. Then we can move to phase two of this project.” Jangles waited until they were gone. “What the hell are they goin’ on about, Hector?” “I don’t know, an’ I don’t care much. I just want Cooper or whatever his damned name is. But that big dude is one tough customer. Keep an eye on him, Jangles.” “You got it. And the little bitch?” “I don’t trust him one damned bit. He’s got somethin’ of his own goin’ on. You could see it when he looked at the picture. An’ his eyes lit up like a damned neon sign when I said Burnett’s name. No, mano, we watch that one closer. Somethin’ ain’t right with him.” “What about that cat Ramon put us on to?” “We keep him in reserve. A hole card. Just in case Ramona don’t work out or somethin’ goes wrong once she’s in.” Jangles nodded, but Hector could see confusion in his eyes. “I ain’t no brain like you, Hector. So I gotta ask. How’s this gonna get you to that cop you want to square things with?” “You know, mano, I ain’t sure yet.” He waited as the waitress cleared the remains of their food away and brought more drinks. A fresh beer in hand, he watched the bubbles trace their way from the bottom of the glass to the foamy top. “This lets me get his habits, wreck his shit like he wrecked mine, an’ maybe make him careless enough he comes into the open. Besides, the money’s right.” “We gonna tell Ramon about the girl?” “No. Let him think his friend’s still our way in.” Hector looked up from his beer, letting Jangles see his mean eyes. “An’ if he says anything about a girl I’ll know where he heard it.” “Easy, Hector! Man, I ain’t gonna let nothin’ slip to him.” Jangles raised both his hands. “We go back a long way, man. Me an’ him? Not so much. Dude won’t hear shit from me.” “Yeah. Just gotta make sure. This is our play, Jangles. We might need Ramon for stuff about Burnett, but between you an’ me I don’t think he’s got the cajones for the real work.” Jangles nodded and took a deep drink from his beer. “Hey, you sure you don’t know nothin’ about that Jimmy punk?” “Not yet. But I’m gonna.” Hector looked around, letting his eyes taste the handful of pretty girls in the place. “Only one paper in Miami gonna run a story like this. The Post. An’ if this kid works for ‘em he’s gonna have stories, pictures, an’ a damned name. Talk to your people. See if they know some reporter named Jimmy. Likes strip clubs, hookers, that kinda beat.” “How do you know?” “Saw it in his eyes, mano. This one’s about a girl for him. Not sure who or why, but there’s some kinda trim pushing his buttons. And we gotta figure out what, so we know how far we can trust him. Dudes like that have a streak of crazy in ‘em, and when it pops up the only way to shut it down again is with a bullet.” “I’ll ask around, man.” “Good. I’ll check back through the papers an’ see what I can find there.” He drained his beer and raised a finger when the waitress glanced their way. “One more an’ then let’s go find a place with titties on display. I figure we can cut loose one last time before gettin’ down to work.” Jimmy Campbell parted company with the lawyers as soon as they left the sports bar. Fading into the shadows, he watched them go their separate ways; two fancy Mercedes vanishing into the gathering darkness. He’d done his homework, so he knew why they hadn’t brought Watkins. He didn’t understand why Gordon Wiggins, former record company executive and Los Angeles player, was so interested, but he figured it had something to do with Caitlin Davies. And if he was honest with himself he knew he didn’t care. They were means to an end. Just like that ass Renfro. Once they were gone, he headed for his car. It wasn’t fancy…just another Mustang 5.0 about five years old. There were possibly hundreds of them in the greater Miami area, which was one of the reasons he’d bought it. Common enough to fade into the background but with enough engine and handling to keep up with someone he was trying to tail if the need arose. Setting in to the driver’s seat he thought for a moment about just heading back to his apartment. Instead he slid down in the seat so he wasn’t immediately obvious to anyone walking by. Jangles, or Juan, he knew. Or knew of. A small-time hustler with connections just about everywhere and loyalty to almost no one. He would have been the one who arranged for the girl. It was the other one, the bigger guy Wiggins and Haskell called Hank, who had him curious. Jimmy prided himself on knowing most of the mid-level players in Miami at least on sight, and Hank was someone he’d never seen before. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but he liked to know as much as he could about people he was working with. Especially when the choice to work with them wasn’t his. He might not have seen Hank before, but he recognized a player when he saw one. And the bigger man looked to be at least a step or two above Jangles in the scheme of things. Was he just hired help, or was there something else in play? Jimmy had his own reasons, and he figured he wasn’t the only one. He was still slumped low in the driver’s seat when the two men came out of the sports bar. The one called Hank looked around, his eyes probing the darkness, before heading for a rented Camero Z/28 near one of the light poles in the bar parking lot. Jimmy smiled in spite of himself. The car was a professional’s choice: solid, unlikely to attract much attention, and capable enough if speed or handling were needed. The irony wasn’t lost on Jimmy. He’d picked his Mustang for the same reasons. He followed them back into the city, just managing to keep the blue car in sight without pushing too hard. Traffic wasn’t bad, at least until they left the highway and got into the guts of Miami proper. But by then he had a good idea where they were going. Strip clubs and bars dominated certain parts of town, and the exit Hank had taken fed right into one of those areas. Shaking his head, Jimmy let them go. He was known in some of the clubs, banned from one or two, and would stick out like a sore thumb in the others. He’d cut his losses now and head for the office. The paper had just upgraded to a swipe card system, and he ran his through the slot and waited for the door to buzz open. Back in the bullpen it was quiet, with only one desk lamp burning way toward the back of the big room. Morty’s still working. Figures. I heard his wife kicked his ass out after he walked in on her banging her boyfriend. Only Morty could get kicked out of his house for catching his wife cheating. Jimmy smiled at the thought as he settled in behind his computer and booted it up. He’d already run Haskell and Watkins through the search engines, and now he started on Wiggins. It was all there: stories about the Federal payola case, Tommy Lowe going up in a ball of fire, and the death of Fremont and arrest of Gordon Wiggins. The main witness in the entire mess had been one Caitlin Davies, down and out pop star in the middle of a comeback. That explains Wiggins and his interest. And Haskell’s, too. His damned firm represented the Davies estate until a couple of years back. Jimmy scrolled down a bit more and found his own connection. Caitlin Davies had been married to Sonny Burnett. So at least we have the same goal. More or less, anyhow. But that doesn’t explain Hank. Jimmy knew Burnett had enemies. The trouble was most of them were dead, either killed by Burnett at one time or another or ground down by the attrition that was Miami’s drug scene. As far as he knew the few who were still alive were people like him or the lawyers; outside the trade looking in and with their own reasons for wanting to break Burnett or things he controlled. Shutting down the computer, Jimmy leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms and spine to work out the kinks. He had a contact or two in Miami-Dade, and maybe running Jangles would turn up something on Hank. Known associates and all that. Thinking of Burnett always led him back to his sister. Celeste. Where she was now. If she was safe. Hell, if she was still even alive. He didn’t think Burnett would have had her killed, but he knew some of the people who’d been after Burnett might take out their anger on her. And that was the same thing as him pulling the trigger himself. Sighing, he shut off the small desk lamp and headed for the door. He’d call his M-D source Monday morning before stopping by to check in with Renfro. Maybe the old bastard had come up with something useful since the last time they’d talked. Sonny Crockett lay under a single sheet in the master berth of Tranquility, feeling the twin-masted ship rolling gently with the ocean waves. From the light trickling through the ports he knew he wasn’t quite dawn. He’d felt Jenny slip out of bed about an hour earlier, but wanted to give her time before he went looking for her. She’d been fine the day before, as they’d sailed out from Miami for their normal weekend on the water. They’d made love with their usual enthusiasm, both before and after eating and finding a place to lower the sails and pause for the night. It was later, maybe after midnight, he’d noticed a change. He lay there as long as he could, listening to her light footsteps on the deck overhead as she walked back and forth. When she stopped close to the port rail and didn’t move he swung out of bed and pulled on a light pair of linen trousers. It was cool on deck, a light breeze pushing across the water toward land somewhere behind them. Jenny stood next to the rail, naked except for one of his old, thin white t-shirts. She was looking away from the sunrise, toward a sky dyed red from the climbing sun yet still black from night. He came up behind her, sliding his arms over her shoulders to ease her to him. He could smell sweat in her hair, and her cheeks felt damp against his biceps. “Bad dream?” There was a long silence. “I…I don’t know.”

Ricardo Tubbs was fighting back a yawn as he pulled out of the parking lot at Caitlin’s House. He’d been held late going through more personnel files, and all he could do is hope Mindy didn’t try to kill him when he walked through the door. The new security measures were necessary, but they were eating up his time in a way he hadn’t expected. Cranking up the A/C to wick some of the sweat off his Armani suit, Rico hummed along with the James Brown CD in the car’s stereo and tapped his fingers to the beat on the wheel as he made his way through the early evening traffic. He tried to console himself by thinking it wasn’t really that late, and odds were she wouldn’t be pissed at all. Shaking his head, he turned off the expressway. He was more disappointed with himself for not getting done on time than anything else. Mindy would just be happy to see him. The ride from the garage to the penthouse seemed to take forever, but he never minded. The view alone was worth however long it took, and one thing he hoped about impending fatherhood was that they didn’t have to move. Casa Cooper wasn’t short on space, but he wasn’t sure if Mindy would want to raise a child in an apartment. Even if it was bigger than many of the houses they drove by on the way to work every day. He was still chasing that little thought in his head when he unlocked the door and walked in. She was waiting for him just behind the entryway, her slender body covered by a couple of pieces of lace and nothing else. “I wasn’t sure what to make for dinner, so I just set the buffet.” She smiled and did a quick twirl. “I won’t be long before I can’t fit into this, and I wanted to see how it looked.” “Spectacular.” He set down his briefcase and rubbed his bearded chin with his thumb and forefinger, acting like he was conducting an appraisal. “And I do mean spectacular. You know what that blue against those freckles does to me, Mindy.” “Yes, and I love what you do to me when I wear it.” She giggled. “Don’t you think you should search me, Mister Head of Security, before we go any further? I might have hidden weapons.” Later she looked down at him with her bright blue eyes, her thick red hair soaked with sweat and draping around her face and shoulders. “I wasn’t kidding about not knowing what to make for dinner.” He could feel her chest pressing against him as they both struggled to get their breathing under control. “We can order in.” He grinned and kissed her forehead. “I think I can afford it just this once.” She rolled off him and curled up in the crook of his arm, still smiling. “I think it’s my turn to buy. And it better be, ‘cause I’m craving Chinese. The Bamboo Wok to be precise.” “Now that’s a hell of a specific craving, lady. It wouldn’t have anything to do with the delivery menu I saw on the counter when I came in?” “Maybe. But I was hoping I’d distract you.” “Oh, you did. But I’m a detective, remember? Or was one. I can watch two different things at once. Sometimes three if I had my coffee first. But no donuts. They go straight to my ass.” “We can’t have that. I’m gonna be the one with the big ass in this family soon enough.” She pressed herself harder against him. “Are you scared?” He thought, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am. A bit, anyhow. I like to think I ain’t no chump when it comes to bein’ a dad, but in the end who the hell knows. I just know we’re gonna try the best we can, an’ that’s all we can do.” He felt her nod, her hair brushing across his shoulder with the movement. “I just hope he’s healthy, you know?” “So you want a boy?” “I don’t know. I thought you would.” “Like you said, pretty lady, so long as the baby’s healthy. Boy, girl, don’t matter to me. Any kid that comes out of you is gonna be perfect, no matter what.” “Now you’re just being silly.” “No. I mean it.” He gave her a long squeeze. “But I’d better get that food ordered before they close down for the night.” “It’s not that late.” “No, but I could lie in bed with a beautiful naked redhead all damned night and then where would we be?” He turned his head to kiss her and then rolled out of bed. “I’ll get the menu. I’ll wear my robe so the driver don’t have a heart attack, but clothes for the lady are optional in this establishment.” Almost an hour later Mindy looked up from her plate of Firecracker Shrimp and Rice. “I might pay for this later, but I absolutely love this stuff.” Rico grinned as he worked his way through his own orange chicken. “That’s what? A double order? But you’re eating for two now so it’s cool.” He ducked as she tossed an unused plastic fork at his head. “And I mean you can eat however much of that whenever you want, dear.” “Just wait until I actually get the cravings.” She smiled. “I’ll be sending you out at three in the morning for chocolate ice cream and pickle sundaes.” “Dear God. Is that a thing?” “It might be now.” “Well, if that’s what it takes I’ll be rollin’ out in the wee hours looking for ice cream and pickles.” He smiled as he chewed another mouthful of sauce-coated chicken. “But you’d better get ready for work, too. Got a message from Nichole late today. They’re bringing another group in next week. At least four girls she said.” “Makes sense. They have open beds from that group they graduated a couple of weeks back. Honestly I’m surprised she left them open that long.” “Between the construction stuff and a lack of candidates she might not have had a choice.” Rico scratched his chin. “Gina said her old office had slowed down on screening since one of the girls was on vacation, and I know Catalina didn’t want to bring anyone in until the construction schedule was solid.” “That sounds like Dr. Sanchez. She takes housing seriously.” “And security, which Nichole forgets about sometimes.” “Thanks for saying something, though. I’ll get started on getting the rooms ready first thing.” “Solid.” Rico finished his chicken and licked the plastic fork clean. “I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna go take in some of that night air. Supposed to be a full moon tonight, and for once I don’t have to worry about some chump goin’ all crazy and ruining it for me.” It wasn’t quite cool on the rooftop patio, but the light breeze felt good on his face. He’d left on the light silk robe just in case someone in one of the nearby buildings had a telescope and too much time on their hands, but he’d tied it loosely so the breeze could work its way in. He’d left Mindy finishing her shrimp, and he found he didn’t mind having the time alone to think. A father! Who the hell would have thought that? He looked at the moon, a bright gold plate hanging in the sky, but didn’t really see it. Instead he saw his father’s face. Angelina’s. The hazy face of Rico Jr., the son he’d seen for a handful of minutes. It bothered hm that he couldn’t picture the boy’s face, and that Angelina’s was starting to fade as well. Any time he thought of them now he saw Mindy instead. Down below he could hear traffic, an assortment of blowing horns, grumbling engines, and the occasional squeal of breaks as someone misjudged something. All punctuated by the high cry of sirens, each pitched differently so the trained ear could tell what was rolling. Paramedics, fire trucks, Miami-Dade squad cars. An entire symphony of first response. He smiled, realizing he missed it less and less with each passing day. “I still listen to them, too.” Mindy slipped her arm around his waist. “Not like I used to, though.” “Yeah. Funny how the Job matters until it doesn’t.” He shook his head. “There was a time I thought I couldn’t live without it. Then I met you and knew what I couldn’t live without.” “Now you’re just being silly.” “Naw, pretty lady. Honest.” He looked up at the sky again, picking out the brightest starts through the light reflected up by the city. Thin clouds drifted across the moon, and he smiled as he pulled her close. Morning found them at their respective desks, Mindy working on the rooms after a quick kiss from Rico. He’d headed down to his office to sort through the staffing question of more patients. He knew he had enough guards, even with Sonny’s enhanced protocols, but he wanted to make sure the right guards were in the right places. Rico had quickly learned a good part of his job was a balancing act. Making sure the right guards got in the right places. Arranging the routine so the girls didn’t feel like prisoners but were still kept under the kind of watch they needed. Shifting personnel and equipment as situations evolved. And constantly evaluating both the people and the threats they faced. From time to time one of the girls’ pimps tried to crash the gate, only to be hauled away in handcuffs. And once a girl had tried to escape, lured by the siren song of one of the pimps they’d run off two days before. He’d fired one guard early on for trying to smuggled drugs in for the one of the girls - the guy had been former Metro-Dade and was the source of the policy to never hire them. And it all had to be done on a tight budget. Balancing all around. Like now. The renovations meant he had to shift personnel to keep an eye on the workers while still doing everything else. There was money for temporary help, but he knew he wouldn’t use it. You couldn’t screen temporary guards as well, and he never thought you got quality people for short-term deals. So he relied more on Stan and Lester’s gadgets for the perimeter work and moved people close in for patrols. And there were always at least two in close watching the workers themselves. He shook his head and stared at the scheduling spreadsheet open on his computer monitor. He’d done it before, and knew he’d have to do it again. But that didn’t always make it easier. He was partway through the balancing act when Sonny came in, his eyes set in the Burnett stare. “How’s security looking?” “Solid. Except for those new girls Nichole wants to bring in.” He raised a hand. “I know…no changing her mind. But it’ll stretch us a bit thinner than I’d like in terms of people on the fences. Stan’s new toys can fill most of that gap, but…” “Yeah. We both like to have real people out there instead of cameras.” Sonny hooked one of the chairs and sat down, and Rico could see the tired lines around his eyes. “She hit me with that about the same time you found out, I think. I know it’s gotta be done, but I’d feel better if we waited until Phase I of the project was done at least.” “And Catalina’s cool with all this?” “Mindy’s smoothing it over with her right now. You’d think someone told her about our future guests.” Sonny grinned, but the Burnett distance was still in his eyes. “But yeah, she’ll be ok with it. We have empty beds, it doesn’t look good on the board reports and all that.” “Solid. Now if we can just keep the chumps with hammers from hitting on the girls…” “Have Tiny give them the talk.” “I might do that. Hey, you want some coffee? You’re lookin’ beat.” “Thanks. Yeah, it’s been one of those weeks, I guess.” Rico just nodded as he poured them both coffee. He had a sneaking suspicion about what was bothering Sonny, but he wasn’t going to raise the subject. Talking about Vietnam with Sonny was a quick ride to nowhere. “Yeah. You’ve been busy, partner. That court case and all.” Sonny rubbed his eyes and the Burnett distance disappeared. “Come on, Rico. We both know it ain’t that.” He sipped the coffee and grinned. “You convince Stan to give you his recipe?” “Yeah.” Rico sat down with his own cup and waited. You couldn’t rush Sonny when he was in this kind of mood. “You know what really bugs me, Rico? I miss it.” He looked down at his shoes. “I miss the damned action. Here I am, in love with the greatest lady in the word, livin’ on a damned boat, and all I can do is miss the action.” “It’s allowed, Sonny. Hell, you been doin’ that since you were in high school. There’s some times I miss it, too, and then I remind myself about Isla de las Arenas Rojas. Then you can bet I don’t miss it no more.” Sonny nodded. “Yeah. I damned near froze out there. With those Hueys and Moneybags and his boys going through those Unit 8 guys like they were nothing.” He shook his head and was quiet for a time. “You know, you’re right, Rico. That, and when that damned redneck arms dealer’s boys opened up on us with that .50. I miss it until I remember we were lucky as hell to be able to walk away from it.” “Yeah. That’s how I look back at it. That and I see Tiny almost every day. Man is damned good reality check, let me tell you.” Rico shook his head to clear the memories away. Or at least push them into the back for another time. He changed the subject with a grin. “You in court again today?” “Yeah.” The word was a snort. “Gary wants me there to set the stage for the jury or something. I told him there were better people to do that, but he insisted. Something about the grieving widower and his wife’s legacy I guess.” “Solid.” Rico nodded. “He’s got it all down. Goes back to bein’ a cop, man. You always want ‘em to see the victim, and since they can’t see Caitlin you’re the next best thing.” “I know, Tubbs. I know. I just hate digging all that stuff up is all.” He rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “I wasn’t at my best back then.” “Let ‘em see that, partner. If you want these chumps to go down for what they did the jury’s gotta see that.” He paused. “Gary gonna have you blow your old cover?” “Not if we can help it. He had a closed-door hearing with the judge late yesterday and it looks like we’ll be able to stick with Burnett unless their defense digs up something else. But I don’t think Haskell and Watkins ever knew I was a cop. Not directly, anyhow.” “Well, you’d better get ready if you’re gonna go stick it to those chumps. We’ll be ready for those new patients, but I still ain’t comfortable with how it stretches us on the perimeter. I’ll make it work, though.” He was about to continue when the phone rang. “This is Tubbs. Yeah? Solid! Can you come down?” There was a smile on his face when he hung up. “That was Trudy. One of her old CIs got back to her about that reporter.” “I’ll..” “You’ll go get ready for court and do your damned job there. I’ll handle this, partner.” Sonny raised his hands. “Ok! Ok! Color me gone, pal. And yeah, I’d better get before Trudy sees me and starts in, too.” Trudy came in only a handful of minutes after Sonny left. “I can’t believe it, but Marco came through.” She was smiling, and Rico found himself smiling back. It was hard to resist Trudy when she was happy. “You didn’t think he would?” “You never know with CIs. Yeah, he’s from Overtown like me, but he took his turn and I took mine. Origin don’t always mean much then. But I think there’s something personal between him and that reporter, so he dug.” She sat down in the chair Crockett had occupied a short time before. “It’s not much, though.” “Still more than we got now.” Rico put on his best street act. “So lay it on me, sister.” “Call me sister again and I’ll lay something upside your head.” She smiled. “I think he was sitting on the info and just waited a day or two to string me along. Anyhow, there was this girl called Angel.” “How original.” “Yeah. Marco isn’t the creative type. Anyhow, she’d been working for him for a few months and then just sort of disappeared. He went looking and found her working with that punk Campbell. Turns out she was working as bait for him. Get the fancy dudes in compromising positions so he could take pictures to sell to those tabloids or maybe back to the fancy dudes.” She looked down at her notes, and Rico could see her face change just a bit. It was something you’d only notice if you really knew Trudy. “Marco said Campbell liked to smack her around some, too. That I’m not sure about, since Marco isn’t above smacking his girls up from time to time.” “So you think this Marco tried to lean on Campbell and the white boy told him to pound sand?” “Something like that. Marco’s a leach, but he’s not a tough guy. He got his limp trying to be one, and that kinda took the wind outa his sails. Turns out it didn’t much matter, though. She got busted in a hooker sweep a couple of weeks later. I think Marco dropped a dime on her to get her out of Jimmy’s reach.” “If he can’t have her, no one else can.” Rico nodded slowly. “Makes sense in a hood kinda way.” “I ran the alias. Turns out her real name is Angelina Francis. Seventeen year old runaway from Lexington, Kentucky. And part of the third group of girls to go through Caitlin’s House.” “You don’t say. So you think he’s after the place because he lost his best lure?” “Seems thin to me, too, Rico. But it’s what we have. Angelina went back to Kentucky after she finished the program and seems to be doing well. She still writes to Nichole from time to time.” “I get the feeling that might be part of why he’s so hot to get to us, but it ain’t the whole story. If he was using her to set up blackmail photos there’s gotta be something on him somewhere.” “I’ll try running it again, maybe cross-referencing with her now that we know her name. Between Mindy and me something might turn up.” She started to get up. “Assuming I can get her back from that Catalina woman.” “Yeah. Gonna be busy around here soon.” Then he got an idea. “Hey, Trudy? I know you got the teaching thing and all, but you want to pick up some more extra cash? I could use someone who knows their way around this stuff to help run background checks and maybe a bit of security as well. I’d ask Mindy, but…” “They’re gonna have her tied up with that other stuff. Her and Gina both.” Trudy paused for a second and nodded. “Sure, I can do that.” “It shouldn’t be for long. A month at the most. Once that renovation is done I can move people around again.” “I can do it as long as you need me.” She smiled. “It’ll give Marty some space, too. He’s…” “Like Sonny. A warrior who doesn’t know when to slow down.” Rico grinned. “Sometimes I think it’s better just bein’ a regular cop. At least when you leave the Job you can turn it off.” She stood there for a moment, looking at him with that penetrating Trudy look. “But do we really, Rico?” Then she was gone. A gentle breeze blew across the wooden deck, ruffling Martin Castillo’s hair. Behind the dark sunglasses his eyes smiled, but nothing transferred itself to his face. He could hear the leaves rustling with the passing of the air, communicating to him in ways only someone who’d spent time in the jungle could understand. Beside him Randy Mather cleared his throat. “Damned sand. How the hell does it get airborne so fast?” Castillo sensed rather than saw the other man turn. “And all you’ve got is a dream?” “Yes. That and Jenny’s warning. You’re sure Dave doesn’t mind covering for you at this conference?” “Yeah. It’s crowd control day, and that’s more his thing. Besides, I think he’s wanting to meet up with that nephew of his. Kid’s supposed to be in town.” Randy smiled. “Seems he took your advice and made a call. Figured I’d better make myself scarce for that meeting.” There was a pause. “I thought we tied up all the loose ends from the old days.” “So did I. But now Ti Ti is saying otherwise.” “And the Nung’s never been in the dreams before?” “No.” Castillo didn’t mention he’d had another the night before. It was the same circular path through the jungle, but this time there were more tracers from behind the two men. “I understand if you don’t want to help.” “Screw that.” Randy took a long pull at his glass of green tea. “I ever tell you I grew up around Indians? Blackfeet mostly, but there were some Crow and Northern Cheyenne running around, too. They put a lot of stock in dreams and all that. I ain’t one to ever discount a dream. An’ if that Nung’s in it that’s damned big medicine as they say.” “You think so?” “He’s the best warrior you ever knew? Then yeah, it’s a damned big deal. And even if I didn’t think so, I owe you. So you ask, I’m there.” “I just wish I knew more.” “Then let’s play damned detective. Or you play detective an’ I’ll play deputy marshal. They started what? Two, three weeks gone?” Castillo nodded. “It was about the time Sonny said they started having trouble again with some reporter trying to get into Caitlin’s House.” “So he’s part of it. But not the only part, since Ti Ti’s shown’ you more than one set of tracers. An’ they didn’t know him before, right? Then he’s a scout. Not the main enemy.” Castillo could imagine Randy’s pale blue eyes narrowing behind his own sunglasses. “And the paper he works for is one of them damned supermarket rags? With drug money behind it?” “Yes. But this isn’t their style. A cartel, I mean.” “Naw. These days they’d say to hell with consequences and just blow up his damned boat. Those two ain’t got no Feds with grudges in the woodshed, do they?” “No. That was always me.” “Yeah. You had a right interesting way of pissing off the big boys.” Randy’s lips twisted into a narrow smile. “Anyone they bust get out of jail recently?” “Not that we know of. And before you ask, Sonny retired the Burnett cover. It could be someone from that past, but I doubt it.” “Yeah. Another bomb in the boat thing if it’s someone after Burnett. But at the rate those cartels eat their own I doubt if there’s many players still alive who remember him after a year or two.” “Possibly.” Castillo looked out toward the water. He wasn’t sure where he was going now that he’d told Randy about the dream and the former Marine had agreed to help. “There’s no timeline with this, though.” “You might be wrong there.” Randy adjusted his sunglasses and wiped at the sweat on his face. “Forgot how much I hate this humidity shit. Reminds me of Nam. Anyhow, there may be a timeline on this we don’t know about. I got some time comin’ to me so I can hang around for a week or so after the conference, but then I gotta head home. God knows what kinda trouble Dave will get in without me to keep him in line. Debbie can only do so much.” He chuckled then the humor drained from his face. “There anything goin’ on with that House place?” “Renovations. An expansion so they can start treating boys. A court case.” “Do tell. Things just got interesting. Who an’ why?” Castillo told him about the audit, cursing himself for not thinking of it first. “I didn’t consider them because it’s a civil case. But that firm had been representing Caitlin Davies going back to before she married Sonny. I never met either one of them, or the senior partner who’s serving Federal time.” “So they’d not object to seeing something nasty happen to the place? An’ lawyers ain’t bombs in boats people. More the kind of sneaky shits who’d send a dirty reporter nosin’ around with all kinds of fancy gear.” “We have to draw them out first. Get them to make a move we can track back to them.” “Naturally. Think we can get Stan and Lester in on this?” “I’d prefer not. Sonny just hired them on.” “Fair enough. So just the two of us, then?” “Yes.” Castillo drank his own tea, still looking off into the distance. “I think we’re only seeing part of the picture now.” “Could be. But it’s better than no part of the picture.” Randy looked at his watch. “I gotta get back. The afternoon’s hostage situations from a sniper’s point of view. But I’m in, Marty. In all the way.” Castillo shook his hand, feeling the warrior’s strength in the firm grip. “I’m in your debt.” “No. It’s what we do for each other. I’ll call you once the seminar’s over.”

“I still don’t get it, Jimmy.” Jake Renfro fixed the reporter with his best perplexed editor glare. “Why you got such a hard-on for that rehab place, anyhow? What’s the angle? A senator’s daughter? Dead hookers? What?” Jimmy Campbell. That’s what he called himself now. Jimmy was his name, but he’d borrowed Campbell from a can of soup. The story made him smile inside. “It’s big, boss. No senator’s daughter, but there’s big things going on in that place.” He paused for effect, his thin frame almost lost in the big chair on the other side of Renfro’s desk. “I just gotta get close enough to get it on tape or film.” Renfro waved the papers in front of his face. “You know that ain’t gonna be easy thanks to this damned restraining order. You so much as touch the fence and they can have you arrested. That’s jail, Jimmy! And I gotta say I don’t see you writing a prison romance exposé.” Jimmy scratched his chin, considering his reply. He had a number of reasons to go after Caitlin’s House; all of them personal and none of the editor’s business as far as he was concerned. “I keep hearing talk on the street, boss. Those girls? They bring ‘em in and maybe rent them out to high rollers. You know, celebs, politicians, connected people.” “You got any proof of that? We may have some money behind us now, but that lawyer they’ve got could clean us out in a heartbeat.” “That’s why I need to get at the place. So far it’s all talk. Street rumors. But I keep hearing the same ones.” Renfro nodded, and Jimmy could see rotating dollar signs in the man’s eyes. “I’ll give you a week. No more. You don’t bring me something solid forget about it and start staking out that private beach up the coast. Might be some good topless starlet shots from that one, or an abused illegal or two.” “You got it, boss.” Pushing himself out of the chair, Jimmy managed to bite back a sigh of relief. A week wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. He’d just have to up his game. The Post’s ‘newsroom’ was little more than a collection of cubicles dropped into what might have been a sales floor at one time. It was late, and most of the staff had gone home, leaving the place to the handful of night owls chasing their own demons in their stories. Jimmy nodded to the two he passed on his way to his cubicle. They all knew each other, or at least understood each other. Dropping into his desk chair, Jimmy sighed. He’d been chasing Caitlin’s House ever since his lure girl, a pretty little hooker with the street name Angel, got run through the program and cleaned up. He’d used her to get people into compromising positions…some of his best headlines had been engineered using her. Sure, he’d smacked her around a time or two after she asked for more money, but that’s what those girls all wanted. She’d been off the streets for a week after the last time, and he’d gotten wind that her pimp, some punk called Marco, was pissed. Not that he cared. Marco was all talk and no action. But then Angel had been picked up in one of the routine hooker sweeps and sent off. That was his first pass at Caitlin’s House. He’d never really heard of the place before that. Hell, why would I? They don’t treat rich girls…just streetwalking trash. No story there. He let the thought roll through his head, grinning at his own ignorance. Losing Angel had been a blow, especially since the word was out about him and he couldn’t get another lure with her looks and ability. He started digging more out of reflex than anything else. At least until he found out who was behind the place. He’d expected to find some faceless shell company, but instead he found a ghost. Sonny Burnett. Even now the name sent a quick shiver down his spine, chased by a flash of anger. He’d never met the man, hadn’t even really seen him if he was honest, but the impact of Burnett on his life was almost beyond calculation. He was the reason Jimmy had tried to join any police force he could find in South Florida, why he’d dabbled as a PI, and then why he’d wandered into what passed for journalism. It still pissed him off thinking about it. All that time I spent, and then I basically trip over the son-of-a-bitch chasing down some hooker! Fuck me running. Opening a file drawer under his cluttered desk, he pulled out the one marked ‘Security’ and started flipping through it without really reading. He’d been through the damned thing so many times he had it more or less memorized. Every detail about the security surrounding Caitlin’s House, and he had to admit he’d seen high-security prisons that were weaker than the rehab center. But the activity kept his hands busy while his mind worked. It all started with his big sister. Back when his last name wasn’t Campbell. He’d just left high school, barely scraping through like most of the kids from his decaying neighborhood, when she lucked out and hooked up with some older dude. A rich older dude. Celeste had been working the club circuit for over a year, dating and then ditching a number of would-be players in the Miami scene. And then she hooked Oscar Carrera. Oscar. He snorted, still turning pages without seeing them. The answer to our prayers, she’d said. My ass. The man was a fat old fool. Rich, but a fool. And the son wasn’t any better. He let his mind slide back to those days, when she’d come home telling them they’d be moving into a fancy apartment soon. Just as soon as she sorted out the money. She’d convinced the old fool to marry her, and things were set. Their mother smiled and nodded, not caring where the money came from. Jimmy knew, and he knew enough even then to be worried. The drug trade wasn’t exactly stable or secure. He’d watched the whole thing unfold: the evolving feud with the Manolos, the demise of that cartel and the scramble to fill the void, and the arrival on scene of Sonny Burnett. Jimmy had still been an outsider, working here and there on the fringes of the trade. A few small deals, moving a little bit of product. Nothing big, but with the hope of eventually moving up. Especially with his sister being married to the boss. The other dealers looked at him with envy, telling him he was set for the good life. It wasn’t exactly his choice, but the money made life easy and if it was going to be handed to him he’d be a fool not to take it. Then everything changed. By chance he looked down just when he’d turned to one of the two pictures he had of Sonny Burnett. It was older, taken at a distance not long after Caitlin’s House had opened. The short ponytail was gone, but the black suit and blacker sunglasses were the same. Even now he guessed he could understand what Celeste had seen in him. The guy was a mover. No question. Her mistake had been assuming she could control him like she had Oscar and that drug-addled Miguel. He’d never risen high enough to actually meet Burnett. The closest he’d gotten was some trailer trash thug called Cliff who his sister latched onto toward the end before going back to Burnett. He’d taken an instant dislike to Cliff, with his beady, darting eyes and fast talking. But even then he’d known enough to keep his mouth shut. When the fight between Cliff and Burnett kicked off, Jimmy had gone to ground like the rest of the rank and file. Sure, some chose sides, but Jimmy chose his own and got out with what he could before the whole thing went up in smoke. Snorting, he closed the folder with a snap. The rise and fall of the Carrera organization under Burnett was the stuff of legends, but somehow the man had managed to walk away from the wreckage with his transportation business intact. Unlike his sister. She’d disappeared soon after the Carrera organization went tits up, sending an occasional postcard from places like Lauderdale, Dallas, and once even Los Angeles. Then the cards stopped. Jimmy didn’t really care. They’d never been especially close, and he figured she was a big girl now…or should be after what she’d done. But he hated what it did to his mother and his own plans for the future, and so by extension he hated Sonny Burnett. Reaching into the drawer, he pulled out his map of the area around Caitlin’s House. He’d looked at the damned thing so many times he saw it in his sleep, but reviewing the map was sort of a ritual now. He’d monitored their radios enough to know the code names for most sections of fence, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at Charlie 3. It was the one section with a good view of the house’s long second floor balcony and the wide windows of Burnett’s office. He’d pieced that together by buying drinks for workers who’d done some of the renovations. It killed his expense account, but gave him a better idea of what the place looked like on the inside. But that didn’t help him get through the place’s security. That was the piece of the puzzle he couldn’t break. He’d worked around tough security before, anything from cut-rate celebrity ‘security’ to the Secret Service…he was still drawing on the royalties he’d collected for a series of nudie shots of a Senator’s twenty year old daughter poolside in their Miami compound. Burnett’s security made the Secret Service look like mall cops at a cut-rate Kmart. But that was part of the draw. He’d want to get in even if Burnett wasn’t there. He was like the cherry on top of a sundae. Usually the weak spot was people, but Burnett knew that, too. Jimmy had never seen such a collection of former cops in one place. And none of them were Miami-Dade rejects. He’d been smart enough not to approach them himself, not after seeing a stringer from the Herald get decked trying to bribe one off-duty. But he’d gotten pictures of a few and used his contacts to pull some information. Former State Police. Ex-military. Former Marshal’s Service. All heavy hitters. Still, he knew it wouldn’t take much. A conversation that could be massaged into something else. A photo you could hang a lurid caption under. One of the most important things he’d learned from Renfro and the old timers at the Post was how to skirt the law when it came to that kind of thing. You didn’t tamper with the recording or the picture. Amateurs did that. Instead you turned it into something it wasn’t…or something it might be. And now he had a deadline. One week to produce or else. Turning off the flickering neon desk lamp, Jimmy sat in the gloom for a moment before leaving. Listening to the click of computer keys as the handful of lost souls still in the building worked on their stories or their suicide notes. Sometimes, Jimmy knew, they were the same thing. Hector Rendozo’s head hurt. He slowly opened his eyes, looking up at the popcorn ceiling in his hotel room and once again swearing off vodka in all its forms. It might have been a good night, and from what he remembered it was, but the morning was going to be hell. At least there wasn’t a girl in the bed. With this kind of hangover the last thing he needed was some girl wanting to talk. Rolling over, he closed his eyes and willed the room to stop spinning before opening them again and sitting up in bed. The red numbers on the room’s bedside clock told him it was after one in the afternoon. “Glad I ain’t got nowhere to be,” he muttered as he eased himself out of bed. After a shower, coffee, and a handful of aspirin he felt like he could leave the room without embarrassing himself. Reaching into his pants pocket, he found the number the older lawyer had given him and headed down to the lobby pay phones. It was harder for cops to trace calls from them, and old habits died hard with Hector. The lawyer answered on the fourth ring, and Hector didn’t give him time to ramble. “Checking in. You got anything for me?” There was a pause, and then recognition. “Hank. Yes, I think we do. I need to check something on it first, though. Can you meet tonight at the same place?” “Yeah, I suppose so.” “Good. And Hank? We may need to move quickly on this.” “Sure.” He hung up without waiting for a reply, leaning against the side of the booth for a moment to steady his body and mind. “Damned vodka,” he muttered again as he headed for the elevators. Back in his room he turned on the TV and flopped in one of the chairs where he could see both the screen and the balcony door. He kept the volume low, the images flickering on the screen more of a distraction for his mind than anything he cared to watch. He’d learned in prison he did some of his best thinking this way. The more he thought about it, the more he didn’t want to wait for whatever stunt Miguel had in mind. Even if the suits were good with waiting, and from the panic in Haskell’s voice he didn’t think they were, Miguel’s man was a player he didn’t control. Hell, he barely controlled Ramon and one person like that was all he felt like managing. And then there was Cooper or whoever he really was. No, they needed another way. Maybe the suits would have something, but he doubted it would be solid. And he wouldn’t control it. He knew with Sonny Burnett involved he’d get one shot at Cooper. So he had to make it count. Then there was the question of money: the million dollars the suits had promised. Even if it was only half-true, that kind of cash wasn’t something you walked away from. Not without a fight at least. And even if it turned out to be only a few grand it was still more than he had right now. Seed money he could multiply ten or twenty-fold with a couple of good deals and maybe a fast move or two. His eyes lost focus as he stared out the window, watching white clouds scuttle across a clean blue sky. Miguel had it half-right trying to sneak someone into the place. But staff were watched too closely, and screened too hard before they became staff. With the security they had, one blip would mean you were out and the next person on the list got a call to come in. But the patients…they were trying to keep them in and away from outside contact. Sitting up straight, he tried to remember what he’d read about the place. How girls got sent there. Shaking his head, he got to his feet and headed for the door. His hangover was gone. The hotel had one of those “business centers,” a fancy name for a room with a few computers and a copy machine or two. Hector took one of the computers toward the back of the room and punched in the hotel password. He’d learned more than a bit about computers while he was inside - one of the only good things about doing time - and it paid off now. One search command later he was looking at the home page of Caitlin’s House, its logo splashed across a picture of the big white house and the ocean beyond. He skipped the crap about programs and support, and even ignored the staff bios. He knew all they’d talk about there were the doctors and other shit. Instead he pointed the mouse cursor at the heading titled ‘entry’ and clicked. The screen flickered and changed to a wall of text, broken up by what looked to be ‘before’ and ‘after’ pictures of girls who’d been through the House. A blurb near the top said they’d be accepting male patients as soon as construction was finished on a new building, but he ignored that part, too. Once he’d finished reading he did another web search or two before closing the browser and restarting the computer. He knew that would clear the memory and make finding his trail a little bit harder. His stomach had settled enough to be hungry, so he ducked into the hotel restaurant for a sandwich before heading back upstairs. It was cool and dark in the restaurant, almost empty since the lunch crowd had faded, and he took his time eating. It was a good space for thinking, and he needed to do some of that before tonight. The two searches had confirmed what he’d read on Caitlin’s House’s website. Girls were admitted based on the recommendation of victims’ services and one or two other offices associated with the court system or law enforcement. They were almost always girls under the age of twenty-one, runaways, and using one or more drugs. Hector knew plenty of girls like that, or had before he’d been locked up. The problem was finding one you could trust not to screw things up. The other problem was he’d have to trust Jangles to find the right girl, and to do it quick. Both those things were problematic. Finishing the last bite of his club sandwich, Hector chased it with a sip of ice water and looked around the almost empty room. Jangles himself was fairly reliable, but he wasn’t the best judge of character. Maybe it wasn’t his best idea, but Hector was running out of options. Leaving the blonde waitress a reasonable tip, he went back to his room and resumed his seat between the TV and the balcony door. He had a few hours yet until the meet, and he wanted to try to sort through everything in his head before sitting down with those damned suits again. He still wasn’t quite sure what they wanted done with Caitlin’s House, but maybe they’d get more into that tonight. And maybe he’d look into some kind of down payment, along with the insurance in his jacket pocket. It was loud in the bar, and he was glad he’d started recording before walking through the door. He was also glad he could feel the Beretta tucked into his waistband. Flying solo always made him want to carry his own insurance. They were sitting toward the back, the big one with the accent and the older one. Haskell. Cutting around a waitress with a tray load of drinks, he nodded when he got close enough to be seen and slipped into a chair, turning it so he could see the door and the two other men at the table. The big one nodded. “Careful. I like that. I believe it’s time we filled our friend in on his task, yes?” Haskell nodded, but Hector thought he could see doubt in the man’s bloodshot eyes. “Yes, I suppose so.” He turned away from the other lawyer. “As I said on the phone, we may need to move quickly on this one.” “Yeah. But I might need some good faith money. It ain’t that I don’t trust you…” “But you don’t trust us.” The big man nodded again. “A good way to be in business. But I believe friend Arthur here has something to ease your concern. Isn’t that right, Arthur?” Again Hector could see the doubt, but the big one seemed to have some kind of hold over the other man. Haskell lifted a leather overnight bag from the floor and put it on the table. “There’s fifty thousand dollars in there. Consider it a down payment.” “Sure.” Hector unzipped the bag and flipped through the bundles inside. A mix of bills, and nothing consecutive. These guys know the score. He smiled as he zipped it back up. “Looks like we got a down payment. Now what is it you need done?” “You seem like a smart man, Hector. So let us talk straight, yes? We want to ruin the reputation of Caitlin’s House. Destroy it so the place must close and never reopen.” “Why not just burn it?” “Direct as well. No, this must cause someone to suffer a great deal. Property may be rebuilt, after all…” “But when a reputation’s gone, you’re screwed.” Hector nodded slowly, letting his mind wrap itself around the idea. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Sonny Burnett, would it?” “Let us just say it’s an old issue. One that’s been too long in being dealt with.” Wiggins steepled his fingers and leaned forward on the table. “Now how would you go about destroying the place’s reputation?” Hector paused for a moment. “Get a girl in there. One you got some hooks in so she does what you want. Then maybe have her smuggle in some drugs. Get pictures. The kinda stuff those rags in the supermarkets go nuts for. Maybe have her say one of the guards tried to fuck her. All kindsa stuff you could do if you got the right girl in play.” He shook his head. “Trouble is getting on those supermarket rags.” “You mustn’t concern yourself with that. All in good time, friend Hector. But do you think you could find such a girl? And, what was your phrase, put her in play?” “Yeah. I think so.” He wasn’t as sure as he sounded, but with this kind of money in play he’d make it happen. Even if he had to cut Jangles’ balls off and send him in singing soprano. Or Ramon. Dude might actually like that, though. Then the rest of what the lawyer had said sunk in. They’ve got a paper ready to run the story! Gotta be the Post. No one else around here would touch that. Not with Burnett in back of it. “So how soon do you need this?” “As soon as possible. But don’t cut corners. Haste makes waste, as they say.” The big one leaned back again. “We will likely only have one shot at this, so it must be true.” Haskell cleared his throat. “Call me as soon as you have the girl. I’d like to check her out, just to make sure she’s what we need.” “You mean bang her?” “No. She has to be a certain type if we want the press to buy the story.” “I get it. One of them hookers with heart of gold? Big eyes an’ a sob story as wide as the Gulf? We’ll do what we can, gents, but it’s also gotta be a reliable piece of tail. And those are hard to find.” “Do what you must.” The big one got to his feet, followed by Haskell. “Don’t let too much time pass, Hector. Once you have the girl we’ll start preparing her story.” Hector waited for them to leave before reaching into his pocket and shutting off the recorder. The brown leather bag still sat on the table, and he resisted the urge to open it again. But he knew he had to move. He didn’t need the attention, or some moron cop thinking he was a buyer. Snatching up the bag he headed for the door. He’d call Jangles from a pay phone and set up his own meet. And hope the little asshole could come through.

Outside Gordon Wiggins could see the shadows growing longer as the day faded into memory. Both Arthur and that scrub Watkins were still in court as far as he knew, but if he was honest with himself he also didn’t care where they were. They were tools, and ones intent on proving themselves less and less useful with every passing day. Sighing, he looked down at the glowing screen of the microfiche reader. In the old days he’d have some fluff of a paralegal doing this. One of those little co-eds with ambition to match her bra size. Maybe it was better this way, though. He knew what he was looking for, and there was always a chance he’d find something related another searcher wouldn’t even notice. Since he’d made the connection between Burnett and Crockett, he’d started looking further back through the papers. Finding any links he could, and then expanding to Caitlin and her career. Oh, he knew all about Tommy Lowe and his ham-handed attempts to ‘handle’ situations, going all the way back to the murder of her bass player and some before that. But friend Tommy’s little bits had been scattered all over a rooftop parking garage, so there was no need to look further into him. Looking from the screen to his notes, Wiggins sighed again. He’d found precious little on this Crockett after the man had moved from Robbery to Vice, aside from the lurid tales of his relationship with Frank Hackman. Before that he’d found some scattered stories about the ‘football hero and veteran turned cop’, but those were back in his uniform patrol days. There’d also been a divorce notice, but that wasn’t unusual for cops. It was when he turned to the gossip pages things got interesting. Not for Crockett, but for the Davies woman. Not so much her, but that behemoth she’d always had close by. Angie. Wiggins wasn’t too proud to admit the woman made him nervous; always looking at him like she wanted to snap him in half, even though he was her height. There was some chatter about her social life, but what seemed exciting and dangerous back in the early ‘80s and before was simply mundane now. But even the world-weary ‘90s still frowned on drug dealing. Especially if it happened to be something like crack or heroin. They’d wink at some pot, and maybe even explain away cocaine…so long as it was going to the ‘right’ people whoever they were. But harder drugs were still a solid no-go. Wiggins moved the fiche holder to bring up other pages, making a few notes on his pad. Then he dug into his pants pocket and fed dimes into the machine, listening to the machine whir and hum each time he hit the button to print a page. There was simply too much to write down, and he had to meet Arthur soon in any case. Better to take what he needed with him to review later. He met Arthur in the hotel bar at the agreed-upon time, frowning when he realized his friend had brought the idiot Watkins along. He thought about going back to his room, but Haskell had already seen him and was waving a big hand like he was having some kind of fit. Forcing a smile on his face, Wiggins headed over to their table. The last thing he wanted to do was ‘handle’ Watkins, but he guessed that was why Haskell had dragged the younger man along. He was still smiling when he sat down. “Arthur. And this must be Watkins. If you don’t mind my asking how did court go today?” Haskell took a long pull from his drink. “Not bad for opening remarks.” “What he means is they didn’t hang us. Not yet, anyhow.” Watkins’ face had the blush of three drinks too many, and Wiggins wondered how long they’d been down here, or how big the flask was Watkins had been pulling on in court. Or maybe he’d just gotten stoned from inhaling the cloud of cologne that always surrounded him. Wiggins never trusted a man who wore too much cologne or one who dyed his hair before the age of fifty. Watkins fell into both categories. “Courage, Watkins. My God, man. Arthur’s a top-flight attorney when he wants to be. You’ll beat this one. Might take a little assistance, but you’ll come out on top. Never fear.” Turning, he shot Haskell a quick glare. “Has there been any word about that other business?” “Hank’s been quiet, but he usually is until he’s ready to move. Same with my friend at the paper. Why?” “I might have found something that will help us.” He raised his hand. “All in due time, friend Arthur. All in due time. But things are not as gloomy as they might have been. My day at the library has not been wasted. Not by half.” Watkins looked up from his drink and sneered. “Arthur said you’d done time. I figured you’d be tougher than this.” Wiggins smiled, his hand flashing out to grab Watkins’ wrist. “Not all tough guys have tattoos and bad mustaches, my young friend.” He applied pressure, twisting until he saw tears beading up in Watkins’ eyes and his lips turn white as he clamped his mouth shut. It wasn’t the first time he’d been underestimated because of his accent and manner of speaking. But people usually did it only once. “Now perhaps you’ll just sit quietly and let the adults talk, humh?” Haskell looked from one many to the other. “Roger, you need to just shut up now. And you think you have something that will help us?” “Perhaps.” Wiggins didn’t want to give his hand away, especially with the fool Watkins sniveling and rubbing his wrist at the table. “But we need to start discrediting this facility. How soon do you think you’ll hear back from your contact at the paper?” “Tomorrow at the latest.” Haskell snorted. “I guess that reporter of his likes to disappear for days at a time. Says he’s researching stories, but who knows with reporters.” “Indeed.” Wiggins rubbed his temples and tried to keep his face expressionless. Is there no one in this damned town who’s dependable any more? “Please tell me the other man is more reliable.” “Hank? Oh, don’t call him that to his face. He hates the nickname.” Haskell smiled. “Yes, I’d say he’s more reliable. Especially if he takes an interest in a project. And he seems to have taken a big interest in this one. Maybe because Burnett’s involved. I don’t know. These underworld feuds are too much for me to follow.” “Agreed.” Wiggins paused as the waitress brought his drink. “Thank you, my dear. Charge it to my, room, please.” He sipped, letting the single malt scotch roll across his tongue and across his nerves. “Unfortunately we need information from your friend at the paper before we can turn this other one loose. Unless, of course, he develops his own leads.” Wiggins took another sip, ideas forming in his mind. “Is there a chance he might do that, Arthur?” “I…I don’t know. I suppose he could. My business with him never really required him to use his head, you know.” “I understand, Arthur. Truly, I do. But maybe you could encourage him a bit in that direction. In case this reporter stays lost for an unacceptable period of time. For all we know the man’s an addict, feeding his habit in some seedy hotel.” Wiggins took another drink, hoping his true motives didn’t show. “Can’t trust reporters, can we? Consider it done.” Haskell clapped Watkins on the shoulder. “And now I’d best get Roger fed and home. Too much booze on an empty stomach is an occupational hazard, but you don’t want to show up in court with a hangover, right?” “Of course not. Bad for business.” Wiggins nodded them away, not wanting to move from his chair quite yet. The scotch was doing its job, both relaxing him and lubricating his mind. When the waitress sauntered by again he signaled for another. After what he’d seen, he was sure he didn’t trust Haskell with the information he’d uncovered. The man would share it with Watkins. He simply couldn’t help himself. And telling Watkins was the same as buying air time on all the local channels. It was looking more and more like he’d need to find other ways to use what he’d learned, and maybe this Hector was part of the answer. He thought about the missing reporter and decided maybe he’d had too much to drink already. Telling a reporter was buying air time, and he’d lose control of his information in the bargain. No, he’d start with Hector. He didn’t realize his glass was empty until the waitress stopped again. “Can I get you another?” He looked down at the melting ice, weighing his options. “Please. And then close out my tab if you could.” He’d eat in his room. There was serious thinking to be done, and he preferred to do that alone. To be honest, Hector hadn’t expected a call from Ramon. He’d been sitting in his hotel room, nursing a beer and staring at the TV without seeing it, when the phone jangled and the kid’s thin voice filled his ear. “I got someone you might want to talk to. You know where the Palm Club is?” “I can find it.” Hector snarled as he set down the beer bottle. It still annoyed him how much Miami had changed while he was locked up. “But this better be worth it.” “Oh, it is, boss. Juan will meet us there.” There was a click, and the buzzing dial tone filled his ear. Hector stared at the TV for a moment longer, then opened the dresser drawer and pulled the Beretta out from under some wadded-up clothes. A guy had to be careful these days, and he’d bought the 9mm earlier that same day from a dude he’d known in the pen. Hefting the pistol, he worked the slide to chamber a round and then flipped on the safety before stuffing the pistol into the waistband of his jeans and pulling his loose shirt over the front. An extra magazine in his front pocket and he was ready to roll. He was about to ask about the Palm Club at the front desk but thought better of it. No reason to let some college punk know his business. Instead he stepped out into the humid evening and walked down half a block before hailing one of the cabs that circled the hotels close to the airport. He didn’t look at the driver. “The Palm Club.” “You got it, boss.” The driver, who sounded to Hector like he’d gotten off a boat from Haiti only a few days ago, threw the car into gear and bulled his way into traffic. The Palm Club looked to have started its life as a gas station with an attached mechanic’s shop some time in the 1950s, only to be reborn as a cheap club adorned with a flickering neon palm tree within the last three years. Tossing two twenties to the driver with a muttered “keep it,” Hector checked his shirt to make sure it was still covering the Beretta before heading for the door. There was no line, and no big guy checking IDs and cup sizes outside, so Hector kept his expectations as low as the wattage on the sign. He wasn’t disappointed. The bar must have been scavenged from another club, a disco judging by the rhinestones stuck to its front panels, but the stools were strictly Western theme. Fake palm trees in cheap clay pots from World Market marked the edges of what passed for a dance floor, and some pasty kid with oversized headphones pretended to be a DJ in a booth that must have come from the same club as the bar. There were some drunk couples on the dance floor, and a scattering of other people at the bar and tables. He spotted Ramon and Jangles at the far end of the bar, and he wondered why the hell they hadn’t grabbed a table as he walked over. Ramon seemed to anticipate his question. “Table won’t work for this one, boss. The guy you gotta meet is the bartender.” “Must not be a very good one if he’s working here.” Ramon and Jangles exchanged glances, and Hector was sure he saw them grin at each other. Jangles spoke first. “You know, Hector, what they say about looks and all that. This place looks like a dive, but more coke moves through here than Rumour and Overton combined. Place like this is better for wholesale.” “Nice.” Hector shook his head, and it pained him to admit he hadn’t expected that. “This bartender own the joint?” “Him and a couple of other dudes. They don’t figure, though.” Ramon chuckled. “Out of town money.” Hector nodded. He knew what that meant. Some things never really change. “So what’s his angle?” “Same as yours, boss. Revenge.” Nodding, Hector watched the man detach himself from a group near the beer taps and make his way down to them. It wasn’t anything special. Average height, looked to be more Puerto Rican than anything, and carried himself like he had an attitude. Normal Rican, then. Shit. Last thing I need. But when he spoke the voice was level and smooth. “You must be Hector. I’m Miguel, but call me Mike. Makes the frat boys breathe easier.” “Whatever you say, Mike.” Hector shook the offered hand, exerting just enough strength to match what the bartender threw. “My boys here say we got business.” “Yeah, you could say that. I know Ramon from back in the day, and he says you’re lookin’ for information on Sonny Burnett and that place of his.” “Something like that. I also got some things to square with Burnett.” “I heard you got sent up.” Miguel flashed a short smile. “That ain’t all I owe him for. But you first, mano. What do you need from me?” He looked around. “From what I hear you got a good thing here.” “You mean aside from Columbians having their damned hands in my cash box? Yeah, it’s a good thing. If you think small.” Miguel’s eyes lost focus, and Hector felt a little worm turn in his stomach. “I was on my way to something bigger when Sonny Burnett smashed El Gato’s operation.” He raised his hand. “I know…I was lucky to get out with my life. But to be that close…to taste it and touch it with my fingers and then have it ripped away. I swore I’d find a way to get back at him. And now you land in my lap.” Hector hated dealing with the crazy ones. You never knew what they’d do when things got tight. “That’s nice an’ all, mano, but it don’t answer my question. What do you need from me? And what you got that I need?” “You’re out to ruin that place he’s got out there? Good. That’s all I need. I want to see his dream crumble in front of his eyes. As for what I got, in a week I’ll have someone on the inside.” “And you do this for free? Just to see him suffer?” Miguel smiled. “Mostly, yes. But getting Burnett out of the way should free up some routes and assets a strong man could swoop in and take. Cut me in on that and we’ll be even.” “How much?” “Say twenty percent? As you say, I have a good thing here. But it could be better. More routes means more custom, and that means more money in the bank for me.” “Sounds good.” Hector shook the man’s hand again, not bothering to mention Burnett was just a means to an end for him, and that he didn’t give two shits about what happened to the hooker rehab center. He just wanted Cooper or whatever his damned name was. But having someone on the inside would make things a hell of a lot easier. “So when do I get to meet your guy?” “Better if you don’t. I hear they use lie detectors during the interviews. My guy’s clean, but that also means he don’t lie for shit.” “Fine by me. But I better meet him at some point.” Hector was about to go on when he sensed rather than saw someone standing behind him. He shifted his hand, getting it closer to the warm grips of the Beretta. “You best back off quick. And then say what the hell you want.” Turning on the cheap Western bar stool, he came eye-to-eye with a greasy punk with lank hair and ambitious eyes. “Easy, Hank. Come on, man! It’s Rafe. Remember?” Hector sorted through his collection of names and faces, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I remember you. Goddamned punk who cut and ran when we had a two key deal going down on the edge of Overtown.” He was about to turn back to the bar and just blow the punk off when he remembered something Ramon had said. Maybe it was time to show these bitches, including Miguel, the old Hector. “What you buggin’ me for, bitch?” “I ain’t the one who spent a few years in charm school, Hank.” Rafe’s gin showed bad teeth and worse intentions. “I bet you made a damned fine…” The Beretta flashed for an instant in the dim light of the bar and then Rafe spun away, clutching at his face where the pistol’s front sight had torn a deep gash in his left cheek. Hector continued the arc of his swing, letting the pistol cross in front of him before lowering it between his legs where it couldn’t be seen but was ready to strike again. “Way I hear it you don’t need to be in prison to be someone’s girlfriend, Rafe. Now you’d best step the fuck off before I really get pissed.” Blood dripped between the man’s fingers, turned almost black by the bar’s lights. “I oughta…” “What?” Hector’s voice was a hiss, and he could feel the others watching him. So far the sounds of the bar hadn’t changed, and he guessed this was normal weeknight entertainment in a place like this. But he also didn’t underestimate the amount of firepower on hand. Balance was key. “You oughta what, Rafe? Exactly? Change your pants? Put on more lipstick? What? But whatever it is, do it away from me. I don’t work with punks or bitches, and you’re both.” Rafe looked around, suddenly seeming to realize he was very much alone in the Palm Club. “I’ll see you later,” he muttered and turned away. “No. You ain’t gonna see me at all. If you do, it’s the last thing you’ll see. Make no mistake about that.” Hector kept the Beretta in his hand until the skinny punk left the bar, and then stuffed it back into the wasteland of his jeans. Ramon let out a low whistle. “Now that’s the Hector I heard about. Surprised you didn’t pop him.” “Look around, mano. This is Miguel’s place, and he don’t need the headache. Besides, there’s enough firepower in here to start a small war, and if I shoot someone that’s what happens. Ain’t that right, Mike?” The bartender nodded. “Pretty much. The marketplace likes its mayhem kept to acceptable levels, if you know what I mean.” He turned to head down the bar. “I’m gonna tell my people to keep that one out. His kind we don’t need in here.” Once he was out of earshot, Jangles found his voice. “You think he’s on the level about his guy?” “We’ll find out. If not, we just don’t come back. Simple enough. But he don’t care a bit for Burnett. That means he might be tellin’ the truth.” He kept an eye on the figure at the far end of the bar. “We’ll play along for now, but keep lookin’ for other ways in. I gotta meet with them damned suits again, an’ maybe they found somethin’.” He shook his head and stopped talking. It had felt good to smack that little bitch Rafe. Just like it had ditching those damned boots. He’d not understood how much he’d locked down the old Hector in prison until bits of him started climbing out again. And he knew if he was gonna get this cop who called himself Cooper he’d have to get all of Hector out again. Sonny Crockett let his hand slip down to Jenny’s firm backside as they walked through the door of Sanctuary. As soon as they got through the door he could hear the shouting from the back tables and knew Stan and Randy had found each other. Dave’s voice could be heard, too, along with the more nasal tones of Lester. He kissed the top of Jenny’s head and grinned. “Team Elvis is in the house.” “It’s good to hear them again.” Jenny pressed back against his hand. “Stan hasn’t laughed like that since they left.” “I know. Big goof seems happy enough most days, though.” “But the things they shared…” “Yeah, I know, darlin’. I’ll bet they missed him, too, even though those two Jarheads would never admit to it. At least not while they were sober.” He grinned and gave her a little nudge. “Let’s quit blockin’ the door and get back there.” The tables had been pushed together to make one long row, and Sonny could see pretty much the entire Strike Team gathered. Even Tiny, his wheelchair centered on the far end of the table, was there, laughing at something Dave had said around his glass of beer. Marty and Trudy were sitting with Randy, sandwiched between Stan and Lester, and he could see Mindy and Tubbs helping Angie settle in with some kind of huge drink dominated by an umbrella. Rico happened to look up and see them, and his eyes lit up. “Sonny! Jenny! Bout time you dragged your asses in here!” “Yeah, yeah!” Sonny grinned and made his way through the crowd, feeling Jenny close behind. “You better have saved me some beer, pal.” “You snooze, you loose, chump!” Rico laughed and poured them glasses from the pitcher on his end of the table. “But you did miss those two fools tellin’ lies about their exploits out in the wild west!” Sonny settled in a free chair, grinning as Jenny settled into his lap with a smile. Another burst of laughter exploded from the other end of the table, and he looked across at Rico. “Sounds like they’re havin’ a grand old time.” “Yeah. It’s been like that ever since Stan got here. Gina’s enjoying it, too, and Marty said Pete was gonna stop by after eight.” “Good. I didn’t realize how much I missed those two jokers.” “Yeah. And look at Stan and Lester. Those two…” “Yeah. Happiest I’ve seen ‘em in months.” Sonny kissed Jenny’s neck. “She said it, too.” “Hey!” Gina’s voice echoed down the length of the table. “You two better get a room!” Sonny was about to reply when Jenny turned to face him and kissed him. It was full-on, lip-locking paradise, and he could taste the beer on her tongue. Finally she came up for air and turned to look up the table. “Not a chance. It’s funner this way.” True to his word, Pete made his entrance just after eight, strutting through the club with a swagger George Jefferson would have admired. Sonny laughed, still stuck after all these years by how much Pete did resemble the sitcom character. He looked around and spotted Dave and Randy at the far end of the tables. “I heard tell two of my wayward deputies happened to have wandered into town. You boys miss me or just get lost?” “We missed you, boss.” Randy laughed, spilling beer on Dave who returned the favor. “Or hell, maybe we did just get lost. It’s all so damned flat down here it looks the same.” “Oh, them two gonna make some trouble.” Angie looked across at Sonny and waved a finger. “Blondie better keep them two in line.” “They’re big boys, Angie. They can take care of damned near anything they get themselves into.” He smiled at the woman’s concern. “Besides, with you watchin’ them there’s no way they’re gonna step out of line.” “Mmm…hmmm. Even Angie can’t watch that much trouble at one time.” Her stern face cracked into a grin for a fleeting second. “You and Little Blondie gonna make sure they don’t get Elvis and his friend in trouble?” “You got it, Angie.” Sonny looked at Jenny and winked. “I’ll bet Randy wouldn’t mind you buying him a beer, though.” “Good idea.” She waved a thick arm for the waitress. He hadn’t seen Robbie Cann arrive at the table, but his old friend was at his shoulder with a smile. “Now that’s not fair, turning her loose on Randy.” “I know. But it gets her out of our hair and might keep him from getting into trouble.” “I think Marty’s got that sewn up, partner.” Robbie jerked his head to point. “He’s been stuck to those two most of the night.” Sonny nodded slowly, realizing Robbie was right. Trudy and Mindy had been talking most of the night, and Rico alternated between him and Stan and Lester. But Castillo had remained close to the two former deputies, especially Randy Mather. “I wonder what the hell he’s up to.” “Memories, maybe.” Robbie clapped his hand on Sonny’s shoulder. “Marty Castillo has enough for ten men, and I think Randy’s carrying around more than he’ll admit to.” “Yeah.” Sonny thought back to the day he’d learned why Randy had stopped shooting the rifle…until the day he dropped the man who’d wounded Dave. “Ghosts, man. Funny how much of our lives are about ghosts.” “Until they’re not.” Robbie grinned. “Look around! You got friends all around you, and a pretty lady on your lap. We never would have believed this back in Da Nang.” “Naw. There it was day by day.” Sonny shook his head. “You’re right, Robbie. Although now that Pete’s here I’m starting to feel like a fifth wheel.” “Look…why don’t the two of you come back to the office? We’ll talk, have a quiet drink, and let the kids have their fun.” Jenny nodded. “I’d like that. This….I don’t know.” It was quieter in Robbie’s office, the blare of the club muffled by solid doors and good soundproofing. As soon as Sonny sat down Jenny reclaimed her spot on his lap, and Robbie grinned as he poured three drinks from a bottle of Maker’s Mark. “I must be getting old. I was thinking about leaving soon.” “Naw. You got Allan to keep you running. And Julia. How is she?” “Good. She keeps asking when you’re going to come by.” Jenny smacked him on the arm. “We can do that next week, can’t we, Sonny?” “Ow! Sure, sure we can.” He made a show of rubbing his arm. “Of course we can come by, Robbie. It’s been so damned busy out at the House with the renovations and all I lose track of time.” “And then you sail away on your boat.” Robbie chuckled as he sank back in his chair. “Gotta say I’m jealous sometimes, Sonny. But only sometimes. The club doesn’t sink or get run down by the Love Boat.” Sonny sipped his drink. “Can’t argue with that. But it’s nice, just being able to up anchor and get the hell out of Dodge some days.” He took another sip. “Looks like the club’s still doing well.” “Better than most of the competition, but you know how it goes. Always gotta stay fresh or you’re yesterday’s news. I’ve been thinking of bringing some of that techno stuff in a couple of nights a week.” “Talk to Lester. He actually is a dj from what I hear. And a good one. Goes by the stage name Tango Foxtrot.” “I heard of him. Didn’t know that was Lester. Yeah, I’ll give him a call. Word is he’s a great draw with the crowd I’d like to tap into.” Robbie leaned back. “But we didn’t come back here to talk about business.” “Yeah, yeah.” Sonny gave Jenny a quick squeeze. “Robbie’s always busting my chops about something.” “That’s what buddies do.” Sonny Crockett locked eyes with Robbie. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s what buddies do. Now we’d best drink up and get you home to Julia.”

Hector looked around the club, a thin smile fixed on his face. At least his feet didn’t hurt. Those damned pussy cowboy boots were resting in at least ten feet of water, and he felt like a man again in pair of loafers. He hadn’t expected a call this soon. Maybe there was more to Ramon than met the eye. Jangles sat across from him, a smug look on his face. “See, man? I told you Ramon had what it took.” “Wait and see, mano. I wanna know what he’s got first. I still don’t trust no man who dresses like a jailhouse punk.” Hector waved for one of the harried waitresses. “Two Coronas.” He grinned as she walked away. “That one’s got an ass on her…” “Focus, Hector.” “I am focused, asshole. You try doing time and then ignoring the honeys when you get out.” Hector’s smile turned mean. “Ah, but I forget. You duck when the cops show up, right Jangles?” “Now that ain’t fair, bro. You know I wasn’t…” “Save it. Looks like your girl-boy’s here.” Hector raised his hand slightly, lowering it when Ramon nodded and headed over. He had to admit, though, the kid had changed his look. The jeans were actually blue now, and not trying to crawl up his ass or highlight the roll of quarters in his front pocket. “What you got for us, Ramon?” “So my cousin hates that place like you can’t believe.” Ramon slid onto the open chair, a drink in his hand. “Says any girl who goes in there comes out clean. Lost one of his best earners to them.” He took a drink. “He said the cops pick up the girls, like normal. Then some of ‘em go through that victims services shit, and a few from there go into the House.” “You mean this Caitlin’s House?” “Yeah. Sorry. They all call it just the House on the street. My cousin, he goes pokin’ around to see what he can find out when he lost Angel. Turns out your little bird was right, Hector. Sonny Burnett is in back of the place. He was married to this Caitlin, and after she got blown away he started the place.” Hector whistled low, digging into his pocket and handing the harried blonde a twenty when she came back with the beers. “Keep it,” he said, flashing her one of his winning smiles. When she was gone he put his business face on again. “Hell of a career change.” “My cousin didn’t get into that. With a dude like Burnett you only dig so far, ‘cause he hears everything.” Ramon leaned forward a bit. “Funny thing is his security. Most of it’s ex-cops. And not the local Miami-Dade guys. Like Federal and ex-military cops.” Jangles nodded. “Makes sense. Burnett was always about getting the best.” “Yeah. I saw that when I was working with the Carreras. Man, that dude would waste you in a second if you couldn’t do your job. No way he’d waste his time with mall cops and wanna-bes.” Hector nodded, letting it all sink in and sort itself in his head. The cold beer tasted good on his tongue, helping to settle what he was hearing. “So he’s the money and he’s got all these former Feds or whatever on security. Is he the one running security?” “Naw. At least my cousin don’t think so. There’s some other dude. Stays mostly in the background.” Ramon grinned. “I took a look at their web site. His name ain’t there, but they had a picture. More one of them group photos.” He dug into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “You got Burnett in the background, those two bitch doctors, some big black chick, and this cat who’s gotta be the security guy.” Hector snatched the paper, holding it close and feeling the blood drain from his face. “That’s Cooper. Or whatever the hell his real name is. No way I’d forget that smug bastard’s face.” “You’re sayin’ Burnett has a cop running his security?” “Why not? You said he likes hiring the best.” Ramon snatched the picture back. “Shit! That’s the same dude he met at that lighthouse. He didn’t have no beard then, but no way I’d forget those eyes.” “You did until now.” “Yeah, but I never figured Burnett would hire someone he took a shot at. Or that someone he took a shot at would work for him.” “Maybe the dude’s dirty. Hell, I don’t know. But that’s the guy I got business with.” Jangles cleared his throat. “You gonna tell those suits?” “Hell no. Ain’t their business…it’s my business. And my business is more important than theirs. You two got me?” Hector could feel the old menace rising in his eyes. “Good. We’ll play their game ‘cause the money’s right, but when it comes down to it I’m squaring things with this Cooper or whoever he is. The suits kick? I’ll just send that tape to the police and let them take the heat. Meantime I’ll just play dumb spic every time we meet ‘em. It’s what they expect, and I’ll be able to record every meeting.” Ramon nodded, respect showing in his eyes. “Good plan, Hector. I’ll keep lookin’ around. See if there’s anything else we can dig up.” “You do that. Hell, this might even turn out to be fun.” Hector downed the last of his beer and looked around for the blonde waitress. “Now we can have a few brews and relax.” Trudy rolled over, half-asleep, and didn’t notice right away that Marty’s side of the bed was empty. Her fingers touched the cool sheets, and adrenaline shot through her arms to her other hand and she scrabbled for the heavy MatchMaster. The scar tissue in her chest pulled and sent a quick stab of pain through her body, enough to wake her fully but not enough to make her drop the big pistol. The adrenaline faded, and she came back to herself. It wasn’t quite dawn but not still night, and a sickly gray light slipped into the room around the slatted blinds. Sitting up, she looked at the pistol for the first time and laid it on the low nightstand before slipping into her silk robe and getting to her feet. She found him where she’d expected; down at the line where grass gave way to sand looking out toward the ocean. She made just enough noise to announce her coming before slipping her arms around his waist from behind. “That’s the third time in four days.” “I know.” His hands came up to touch hers, but he didn’t turn away from the lighter patch in the fading blackness where the water began. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” “You didn’t. I reached out and you weren’t there.” She buried her face in the curve of his spine just below his shoulders, feeling the tight muscles with her nose. “Dreams again?” “Yes.” She sighed. “You could tell me about them.” “I know.” He stood there for a time, his breathing low and regular. She recognized it as one of his control techniques. “It was Ti Ti.” “And you’ve never dreamed about him before?” “No. Not until recently.” He was quiet again, and she could hear the waves slapping the beach. “It’s a warning. He’s been warning me something is coming.” “You had another dream tonight.” It wasn’t a question. “Yes. But I think for the last time.” He shifted, and she imagined he was smiling. “With a warning, at least.” She nodded against his back, not wanting to break contact with him. He felt thinner than normal. No, that wasn’t the right word. Lighter. In some strange way. Like he was there but at the same time somewhere far away. “And you said you’d never dreamed about him before?” “No.” There was a pause. “Not like this.” He paused again, and then told her about the first dreams. “So someone’s coming after Sonny and Rico? Someone they don’t know or just from an unexpected direction?” “Possibly both.” “And Ti Ti says you’re the only one who can help them?” “Yes. Me and one other. A man dressed in jungle fatigues.” There was another pause, and Trudy wasn’t sure he was going to continue. “Ti Ti showed me his face tonight. It’s Randy Mather.” “He and Dave are in town for a conference. I think it runs for a week.” She let go with one hand and used the other to turn him away from the ocean. She needed to see his eyes. “So you think this will happen soon?” “Yes.” His eyes were clear, but distant. Seeing two places at once. “Ti Ti was very clear that Randy would be with me. In two of the dreams.” He paused again, looking at a spot above and behind her head. “He was also clear we cannot let them know. If they do, they will do things that will jeopardize the future of Caitlin’s House.” She nodded again. “Yeah, I get that. Sonny’s been acting funny lately. I think he misses the old days even as he’s exciting about what’s coming. And Rico? With a kid on the way I don’t want to think about what he’d do.” “And they feed off each other.” Castillo slid his arms around her, pulling her close. “If Rico goes, Sonny will go to protect him.” He was quiet again. “Whatever this is, whoever it is, Ti Ti made it clear only Randy and I should try to stop it. Only the two of us could break the ambush from the rear.” “I know Jenny’s been on edge, too. Sonny said something about Caitlin warning her.” “Then we must be careful. Trudy, I need you to stay close to Sonny and Rico. If you can, keep them focused on the House. Has there been any word about that newspaper or the reporter?” “I’m waiting to get back in touch with my CI. He was sure he could find something on the reporter.” She smiled. “Said it might take him a day or two, though.” “That must be Marco.” She nodded and he favored her with one of his thin smiles. “If I remember he was never prompt but his information was always good.” “That’s him. I don’t know if I ever told you, but we grew up near each other.” “No. You didn’t.” He held her close. “This is new territory for us. No badges, and no real confidence in the ones wearing the badges. It’s new to both Sonny and Rico. But for me it’s very familiar.” “Marty…I….” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m no cowboy, my love. You don’t need to worry. And Randy is one of the most precise men I’ve ever known. I’ll talk to hime sometime today and see if he’s willing. If not…” “I understand.” She held back a shiver. “No, Marty, I do. They’re still your men, your team.” She looked around his strong shoulders and smiled. “And I need to think about getting ready to head in. There’s some meeting they want me at this morning and then I have classes in the afternoon. But I can skip the meeting.” “No. It’s fine. I’ll make tea and some breakfast.” He smiled. “I might even go in with you. It would be nice to see what Sonny has accomplished.” “I don’t have to leave until ten, so we have plenty of time.” She smiled and kissed him. “We can sit on the deck and listen to the waves.” When they were with Metro-Dade, Martin Castillo had always used one of the bland take-home Fords; unmarked and dependable. When he’d left the force Trudy had convinced him to replace it with an unmarked and dependable Mercedes. Since he might not stay the entire day they’d decided to take his car and he’d come and pick her up when classes were over if he left. He drove, and she liked seeing him again in his black suit with the white shirt and thin black leather tie. Even the sunglasses were in place, and his hands rested easy on the steering wheel. “You’re right.” His words shocked her. “It does feel good. The suit. Driving like this. I did miss it. But not enough to start doing it again.” “And I’ll bet the Benz beats the hell out of that old Ford.” “It does.” He smiled under the glasses. “Almost makes me feel like a Company man again. When I wasn’t in the mountains being chased by NVA and Pathet Lao, at least.” They passed through security without a hitch and Castillo parked close to the building. “I see Sonny’s already here,” he said, nodding toward the black Daytona. “Yeah. He had a meeting with the contractors, I think.” She shrugged. “Some business thing.” The tough Overtown street girl slid into her voice. “I don’t need that business thing.” “I agree.” Castillo started to smile, and then she saw his face change. It was only for a heartbeat, and then the smile appeared. “And Angie’s spotted us.” He nodded toward the big figure in the badly-chosen blue leopard print dress waving from the big second floor windows. Trudy smiled and waved back. They passed though the interior security with a quick show of IDs. Trudy had one marked ‘staff’ and Castillo had one with no identifying letters but scanned as VIP. They took the stairs to the second floor and kissed before parting ways. She headed for her temporary office with Mindy, knowing Marty would be heading to see Sonny and maybe Angie. Still, she wondered what the change on his face had meant. Mindy smiled from behind her computer monitor. “I was wondering if you’d be in before your class.” “Yeah. Still gotta shake something loose from Marco.” She smiled as she sat down. “Yeah, I know he’s got a day left on his deal.” “You don’t want to make that kind of CI nervous. They like to just disappear.” She wrinkled her nose. “One of my best ones back in Boston did that. I called him a day early, he called me a bitch for not trusting him, and that was it. He was gone. Never caught wind of him again.” “Ouch.” Trudy hit the power switch and waited for her computer to boot up. “I don’t suppose you managed to dig up anything new in the last day?” “No. Not about the reporter, anyhow. But I did go poking around some old court records regarding the Post and a lawsuit they fought off a few years ago. Something about using fake topless pictures of some celebrity or another.” She smiled and pulled out her notes. “The case ended in some kind of settlement, but guess who represented them?” “No idea.” “Arthur Haskell. Of Haskell and Francis.” The name sounded familiar. “Who are they?” “The clowns who represented Caitlin’s estate before Sonny fired them.” “You think it means something?” “I don’t know. Haskell and Francis look to have done a solid business representing the Columbian importer segment of our population. Especially Francis. He’s doing Federal time now. She smiled. “Haskell and the new kid, Watkins I think his name is, were lucky to avoid being disbarred. But they’d been representing Caitlin’s estate for years. Sonny’s suing them for damages.” “That’s right.” Trudy smiled as she logged into the House’s network. “Sorry. I’m a bit slow this morning.” “No reason you’d really remember. You started after the suit was filed. I know Towers is champing at the bit to rake those two over the coals.” Trudy nodded, bringing up the day’s lesson plan. But her mind kept turning back to what Marty had said that morning. “Mindy, do you think those lawyers could be pushing the paper to dig up dirt?” “I don’t think they could afford it. Maybe before, but now that the Post’s narco-owned cashflow isn’t really a problem for them. It would be for Haskell and Watkins.” Trudy sighed. “I guess I’ll just wait on Marco, then. He seemed damned sure he could get something on Jimmy.” With a shrug she turned back to her notes for the day’s class. “How did the girl you were worried about do with the painting?” Mindy’s question startled her out of the mental space Trudy had been sliding into. “Hunh? Oh, you mean Jessie? She did really well. That girl’s got talent. And she’s tough. Even Nichole was impressed with how well she handled the assignment.” “It can’t be easy for them. Digging into old hurts like that.” “No, it’s not. And that’s kinda the point.” Trudy looked away from the screen, weighing her words before continuing. “We didn’t get where we are by someone holding our hands, Mindy. Our lives weren’t as tough as some of theirs, but they were tougher than a couple of them.” She paused. “Painting and music got me through some rough times in my life. I just want to teach them a few things that might help them find a better place. Even if it’s only inside themselves. But Jessie…if she sticks with it she’s got real talent. I just want to help her see that and not give up on herself.” Mindy nodded, then started typing. “You just gave me an idea. I’m gonna send Sonny and Gina an e-mail about scholarships for these girls. Help them with some education if they stay clear after graduating from here.” “Now that’s a damned good idea.” Trudy landed back in the chair, feeling her dress pull tight across her breasts and tweak the scar tissue just enough to remind her it was there. “If there’d been something like that, odds are I wouldn’t have become a cop.” “You and me both, sister.” Mindy smiled as she punished the keys. “Still…we did ok at the end of the day.” “Yeah.” She smiled, thinking of Marty’s warm smile and generous heart. “We sure as hell did. And I’d better get back to work on this before those girls call me out for being lazy. They’ve got mouths on them…” In another part of the building Martin Castillo stood where he’d often seen Sonny standing, looking through the wide windows at the wide expanse of green grass stretching out toward the boathouses. He could see why Sonny appreciated the view, but his mind was elsewhere. The dream still held at least a corner of his being…one he couldn’t easily shake. “Yeah, it’s like a damned golf course.” Sonny came around the desk and stood next to him, preserving some distance from old habit. “But Cait really liked it. Raised holy hell when I talked about putting in some shrubs or something. Now…I’m glad I didn’t. It reminds me of her every time I look at it.” “That’s good.” Castillo shifted, his hands clenched behind his back. Testing his words before he let them into the room. “Did Randy and Dave make it in ok?” “Yeah. We’re on for tonight at Sanctuary. I was gonna call, but you coming in with Trudy made it easier.” Sonny smiled. “It was good to see them again. Same tough old Marines you’d expect them to be. They even brought a rifle with them. Not sure if it’s Randy’s or Dave’s though.” That makes it easier, especially if it’s Randy’s. “It will be good to see them again.” Sonny nodded. “Marty…do you ever miss it?” Castillo didn’t move. “Yes.” Then he clarified, his voice unchanged. “Parts of it. I miss the friends. The sense of accomplishment. I don’t miss the death. The ruining of lives.” He let the words turn a bit more in his head. “It’s a hard thing to step away from. Especially when it’s all you’ve ever known.” “Yeah. I kinda envy Tubbs. He knocked around a bit before going NYPD. Me? I want from football to the Corps to Vietnam to Metro-Dade without skipping a beat. And I know you’ve been at it a hell of a lot longer than that.” He turned away from the window and walked back into the room. Castillo nodded, not trusting his voice. It took a moment. “Being with Trudy helps. Having a life beyond a warrior’s duty.” He stopped, not sure if Sonny would understand. He knew Jack would have, and Ti Ti would have nodded and then laughed at him for being weak. He also knew Randy Mather understood. It was in his blood. “Don’t know if I’d call myself a warrior, but like I told Tex I do miss the action.” Sonny shook his head. “I know I told you about that VA shrink before.” “Yes.” He’d done his own looking into the man who liked to be called Tex. Unlike many who sported badges and ribbons that in the end weren’t their own, the thin man was the real deal. And then some, if the heavily-redacted records from his final tour were anything to go by. “You should treasure every moment, Sonny. We know how easily it can be taken away.” “Yeah. You’re right about that. I think about it just about every time I’m with Jenny.” Castillo took the opportunity to shift the subject, turning so he could see Sonny. “It’s a good thing you’re doing here, Sonny. The renovations will help?” “Yeah. Lets us add a more secure wing to deal with some of the more difficult cases. Brings in some more risk, but I want to try to help as many of these kids as I can, and if that means a little risk I’m ok with that.” “What about that reporter?” “We’ve got a restraining order on him, and Rico has the security guys pulling extra in his favorite part of the perimeter. So far nothing. And you know I’ve got Mindy and Trudy digging into things. So far the paper itself looks clean, or as clean as the Post can be, so we’re going for the reporter now.” Castillo nodded, only half-listening. It had to be more than just the paper. Ti Ti’s warning made that plain. Whatever it was, it was deep and twisting, going back in their shared pasts somehow. But Sonny didn’t need to know that. “Let me know if I can help. I did check on that surveillance equipment. It’s untraceable, but I did find out it’s civilian purchase. Just not in the United States. He wanted to listen in on something very badly.” “And that makes it even harder. I don’t know what the hell he’d be able to listen in on. A therapy session, maybe? Hell, it doesn’t make sense.” “Don’t let it take too much of your time. You pay Tubbs to worry about these things.” Castillo finally smiled. “That and with a lawsuit working its way thorough the Dade County system…” “Yeah. Towers told me the same thing. You two been talking?” Sonny grinned. “You’re right, though. Let Tubbs do his thing while I fight with the contractors, architects, and lawyers.” He sat down behind the big desk. “I’m gonna call Robbie and make sure we’ve got the usual spot for tonight. Were you gonna stay and watch Trudy’s class?” “I don’t know.” He turned back to the big window. “She says it’s going well.” “It is. Nichole says good things, and you know it’s harder than hell to drag a compliment out of that woman. Something about letting them connect with their pain in different ways. I ain’t smart enough to follow half of what she says, but if she says it works that’s good enough for me.” “It’s about finding ways to express yourself without words.” Castillo thought back again to those high, humid mountains that seemed to occupy his mind more and more of late. “Words are imperfect vessels, and don’t always do what we want them to. Painting does whatever we want it to.” He shook his head. “I was never much of a painter. The power of words fascinates me…maybe too much according to an old Montagnard shaman I met outside Pleiku.” “I went though there a few times during my second tour. Met that nutjob Alred there. And Maynard.” Sonny closed his eyes for a moment. “It looked like it might have been a pretty place once.” “The old Nung warrior on my team said it was. He fought there with the French in the early ‘50s.” “Yeah.” Sonny shook his head. “Funny how things like that hide in the back of your head and decide to crawl out years later. I thought I’d put Nam behind me.” “You never do. Not experiences like that. They define a man, for good or bad.” Castillo kept looking out the window, imagining he could see figures moving in the manicured grass. He knew from experience it could be done…with the right people and the correct lighting. “You know, Maynard said something like that once. It was about that freak Stone. He said the war covered him. I didn’t understand it then, but now…” “You think he was right.” “Yeah. Stone was never the most stable dude, and once you add in the drugs I’m amazed he functioned as long as he did. I hated seeing him. It always reminded me of what I might have turned into.” “And that’s why you always avoided veterans’ centers.” It wasn’t a question. “I guess, yeah. It was always safer for me to just be a cop, you know. Keep all that other stuff locked away somewhere.” “Except it never stays locked up.” Castillo turned away from the window, locking eyes with his friend. It was a balancing act now: keeping Sonny focused on the future so he didn’t sense the moves Castillo would soon be making. He didn’t kid himself. Sonny had good instincts as a detective. “The past is always with us. But you also have to look to the future.” He let a thin smile show on his face. “How does Tower think the case against those lawyers will go?” “We’ve got solid evidence from the auditors…” Castillo only half-listened to Sonny going through the particulars of the case, putting in a question now and then to show he was listening and keep the man focused. But it also got him thinking. Ten million dollars was a lot of motivation, especially if you didn’t have that kind of money and were looking at jail time. One partner was already doing time on Federal charges, so that added to the mix. But it didn’t feel right. Not completely. Ti Ti had shown him both Crockett and Tubbs in danger, and those lawyers had no reason to go after Tubbs. They didn’t really have a reason to go after Crockett directly, either. The dream made it feel personal, and so far the case was strictly business. He decided to do a little digging of his own as Sonny wrapped up the story. “…so the short version is yeah, Tower thinks we’ll come out on top. Hell, I’d settle for those two bastards ending up disbarred and on the street. Anything we recover goes right back into the foundation, anyhow.” Castillo made a show of looking at his watch. “I should go find Trudy. See if she wants some lunch before her class starts.” “The cafeteria here does a hell of a job if you want to save some time.” Sonny smiled. “I gotta finish this damned update and then I was gonna wander down myself. Won’t be there long, though. Gary’s supposed to call after the hearing this morning and give me an update.”

Hector Rendozo poured himself another shot of tequila and looked at the girl sprawled in the bed. He’d give her half an hour before going at it again. I paid good money for the night, damn it! And that’s the whole night. He’d have tossed her out of the room an hour ago if she hadn’t been so good the first two times. Turning, he stared at the room’s TV without seeing what was on the screen. This time of night it was going to be some damned infomercial or an old movie his father might have liked. He’d slipped into a kind of routine. Making the rounds of the clubs posing and trying to catch wind of a job or any word about Burnett. Then dialing one of the outcall services and ordering a girl. He’d had more luck with the girls than he had with the other parts of his routine. Burnett was a fucking ghost and he wasn’t going back to slinging dope on the corner. Not after what he, Hector Rendozo, had done in his day. But he was coming to realize that most of the men who might remember those days were either locked up or dead. It was a new world, and he liked it less and less the more he saw of it. Like that punk Ramon. He’d seen the little bitch once since that first time, and like before he was full of talk and no action. Claimed he was still looking for Burnett, but he also had a line on another job or two. Hector downed the tequila with a single angry gulp. Little bitch even offered me a straphanger job. Like I’m some green kid on his first pot buy. But what made him madder was the fact he might have to take the punk up on it. Money was getting tight. Pouring another drink, he turned and looked back at the girl. Admiring the curve of her ass, the long lines of her legs, and the magnificent breasts. Feeling the stirring again, he started to get to his feet when the room phone rang. He snatched up the receiver. “This better be good.” Jangles’ voice filled his ear. “You ain’t gonna believe who I just heard from, boss.” “Burnett?” “Naw, but almost as good, mano. I got a call from this lawyer dude who got me off on that bust back in ’92. Fat cat named Haskell. Said he knows you, too.” “Yeah.” Hector nodded, remembering the big man and his bigger bill. But he’d been good in court. Should have coughed up the money on the Cooper bust. I might not have gone down for that one. “I know the name. What’s he want?” “Says he needs a couple of reliable guys for a job. A job that pays, Hector.” “What kinda job? I ain’t takin’ the fall for no lawyer.” “Didn’t sound like that kinda job. Said he needed help makin’ some place look bad. But he wants to meet first. With both of us.” There was a pause. “He also said Sonny Burnett might be involved.” Hector almost forgot about the girl. “When and where?” “Tomorrow…I mean today. Some club down by the water at four. I got the name written down.” “Pick me up at three. I wanna look the place over before we go in blind to meet some lawyer.” The girl rolled over in her sleep, giving him a better view of her body. “I gotta get back to work, Jangles.” Hanging up the phone, he finished his drink and returned to bed. She’d wake up once he got started, and from the sound of Jangles’ voice he figured chances were good he’d be too busy to indulge in this until the job was done. Ricardo Tubbs stood on the rooftop patio of Casa Cooper with a steaming cup of coffee, enjoying the sunrise and the sounds of the city waking up for another day. Mindy was, he supposed, still in bed, and stealing the moment for himself almost made him feel guilty. Almost. After Rafael had been murdered, Rico spent more and more of his time alone. Over time he’d become accustomed to it, though not to the warrior-monk extremes Castillo did. Still, he’d found that while Sonny liked being the center of attention he preferred being on the edges looking in and observing. With a handful of exceptions it had become his way of living since he’d moved to Miami. The Task Force, Mindy, and his marriage changed all that. Sipping coffee, he smiled at the memories. He hadn’t been in charge, but he’d been close enough more than once and felt the terrible responsibility…especially when Trudy had been shot. But he’d been part of a team unlike any he’d ever heard of before, and it was there he met Mindy. No question they were both damaged goods; him from Valerie and Angelina and her thanks to a cheating bastard of a boss and her drunken father before him. At first he’d been sure she’d fall for Sonny, and later he found out she was equally positive he had been involved with Trudy. Jazz brought them together…jazz and loss. They’d gotten together, and in the end she asked him to marry her. It was, without question, the best decision he’d ever made. Right up until the day before the wedding Rico had been ready to show up in drag, figuring the other guys on the Task Force would push him into it. The honeymoon had been a waking dream, and then came the harder part: adjusting to each other. Even though they’d lived together before the wedding, Rico and Mindy had been very private people beforehand. Conditioned by years of hurt, it took more time than either of them had guessed to lower their defenses all the way. Looking out over the city, Rico scratched his chin under his trimmed beard. The first six months had been tough, but after that it had been one long, beautiful dream. “I thought I’d find you out here.” Mindy ran her hand along his shoulder. “Yeah. Just watching the city wake up.” He grinned. “Old habits, pretty lady.” “I used to do that in Boston, too. Get up someplace high and just watch it all happen. Like I wasn’t part of it.” Her voice didn’t sound quite right, and he turned to face her. Her deep blue eyes were wide, and her thick red hair still rumpled from the pillow and the night before. “Something’s wrong, pretty lady. What is it?” “Nothing’s wrong, Rico. Not a thing.” She raised her hand, showing him the white plastic rod. “I’m pregnant.” Rico took a breath. Then another. They’d been trying for months, following all the crap in the magazines and on those damned Internet message boards. He’d finally guessed it just wasn’t going to happen. “That’s incredible news, baby!” He let out a whoop, feeling a tightness in his chest he hadn’t felt for years. “I…” “It’s what we both wanted.” She smiled, and he could see tears in her eyes now. “I’m not sad, baby. I’m so happy I don’t know what else to do.” “I know. I know how much this means to you…and to us.” He took her in his arms, kissing her on her forehead and then on her soft, wonderful lips. “And we gotta plan now. Start work on a nursery. All that…” She smiled. “No. We have to enjoy each other first.” She took his hand and guided it down. “Pregnancy hormones can be wild from what I hear.” “I like how you think, pretty lady. And how you feel. And how you smell…” He lowered her to one of the padded couches on the patio. Breakfast would just have to wait. They took her Mercedes to work, and it took all of Rico’s focus to make the drive without slamming into a guard rail or running someone off the road. The news he was going to be a father was part of the reason, but Mindy was the other. She wasn’t kidding about those hormones. God help us all if Jenny got pregnant! Still, they made it through the front gate in one piece, and Rico was still smiling when he settled in behind his desk to attack the day’s work. When Mindy wasn’t otherwise occupied on the drive in, she’d asked who they should tell first. “Sonny and Castillo,” he said without hesitation. “I’d guess you’ll add Trudy to that list and that’s totally cool. Jenny probably already knows somehow. Ain’t no one in my family’s gonna care. Pops would just have some remark I’d have to smack him for.” “Same for my da.” She’d smiled up at him. “I like your list. We can tell Stan and Lester, too. And you’ll have to call Randy and Dave. Gina will find out, and I don’t want her to feel left out. And I’ll tell Pete, too. He’s…” “Yeah. I know he looked out for you and gave you a shot. First in Miami and then with the Task Force.” Thinking back on the conversation, Rico smiled and waited for his computer to boot up. We are telling family in a way. Those people are our family. No question. Once the screen turned from black to the logo of Caitlin’s House, he let his smile fade and turned his attention to the desk calendar. There was work to get done before Sonny got in. He had a feeling once he told his boss the news nothing more would get done today. Sonny came down to the security office just before ten, a bemused smile on his face. “What the hell are they so worked up about upstairs? I stopped by the office to check the reports and it sounded like a cheerleader convention.” “That might kinda be my fault.” Rico tried to keep his face frozen, but felt a smile taking shape. “Mindy’s pregnant.” “Congratulations, partner!” Sonny came around the desk and captured him in a bear hug that threatened to crush his ribs. “Been wondering how long that would take.” “It ain’t from lack of tryin’.” Rico slapped Sonny on the back, the bursting feeling back in his chest. “Got any advice for a father-to-be?” “You’re askin’ the wrong guy. I was always too busy to be a dad, no matter how much I said I wanted to be one.” Sonny drew back, and Rico could see the hurt in his eyes. “No one’s fault but mine. I get that now. You got what it takes, partner. Just don’t put any job ahead of your kid.” “Yeah…my pops wasn’t anything to write home about…” “Hell, mine was great. Played catch, took me fishing, you name it. But that didn’t make me father of the year.” Sonny sat down, and Rico could see his focus shifting inside. “Naw, sometimes I think it’s better if that comes from inside you, not from seeing someone else do it. Hell…look how long it took me to grow up and stop being a cowboy. I got all that crossed up with being a dad. Figured you had to have a son, and then it all just happened. It might have been better with Caitlin, but I’ll never know. You? Hell, you got what it takes.” “I ain’t so sure.” “Good. If you were sure I’d be worried.” Sonny grinned. “I’d love to shut the place down and head for Marshal’s Ribs and then Sanctuary, but we gotta get stuff settled before those crews start up full time.” He paused. “Does Castillo know yet?” “No. I think Mindy might have called Pete, but…” “You’d rather tell him in person. I get it. Tell you what, let’s get at this shit and then blow this pop stand by three. You think we can get everything done by then? It’s Friday, so I’d like to get as much wrapped up as we can and start the week fresh.” “Don’t see why not. Stan and Lester got that Charlie 3 problem sorted out, and the last new hire’s processed in. It’s mostly screening the workers and keeping tabs on them now.” Rico grinned and forced his mind back to business. He knew what he and Sonny could accomplish when they put their minds to it, and figured they’d be done before three. “I’ll have Mindy call and reserve tables. Then I’ll show you what Lester came up with the for the workers. Hell of an idea.” They finished up just before two-thirty, Sonny looking over the final plan with a grin. “You weren’t kidding about Lester’s idea. Hell of thing, putting one of those strips in their badges and linking it to sensors on the wards and dorms.” “Yeah. Not only will it set off alarms at the desk, it’ll track just who crossed over and when. We’ll still have physical patrols, but this is an extra layer and it’ll help keep the girls safe in case someone tries to slip someone past us.” “That trick’s gettin’ damned old. I’d ask Mindy and Trudy if they’ve found out anything more about Campbell or the Post, but I’ll bet they’re distracted as hell.” Sonny closed the folder with a snap and got to his feet. “And now let’s get the hell out of here, partner. You and I have barbecue to eat and beer to drink. And maybe stop by Castillo’s on the way out.” “Yeah, let’s do that. I’ll let Mindy and the others know.” Rico snatched up the phone and punched numbers. “What about Jenny?” “She might already be upstairs with them. She was taking three of the Step Four people out on Vellamo this morning and they should be back by now.” Sonny chuckled. “Besides…” “…she probably already knows.” Rico finished the thought and grinned. “Same thing I told Mindy this morning.” He was about to go on when Mindy’s voice filled his ear. “Yeah, pretty lady. We’re headin’ out now. Gonna stop by Castillo’s and let him know. You got the tables? Solid. We’ll meet you all out there.” Sonny made the drive to Castillo’s in record time, and they found their former boss out on his deck with a cup of green tea. “It’s good to see you both,” he said without moving. “I take it this is good news.” Rico nodded. “Mindy’s pregnant.” Castillo set his cup down on the plain boards and smiled. “That is good news. Congratulations, Ricardo.” Rico shook Castillo’s outstretched hand. “Thanks. We’ve got tables at Marshal’s Ribs and Sanctuary. I was hoping you’d come along to celebrate.” “Of course.” Turning, he looked toward the driveway. “Sounds like my ride’s here.” Rico chuckled as the thumping of a V-8 reached his ears. “Damn! That lady of yours can drive that car, no question. She damned near caught us, and we left ten minutes before she did.” Castillo smiled. “Detroit muscle.” Rico grinned as Sonny bristled. “That’s a damned nice Challenger, but it’s not in the same class as the Daytona.” “Tell you what. We’ll see who makes it to Marshal’s Ribs first.” Rico chuckled. “That should settle things until the next time.” Hector Rendozo felt his lips curl into a snarl when he saw the club. Jangles hadn’t been kidding when he said it wasn’t much. But that also meant it was a good place to meet people without being noticed, which is why he figured the lawyer picked the joint. Hector hated dealing with lawyers. No matter what they said, they were always looking out for themselves first and anyone else second. No loyalty. Reaching into his jacket pocket he grinned as his fingers touched the small recorder. Gonna have insurance this time, baby he thought as he headed for the narrow door under the splashy neon sign. And these damned boots make my feet hurt. Inside it was at least air-conditioned, the system pulling some of the stale smoke and body odor out of the air as it cooled. He squinted just before he opened the door, the old trick allowing his eyes to adjust faster to the gloom he knew he’d find inside. That let him spot Jangles sitting with two white guys toward the back of the place. Ignoring the punk at the door, he headed straight for them. Jangles was all smiles. “Hank! My man! Have a seat! You want a drink?” “No. I’m good.” Hector sat down, letting his gaze slide over the two white guys in suits. The bigger of the two returned his gaze with a hint of appraisal, and Hector pegged him at once as the boss of the two. The older one might be the figurehead, but the other one called the shots. “What can I do for you two?” The figurehead cleared his throat. “My associate and I are in need of some special services…” “Look. I ain’t into guys.” “Oh! Nothing like that…I mean, we need someone with your expertise.” “Then say it plain, amigo.” Hector let himself slide into the TV ‘tough latino’ he figured these two expected. “I ain’t got time to sit around.” “Neither do we.” The bigger one spoke now, and Hector picked up a hint of accept. The kind you heard on those shows on PBS. “Friend Arthur here likes to talk around things. I do not. And I don’t think you do, either, Hector. Or do you prefer Hank?” “Hector’s fine.” “Good. Now when Arthur here says we need your expertise, what he means is we need you to help us take care of some business. Business your associate here says may be of personal interest to you.” Jangles swallowed as Hector shot him a glare. “I didn’t bring it up, man. Honest.” “In all fairness, he did not.” The big one with the accent smiled, and Hector caught the wolf in his eye. The big one was far more dangerous than he looked. “Friend Arthur contacted him, and once the nature of the business became clear he suggested we meet.” “So what’s the deal? I ain’t got time for an episode of ‘Perry Mason.’” “Nor do I.” The smile held a touch of threat this time. “We have an interest in ruining the reputation of a local treatment center. A place called Caitlin’s House.” “I heard of that place. TV says they work with junkie hookers and clean them up.” “Yes. Do you know who runs the place?” “Nope. Just that it’s named for some dead pop singer.” Hector knew a little more than that, mainly from listening to pimps bitch, but better to let these two think he knew nothing. “That is true. But the man who runs it? Day to day? Sonny Burnett.” “No shit?” Now Hector was interested. Really interested. “So he goes from running to rehab? How does that work?” “We don’t know, honestly. And we’d like you to find out. Among other things, of course.” “So I seen a little bit about this place on TV. You can’t just walk in and nose around.” “No. It is a secure treatment facility.” The bigger man smiled again. “Rest assured we’re working on that, too.” The other man tried to pretend he was in control again. “What we need now, Hector, is some assurance you’re interested in the project.” “Then I need some dollar amounts. I might be interested in Burnett, but that doesn’t mean I work for free.” “Of course not, Hector. Of course not. We wouldn’t insult your intelligence like that.” It was the big man again, his words pitched to be soothing but that hardness was still in his eyes. “We have a starting figure in mind, with bonuses depending on the nature of the work.” He slid a slip of paper across the table. Hector turned it over. Years in prison and on the streets had taught him to conceal his reactions, but it was hard this time. One million dollars! They want this bad. “I’m not killing Burnett.” “Of course not. That’s not the aim of this project. I trust that figure’s acceptable.” “Sure. When do we start?” “Soon.” The other man spoke again. “We need to sort out a couple of things first. But we needed to know you were interested before we went any further.” “I get it. Why waste the time if the heavy lifter ain’t gonna play ball?” Hector grinned. “Jangles and me will leave first in case anyone’s watching the dump.” “We’ll call friend Juan as soon as we’re ready to proceed. Payment arrangements will be discussed then, too. As you say, we don’t want to waste time or effort if things are not in place.” Back on the street, Hector started for his car. He could hear Jangles behind him, and waited for the inevitable question. “What was on that paper, man? I thought you was gonna stroke out in there.” He debated for an instant, then decided. “They offered one million dollars.” “What? You gotta be shitting me.” “No, mano. That means they want this bad, whatever it is. We’ll see what they have in mind, but if it gets me close to Burnett it’s all good.” He smiled as they reached his car. “Getting close to Burnett might get me one step closer to Cooper or whoever the hell he really is. We need to get in touch with Ramon again. We might need him for this job. And I want to see if he’s heard anything about Cooper yet.” Sonny Crockett slammed his hand on the steering wheel of the Daytona as he downshifted and turned into the parking lot of Marshal’s Ribs. “How the hell did she beat us here?” He pointed to the red Challenger, dust still swirling around it and coating the paint. “Damned if I know, partner.” Rico grinned. “But if I know Trudy, she knows a shortcut and drove like a bat out of hell. She can really make that beast stand up and dance.” “I know. I know.” Rico could hear the disappointment mixed with envy in his old partner’s voice. “And I still ain’t used to how this girl moves. Been too many years between the first one and this one.” He pulled into a free spot next to the big muscle car and nodded his respects. “You got me this time, Trudy. Next time don’t be so sure.” Trudy climbed out of the car with a smile on her face. “Big words, Sonny. But I’ll be sure to take you up on it.” She kept smiling as Castillo got out on the passenger side. “Looks like the rest aren’t here yet. Let’s get out of this damned heat.” Rico was still grinning when they got to their table, a long construction of old barn boards near the back of the main room. Pete Washington came over as soon as they were settled, a pitcher of beer and glasses in hand. “I hear congratulations are in order,” he said with a wide smile as he poured. “Got ribs and burnt ends in the final stages back in the kitchen, an’ all them great sides to go with it.” Rico nodded. “You’ll be sittin’ with us, Pete. And if you kick up a fuss, I’ll sic Mindy on you.” “I don’t want none of that.” Pete grinned, looking even more like George Jefferson. “Them red-headed Irish gals got a temper like you can’t believe.” He nodded to Trudy. “Topped only by Overtown’s finest.” “And don’t you forget it.” Trudy smiled and raised her glass before taking a deep drink. It wasn’t long before the rest of the crew arrived. Mindy and Gina were next, followed moments later by Stan and Lester. Stan sat down next to Rico, leaning over and stage-whispering, “You gotta let me in on your secret, pal.” “Practice and more practice, big guy.” Rico laughed and clapped Stan on the shoulder. “Persistence is everything.” “Yeah, I’ll bet.” Stan chuckled and returned the shoulder slap. “We’re thinking about kids now. Now that we’re…” “Used to each other.” Rico finished the sentence with a smile. “Same thing we did.” He looked at the rest of the table. “It still doesn’t feel real, you know?” “Yeah.” Stan nodded. “You never knew with Angelia, did you?” “Not like this. And then bam. It was gone again.” “You’ll be a good dad, buddy. Not like my asshole of a dad.” “My pops ain’t no bed of roses, either. Neither is Mindy’s.” Stan shook his head. “Sometimes I think it’s better that way. You know what mistakes not to make because someone made them with you.” He drained his beer in a single long gulp and poured another. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get all messy with Pete’s damned good barbecue.” The rest of the night was hazy for Ricardo Tubbs, a blur of good wishes, good food, and good alcohol. Pete came with them to Sanctuary, leaving the restaurant in the capable hands of a woman who reminded Rico of Angie from Caitlin’s House. “Ain’t gonna be no trouble with me here, Pete,” she said in a firm voice as she glared at one of the bartenders. “You can bet on that.” Once they got to Sanctuary, Robbie laid it on thick, announcing it was time for a celebration and taking over the back corner of the club. “You only get to do this once, Rico,” he said with a grin. “Your first kid. It’s a special time. Hell, you gotta enjoy it. I been where you are, man. You’re gonna do great. If a screw-up like me can do it, you got this made.” The next thing Rico knew a laser dagger was stabbing him right through his slitted left eye, burning its way from one side of his brain to the other. Groaning, he shifted and came partway awake, realizing the dagger was a single beam of sunlight coming through the bedroom curtains of Casa Cooper. Something had died in his mouth, gluing his tongue to the roof of his mouth and the whole bed tilted just off center when he tried to roll over to escape the laser light. “I was wondering when you’d wake up.” Mindy sat in bed next to him, the sheets falling away from her freckled breasts. “Robbie can throw a hell of a party when he puts his mind to it.” “What time…” He tried to focus on the red digits of the bedside clock and gave it up as soon as the clock started rotating. “Just after ten. You already missed Scooby-Doo, but if you hurry you might catch the Jetsons on channel six.” She smiled and ran a finger along his forehead. Sighing, he sank back in the bed. “Let me guess. Trudy got out the tequila.” “She did.” Mindy giggled. “I only had three drinks. Seems there’s some new thing out about not drinking when you’re pregnant, and Robbie cut me off pretty quick. You and Trudy started doing shots after the fourth pitcher. Then she roped Pete in.” “Pete?” “A mistake on her part.” Mindy smiled. “I tried to warn her. Pete’s an old school lawman. He can drink anyone under the table, no matter what poison you pour. His words, not mine. At the end of the night he and Marty were trading shots of some nasty Asian stuff Robbie had hidden away talking about the war. Sonny and Robbie were doing the same thing over that bourbon Robbie got him started on.” She giggled again. “But you did miss Stan breaking into ‘Heartbreak Hotel.’” “No. I remember that. Lester and his girl were doing harmony, right?” “That’s right. She’s a sweet one.” Rico nodded, regretting moving his head the moment he did. “Lester’s due. He’s a good cat.” Mindy got out of bed, her naked body highlighted by the strands of light sneaking past the blinds. “I’ll go start coffee. You look like you need some.” Watching her walk out of the room, Rico smiled through his growing headache. He never got tired of looking at her. Each time it was almost like he was seeing her for the first time, with that same glow and feeling of wonder. The pain in his head seemed to recede just a bit, and he forced himself to sit up. Slowly, but still upright. At least it was Saturday. By the time he managed to sit up without the room starting to spin Mindy was back with coffee and aspirin. “You looked like you’d need some,” she said with a small smile as she sat down next to him. “Gotta say you were right.” He accepted the coffee and white pills with a grin of his own. “And I also gotta say I wouldn’t care if you ran around like that all day.” “Good. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to wear.” She ran her hand along his thigh. “You think you can stomach some toast?” “Yeah.” He washed the aspirin down with a mouthful of coffee, closing his eyes and steadying his stomach against the lurch. “Give me a minute and I’ll come help. Or at least watch.” “Now I know you can’t be that hung over.” “Oh, I am, pretty lady. But Ricardo Tubbs is a man of many talents.” He took another sip of coffee. “Maybe not perfect balance right now, but…” “I’ll be making toast.” She smiled and got to her feet, turning so he could see every freckle on her pale skin before walking toward the door. He’d almost made it to his feet when she returned with a plate and another cup of coffee. “I was going to wait, but I didn’t want to come in here and find you on the floor.” “Yeah…it was kinda close.” He smiled and waited for her to sit down next to him. “You know…I could just look at you all day.” “Better enjoy it while you can. I’ll be big as a house soon.” “And still the most beautiful lady in Miami. Hell, at least in Miami.” He smiled and nibbled at a corner of one of the pieces of toast, relieved that his stomach didn’t send it all over the bed as soon as he swallowed. Maybe there is hope. “I mean that, Mindy.” “It hasn’t really sunk in yet, you know? Well, maybe last night when they didn’t let me have more than those three drinks.” She shifted, letting him see more of her but at the same time letting her thick red hair slip across her face, hiding her eyes. “It…I just don’t know.” “It’s what we wanted, isn’t it? What you wanted. And what I wanted.” “Yes. I’m happy. But at the same time…” “Yeah. It’s different. Things are changing. I’ll be with you every step of the way, Mindy. You can count on that. No matter what.” He nibbled more toast, wanting to touch her but not quite sure. “I know. I’m…I’m sorry. It’s all just starting to hit me, you know?” She touched her stomach. “That there’s something…someone…inside me. I never really thought about it, I guess. Too busy being a tomboy. A deputy. All those things. And I don’t know…” “Stan told me something really smart last night. Cause I’m scared, too. My pops wasn’t the best, and he said that’s good. Cause we know what NOT to do. Guys like Sonny…with the story-book dads. They think it all just happens. We know it doesn’t.” Reaching over, he squeezed her hand. “We’ll do the best we can, pretty lady. I don’t doubt that for a second.”

Trudy Castillo looked up from her temporary desk and saw Sonny striding by in the hall, with Rico trailing a bit behind. Looking back at her computer screen she clicked her tongue to get Mindy’s attention. “Shit just got real, girlfriend. Sonny Burnett’s in the house.” “Any idea why?” “I’d guess a combination of things. That paper. The renovations. You and Rico.” She smiled as Mindy started to protest. “It’s nothing bad, Mindy. But I’ve known Sonny a long time. Longer than anyone here expect maybe Gina. He’s gonna want to protect the two of you now. He can’t help himself. Along with the House and everything you all have built here. And when you get that many things going…” “Out comes Burnett.” She could feel Mindy nodding. “I saw that with the Task Force. As soon as shit got real, he went into that place…” “And that means we’d better get to work. Can you think of anything we haven’t looked at with the paper or that punk reporter?” “I can have a contact run him in NCIC. See if there’s any hits there.” “You do that, and I’ll hit up some of my old CIs. See if our little punk has any bad habits his bosses might not know about.” “Looking for leverage?” “Something like that.” Trudy rubbed her eyes, pushing thoughts about her afternoon painting therapy class a bit further back. At least for now. “We’re not cops any more. We don’t have the same tools we did. But that also means we can use some tools we weren’t able to before. It was Marty’s idea, actually. He said we needed to find new ways to do the same things.” “Speaking of tools, aren’t Randy and Dave flying in today?” She giggled. “Late tonight, I think. Their conference starts on Tuesday.I think it lasts about a week, but I don’t know for sure. They were gonna call when they got into town.” “It’ll be good to see them again. They don’t know yet, and I’d like to tell them.” “Of course. Ain’t my place. You all go a back a bit, don’t you?” “Not as far as you guys, but yes, we do. They sort of took me under their wings when I showed up in Miami after…” “Yeah. I get it. They’re good guys. I always figured that was why Pete sent them our way.” Mindy nodded and turned back to her own work. “How’s Marty? It just struck me I hadn’t seen him much before Friday night.” “He’s good.” Trudy smiled at her own half-truth. “As good as you could expect, I mean.” “It can’t be easy for him. Retiring, I mean.” “It’s tough. He’s…” She groped for a word and then used his own. “He’s been a warrior all his life. As far back as he can remember, I think. And now they tell him he’s not. It’s not something you just turn on and off with men like him.” “But you and him…” “Oh, we’re fantastic, Mindy.” Her smile was real this time. “Not a thing wrong there.” She didn’t know how to explain it better, at least not to Mindy. If it had been Jenny she’d know exactly what to say. “He was glad to see me start teaching here. Said it would let me keep doing good. And he’s right.” “I could talk to Rico. See if there’s anything…” “Not yet.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that how it sounded. I just…I don’t think he’s ready yet. He’d still want to be in charge. Push too hard. That’s been his life for over thirty years. It’ll take more than a couple for him to come down from that.” With effort she pulled herself back to the immediate problem. “I’m gonna call a couple of people. See if there’s any dirty laundry in old Jimmy’s basket.” It took three calls, but the last one was solid gold. Marco had been a part-time pimp until the competition decided he needed an attitude adjustment and shattered his left knee with a pipe wrench. He and Trudy had grown up within four blocks of each other, and he stayed in touch with the street through his Overtown liquor store, which he had curtesy of Trudy ‘losing’ the files with his record. Marco had never beaten his girls, and kicked them to the curb if they got into hard drugs. “I’m just a sex worker manager,” he always said with his lopsided grin when she ran into him on the street. And she never let him forget he owed her. “Trudy! All them birds on the street say you’s out of the game now.” “No more than you are, Marco.” She smiled in spite of herself. The cat had a voice that made you want to laugh. “Fair enough. But I know this ain’t no social call. An’ you sure as hell ain’t orderin’ booze for some fancy party.” “No, but I wish I was. I’d have had better luck.” “Who’d you call first? I’d be hurt, but I know you like to save the best for last.” “Trixie. And then Sugarloaf.” “Those fools don’t know shit. I take that back. They know each other, so they know shit.” His laugh echoed down the line. “But they ain’t got the word, lady. I got the word. Marco always has the word.” “Yeah. Like you said, the best for last. I need a line on a guy. Any dirt that might not have made the files.” “Who? Cat’s gotta be someone if you don’t have dirt on him.” “Jimmy Campbell. A…” Marco interrupted her with a low whistle. “I know that asshole. Calls himself a reporter these days but he ain’t nothin’ more than bottom-feedin’ white trash. Was a time when he claimed to be a PI, and before that he was rejected by damned near every police force in South Florida.” There was a pause. “I ain’t got no dirt on him close to hand, but I know there’s some out there. His is a name you don’t hear down here without some cussin’ attached.” “You willing to look into it?” There was another pause. “Yeah. An’ I’ll do it for free. He did a number on a girl I used to manage. Never could prove it to a cop’s satisfaction, but I know it was him. Give me a couple a days and call back.” Trudy hung up the phone, looking up to see Mindy watching her. “That sounded interesting.” “A pimp I could have busted but helped out. He’s not a bad cat at the end of the day. He says there’s dirt on Campbell and he’s going to get it for us.” “That can’t come cheap.” “Sounds like it will. Says he owes the guy for something he did to one of his girls.” Trudy thought back to the venom in Marco’s voice. “Yeah, I’d say he really hates Jimmy.” “You think he might…” “No. Marco’s not gonna do anything to him. Not physically anyhow. But if there’s anything out there, he’ll find it for us. And if he says there’s something out there, it’s out there. He’s stone cold reliable. One of the best CIs I ever had.” She smiled. “We grew up within a couple of streets of each other.” “I had CIs like that in Boston. They were always solid. It was the ones who weren’t from the neighborhood you had to watch. The others? They knew the score. Cut them a little slack, and they returned the favor.” She sighed. “Not like that much these days from what I hear.” “Yeah. Now we sound like those old-timers who used to carry on about how they had to run patrol in a horse-drawn buggy and do crowd control with a blunderbuss.” Trudy chuckled. “But you’re right. All you gotta do is remember those Ocho crazies.” Mindy shuddered. “No way I could forget them. Still…” “I hear you.” Trudy nodded, knowing what her friend had been about to say. I’m still proud as hell of taking those bastards down. No matter how many rules we broke. It bought this city some time. “And now I gotta think about this afternoon’s class. I don’t want to take those girls too far, you know.” “I think that group’s ready to look at the darker part of their lives.” Mindy looked out the window, and Trudy could feel her slipping into her own thoughts. “But you could check with Nichole to be sure.” “I think I’ll do that. I don’t want to set some of them back by accident.” Locking her computer, she got to her feet and headed for the door. “This won’t take long. Then we can grab some lunch.” Dr. Nichole Jessup’s office was at the far end of the administration wing, right where it butted into the treatment side of the operation. Trudy could hear her high heels clicking in the silence of the corridor as she headed for the office, thinking back to what she’d heard about Jessup. A product of one of the fancy Eastern medical schools, Jessup could have gone anywhere. Worked the inner city out of guilt, suburban rehab centers just because, even listened to the ramblings of neurotic, drugged-up Hollywood types for the big bucks. Instead she’d come here; captivated by Sonny’s vision for Caitlin’s House and Jenny’s enthusiastic sales pitch. Trudy smiled. Jenny did have a hell of a sales pitch. And Sonny’s enthusiasm and dedication to the House and the idea of using Caitlin’s image and legacy to give back to girls she could easily have been like was hard to miss and even harder to resist. Jessup was at her desk, flipping through a psychology journal and marking passages with a red pen. “You caught me at a good time,” she said when she heard Trudy come in. “I was about to toss this through the window. What can I do for you, Mrs. Castillo?” “Trudy’s fine.” She smiled, reminding herself this wasn’t an interrogation. “I had a couple of questions about today’s class. With the group I have…I was wondering if you think they’re ready for some darker stuff.” Jessup paused, her light eyes sizing up Trudy like a practiced detective would. “Why do you ask?” “I want then to paint a trauma in their lives. Something dark, you know. They can use whatever colors they want. Any style. Just so it shows how they felt coming through that. Or what it represented to them.” “That’s advanced.” “Yeah. I’m not just another pretty face.” Trudy felt her anger rising at the tone in Jessup’s voice. “I was a cop for over fifteen years. I’ve seen dark. And I grew up in Overtown, so trust me, lady, I know dark.” Those light eyes flashed and then mellowed. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget. Mrs…I mean Trudy. Let’s start over.” “Ok. I wanted your opinion. Do you think this class is ready for darker subjects? They’ve all held it together so far. And some of them have real talent. But I don’t want to move too fast and set some of them back.” Nodding, Jessup flipped through her class lists. “This is the afternoon group, right?” “Yeah.” “Which one do you think’s the strongest? Which do you worry about the most?” “Antonia’s the strongest one. No question. I’ve had to hold her back on subjects a time or two. I’d say Jessie’s the weakest, but she’s also the one who got turned out earliest.” “We agree.” Jessup looked up and smiled. “Different methods, but the same outcome.” She looked back at the class list, and Trudy could see a photo of each girl next to her name on the roster. “If you think they’re ready, go ahead.” “I do worry about Jessie.” Trudy played the conversation back in her head and decided to offer the doctor a way in. “Why don’t you come in halfway through? See how things are going. Then if Jessie looks bad, you can pull her out for a talk or something. Let her save face without getting too upset.” Jessup gave a slow nod. “I’ll do that, Trudy. That’s good thinking.” “A girl like Jessie, growing up where she did, pride might be all she has left. And not much of it by now. Last thing I want to do is take that away from her.” Nodding her thanks, Trudy turned to go. “Class starts right about one. If you stop in about two that should hit us halfway. First hour’s gonna be technique and some talk about what they can try to paint. I want to start them with something that scares them from their lives before they came here. Maybe a car with the lights off, burned-out street lights. Little things. No big stuff yet. Even for Antonia.” Gordon Wiggins adjusted his sunglasses and looked around the seating area in front of the trendy café. He hated these places, even back in LA. But Arthur had insisted so here he sat feeling the sweat soaking the back of his shirt playing the fool. “And he promised you he’d show up?” “Don’t be a ninny, Gordon. He’s right on time. For him at least.” Haskell waved to a short man in a cheap blue polyester suit. “Jake! Over here!” It took Wiggins all of two seconds to see through the cheap suit and cigar chomping act. Renfro had darting brown eyes under his heavy brows, and they missed nothing. “Been a while now, Arthur,” he said in a scratchy voice, sitting down through a thick cloud of cheap cigar smoke. “Course we ain’t been sued under the new owners.” “Cut the crap, Jake. You’ve been sued four times in the last two months alone. All settled quickly and quietly.” “Yeah. The new owners retain some hotshot foreign law firm.” Renfro leaned back in his chair eyeballing Wiggins, who returned the look with interest. “Who’s your pal?” Haskell answered quickly. “Gordon’s an old friend. But that’s neither here nor there. You owe me, Jake.” “Yeah. I guess I do. More than a couple of times, really.” Renfro sighed. “What do you and friend Gordon need?” “Information.” Wiggins spoke now, drilling Renfro with a look. “I hear your paper’s good at digging up dirt.” “I prefer to think of it as investigative reporting.” “Whatever lets you sleep at night. I don’t care what you call it. But we have need of information on a local business. Caitlin’s House.” Renfro whistled low in his throat. “That place has been a thorn in my side since the day it opened. You know most rehab sheds in this town only take rich kids? Not that place. No, they take junkies and hookers. All wrapped up in the mystique of that damned pop bitch.” “Sounds like you hate the place.” “Naw, not really hate it. More like I don’t understand it. There’s gotta be an angle. There always is. Insurance fraud. Sex. Drugs. You name it. But not there. Damned place is clean as a whistle.” He turned to Haskell. “You should know, Arthur. You represented her damned estate. Oh, yeah. Until the grieving husband fired your ass.” “And that’s why we need your information. Friend Arthur left the scene before the House started operations.” “Then you know about Burnett. There’s more rumors around that dude than flies around a fresh pile of shit.” Wiggins nodded, keeping what he suspected to himself. “So what do you have on the place?” “Look, it’ll take me a couple of days to put it together. One of my reporters has a serious hard-on for the place. I got no idea why, but it’s starting to cost us legal fees. But that also means we got lots of information. I’ll let you have it all in exchange for an exclusive if you break anything open on that operation.” Wiggins nodded. “That sounds fair, Jake. Very fair, indeed.” He suppressed a shudder as the man launched another cloud of cheap smoke their way. “You can get that to friend Arthur here. And I don’t know about you two, but I’d rather take my lunch inside.” Later, once Renfro was a smoke-scented memory, Arthur Haskell exploded. “What the hell do you mean promising him an exclusive? That reptile will…” “Do exactly nothing, Arthur. We get his information, string him along, and then go our own way. I have no retirement plans in Miami, and I suspect you don’t, either.” Wiggins smiled and picked at bits of his club sandwich lodged between his teeth with a toothpick. “And he’s only half the question, isn’t he? There’s also Hector to contend with.” “We need him.” “We need both of them, Arthur. Just for different things. Friend Renfro’s motivations are clear enough, but Hector’s are not. It’s not just Burnett he’s interested in. You could see it in his eyes. So it’s good to use Renfro to double-check anything Hector brings in. That and I suspect Hector’s idea of being discrete is to shoot someone four times instead of six.” He raised his hand to forestall Arthur’s whine. “I know that’s why we hired him. We need a blunt instrument. But a scalpel can be as useful as a sledgehammer, don’t you think?” “Of course. Sorry, Gordon. It’s just Watkins again.” “Ah, yes. The boy wonder.” Wiggins nodded, setting the toothpick in the center of his plate. “Maybe Hector will solve that problem for us, too.” Sonny Crockett stood just outside the baggage claim area holding a cardboard sign in front of his face. Written in block letters with a black magic marker was the name Matt Dillon. He knew it worked when he heard cursing from the other side of the ropes. “Goddamn you, Sonny. Quit hidin’ behind that thing and help me with this rifle case!” Dave Blair and Randy Mather hadn’t changed a bit in the year or so since he’d last seen them. Dave still had his short light hair and brown eyes, while Randy’s dark black hair was shot through with some streaks of gray. His odd light blue eyes dominated his face, and Sonny had seen them both full of happiness and cold and empty like he imagined death could be. Both men wore jeans and cowboy boots, and he grinned. “You two go full native back home in Montana?” “Hell, yes.” Randy crossed the distance in two quick steps and almost crushed Sonny’s hand. “It’s good to see you again, boss.” Dave tried to destroy his hand as well. “Likewise, boss. Can’t say I missed the damned humidity one bit, but we did miss the company.” Picking up the bright orange rifle case, Sonny led the way to one of Caitlin’s House’s fleet cars. “I’ll show you what Jenny got me later,” he said with a grin as he popped the trunk and started loading bags. “But the work car’s more comfortable unless one of you wanted to ride in the trunk with all this crap.” “Think I’ll pass. Being cooped up in the seat next to this jarhead for six hours was damned bad enough.” Dave grinned and tossed his own suitcase in the trunk before laying claim to the front seat. “So where you guys staying?” “The Hilton downtown. Good ol’ Butte-Silver Bow’s footin’ the bill so we figured we’d live a little.” Randy spoke from the back seat, settling in as Sonny put the car in gear and pulled out into the flow of traffic escaping the airport for the alternate prison of downtown Miami. “How is life out there?” “Good.” Randy chuckled. “Dave’s all domesticated now. Got him a hours uptown and everything.” “Up yours.” Dave glared at his partner in the rear view mirror. “You’re just jealous cause that tramp in Dispatch gave you your walkin’ papers.” “Naw. I booted her. Caught her goin’ down on one of the SWAT guys.” Randy chuckled, but Sonny could see the flash of pain in the sniper’s eyes. “Angie’s still on the market.” Sonny laughed at Randy’s reaction. “No, man. I’m serious. Hard to believe she’s still single I know, but she’s always had a thing for you.” They bantered back and forth as Sonny negotiated the traffic, lapsing into the casual talk of men who’d known each other for years and walked many of the same paths. The Marine Corps. Vietnam. Career law enforcement. And the hot years of the Task Force. After ten minutes it was like they’d never been apart. Randy was putting the finishing touches on the story. “…so after we wrapped up that meth ring, the sheriff asks if we want to represent the department at some hot-shot conference the DEA was putting on. We said what the hell. Some of those guys we worked with are still in the office here, and it was a damned good excuse to get some of Pete’s ribs. Are they…” “Better than you could imagine.” Sonny chuckled. “That old bastard has a touch with the barbecue. Never would have guessed back with the Task Force. His place is doin’ well. Can’t say he’s got the most original name, but what the hell, right?” Dave grinned. “Marshal’s Ribs. Bet he uses a star in the sign, too.” “Give that man a nickel.” Sonny kicked on the blinker. “Looks like we’re almost here, gents. I’d ask if you wanted to hit up Sanctuary, but after that flight I’ll bet room service and sleep looks damned good about now.” “Tomorrow night for sure. You got our cell phone numbers?” “Yep.” Sonny pulled into the unloading zone and hit the flashers. “I’ll make sure as many of the gang as I can find are there. You know Tiny works for me now, right?” “Yeah. I heard about that entry. It wasn’t our guys, was it?” “No.” Sonny’s eyes went flat at the memory. “They’d gotten loaned out to the FBI for a warrant raid.” “Cocksuckers.” Randy’s voice was even flatter than Sonny’s eyes. “Anyhow, thanks for the lift, boss. We’ll call as soon as we can get away from the dog and pony show. Might be sooner rather than later if those FBI morons show up.” “Don’t get too carried away, man. I don’t want to have to explain to everyone you can’t hang out because you’re in jail.” “Yeah. I forgot you’re off the force now.” Randy hung back as Dave started unloading bags. “How’s it feel on the outside?” “Gotta be honest…not too great. I can see why people are worried now.” Sonny chuckled and changed the subject. He didn’t want to get too far into that yet. “You two bring hats for the cowboy lawmen act?” “Naw. Well, Dave might have. I can’t answer for his fashion sense. Debbie’s gone all cowgirl and he shows up in boots and such from time to time.” They shook hands again. “Good to see you again, boss. Lookin’ forward to seein’ the rest of the team again.” Sonny waited until they were in the hotel with all their luggage before killing the flashers and pulling away from the hotel. It had been good to see them again, but it also stirred up things Sonny had thought he’d put behind him. Memories of good times and bad times. The rush of going through the door knowing you had the best team in the world at your back. And the finally that moment on the island where he almost froze and knew it was time to call it a day. With effort he pulled his focus back to the road and out of the dark corners of his head. There would be, he knew, time for that later. He took the fleet car to the marina. Jenny had a meeting in the morning, earlier than he’d be going in, so she’d need a vehicle. Parking next to the Daytona he sat for a time with the engine off, listening to the sounds drifting from the various boats. Raised voices and clinking glassware here, a thin refrain from Sinatra there. The frat guys on dad’s boat at the far end of the dock looked to be having yet another party, which was bound to generate another complaint from Mrs. Gruberman. Walking down the dock, Sonny nodded to old man Baker, sitting on deck with a glass of scotch and the Rat Pack on his small CD player. The old guy was there almost every night…same drink, same CD. It hadn’t made sense until he’d run him on a whim a few years back and found out he was retired Las Vegas PD. Homicide division. Then it made sense. Frank was the one that got away. Jenny was waiting for him topside, her eyes bright and her shirt thick enough to hide her nipples for once. “How are the boys?” “Good, but tired. Can’t say’s a I blame them. That’s a long flight. I dropped them at the Hilton and they’re going call when they’re done tomorrow.” He took her in his arms. “How was your day?” “Good. I helped Trudy with her class this afternoon.” Jenny leaned against him. “She’s doing so well with them. There was a girl she was worried about in the class. Even had Nichole look in partway through. But she did fine. The painting she did…it gave me chills, Sonny. There was so much fear in her, but you could see it move from her to the canvas. And she was so proud.” “That’s really good to hear. I know you and Nichole were both worried about how that might go.” Sonny kissed the top of her head. “But Trudy gets those girls. She worked with ‘em, and could have been one of them if a few things had turned out different. She can talk to them in a way you and Nichole can’t. And the painting…” He let his voice trail off. “I don’t get it myself, but for some people it’s easier to talk with a brush.” “She wanted me to tell you she has one of her old informants looking into that reporter. She said he’s sure there’s dirt on the guy.” “Good.” He pulled her closer, feeling her body through his Henley. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s go below and see what we can whip up, even if it’s just a burger.” He shook his head. “I shoulda grabbed something on the way back, but those two…” “Memories.” She smiled up at him. “I understand, Sonny.” She looked around his chest and giggled. “Looks like that old battle-ax made her call.” Sonny turned and saw the Miami-Dade patrol car pulling into an open spot near the dock. “Yeah. Guess the frat boys are gonna lose again. I’d love to stay and watch, but if I don’t eat something soon I’m gonna drop. Let’s go below.”

Martin Castillo sat straight up in bed, the dream still clinging to him like a mist. Beside him Trudy still slept, snoring a bit from the tequila shots she’d done with Pete Washington at Rico and Mindy’s party. Though the bamboo blinds he could see the red glow of the rising sun. It matched the colors of his dream. The wood floor was cool under his feet as he left the bed and pulled his silk robe tight around him. Pausing, he listened to Trudy’s breathing. He didn’t want to wake her. His movements were those of a shadow, shifting from spot to spot with no disturbance in his wake. Once he was outside he stopped. Feeling his own heartbeat and the rhythm of his breathing. Letting to dream work its way out. He’d had many dreams over the years. Visits from Jess, Jack, and thin forms that might have been his parents or his namesake grandfather. Even Father Lupe, killed by his brother-in-law, stopped by on occasion. Those visits he’d come to accept, even welcome. But this was different. Ti Ti had never visited before. Looking out through the undergrowth stirred by the early morning breeze, Castillo felt himself drawn back to Laos. The dank cool of the highlands gripping his bones, and the smell of rotting vegetation filling his nose. When he’d first been posted there by the CIA, Ti Ti had been his teacher and later his friend. The old Nung warrior had been fighting other men’s wars since the early 1950s, if not before, and he’d forgotten more about those rugged mountains and snaking trails than most men would ever know. Any family he might have had was long dead, and he never spoke of his homeland. Much like Castillo, the war was all he had. It was also Ti Ti who’d introduced him to the Hmong and Montagnard shamans, easing his path to acceptance and understanding of their world. They’d fought side by side for over six years, until Ti Ti gave his life to save Castillo…throwing himself on a grenade during the ambush wiping out Castillo’s team. But even after all that, he’d never appeared in a dream. Until four nights ago and again tonight. If Jess was his best American friend on the team, Ti Ti was something more. A warrior personified. The Nung didn’t move through the jungle as much as he flowed through it, knowing every plant and tree like he’d planted them himself. He hated Vietnamese, no matter which side, and refused to work with them under any circumstances. And he had a sense…something tapping into whatever the shaman talked to. Castillo always trusted his instincts. Stepping down from the deck, he felt gravel and then grass under his feet. Both nights the dream had been the same. He was walking one of those narrow, twisting Laotian trails made by small animals thirty years before and repurposed by the NVA for moving men south. Never a main part of the Ho Chi Minh Trail, but used when airstrikes or SOG raids blocked a main route. The Pathet Lao used them from time to time, but they were amateurs in a professional’s game. He was alone. Moving each foot every five minutes, his CAR-15 warm and slick with sweat in his hands. Listening to the jungle. Feeling its pulse through his skin. The trail seemed to go nowhere, almost circling back on itself before taking a different route. The map was no good, and the thick triple canopy rainforest blocked the sun. Ti Ti usually appeared just as he was making a turn in the trail, coming out of the surrounding jungle without a sound. He raised his hand, making the gesture he used to signify trouble ahead, and took the lead in total silence. They rounded the bend and found his team in heavy contact, red and green tracers dancing though the brush. But it wasn’t his team. Not exactly. Instead of Jess he saw Sonny Crockett, and Ricardo Tubbs took Gus’s place. He could see them returning fire, but in the wrong direction. Red flames sprung from the ground and raced around them, trapping them as the enemy fire drew closer and closer. He tried to shout, but nothing came from his throat. It was then Ti Ti always tapped him on the arm and said in his quiet warrior voice, “You know what you must do,” and pointed to the source of the incoming fire. He could always sense but not see someone else standing next to him in green jungle fatigues, but he woke up every time he turned to see who else had joined them. He stopped, feeling the grass changing to sand as he neared the beach. A thin smile touched his face as he felt his heart rate climbing. Now it was time to stop. To let his heart sort out the dream as the old Hmong wizard had taught him. The head would be of no help here. Ti Ti’s coming meant the trouble was real, and serious. And that it would mean bloodshed. The Hmong always said the visiting spirt was an indication of the trouble ahead, and Ti Ti was the greatest warrior Castillo had ever known. Even greater than Jack Gretzky. The waves were closer now, and he listened to them while his heart went to work. The trouble would come from an unexpected direction, aimed squarely at his two friends. They couldn’t escape it, and they had no real way to fight back. Only Castillo could do that, but he would need help. Ti Ti made that clear enough. Another warrior who he’d know when he found him. He could hear Jess in waves as he stood, letting the reality of the dream slide away. And he smiled again, but this time it was real. I always understood Jenny better than I let Crockett understand. We share the same connections, although hers are natural and mine were learned. And if Caitlin is warning her, and now Ti Ti is warning me this is bad. Since the enemy fire was coming from behind them, Castillo figured it was the past catching up with Crockett and Tubbs. There was no surprise in that; both men had been outstanding cops, and good cops made enemies. Lots of enemies. He’d certainly made his share, although most of them were dead now or buried so deep in the Federal prison system they might as well be dead. And with Crockett it could also be enemies from his time as Burnett. Maybe that was the meaning of the winding trail…there was no point in trying to figure out where the threat was, but just to be ready for it and deal with it when it came. He stood for a few minutes more at the point where the land changed from shore to beach before turning and heading back to the house. It would be coffee this morning instead of tea, following the teachings of old Loang Koa, the Hmong highland shaman. Tea was preferred after such a visit, but lacking the proper herbs the old man used coffee in a pinch. Ti Ti had grinned as he’d translated. “He says the tea is better, but it tastes like sloppy buffalo dung. Coffee works as well and tastes much better. One of the few good things the French brought us.” Trudy was still asleep, so he used the hand grinder and boiled water on the stove as he readied the coffee press. He’d make enough for two cups; it was light enough now she wouldn’t throw it at him and he knew after last night she’d need a cup. He poured the ground Jamaican coffee into the press, following it with boiling water and letting it sit before depressing the plunger to complete the process. It wasn’t his usual way, but it was how the shaman had done it and there was something to be said for tradition. Leaning over, he inhaled the rich steam from the coffee, flushing the last of the dream from his soul. At least until it came again. Trudy groaned as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Is that coffee I smell?” “Yes, my love. Along with a chaser of aspirin.” She smiled, then winced. “Do me a favor and don’t say chaser. How did we…” “Some of us were good to drive, and Robbie took care of the rest.” Castillo smiled. “He’s a good man.” “Just do me a favor and remind me never to trade shots with Pete again. That old fart…” “Is an old school lawman. And I have yet to meet an old-school lawman who couldn’t hold his liquor if he drank at all.” He smiled as she sipped the coffee. “There’s another cup in the press if you want more.” “I think I will. And am I glad it’s Saturday.” Her eyes went wide. “It is Saturday, isn’t it?” “Yes, my love.” His smile was deep this time. “We have the weekend for you to recover.” “Good. At least I think it’s good.” She sipped coffee again and then swallowed the white pills. “Mindy was so happy last night.” “Yes.” He’d decided not to mention the dream. Not yet, at least. “And so was Ricardo.” “After that whole mess with Angelina I’m not surprised. I can’t imagine seeing the son you didn’t know you had one time and then…” Castillo just nodded. And it has to be worse knowing that pig Maynard was the one who got revenge for the boy’s killing. At least it was Ti Ti’s people who did the killing. Nungs would make sure none of the Calderone family survived. “Mindy hasn’t had an easy time, either. But they’ll be good parents.” “Yeah. Stan was talking to me about that. He said between the two of them they know exactly what not to do.” She smiled. “I think he and Gina are trying, too.” He felt a quick stab. “Does that mean…” “No.” She took another drink and looked down into the cup. “If it happens, I suppose it happens, but I don’t really want kids. Gina’s the mothering type. So’s Stan, really. Me? I like working with the girls at the House, but that’s as far as it goes. We…we complete each other, Marty. I don’t think we need anything else.” The stab went away. “I agree, my love. Some people need children. As something saying they were here, I think. I’m not one of them.” Not since I was taken from Cuba, at least. “And let me get you more coffee.” “No. I should get up. We can get it together.” She sat up, winced, and swung her feet out of bed. “You think Pete’s this hung over?” “Maybe. He is older now.” Castillo got up and walked to her side of the bed, offering her his arm. “We’ll walk together.” It was the third time Hector Rendozo had listened to the tape, and he shut the player off with the same annoyed grimace he’d had the first time through. He’d hoped he’d missed something about why those two lawyers were so hot to ruin the reputation of some rehab center, but there was nothing. No word he’d missed. It wasn’t that he cared about ruining the rep of some halfway house for hookers. He just didn’t like walking blind into something that could bite him in the ass. Especially when Sonny Burnett was involved. Even though he’d been locked up, Hector had heard about what Burnett had done with the Manolo and Carrera organizations. A guy like that wasn’t someone you just walked up to and poked with a stick, unless you wanted that stick shoved up your ass and set on fire. You had to be Goddamned sure your shit was squared away before you made a single move. Just because it looked like he’d stepped away from the game doesn’t mean he had, and with those two suits offering a cool million for the job there had to be something big in play. And Hector wanted to know what the hell it was. The morning news had given way to mindless talk shows on the hotel room TV, and he clicked it off. It had been background noise to cover the tape in any case, and he didn’t need that now. Walking over to the window, he looked out, then glared over at the room phone. Jangles should have gotten ahold of that punk Ramon by now. Much as he didn’t like the little cabrón, he knew he might be useful for this little project. At least as a source of information. It was close to noon before the phone finally rang. Hector snatched it up on the second ring. “Tell me you got something.” Jangles’ voice echoed back through the line. “Hey, Hector. Yeah, I found that thing for you. Same time and place as before.” Hector grinned. Leave it to Jangles to remember prison phone drill. Never say anything the guards could use. “Got it, mano. See you then.” The only problem with the arrangement was time. The day crawled by in a series of old TV shows and bad movies, jumping as Hector moved from channel to channel looking for anything that wasn’t a talk show or soap opera. He thought about going out or ordering a girl, but discarded both thoughts almost as soon as he had them. He was on the job now, and that meant attracting no attention before it was time. Patience was something else he’d been forced to learn in prison. The drive downtown was slow in the early evening traffic, but it wasn’t hard to find a parking place with enough light to make sure the car would still be here when he got back. It was that kind of neighborhood. It took effort to ignore the splashy neon of the strip club, and even more to go into the damned cheap hole Ramon seemed to prefer. Hector stood just inside, working his toes inside the damned cowboy boots. The damned things still hurt his feet after ten minutes. How the fucking Mexicans could stand them he had no idea. And if they hate Texans so much, why do they want to look like them? I’ll never understand… Then he smiled. He could see Jangles and the punk Ramon toward the back. Ramon had the same sneer on his face, but at least he was dressing more like a man this time. “Jangles says you wanted to see me.” “Yeah.” Hector sat down, waving the waitress away. “Come back in ten minutes, baby.” Then he leaned across the table, fixing Ramon with his best prison stare. “This time I got a job for you.” “I ain’t polishing those damned boots if that’s…” The crack of Hector’s slap was audible over the thumping music of the club. “Don’t get cute with me, bitch. I ain’t in the mood. I ain’t got time for your attitude. You want the job or not? If not, crawl back to your small-time deals.” He grinned at the shocked expression on Jangles’ face. “Hey, mano. Just like old times, no?” Ramon rubbed the spreading red spot on his right cheek where Hector’s backhand slap had hit. “I was wondering when the Hector I’d heard about would show his face.” “Don’t try kissing my ass. Just answer the question. You want the job or not?” “What’s the catch?” “You have to use your brain.” Hector’s grin was thin and mean. “Which means it won’t take long.” “Why me? You an’ me don’t like each other much.” “No, but that ain’t what this is about. I been out of the scene for a bit, and I need information. Some dump called Caitlin’s House.” “The hooker hotel? Yeah, I heard of it. One of those clinics they go to get better or some shit.” Ramon grinned, still rubbing his cheek. “Like you can get the hooker out of the girl.” “What do you know about it?” “Not much. I know the pimps hate the place. It’s about the only one around here they can’t get to. Security’s unreal, or so they say.” “You think you can find out more?” “Let me make a few calls. I got a cousin who works a string of girls over by Overtown.” Ramon’s eyes narrowed. “You lookin’ for one in particular?” “No. Just the place. Who runs it, who handles the security. That kind of shit.” Reaching into his pocket, Hector pulled out three hundreds and dropped them on the table. “Get in touch with Jangles when you get something. That’s a down payment. Screw me, and it gets repaid out of your miserable hide. A hundred a finger. Oh, and be careful. A little bird told me Sonny Burnett runs the place, but I want that confirmed.” He looked over at Jangles, still savoring the look of terror on Ramon’s face at the mention of Burnett. “Let’s go.” At least Jangles waited until they were outside before he had his meltdown. “Hector! What the hell, man? You don’t just slap a dude like Ramon! He’s…” “He’s a little bitch who don’t know his place. So I had to remind him.” Hector grimaced. “You know what the only difference is between these damned boots and high heels?” “No. What?” “Coupla hundred bucks and a bit more leather. I’m gettin’ rid of them first thing. You know, I bet Burnett and Cooper, whoever the hell he really is, don’t wear these damned things. Ramon don’t need to cause he’s probably already got a pair or three of high heels in his damned closet.” “Still, man…you don’t slap Ramon.” “Well I did, mano. And he took it like the little bitch he is. Hell, he might even have enjoyed it.” Hector showed his teeth. “Do I trust the little puta? Hell no. Do I need him for now? Yeah. Until he shows me he don’t know anything.” Jangles nodded, a smile spreading over his face. “Now this is the old Hector. I was starting to wonder if prison…” “Naw. Take more than that summer camp to break me. But we gotta be sharp, man. Those lawyers? I trust ‘em less than I do Ramon. That’s why I got him sniffin’ around. And you, too. Anything those two snakes tell us I want verified. Twice. But that bit about security Ramon said feels right. Burnett was always a careful cat…” “Yeah. And you missed him with the Carreras. Word on the street was you looked sideways at him, he’d do you himself and make the body disappear. He was runnin’ Manolo’s security before that, after he damned near got blown up on some boat.” He chuckled. “And you saw the look on Ramon’s face when you mentioned his name.” Hector nodded, his eyes focused on the neon smear making the strip club. “I think I’m gonna go see the sights. You coming?” “Sure.” There was a pause. “Hector, what do you think those two suits really want with that clinic?” “Truth is, Jangles, I don’t give two shits what they want. I want Cooper or whatever his name really is, and that means I gotta find Burnett first.” He stopped just outside the door. “Look, we’ll do their job so long as it don’t get in the way of that. Even I ain’t gonna sneeze at a million dollars. But I also ain’t convinced the million’s there. Those two? They think we’re dumb wetbacks. Hired help. But that also means they ain’t gonna think we’re using them.” “I get it. I think.” “There’s gonna be money, Jangles. No matter what we do. Only question is who’s.” He smiled again. “Now let’s go have a look at Miami’s cheapest tit jobs.” Sonny Crockett had hated Sundays as long as he could remember. Growing up they meant getting up early and being bundled off to church where some sweaty man behind the pulpit was screaming about someone’s eternal soul, not to mention the car ride to and from wedged in the back seat with his grandmother who always smelled of old lady perfume and mothballs. In school it signaled the inevitable hangover and regrets from Saturday night, and in the Corps, at least in garrison, it was the weekly inspection. In Nam it was just another day ending in Y. And one day closer to the end of his thirteen month tour. They’d sailed Tranquility about twenty miles out the day before, leaving once their hangovers faded into memory; along with Jenny’s clothes as soon as they left the outer edge of the marina. Sonny sipped his coffee and smiled at the memory. She’d stayed under the cockpit awning, handling the wheel while he tended to the rigging. The trip had been her idea, something about clearing their heads. But he suspected there was something else. She’d been quiet since the party for Rico and Mindy, but he’d learned long ago Jenny would bring up what was bothering her when she was ready. “You’re up early.” Her tousled blonde hair appeared first through the companionway, and then he saw her bright blue eyes. “Yeah. Seemed like a shame to waste the sunrise.” He grinned. “That and old habits. I kept hearing my grandma calling it was time for church. Old lady had a voice like a damned seagull.” She smiled and sat down beside him, the thin t-shirt more highlighting than concealing her body. “They’d given that up by the time I came along. The Walkers weren’t a church-going family.” “It’s ok if you like fat guys screaming at you about eternal damnation.” Shifting closer, he slipped his arm around her. “Otherwise you ain’t missing much. But it still means I usually wake up too early on Sundays.” She rubbed her head against his shoulder and sighed. “It’s nice out here.” “Yeah. We didn’t drift far with the sea anchor, and the gulls look to have been drawn off by a freighter I picked up on the radar.” He chuckled. “Likely dumping their galley trash.” She slipped her arms around him and squeezed. Hard. “You know I’m happy for them, right?” “Of course I do, darlin’.” He gave her a squeeze and finished his coffee. “And Gina and Stan. It’s their turn next.” “Sure.” He looked out over the water again, not sure where the conversation was headed. “Then what do we do? I’ve seen it. People have kids and they forget their friends.” “We have each other. And there’s Marty and Trudy. They’re like us, darlin’. Happy with each other.” He turned to look at her. “Like I said before, I messed up with Billy. Hell, I might have done better with Will, but we’ll never know. And the way I see it, I can do a hell of a lot more running the House right than I could raising one kid. Rico’s one of those guys who needs to be a dad. And that’s cool. Stan? He’ll be a fantastic dad. I’m not.” “Sonny…I…” “No, it’s ok. I made my peace with that years ago. Before we even met. And now? We can help thirty kids with the House, not just raise one. I found out the hard way I liked the idea of being a dad more than I liked being one. I’m not gonna make that mistake again.” She smiled. “I…it just feels strange. Hearing Mindy talk about kids. Diapers. All that stuff. And…she’s been warning me again.” “Cait?” He kept any doubt out of his voice and his eyes. “Yes. Whatever it is, it’s close now. I wish I knew more, but…” “It’s ok, darlin’. We got this. I’ve got Rico upping security all over the place. And we’re looking into that paper and the punk reporter who keeps sniffing around. He’s got a restraining order now, and if he shows up again I’m having his ass arrested.” He could feel her smooth skin under his fingers. “Now let’s just toss all that and enjoy the sunrise. Out here with no one else around.” She giggled and slipped out of the shirt. “I always loved watching the sun come up on Vellamo when I was still smuggling. Out on the water or at anchor just off some little island. It was like things were starting over. No matter how bad the day before had been.” He nodded. He’d felt the same way many times over the years, mainly when he’d been alone. Elvis didn’t count. “Yeah. I’d get that some days, too. And of course in Nam each sunrise was a gift. Meant you’d lived through the night.” He shook his head. “It was the same both tours.” She nodded, resting her head in his lap. “It felt like that some days out there, too. Not as bad, but you never knew. And now I want to say good morning to you.” Later, Sonny stood over the galley’s propane stove putting the finishing touches on scrambled eggs. Jenny sat naked at the salon table, watching him work through the opening above the sink with a smile on her face. “Don’t forget I like hot sauce in my eggs.” “You and me both, darlin’.” He added an extra splash of Tabasco to the eggs, giving them a final turn with the spatula before hefting equal portions onto plates already loaded with bacon. “Now if you could just pour me some more coffee we’re all set. Breakfast is served.” Shutting off the stove, he walked past the stainless steel double-basin galley sink and into the salon. Jenny’s remodel had opened the space up a bit, but there was only so much you could do without compromising hull integrity. Besides, he liked having the galley at least partly separate from the salon. She took her time pouring the coffee, letting him admire her body. “It’s sad we have to go back tomorrow.” “Yeah, but if we don’t I’m not sure those yahoos will get started on time. This is a tight timeline, and after the way they dragged their feet last time…” “Even with the penalties in the contract?” “Yeah, there is that. But I’m also worried about that nutjob from the Post.” He munched on a slice of bacon and chased the smokey meat with coffee. “I know Mindy and Trudy are digging into it, but we don’t have the resources we used to. There’s just something about that guy…he’s too damned persistent.” “The whole paper’s like that.” She chewed a mouthful of eggs, lines appearing on the part of her smooth forehead just visible through her thick hair. “Why are they so set on ruining the lives of the girls? Haven’t they been hurt enough?” “That’s what’s bugging me. We know where the money’s coming from now, so that’s where they get the means to be assholes. It’s the why I can’t get to.” He sighed and ate more bacon. “If it was the old days I’d get a warrant and have Stan and Lester hit all their communications. Put Ramdy and Dave on high ground and box them good. We’d know everything about them in under a week. Now…hell…they probably know more about us than we do about them.” “Stan and Lester still could…” “Yeah, but that would be breaking the law. Illegal wiretapping. I can’t ask them to do something that would get them in serious trouble. No matter how important it is.” He looked down at his coffee. “All we can do is what we’re doing, and it doesn’t feel like enough. What I need is a way to draw them out. Find out just what the hell their game is. Is it me, Burnett, Caitlin somehow, or just the girls? Or something we don’t have any clue about?” “I wish I could tell you…” “I know, Jenny. I’m just running my mouth. Sometimes it helps me think, but it usually annoys the hell out of everyone else around me. Just ask Tubbs. He’ll tell you all about it.” He grinned. “Poor guy had to put up with more than a couple of my rants.” He shook his head. “Funny thing is I never did that as Burnett.” “No. He processes things inside. With focus.” She reached out and touched his hand. “He’s the part of you that works like a computer. No emotion unless it’s finding weaknesses in others. But he’s still part of you, Sonny. You can’t forget that.” “Yeah. Maybe I’ve been looking at this the wrong way. Or at least partway wrong.” He turned his hand over and squeezed hers. “But it’s not Monday yet. And you over there in all your glory is makin’ me process a whole other kind of activity.” Monday, like it always did, came too soon. Sonny Crockett gave himself one final look in the big mirror in Tranquility’s master cabin before kissing Jenny goodbye and heading down to the Daytona. “Just call if you decide to come in and we’ll send a car,” he said with a smile. “I don’t know if Tubbs could stand the shock of you naked.” “He’d be fine. He gets to stare at Mindy, you know.” He chuckled at the memory of her voice and started the car. It felt different, wearing Burnett black after his more relaxed phase with blazers and t-shirts, but somehow it also felt right. If he was going to think the part he needed to dress the part. The big Smith & Wesson under his left arm served as a second reminder, and as he slipped on the RayBans he felt the cold expression slide over his face. Ricardo Tubbs was waiting for him in his office, and Sonny smiled behind his sunglasses as he saw his partner’s eyes go wide. “Come on now, Sonny. I didn’t plan for everyone to get that drunk Friday night…” “I know, man. It was a great time. And congratulations again. If you and Mindy need any time off for anything, just let me know. Same goes for help.” He grinned visibly. “I know how hard it is to raise a kid on a cop’s take home.” Then he let the mask slide into place again. “No, this isn’t about that. It’s about the Post and that reporter of theirs. Jenny got me thinking about it, and maybe it’s time to look at it from a different angle. Burnett’s angle.” Rico nodded, but only halfway. “And that’s different how?” “Logically. What do they get out of this? We know they’ve got the means, thanks to that narco buyout. And we know their methods pretty damned well. But what’s the motive? And where’s the motive coming from? Is the editor pushing the reporter, or is it the other way around? Right now we don’t know. And I can’t just have Stan and Lester wire their offices for sound like the old days.” “Yeah. Never thought I’d miss that Metro-Dade hardware.” Sonny’s smile was thin. “So we find a different way. But I gotta balance that around the renovations. Figured it might do those contractors some good to meet Burnett up close and personal. More or less, at least.” “Yeah.” He could tell Rico wasn’t convinced, but he also found he didn’t care. He knew all about Rico’s reservations about this side of his character, and he couldn’t blame him for having them. But the part of him he’d come to consider Burnett was also very useful. “Good. Let’s go meet the foreman.” Turning, Sonny kept his sunglasses on and checked the lines of his black suit in the reflection from the glass door to his office. Burnett was about precision, and he had to look the part. From the way his hair was pulled back in the tight, short ponytail to how his trousers touched the tops of his black shoes. Precise like a well-honed knife blade. It all flowed from there.

It had been a gradual process, but the small shed near the parking pad had become the place Martin Castillo left his old life. Built from concrete blocks, it was strong enough to withstand a hurricane and secure enough to suit his needs. He still kept a tuned .45 in the main house, but the majority of his weapons now lived in the shed. Even with air conditioning, the humidity of South Florida demanded he tend to to the weapons regularly. With Trudy at Caitlin’s House teaching one of her art classes he figured today was as good a day as any. Stepping out into the clinging heat, he made the short walk from the porch to the shed and keyed in the door code. He had time before Sonny and Jenny arrived, and this was something he still preferred to do alone. The big Smith & Wesson Model 29 drew his attention first, followed by a well-used XM-177E2 carbine still sprayed with faded black stripes. The sharp tang of solvent bit his nose as he looked at both weapons in the glaring light thrown by the humming ceiling fluorescent fixture. In many ways they marked turning points in his life, points of decision he’d barely understood at the time and still didn’t totally comprehend. One from his life in Laos, the other from the time when he’d stepped away from DEA and joined Metro-Dade. The wall racks held other weapons, some pistols, others knives, a few blades of various length and manufacture. He’d get to them, but he always started with the big magnum and the battered carbine. Wearing an old fatigue top with the sleeves cut off, jeans, and hair longer than it had been during his entire time with Metro-Dade, Castillo sometimes felt himself slipping back into earlier days. Days when he might have seen Ti Ti or Gus coming out of the foliage around the house, or Jess riding the waves just beyond the swaying palms. Reaching out, he pulled the carbine from the rack and carried it to the workbench against the far wall. His cleaning ear was laid out in precise lines, rods next to patches close to the Hoppe’s. With a practiced motion he hit the magazine release, dropping the loaded thirty-round mag to the bench top. Routines needed to be followed. He was just slamming the loaded magazine back into the carbine when he heard tires crunching over gravel along with the familiar whine of a Ferrari engine. Still, he took a moment. Closing his eyes. Centering himself. Pulling his mind back to South Florida and away from Laos. Only then did he set the carbine down and step out into the sunlight again. Jenny was all smiles as she jumped out of the black convertible, her thick hair flowing in the heavy air like liquid gold. “Martin! Thanks for letting us stop by.” “You two are always welcome. Remember that.” He smiled. You couldn’t help but smile when Jenny was in one of those moods. “It’s good to see you.” Sonny shut off the car and climbed out, pushing his own longer hair away from his face. “You’d think we’d both gone all hippy or something.” “Maybe we did.” “Yeah. You never know, do you?” He reached out, offering his hand. “Good to see you, Marty.” He nodded toward the shed. “Work day?” “You could say that.” He shook the offered hand, feeling Crockett’s strength in the grip. “If you don’t oil them, they rust.” “That’s why I went stainless steel. Less hassle.” Then Sonny’s eyes changed. “You been seeing them, too?” “What?” “Ghosts.” “A few.” He smiled again as Jenny touched his arm. “We’re old friends now.” “Sonny’s had his, too.” She looked into his eyes, searching. “Not the same, though. Yours are just checking in.” He nodded without speaking. Jenny’s moods flowed like quicksilver, reminding him all too often of some of the Hmong shamen up in the mountains. Strange little men with eyes that were either empty or full of the secrets of the universe. She even spoke like them. But he’d leaned long ago to trust without questioning. “That’s good to know. Why don’t we go into the house? I’ll make tea and we can talk on the deck.” There was a hint of a breeze on the deck. Just enough to shift the air and bring the tang of the ocean up to their noses. Jenny insisted on making the tea, leaving him and Sonny alone on the deck. He suspected that was her plan. “How are things at the House? I know Trudy’s enjoying working with the girls. It was good of you to think of her for that.” “Least I can do. Anyhow, I think they need her just as much as she needs them.” Sonny smiled, and Castillo could see the pain in his friend’s eyes behind the smile. “What’s really on your mind?” “I could never fool you, Marty. Jenny’s got one of her feelings again. This time she says it’s Caitlin warning something bad is going to happen. Not long after that some bozo shows up at Sanctuary asking about Burnett.” This time there was light in Sonny’s smile. “The bozo I ain’t worried about. Some old collar of Tubbs’ who might just be looking for a way back in the game. But the other…” “Yes. Her feelings are hard to ignore.’ Just like the Hmong back in the highlands. “Is it anything specific?” “Yeah. She thinks it’s trouble about the House.” Sonny looked out toward the sound of the waves. “She doesn’t quite come out and say it, but that’s how it feels to me. And we did have another one of those scumbags from the Post try to get in again. Only difference is this time he had a boom mic Stan said is FBI-grade.” “Did he say what he was after?” “Naw. They never do. Just start spouting First Amendment and wrapping themselves in the flag. We trespassed his ass and got a restraining order. And I had Tubbs boost security in that area. We’re also gonna do another audit and see where we have gaps that can be filled.” “You’re doing everything you can do.” Castillo let the sound of the unseen waves wash through him. Focusing his thoughts. “Based on what we can see. It’s what we can’t see that is concerning.” “You mean ghosts?” “No. Other adversaries. Our condition has changed, Sonny. We’re no longer lawmen able to shelter behind the badge and the courts. We’re private citizens now. That makes us easier to find. Easier to target.” “So you’re saying I should worry about the guy from Robbie’s.” “No. He’s not a major player. You’d remember him if he was. We were successful cops, Sonny. That means we made many enemies. Look how many tried to settle old scores with us even when we were cops. Now that we’re not…” “We’re easier targets. I get it.” “And our situation is more…complicated. We have enemies inside the force as well as outside it. Many of them are retired now, too, but some are still on the force.” “And they have long memories. Yeah, I get that too. So you think Jenny’s picking up on all that?” “No. But it means there could be many threats to us. And…” “And she hasn’t been wrong yet.” Sonny finished Castillo’s thought. “But I keep going back to that bozo Campbell from the Post. Where the hell did they get the money and the access to lay their grubby paws on gear like that mic? Campbell’s a nobody with no track record of axes to grind. The Post did get bought by a series of shell companies that lead right back to the heart of Cocaine Country, but that doesn’t fully explain it.” He paused. “Do you think the Company…” “No. They’re aware of our insurance, and for them the risk far outweighs any reward.” “Yeah. Hanging onto copies of all those files was a damned good idea. And with the money some of those cartels have buying one of those mics could have been done with petty cash.” “Yes. They can also buy information the same way.” Castillo shook his head. “How is the expansion going?” Jenny rejoined them just as Sonny finished telling Castillo about the new contracts. “…but I’m gonna ditch this bunch for the next phase. Too much of a pain to work with.” Jenny nodded, handing each man a cup of green tea. “And some of their crew makes the girls uncomfortable.” “Be sure to let Rico know. We’ll have them removed from the site.” Sonny shook his head. “I didn’t know that before.” “I only found out today. One of the girls told me when I was out with them on Vellamo.” “I’ll let Rico know now. Give me a second.” Turning, Sonny pulled out his phone and stepped back toward the house to make his call. Castillo smiled. “What did you want to tell me?” “I should never try to fool you, Martin.” She smiled and sipped her tea. “He told you about the warning?” “Yes. But there’s more to it.” “Yes. I mean…kind of. Caitlin didn’t know many of Sonny’s enemies, did she?” “No. They weren’t together long enough for that.” “So it almost has to be someone from her past. Someone who wants to get even with her.” “Yes. But I didn’t know her that well. Did you ask Angie?” “Yes. She said ‘little Blondie’…that’s what she calls me…was talking crazy.” Jenny paused. “But I think she knows something, Martin. She just doesn’t want to tell me.” “Angie is…complicated.” Castillo debated telling Jenny what he’d learned when he dug into the big woman’s background. No…this isn’t the right time. “Know that she was always loyal to Davies and now you and Crockett.” “But loyal isn’t always the same as trusting.” She smiled. “I know there’s more to it, and you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” “Davies was going to testify against powerful people. Powerful in their industry, at least. And that industry has ties to others that aren’t as legitimate. I think she disturbed a lot of plans, and some of those people have long and bitter memories.” “And you think they might…” “I don’t know.” Castillo barely tasted his tea as his mind looked back. “I know nothing about the music industry. We got the case because the DA wanted to curry favor with the U.S. Attorney, and I gave the assignment to Crockett because he was pushing too hard on another case.” His smile was thin. “I had no idea he’d end up falling in love. But we never knew the full details of the case. Only that she was a cooperating witness who needed to be protected until the trial.” She nodded. “He told me about that. And about Hackman.” “Yes.” Another mistake I should have prevented. Hackman should have died in the executioner’s chair. “Don’t blame yourself, Martin. No one can protect Sonny from himself.” Castillo nodded, then turned as Sonny came back to their side of the deck. “Did you get things taken care of with Tubbs?” “Yeah. He’d been hearing stuff from his people anyhow, so this just sealed the deal. Told him to run checks on all the workers if that’s what it takes. We might have to, anyhow, if that damned reporter keeps at it. Next thing he’ll likely try is slipping someone in that way.” “Or bribing a guard. Or one of the staff.” “Yeah. We’re on that, too. As much as we can be, anyhow.” Sonny shook his head. “We pay pretty well and everyone there is dedicated to the mission. But yeah, I remember Scotty Wheeler all too well, Marty. And Gorman. But we also can’t polygraph every employee every day.” “No. So you control the ones who are temporary and minimize the risk with the others. It’s a good plan. And Tubbs is a good judge of people.” “Yeah. And our doctors are pretty good about that, too.” Sonny shrugged. “In the end we just do the best we can and hope for the best, right?” Jenny nodded and touched their arms. “Why don’t we walk by the ocean? It will clear our heads.” Castillo set his empty cup down and smiled. “It’s a good time. The tide’s starting to come in.” Good surfing time. Jess always said the sea air now was good for the soul. Gordon Wiggins was thankful for his sunglasses. It kept Arthur Haskell from seeing the anger in his eyes. “If that’s the best you can do, Arthur, I’d suggest you start pricing out your organs so you can settle now.” It was hot outside the courthouse, and he could feel sweat starting to bead in the hollow of his spine. “Watkins assured me he’d gone through all their discovery filings.” “And you trusted that imbecile? Good God, man! You’ve slipped more than I thought.” And if I didn’t need your bloody contacts I’d wash my hands of you right now. But I can’t. “Don’t get all high and mighty with me, Gordon. Who’s been walking free the last few years?” “Point taken, Arthur. But that doesn’t help us now, does it?” Taking the man by the arm, Wiggins led him away from the front steps and into the shade. “Any luck with those contacts of yours?” “Some. I’ve got numbers for two or three. I’m going to start calling this afternoon. After I read Watkins the riot act.” Wiggins nodded, letting the man prattle on about his younger partner. It gave him time to organize his own thoughts and sort through what he’d learned. His time in the library had been productive, more so than he’d thought it would be at first. As expected there hadn’t been much on Davies aside from a wedding announcement and some scattered coverage in the gossip rags about her and this Burnett. But Frank Hackman had been a different story. In more ways than one. Hackman’s trial had been a sensation, and his sentence commutation by the governor even more so. Digging back through, following the man’s record of violent home invasions, his killing of a cop in front of his family, and all the publicity around both the trial and the clemency proceedings, one name kept coming up. James ‘Sonny’ Crockett. He’d been the partner of the cop Hackman had killed, one of the key witnesses at his trial, and, later, the one man pushing for the governor to set aside Hackman’s conviction and halt his execution. Even now Wiggins had to smile as he recalled the details. This Hackman had been good. No question. Anyone who could con a seasoned cop had to be good. And of course Hackman had returned to his old patch once he got organized and started in again. The press was rife with speculation about his involvement in the Davies murder, fed by numerous ‘unofficial’ sources in the police, and after a decent interval the man turned up dead on one of those small Caribbean islands with good hotels and no extradition services. The kind of place Wiggins had in mind once he finished his business in Miami. Wiggins had been a decent courtroom attorney early on, and it didn’t take much to connect the dots. The only thing connecting Hackman and Caitlin was a man who went by the name Sonny. Different last names, but Wiggins knew people who changed names more frequently than they changed their socks. It was part of his business. So he was confident Sonny Burnett and Sonny Crockett were the same person. When to share that, or if he should share it at all, was the problem now. “You aren’t paying a damned bit of attention to what I’m saying, Gordon.” “Of course I am, Arthur. Of course I am. You were complaining about friend Watkins. I quite agree. The man could be a problem. I trust you’re not telling him of our plans.” “Him? No. He’d fuck up a wet dream if it was up to him. I’ll know more once I speak with my contacts.” Lines appeared on Haskell’s forehead. “But there’s no telling how many of them are in prison or otherwise out of contact.” “Of course, Arthur.” Wiggins slipped into his ‘soothing’ voice, deciding at the same time to see if any of the people he knew had contacts of use. He suspected he knew the answer, but a few discrete questions would do. Then he thought back to something he’d seen going through the papers. “Do you know anyone on the Post?” “That rag?” Haskell snorted. “Of course I do. Can’t be a good defense attorney in this town without knowing at least one of the people on their staff.” “They seem to have a special interest in Caitlin’s House. It might behoove us to find out why.” “I’ll make some calls. But after their change in ownership I might not have the pull I used to.” “Change?” “Yes. The way I heard it, one of those ‘businessmen’ from Bolivia or somewhere bought it for one of his mistresses. They had a bit of turbulence in the upper ranks after that. I’ll see if my old contacts are still there, and if they want to do business if they still are.” Haskell’s smile was thin. “Some of that turbulence seemed to involve alligators, or so I was told.” “Of course. Our friends down South have their own…unique…approach to personnel matters.” Wiggins shifted, squinting through his sunglasses. It was time to get out of the humidity. “Call me when you learn something. I shall, of course, do the same for you.” Turning away from the building and the sweating face of Haskell, he waved for a cab. The sooner he got back to the hotel and a decent drink the better he’d feel. And he still owed himself that for solving the mystery of Sonny Burnett. Now he just needed to finish it. Stan Switek looked over at Lester Franz and grinned. “You still seeing that girl from Miami-Dade? Nikki, isn’t it?” Lester grinned and turned a light red under his dark beard. “Yeah…guess you could say that. She moved in with me last week.” “Well high five, man!” Stan lifted his hand and waited for Lester to smack his palm. They were sitting across from each other in the small workroom attached to the main security office in Caitlin’s House…something Rico had insisted on so they could repair and adjust gear without having to waste time taking it somewhere else. “Didn’t know it was gettin’ that serious. Guess I should have, since you asked her to one of your DJ Tango Foxtrot shows.” “Yeah. And she likes the beard.” Stan scratched his chin. “So does Gina. I was thinking about shaving, and she threatened me with one of those blue suede shoes.” “You still have those things?” “Hell, yes! Got the certificate of authenticity and everything. If you think I’m gonna part with a pair of shoes the King himself sweated in, you got another thing comin’, partner.” Grinning, Lester looked back down at the camera guts on the workbench in front of him. “Still can’t figure out why this one shut down. Got a couple more tests to run, but we might have just gotten a bad one out of the box.” He waited a moment. “So what do you think of that offer Rico made?” “I asked you first, man.” Stan smiled. He’d made up his mind the night before after talking with Gina. “But yeah, I like it. Gina and I are thinkin’ about starting a family, and a steady gig like this is something you don’t sneeze at.” “Yeah. Now that I’m with Nikki I’m starting to get that. I don’t know how much longer she’s going to stay on the force, and a deal like that would give us some stability so she didn’t have to take the first mall cop job that came along. That and…” “It’s like getting the band back together.” Stan looked up from his own pile of electronic entrails. “That’s a big part of what made me like it. It ain’t all of Team Elvis, but it’s not a bad start.” “You ever hear from those two knuckleheads?” “Yeah. Randy mostly. You know Dave. Why use one word when none will do? Anyhow, Randy said they’re comin’ down for some conference next week. Wanted to know if our table reservation’s still standing at Sanctuary.” “Cool. It’ll be good to see them again. It’s been what? Over a year?” “At least.” Stan let his mind wander back to that last party they’d had. Or what he remembered of that last party. “Well, well.” Lester’s voice went all serious. “I think I found our problem.” “Factory flaw?” “If you count getting shot by what looks like a high-velocity pellet gun as a factory flaw, then yes.” Lester peered down at the camera parts, pointing with his small screwdriver. “See? Right where the wires leave the box? Someone shot this when it was at the far end of its arc. And in just the right spot to kill the feed but not stop the camera’s motion.” “Avoiding an alarm.” Stan finished the thought, looking down at the part. “You think it was random? Some kid out there taking potshots at birds?” “Don’t see how. It’s a direct hit on that wire cluster. There’s always a chance, but…” “Assume it’s intention. Yeah, I agree. What sector was that one in?” “Our old friend Charlie 3.” “Campbell didn’t have a pellet gun on him, but maybe he brought one back. When did they pull that camera?” “Yesterday.” Lester looked at the log sheet. “Looks like they noticed the feed was off about an hour into the third shift. Video shows it was off for ten minutes before it was noticed. Of course it was just after shift change so they were making the rounds and all.” “Yeah. We’ll need to add an alarm for that.” “Simple. I’ll reprogram the system. Take me about five minutes.” Lester shook his head. “But I don’t get what’s so important about that sector.” “It’s the easiest one to get close to? Or maybe that moron just has a fetish for one of the trees out there.” Stan shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know. But we gotta find a way to cover it. Maybe a pole camera set back inside the grounds to watch the other cameras? Let’s work it out once we get the system set. I do wish we could pin this on that assclown Campbell, though. I’d love to send the Post a bill for the camera.” “You and me both, Stan. At least with the restraining order we can have him arrested if he tries it again.” “Yeah, but somethin’ about his act still bothers me. Why is he so set on this place? It’s no celeb rehab center. None of these girls have anyone who cares about ‘em except for maybe a pimp who looks at them as a source of income. That’s what bugs me. What the hell does that little worm get out of this? Or the Post, even?” “Good question, Stan. And one you and me can’t answer.” “I know, Lester. I know. Hard to stop bein’ a cop some days, isn’t it?” Stan shook his head and got to his feet. “Let’s get that computer stuff taken care of and then get back to this. I want that sector tight before we do anything else.” It was well after dark before Sonny turned the Daytona into the familiar parking spot at the marina and walked down to Tranquility. It had been a long afternoon after he’d dropped Jenny off at the boat and headed back to the House, and the drive back had let him think quite a bit of it through. He was glad Stan and Lester had agreed to the contract, though he was worried about what they’d found with the cameras. He had the same question they did...why the hell was Campbell so interested in that part of the perimeter, and in Caitlin’s House in general? He agreed with Stan and Lester. There wasn’t any kind of celebrity angle, and the House was one of the most successful rehab centers in the area. What about that would draw in the Post in general and Campbell in particular? But he also knew he didn’t have much time to worry about it. The renovations were about to start, followed by the actual expansion. He needed to stay focused on that, and let Rico deal with the security problems. If there was one thing he’d learned from the Task Force it was he couldn’t do everything himself. He had the right people in the right places…now he just had to get out of their way and let them do their work. Nodding to one of the old guys who were living out their days on their boats, he looked down the dock and smiled. Flickering in the stern of Tranquility was a single candle. Back when she still tied up Vellamo, she’d taken to lighting a candle on either her boat or the St. Vitus Dance so he’d know where she was when he came home. Now it just meant she was there waiting for him. And instead of being in the open seating area the candle was in one of the stern ports. Tranquility was big enough to carry a Zodiak inflatable, and Sonny usually kept one on the boat rack blocking the stern rail. He could see Jenny in the cockpit as he got close, her trim body highlighted by the bug-shrouded fluorescent lights of the dock. She was standing, looking out toward the thin line of red marking the far horizon. Clearing his throat, he grabbed the gangplank rail. “Permission to come aboard?” “Of course, silly. I was just thinking is all.” She smiled, reaching out for him as soon as he got close enough to touch. “How did the afternoon go?” “You didn’t miss anything. Just a whole bunch of staring at contracts and going over stuff I have to pretend to understand. Rico’s got security covered, and with Stan and Lester contracted on the payroll I feel a hell of a lot better about how we look from that side.” He stepped down into the cockpit, feeling the tug of his Smith & Wesson CS45 in its ankle holster. Smaller than the Detonics, he’d switched to it about the same time he stopped wearing a shoulder holster. It was still a .45 ACP, and accurate as hell. “The crews should start in the next couple of days, and then it’ll be a matter of checking them every day just in case the Post tries to slip someone past us.” “Why are they so interested?” “I’ve got Mindy and Trudy working on that. It’s almost like we got the Task Force together again. And with Dave and Randy coming in next week maybe we are.” “It will be good to see them again.” She ran her palm along his chest before turning back to the water. “Did Martin seem distracted to you?” “Castillo’s always distracted.” Sonny chuckled, then touched her shoulder. “Not really, darlin’. He seemed more like a man who realized he has to slow down and don’t quite know how to do it. I got to thinking about some of the stuff Tex said. It’s hard to make a warrior, sure. But I think it’s even harder to stop bein’ one. Especially if it’s all you’ve ever known. Marty’s been at war of some kind of another since the early ‘60s. Cuba, civil rights, Vietnam, Laos, all that. It’s been hard for me to step back. Hell, I can’t begin to imagine what it’s gotta be like for him. Even with Trudy.” “I want to help him, Sonny.” “I know. So do I. But the best way we can do that is just by bein’ there. You can’t push in on Castillo.” Touching her shoulder, he turned her to face him and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’m gonna go below. Maybe have a beer before bed. I sure would like some company.” Her smile let up her eyes. “So would I, Sonny.” Later he lay awake in the king-sized berth, hearing her steady breathing beside him in the darkness. He could feel the sea moving outside Tranquility’s hull, its restlessness equalling his own. Sighing, he eased out of bed and walked on bare feet to the gangway leading topside. Maybe some stars will do the trick. A light breeze pushed in from the water, bringing the sharp tang of salt to his nose. Stepping around coiled lines, Sonny made his way to the wheel and rested his arms on the polished brass, feeling the cool metal under his skin. Fighting down the urge to light a Lucky Strike. Or worse yet reach for the bottle of Black Jack. In some ways he missed the certainty of being a cop. No matter how many twists and turns it took, it was always a straight line from case to case. You solved it or you didn’t, and in either case you moved on to the next one. This was…different. Like walking along a boobytrapped path back in Nam, you never quite knew what to expect when you took that next step. Ears straining for the click of a pressure plate or the slight snag of a tripwire on clothing. He’d only patrolled the bush a handful of times, but the same fear existed in the towns and villes along the main roads. Looking up, he could barely see the stars, swallowed up by the blaze of light that marked Miami. Unlike Rico he’d always been ambivalent about the city…any city in point of fact. But the more it grew, the less he liked it. Too many people. Too many things to track. Too many ways shit could go south with no warning. But he couldn’t leave. Not with Caitlin’s House still undone. Shrugging, he turned to look away from the neon. It was Hector’s fault, really. Maybe not Hector personally, but the reminder of the past he represented. In the old days Sonny would have put on his Burnett suit and tracked the bastard down. Tossed him in a corner and pinned him with that empty Burnett stare. Go directly to the source of the problem and sort it out. Or have Stan and Lester put a box around the idiot. Tap his phones, follow him, do what it took to find out what the hell he was up to. But now, he had none of that. Just the almost fake star of a reserve officer and his carry permits. All fine once the shooting started, but useless before. “Did you want company?” Her voice was thick with sleep, and he was pretty sure she was either naked or wearing one of his old t-shirts. “Sure, darlin’. I’ll be right down. Just couldn’t sleep is all.” “I must be losing my touch.” “Naw.” He smiled, hiding a wince as he shifted and felt the scratches on his back pull. “Not a bit of it. I just…I don’t know. Mind won’t stop workin’, I guess.” He looked out over the water again. “Guess it’s more I know how they feel now.” “Who?” “The normal guys. The ones who see dealers on their corners and can’t do a thing about it. The ones who had to wait for us to show up and then wonder why we didn’t do our job.” He told her what he’d been thinking about Hector. “Now I know how they feel when they see the neighborhood bully and they can’t do a damned thing about it.” “Maybe Martin’s not the only warrior having trouble.” “Naw. It’s not that bad. I guess I just never thought about it before.” He slid his arm around her, letting his hand rest on her firm backside. “Let’s get below, darlin’. I don’t want to keep you up all night.”

Hector Rendozo looked down at the shot glass of tequila and snorted. He’d been out almost three months, and the thrill of booze was already gone. Still, he knocked the shot back and waved a finger for another. He had to keep up appearances, after all. His feet hurt from the damned cowboy boots. Like wearing high heels, and I ain’t no damned bitch. But it was required these days, just like the tuxedos had been back before he went away. A man had to look the part, fit the role, or no one took him seriously. He’d learned that years ago, and was grateful to Jangles for bringing him up to speed on what had changed since he’d been away. Jangles, known to his mother and one or two sisters as Juan, downed his own tequila shot and grinned. “It is good to drink on a day like this. Don’t you agree?” “Any day is a good day for tequila, my friend.” Hector let the lie slide easily off his tongue. If he had to drink he preferred rum. But the price of the deal was often high. “But I’m tired of waiting. When is this friend of yours supposed to arrive?” “He should have been here fifteen minutes ago.” Jangles shrugged. “But what can you do?” “Find another woman. That’s what I can do.” Hector’s smile was genuine. He still wasn’t tired of women. Not after almost ten years behind bars. “But will those women lead you to Burnett? Or the other one?” Hector turned, feeling the tequila fanning his anger. “You weren’t the one who went down for that buy, Jangles.” “No. I know. But it’s not easy finding Burnett these days. No word for over a year. It’s likely he either finally got killed or changed his name and bought some island somewhere. Are you sure he’s the only way?” “Even in prison I never found anyone else who did business with Cooper. At least not more than once.” Hector stared down at his tequila. “At first I thought Burnett might be a cop, but there’s no way he could be. Not with everything he did. No cop would have been allowed to take down the Carrera organization like he did.” “You know about that?” “Word travels, my friend. Even in prison. No…there’s too much blood on Burnett for him to be a cop. But the other one…that Cooper. Him I wonder about.” “And now you can ask.” Jangles nodded toward the club door. “About time you showed up, Ramon.” In prison Hector would have wondered what gang had turned out Ramon, but out here he was learning what they seemed to call the metro-sexual look went over well with the ladies these days. Ramon’s clothes were just too tight for comfort, and he might even have been wearing eyeshadow. But he had a grin like a shark when he saw Jangles. “Juan! Long time no see, pal. Bartender, get me a Cosmo.” “Ramon, this is Hector. He’s the one I told you about.” Hector’s smile was thin. “A pleasure. Did Juan here tell you what I was after?” “Information.” Ramon’s face pinched as he tasted the drink. “Tastes like piss, but you can’t expect much in a dump like this. Let’s grab a table and talk.” Once they were seated and more drinks ordered from the strung-out waitress, Hector leaned across the table. “I don’t have time for games. Do you know Sonny Burnett?” “Burnett. Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in over a year. One mean son of a bitch, let me tell you. How else could he have taken apart two cartels? I also heard some talk he had a hand in blowing away those South American nutcases who tried to set up some kind of protection racket two years ago.” “So you got a hard-on for the guy. Is he still around?” “Look, Hector. I worked for him when he ran the Carrera organization. So while you were in prison writing home for more soap on a rope I was hauling loads for the man. Forty key loads. Twice a week, sometimes more.” Ramon leaned across the table, his eyes suddenly dangerous. “Don’t mistake the clothes for the man, amigo. It might be the last mistake you make.” Hector raised his hands. Shit. I gotta get this game down again. “My mistake, mano. Juan didn’t say you worked with Burnett. Only that you knew him.” “You think I’d tell Jangles shit like that?” Ramon laughed. “Some of the old-timers have long memories. And Burnett did leave one or two enemies alive.” “So what happened to him?” “Why do you care?” “It’s not Burnett I’m after. Not really.” Hector took a deep breath. He hated it, but he couldn’t see any other way forward. “It’s a guy he ran for from time to time. Before the Carrera and Manolo business, anyhow. Black guy from New York. Called himself Cooper.” “Why Cooper?” “I think he set me up to be busted. Hell, I think he might have been a cop.” Ramon grinned and sat back. “You know, Burnett thought the same thing. I was part of a crew he took to meet some dude at an old lighthouse. Black guy like you said, but he was posing as some kind of Island hotshot. Burnett took a shot at him and said he was a cop.” “The guy I dealt with was New York. No mistaking that. But I didn’t meet him and Burnett at the same time.” “So how…” Hector shrugged. “I had some weight I needed to unload. I knew Burnett from a load I’d run for the Mendozas and met up with him. He said he wasn’t into that side of the business, but that he’d heard of a guy who could handle the weight I had. Guy he’d moved weight for once or twice. Out of town guy named Cooper. It was fifty keys and the Mendozas weren’t buying. I needed to get rid of it fast, so I didn’t look too close at Cooper. Just called the number.” Now it was Ramon’s turn to shrug. “Might not be the same guy. Cooper’s not a rare name. But Burnett never forgot a face. If he dealt with your Cooper, he’ll know where to find him. And if he’s a cop, I’ll bet he’d like to help you even the score.” “So does that mean you can get in touch with him after all this damned dancing?” “I don’t know. I’ll make some calls, put the word out. But he ain’t been active for over a year as far as I can tell. That only happens when guys get out of the game, either on their own or because someone took them out.” Ramon grinned, and when he blinked Hector was sure he was wearing eyeshadow. “Meet back here in two days. With or without Jangles. I’ll know more then.” “And what will you want for this favor?” “Nothing, man. If Burnett’s still in the game I’ll be looking for a job. I made damned good money running for him, and that was even at the lower level. And if he’s out, at least I’ll know that for sure and move on. Maybe hire on with you, Hector. I heard about you. You’re a climber and no mistake.” Hector just nodded, waiting for Ramon to leave the table. After a minute the kid got up and headed over toward the bar. Jangles let out a long breath. “Man…I didn’t think the kid had gotten that weird.” “So far he’s the best lead we’ve got, so I’ll tolerate him for now. But you can bet I don’t trust that puto as far as my arm.” Hector finished his shot and glared at the empty glass. “You can stay here if you like. I’m gonna go get me a woman. Maybe two.” What the hell is this coming to? Bad enough I have to dress like a damned cowboy, but I’ll be fucked if I’m gonna dress like some cell block punk. Tossing a twenty on the table he got to his feet and headed for the door. The strip club they’d passed on the way to the bar was as good a place to start as any. Narrow daggers of sunlight coming through open portholes stabbed into Sonny Crockett’s eyes, waking him better than any buzzing alarm clock. They’d dropped anchor just off the coast, and he could feel the gentle motion of Tranquility as she moved with the waves. Jenny was still sprawled partway on him, her soft hair fanned out over his face. She whimpered as he shifted, sliding her hand over his chest before settling back down again as he eased out of the big king-sized berth. He didn’t want to wake her just yet. He made a cup of instant coffee in the galley, letting the smell fill his nose before taking the mug to the Memory Room and sinking into the sideboard couch. The night hadn’t been restful, and he looked at the pictures on the mahogany walls. Trying to find the peace that had eluded him in the darkness. The picture of Hector had churned up memories. Things he’d hoped he’d left behind when he dropped his papers. He hadn’t mentioned the man to Jenny, not wanting to worry her more than she already was. Whatever vibe she was getting had her good and spooked, and he didn’t want to add to the load she was already carrying. He wasn’t surprised someone would be looking for Burnett. It had been more common about a year ago, but players change and names fade. Especially as the drug trade spiraled into more and more violent cycles. Yesterday’s punk was today’s kingpin and tomorrow’s corpse of the day. What bothered him was the why of it. Hector had been in prison. Guys like that when they got out tended to have revenge on their minds. Or maybe the guy was looking to get back in the action. Rico was right…it had been his bust, not Sonny’s. Still, the idiot had started the slide show in his head. Starting with the dead eyes of the crazed Columbian Tommy Lowe had sent after Caitlin that first night on the water. Then the shocked disbelief in Hackman’s eyes when he saw the truth and knew Sonny was going to kill him. There were others, too…nameless faces from his time with Manolo and the Carreras. Once he would have reached for the Jack Daniel’s bottle when the dreams stopped, but now he knew better. “I knew you’d be up here.” Jenny’s long blonde hair draped over her shoulders, just touching the tops of her high breasts. “You had a bad night.” “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” “I felt you leave.” She settled down next to him, her naked skin smooth and soft against him. “It was that man, wasn’t it? The one Robbie told you about?” “Yes and no.” Sonny took a sip of coffee. “He just kinda got things started.” “Who is he?” “Guy named Hector. That’s all I know.” He touched her thigh. “Seriously. That’s about all I know about him. He came to Burnett back in ’89 or so with some coke and I passed him off to Rico to make the bust. Burnett wasn’t a big dealer back then, and there was no way I could have him front the cash the deal needed.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t a big bust even back then. Hell, I barely remembered it until Rico said he took the guy down.” “So he’s not looking to get even?” “I doubt it, darlin’. More likely he’s tryin’ to get back in the game after he did his time and my name’s one of the few he knows.” He let his gaze slide to the picture of the Task Force. “We didn’t leave too many of the old ones out there.” “I know. But he’s not the only reason you had a bad night.” “No. He started it, and it just went from there. Too many faces and too many memories.” He touched her thigh again. “Like I said, I didn’t mean to wake you.” “Which ones are the worst?” “The ones I don’t know. Most of ‘em from my…when I was Burnett. They’re mostly just faces. No names with ‘em. No idea what they did. Just that I shot them.” He looked away from the picture, his eyes seeing nothing. “There aren’t many, really. Not as many as you’d think with the reputation Burnett has. But enough.” “They were all bad men.” There was no question in her voice. “Burnett is still you, Sonny. You don’t hurt people who aren’t bad.” “Yeah.” An image of Gordon Cavis, the kid he’d shot during the Monroe Jackson case, floated through his head. The kid had been part of a Chicago street gang, and given what he’d learned after looking at his juvenile record Sonny had no doubt the kid would have shot him without blinking an eye. But had he been born bad, or did someone make him that way? He’d visited Gordon in the hospital a few times, but a crush of cases and then Caitlin took priority. By the time the dust settled, including what Tubbs liked to call ‘the Burnett Incident,’ the kid was gone. Checked out of the hospital and vanished. Sonny liked to tell himself the parents had come down from Wisconsin and taken their son home, but his cop side know different. In all likelihood the streets, either those in Miami or back in Chicago, had swallowed him up. “We’re all surrounded by ghosts, Sonny. Sometimes they visit, other times they just watch.” She touched his arm. “But they don’t control you. Say hello and let them go.” She looked past him at the narrow porthole. “We should weigh anchor and get moving if we want to make that meeting this morning.” He smiled, knowing she was right. About everything. “Yeah. I’ll head up and get started. You might want to at least put some shorts on first.” He raised his hand. “I know there’s no one but me out here to see, but I remember what you said about rope burns…” She giggled, tossing her head so her hair floated behind her back like a golden cloak. “And we don’t want any of those. One last look and I’ll see you topside.” They made good time, tying up at dock at Caitlin’s House with almost half an hour to spare. Once they were ashore, Jenny stretched up and kissed Sonny lightly on the lips. “Go find Rico. I need to talk to Gina and then maybe Mindy.” He nodded, running his hand down her back to her backside. “I’ll be seeing you in a bit, darlin’. Don’t cook up any big plans with those two.” He found Rico sitting in his office, his attention split between the computer screen and a file open on his desk. His old partner smiled when he sauntered in. “Well, well. I’d say look what the gator dragged in but we know Elvis was always too damned lazy to drag his food.” “Yeah. He was. Gotta give the old boy credit where it’s due.” Sonny chuckled and set himself flop into a chair on the other side of the desk. “I wonder if he’s still around.” He paused, searching Rico’s eyes. “Out with it, partner. You’re still thinking about him, too, aren’t you?” “Hector? Yeah.” Rico shrugged. “Just when you think you got the Job behind you it comes up and bites you in the ass.” “He was your bust, not mine. Remember anything special about him?” “Naw. I didn’t even remember him until last night. Stared at that damned picture for almost an hour until it came to me. Just your average coke chump trying to push his way up in the game. Maybe a bit nastier than some, but not in the big leagues. I didn’t think he was due to be released for a couple years yet.” “You know how good behavior works, Rico.” Sonny chuckled. “I went through it all last night, and I don’t think I’d heard squat about the guy before that deal, and not a peep after he got busted.” “Same here. Hell, he was probably lookin’ for Burnett because he’s lookin’ for work.” “Same thing I settled on.” Sonny shrugged, stuffing Hector into his mental locker. “What’s going on today that couldn’t wait?” “It’s more of an in-house update.” Rico closed the folder and leaned across the desk. “Mindy and Trudy got started on the Post and that reporter. Mindy won’t tell me what they found, but she said they already got some interesting stuff.” “Not married two years yet and she’s already keeping secrets?” Sonny grinned. “Not lookin’ good, partner.” “Oh, she’s lookin’ fine as always.” Rico chuckled. “Let’s get up there so you can see for yourself.” Settling into his chair at the head of the table, Sonny’s mind went back to those meetings on the tenth floor with the Task Force. Rico sat to his right, Gina and Mindy to his left. The biggest difference was Jenny, sitting just off to one side like she didn’t belong. When he motioned for her to move to the table, she shook her head. “It’s business now. Different business.” Nodding, he turned back to the table. “Ok. What do we have?” Mindy shuffled some papers and cleared her throat. “The Post was in trouble until about three years ago, when they were bought out by an LLC registered in Luxembourg.” “Seriously?” She nodded. “Trudy and I managed to trace some of the LLC’s holdings back through Panama before we lost the trail. We don’t have the resources we used to, and public records are pretty theoretical once you hit some parts of the world. But the profile fits one of the bigger narco syndicates.” “I get them needing to launder money, and given how much they rake in they gotta aim big. But a paper?” Gina nodded. “It makes sense, Sonny. What better way to distract the public during a big case than to run topless celebrity photos? Or a nice, juicy piece hinting at some kind of wrongdoing on the part of the prosecution or cops involved? The Post was always big on innuendo and low on proof.” Mindy smiled. “And they can send ‘reporters’ sniffing around places without a second glance.” “How much control does this LLC actually have?” “They own the operation, but don’t seem to have made any major personnel changes. Some in the accounting department, but other than that…” “They wouldn’t need to.” Rico chuckled. “Just encourage some of the chumps already working there and you’re good to go.” “That’s what we think they did.” Mindy flipped through her notes. “Which brings us to Jimmy Campbell. He thinks he’s Woodward and Bernstein rolled into one, but he’s really not much more than a hack. Got fired by all the major papers in the metro area before the Post took him in.” “I put in a couple of calls to some of my new friends,” Gina said. “Funny how nice the press can be now that I’m not a cop and have a position with a rehab facility. Anyhow, none of them would go on the record but they all said little Jimmy was let go because he was loose with the truth in most of his stories. Fact-checkers hated him. One guy said the staff took to calling his stories toilet paper because that was all they were good for. But they also said he had a knack for headlines and lurid crap that would get people to look at his stories.” “So he’s a dream date for the Post.” “Something like that. But none of my sources had any idea why he’d be so hot for us.” “Whatever it is, it’s gotta be big.” Rico leaned back. “Chump don’t seem to care about breakin’ the law.” “Did he have any special beat before the Post? Hell, even with the Post?” Sonny looked at Gina and Mindy. “Maybe he’s got a thing for hookers and we reformed his favorite girl.” “He did crime for the Tribune and was in the news pool for the Sun Times. What we could find of his by-lines didn’t look too impressive. A couple of ‘exposes’ that were just lurid hooker tales with the Tribune, and one of them got him fired. Seems a city councilman didn’t care for his daughter being mis-identified as a hooker.” “It’s obvious someone’s got his back, though. With that microphone and all. Chump must be selling a damned good package to someone at the Post.” “Good work. Keep on it. We need to stay ahead of this and not end up playing catch up.” Sonny looked around the table. “If this was the old days I’d have Stan and Lester lay in wiretaps. But we can’t do that any more. So I want extra security on the perimeter. Rico, have those two sweep the phones daily now. Just because we play by the rules doesn’t mean Campbell or the Post will. In fact, I’d lay odds they don’t. See if Stan thinks there’s areas we’re missing, and if so have him plug the gaps. Those two have forgotten more about surveillance than we’ll ever know.” “You got it, boss.” Mindy smiled as she lapsed back into old Task Force language. “Sorry, but it feels kinda like…” “We’re back on the job. Yeah, I know. In some ways I guess we are. Just stay sharp, people. Mindy, let Trudy know what’s up when she comes in. I’m guessing she’ll check in with you first before she meets with Gina.” He looked around. “Did anyone have anything else? Even if it’s just general?” It was half an hour before Sonny found himself out on the familiar deck looking out over the yard. Memories flooded over him as he watched the green grass shifting like water in the light breeze. Most of them circled back to the afternoon when he and Cait had agreed to try to make it work…and when he’d decided to leave Metro-Dade to be with her. “Just a few cases to wrap up,” he whispered to the humid air. “That’s all it was. And we were so close…” “When did you want to head back?” Jenny’s soft voice snapped him back to the present like a kick to the head. “We can do now, darlin’. I was just taking a moment. Always did like how the yard looked from here.” She smiled, taking his hand. “I know what this spot means to you, Sonny. It’s ok. But we need to be here, not. Not there, then.” “I know.” He paused. “I think we might have to stay at the marina for a few days. Those contracts should be ready and the renovations are gonna start. I don’t want to be too far away when that happens.” “Neither do I. I can help with the sailing program.” She smiled, but he could see the sadness in her eyes. “Some of those girls have never even been on a boat before.” “You’ll be great, darlin’. Just like Trudy is.” “We should go see Martin. He must be lonely with her working here.” Sonny smiled. Jenny never called Castillo ‘Marty.’ It was always his full name. Like he’s her older brother. But they’re both so in tune with whatever it is they hear they could be brother and sister. “Yeah, I expect he is. He’d never admit it, though. We can drive out there tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got to go over and hopefully sign those contracts in the morning, but we’ll be done by noon.”