Chapter Thirty
An overcast sky diffused the sun on that cool fourth of October Sunday morning as Carly walked next to Linc into the Adolphus Hotel. Ross Townsend stood in the lobby. Dressed in khaki slacks and a yellow pullover shirt, his cropped beard shaved to fashionable dark stubble, he waited impatiently for their arrival.
“Getting them to let us view the videos wasn’t much of a problem,” Ross said to Linc as they approached. “Turns out the head of security is former Dallas P.D. He knew your name, said something about the contributions you made to the widows’ and orphans’ fund. He’s got the whole thing set up and ready to go.”
“Good work,” Linc said.
Carly walked with the men into the security area, watched Linc shake hands with a brawny, red-haired man Ross introduced as Marty O’Toole. The security man greeted him effusively, said a polite “hello” to Carly, then left them to work through the videos.
“I went through all the footage they had and located anything you or Carly showed up in,” Ross said. “Most of it’s on one camera. Marty’s got the video set to run from the opening of the ballroom through the end of the evening.” Ross leaned down and clicked the mouse, setting the video in motion.
“This is going to take a while,” Linc said, pulling up a couple of chairs.
Carly sat down next to him and focused her attention on the screen. The encounter had happened early in the evening so it didn’t take long for her to spot the black-haired man who called himself El Jefe.
“There! That’s him right there!”
Linc hit the PAUSE button, pointed to the images on the screen. “There’s where you stopped walking.”
“That’s when I heard his voice. It sounded familiar but at first I couldn’t remember who it was. Then I recalled where I’d heard it.”
“He’s standing a few feet away.” Linc hit PLAY and the video resumed. “You glance down, then turn away, and start walking toward our table.”
“I looked down at his feet. It was all I’d seen of him before. Big feet that turn slightly inward, like he’s a little pigeon-toed. It was definitely him.”
They kept watching. Linc used the zoom to zero in on the man: thick, ink-black hair, olive skin, wide forehead, long nose slightly curved. He was wearing black on black: black tuxedo, black shirt, and black bowtie.
Carly remembered the night of the kidnapping, the way he had slapped her, threatened her, the pleasure he had clearly felt, and gooseflesh crept over her skin.
“Doesn’t look like he spotted you,” Linc said, his eyes still on the screen.
Carly prayed it was true. On the monitor, El Jefe sat down at table twenty-three next to a buxom blonde with big lips in a strapless black dress. As the meal was served, Linc moved the recording a little faster, slowed as the bidding started. El Jefe’s paddle never went up, but the man across from him bid on a couple of different pieces.
Linc moved the video ahead. He was watching El Jefe when the Botero came up for auction, zoomed in when he noticed the man’s interest. When the bidding started, El Jefe made a slight nod of his head and the man across from him, heavyset, small mouth, and balding, raised his paddle. Every time El Jefe nodded, the man increased the bid until finally the painting belonged to him.
The moment the item had been acquired, El Jefe rose from his chair, the blonde stood up, and both of them left the ballroom. At the end of the evening, their chairs remained empty.
By the time Linc turned off the computer, Carly felt drained. Both of them stood up, and Ross Townsend came forward.
“I’ll find out who bought the Botero,” he said. “And get the names of the people at table twenty-three, figure who sat where.”
Linc nodded. “The sooner the better,” he said.
They split up at the front door. The valet brought up Linc’s Mercedes and they went back to his apartment. The plan had been to return to Iron Springs, but Linc wanted to wait till they had the information they needed.
Since they both had businesses to run, sitting around wasn’t an option. Linc retreated to his study, Carly set up her laptop, and both of them went to work.
* * *
It was hard to concentrate with so much going on in his head. Sitting behind the computer on his desk, Linc worked online, going over updates on his New Mexico road construction project, making a couple of suggestions, then returning an e-mail from Millie, reminding him of an upcoming lunch meeting with the head of a small community college that received a substantial annual donation.
Linc asked Millie to postpone the meeting till next week and hoped to hell he wouldn’t have to set it back again. But things with El Jefe were heating up and he had no idea whether or not the pot was going to boil over, or if it did, who was going to get burned.
He returned a phone call in regard to the tire rebuilding plant outside Pleasant Hill, found out the county commissioners would be voting on the project before the end of the month. He planned to be there along with his environmental team, hoped they got the approval they needed.
He was on the land line when his cell phone signaled. Grabbing it off the desk, he saw Townsend’s name on the screen, ended the call he was on, and pressed the phone against his ear. “Cain.”
“I’ve got what you need,” Ross said. “I’m on my way over.”
Anticipation poured through him as the call abruptly ended. Townsend had found El Jefe. Things could start moving now, driving toward a final resolution, whatever that turned out to be.
It was only a few minutes later that the intercom buzzed, announcing the investigator’s arrival. Linc punched in the elevator code and walked out to the living room to meet him.
“Townsend’s here,” Linc said.
Carly rose from the sofa, where her laptop sat on the coffee table in front of her. “He has the information already?”
“Apparently he does.”
The elevator doors slid open and Ross walked into the apartment. He was frowning, not a good sign.
Linc didn’t waste any time. “Who is he?”
“His name’s Raul Zapata. Owns hotels and a chain of fast-food restaurants, all fairly recent purchases. Got a place on four hundred acres in the middle of nowhere out Highway 80 near Big Sandy. Built a house there about a year ago. On Google Maps it looks like a fortress. He also rents an apartment in Dallas.”
“That it?”
“On the surface, there isn’t that much. It’s like he kind of appears out of nowhere. I’ll have more once I start digging. I figured you’d want to know. I came in person in case there were some decisions you wanted to make.”
“That’s good work, Ross. The question is what do we do with the information?”
Carly moved closer. “I think we should call Agent Taggart. The FBI might know this man. Or once they know his name, they can look into his criminal activities. They have ways of getting information we don’t have.”
“She’s right,” Ross said. “If you’re going to stop him, you need help.”
“I don’t like it. We went to them before and it didn’t turn out well for them or us.”
“Do you trust Agent Taggart?” Carly asked.
“Taggart, yes. Even after that clusterfuck with the cargo pickup, I think Quinn’s a straight shooter. Unfortunately I have no idea about the rest of them.”
Silence fell.
Linc sighed. “All right, let me call him, see if I can get him to run with the information and leave us out of it.” Linc pulled out his cell, brought up his contacts and hit Taggart’s number. Carrying the phone into the dining area, he put it on speaker so the others could hear and set it down on the table.
The call picked up on the second ring. “Taggart.”
“Quinn, it’s Cain. I’ve got something for you, but it has to be off the record. No county sheriffs, not your boss, nobody knows but you.”
“You expect me to keep secrets from my superiors? You know that isn’t going to happen.”
“If you want the information, it is. I’ll tell you what we’ve got, but it has to come from somewhere else, not from Carly or me.”
“That’s not the way it works.”
When Linc made no reply, Taggart blew out a breath. “All right, fine. I’ll figure a way to keep you out of it.”
“Good enough. El Jefe was at the Dallas Art Gala last night. Carly spotted him. We went over the video footage this morning and picked him out. Ross Townsend came up with a name.”
The pause was lengthy. Too lengthy. “We’ve already got a name.”
A rush of heat hit the back of his neck. “So you’ve been playing me? You knew who he was all along? I don’t like being played, Taggart. Not even a little. Don’t expect to hear from me again.”
“Wait! Don’t hang up! I wasn’t playing you, I swear it, Linc. We just found out this morning. Agent McKinley is still working undercover. He came up with the name.”
“Which is?”
“Raul Zapata.”
“That’s right. If you know who he is, why haven’t you arrested him?”
“Because his identity isn’t much more than a rumor. Carly can’t press charges—she was blindfolded. There are a million guys with a Spanish accent and big feet in Texas. We need evidence to make an arrest, Cain, which is something we don’t have. Or have you forgotten that’s what we were hoping you could help us get.”
Linc took a steadying breath. “We know he owns hotels and restaurants. We know he owns property out near Big Sandy and an apartment in Dallas. Now tell us what you know.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the case, but I’ll tell you this. At the moment we don’t have squat. No trace of any criminal activity connected to Raul Zapata. Nada.”
“Then you’d better keep looking. That’s what I intend to do.”
“You can’t do that, Linc. You’ll be interfering in a federal investigation.”
“Fine, I’ll do my best to stay out of your way. I’d advise you to do the same.” Linc hung up the phone.
“I can’t believe this,” Carly said. “What do we do now?”
“Exactly what we planned to do. We’re going back to Iron Springs and wait for El Jefe’s call. I doubt we’ll have to wait much longer.”
“You want me to come with?” Townsend asked.
“I’ve got plenty of security on the ranch. I need you to keep digging. And try to do it quietly. We don’t want anyone else getting killed.”
* * *
They left for home that afternoon. Home. There was that word again. It was making Carly more and more nervous. No way could she allow herself to think of Blackland Ranch as her home.
And the fact she had caught herself with those exact thoughts more than once made her realize how badly she needed to get back to her own house, her own life.
As the chopper lifted off the helipad at the top of the Tex/Am building, she thought of her evening with Linc. Besides her near-encounter with Raul Zapata, the night had made one thing crystal clear: her time with Linc was limited.
Half a dozen women had approached him while the two of them had wandered through the crowd, and though Linc had paid them little attention, the opportunities for him to find someone new, a woman who posed a fresh challenge, weren’t going to go away.
The man was rich and powerful, gorgeous and smart, and amazing in bed. Who wouldn’t want a man like that?
True, he was difficult, domineering, and he could be ridiculously controlling, but she had managed to handle him. Another woman could do that just as well.
One thing she knew about men—the grass was always greener—their interest in a particular female lasted only as long as that of a tomcat.
Sooner or later Linc would tire of her and want a replacement and she would be gone.
A sharp pang throbbed in the area around her heart. She knew what it was, recognized the feeling as longing. Linc was everything she wanted in a man, everything she had never found in anyone else. His money didn’t matter. It was the man himself who appealed to her so strongly. A man she could never have.
Which made him more dangerous to her than she could ever have imagined.
An ache rose inside her, a pain that would only get worse after he was gone. She had to do something, had to find a way to take a step back.
She took a deep breath and clamped down on her emotions. For now, her worries about Linc had to be postponed. With all that was happening, she needed to stay in the present, needed to focus on the problems at hand. As long as El Jefe posed a threat, walking away from Linc wasn’t an option. Until Raul Zapata had been dealt with, she needed Linc’s protection.
She ignored a little voice that warned, deep down she didn’t really want to leave. She wanted to stay with Linc forever, wanted to feel protected and safe, the way he always made her feel. Almost as if he loved her.
Carly shook off the thought and glanced out the window of the chopper, saw that they were nearing Blackland Ranch. Vast stretches of open grassland bisected by ravines and meandering creeks lined with foliage stretched off toward the east.
The helicopter swung around, shuddered as it hovered over the asphalt pad, settled, and the rotors began to slow. Carly sighed as the door slid open and they climbed down onto the tarmac.
Besides her problems with Linc, she had a business to run. Tomorrow was Monday. She desperately needed to spend time at the office with Rowena. It wasn’t fair to abandon her friend with only the briefest instructions, hoping her new office manager would somehow be able to figure things out on her own.
She crossed to Linc’s big GMC and Linc opened her door.
“You okay?” he asked, jolting her out of her thoughts.
“As much as I can be,” she answered honestly.
“We’re going to get him,” Linc said as Carly climbed into the passenger seat for the short ride back to his sprawling brick ranch house. “I don’t want you to worry.”
She didn’t tell him Zapata was only one of her worries. “I know,” was all she said.