Mastiff Security Offices

Wren Ryland’s Office

Los Angeles, California

 

Cormac Delaney.

What kind of name was that?

Wren sat back and studied the screen of her computer. Thirty years ago, a woman was found murdered and dismembered in a public park on the beaches of Santa Monica. At the time, cops believed she was the victim of a copycat serial killer, a guy who got his rocks off by imitating unsolved murders. This one was the Black Dahlia. But when they finally arrested and interviewed the killer, he denied having anything to do with this particular murder. He boasted about his other kills, but flat out refused to claim this one.

The cops kept the case open, but no one bothered to take a very close look at it after that because, in their minds, it was solved.

Not in the mind of that woman’s daughter.

And, apparently, there was an FBI agent out of the Los Angeles office who had been looking into it recently, as well.

Cormac Delaney.

Wren had managed to track a couple of inquiries that had come up on some of the databases she’d been monitoring to his office. A quick call to his secretary had confirmed it. Delaney had a certain morbid curiosity that motivated him to look into old, unsolved murders. This was one of his recent obsessions.

Maybe he’d stumbled on something Wren had yet to find.

He was out of town until Monday. She could wait.

Maybe.

She pushed back from the desk and began to stand, but then Andres Maldonado marched into her office for the second time in less than an hour.

“Hey, this is a pleasant surprise!”

He stumbled up to her desk, a storm brewing on his face. Another man came into the office behind him, a sort of bewildered expression on his own face. He closed her office doors at Andres’ gesture, coming to stand beside the taller man.

“They snatched Gray and Alyssa off the street!”

Wren stood, her chair slamming against the wall behind her as she did. “What?”

“She was at her mother’s. The police are there, searching her car and canvassing the neighborhood, like Isaac would be stupid enough to leave a clue behind.” Andres shook his head. “We have to go after her. We have to get them back!”

“Hold on,” she said, raising a hand to slow his roll. “Do you know for sure it’s Isaac?”

“Who else would it be?”

Wren glanced at the stranger. “What does he know about this?”

Andres backed up slightly, looking at his companion. “This is Robert Simpson. He’s with the gang task force downtown.” He hesitated a second, his eyes falling slightly to the floor, the grief overwhelmingly clear on his face. “He’s Gray’s brother.”

Things were slowly beginning to make sense.

“Does he know about the case?”

Andres shook his head.

Andres and Wren studied each other for a long moment, both struggling with how to proceed. Robert didn’t have the patience to wait them out.

“For Christ’s sake!” he cried. “Someone just tell me what the hell is happening here so that we can go get my sister!”

Wren felt for the guy. He could hear the frustration in his voice, but it was a sensitive case that didn’t need to be broadcast all over the city. She crossed her arms over her chest, debating with herself for a long moment. It was clear Andres wasn’t going to say anything without her go-ahead. And she wasn’t sure she should say anything without Durango weighing in on the decision.

But Durango wasn’t here.

“Andres was working a case in which a very important client wanted us to retrieve his son from the company of a drug dealer. Andres went undercover with the Varrio Nuevo Estrada street gang in order to find the boy and to help rescue him.”

Robert’s brow knitted. “This was all about rescuing some kid?”

“He’s seventeen,” Andres said. “A kid who grew up in suburbia and thought it was exciting to run with danger. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into.”

“We got him out, and his father placed him in a rehab facility,” Wren explained. “Probably saved his life, if the rehab sinks in, that is.”

Robert stepped back slightly. “You went on the street and put yourself at risk for some kid?”

“It was the job.”

“Did Gray know what you were doing?”

Andres tilted his head slightly. “She knows I work for a security firm. That’s all she knows.”

“It’s true,” Wren said. “When I went to tell her he’d been arrested, it was clear she had no idea why.”

Robert shook his head, turning away from them both. “She knew you were back with the street gangs. I told her.”

“I know.”

Robert glanced at Andres. “These gangs, they don’t play games. And Isaac Perez is one crazy son of a bitch! He’d sooner kill Gray than let her go.”

“I know.”

There was fear palpable on Robert’s face. It was mirrored in Andres’ eyes, but he wasn’t about to let either of them see it. When he turned to focus on Wren, his face was a mask of control.

“We have to get them back.”

Almost as if waiting for that cue, his cell phone rang. Andres snatched it out of his pocket, frowning as he looked at the screen.

“This is Andres,” he said as he connected the call, pressing the button that put it on speaker so that they could all hear the voice on the other end.

“Well, well, well…am I speaking to Andres Garcia, or Andres Maldonado?”

It was a creepy voice, one that had an instant impact on Andres. His shoulders slumped, and his mask slipped a little.

“Isaac.”

“By now, you are aware that I have your girl and your pretty baby. That dark hair…she’ll be a real beauty when she’s grown. If she’s allowed to grow.”

“Where are they?” Andres barked, losing his cool for an instant.

“Wouldn’t you love to know? You took a part of my family. I took a part of yours.”

“What do you want, Isaac?”

“I want Tommy Klein back. I know you were part of the scheme to take him from me. I want him back within the next twelve hours, or I start shooting. Understand?”

Andres hesitated, his eyes moving to Wren’s. They both knew that giving back the state senator’s boy wasn’t an option. But it gave them time to figure out what to do.

“I want to talk to Gray. I want to hear her voice, want to have proof of life.”

“Don’t worry, Andres, I’ve been down this road before. I know what to do.” There was a pause, and then a woman’s voice, fear making it slightly more high-pitched than normal. But Wren recognized it.

Gray Simpson.

“Andres? Are you there, Andres?”

“I’m here, Gray. Are you okay?”

Andres’ voice broke a little as he spoke. The woman on the other end became calmer at the sound of it, though.

“I’m okay. They haven’t hurt me.”

“And Alyssa?”

“She’s here. They gave her something to make her sleep, but she’s here, in my arms. She’s breathing easy. I think she’s okay.”

Andres nodded, pain dancing in his eyes with guilt. He reached up and rubbed his hand against his forehead.

“Listen, Gray. What I said last night? I was wrong, okay? Do you hear me? I was wrong!”

“I know,” she said softly. “I love you, too.”

“Isn’t that lovely?” Isaac’s harsh voice came back on the line, booming around the room like a bullhorn in a much too small arena. “Twelve hours, Andres, or she’s dead.”

The call went dead.

The three of them stood there, staring at the phone, all too emotional to speak. Andres suddenly dropped it on the floor like he’d just realized it was a snake poised to strike. He rushed out of the room, disappearing like a man running from his darkest demons. Wren rushed around the desk to go after him, but Robert grabbed her arm.

“Let him go. He just needs a minute.”

She stopped, torn between being the person in charge, the person who was supposed to have all the answers in a situation like this, and being the friend.  She’d known Andres long enough to know how he was tearing himself up over this. She knew him well enough to know that if they didn’t get Gray and Alyssa back, he’d never forgive himself. But a moment’s thought allowed her to see that the best thing she could do for him right now was to figure out how to get them back before anyone got hurt.

“How did they know it was him?” she asked aloud. “How did they break his cover?”

Robert shook his head. “Maybe they have a contact inside the jail?”

“No. If they did, someone would have put it together days ago. This just happened. They had no clue last night, or else they never would have let him walk away from that club.”

Wren went back to her desk and used the computer to work her way into the police database, searching for the files that would tell her all about Isaac Perez. What he’d been arrested for, how many years he’d spent in prison, who his known associates were. She needed to know who’d compromised Andres so that she could figure out whom they could trust.

Robert had come up behind her without her realizing it. He suddenly leaned close and tapped a picture on the screen.

“I know him. He works for my father.”

Wren stared at the face of the handsome, clean-shaven man in the mug shot Robert had indicated. Matteo Perez. Isaac’s cousin.

“Did Gray know him?”

Robert rolled back on his heels, his arms crossed as he looked out the window. He hesitated, then sighed.

“My father tried to set her up with him a week ago.”