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  No, he had to admit, it wasn’t the injury that had driven the wedge. It was the investigation of Geo Newton’s murder. He wished he could have done more while she’d been in the hospital, but Chief Rambone made it clear they were to stay out of the investigation. In the blink of an eye, the case had been solved and the killer was dead. Zane had no choice but to leave it alone. Or did he? Maybe, just for Kate, he could have looked into it on his own time. But it had been gang related, and he didn’t want trouble with Bario Azteca, not if it wasn’t warranted. Why go looking for lethal trouble?

  These thoughts had been on his mind when he walked into the phone store, clouding his better judgement and attitude.

  “Hi, I’m Sergeant Zane Gwilly with Peculiar PD. I need to speak to the store manager.”

  The young man behind the counter flinched and stepped back. “I can help you.”

  Zane reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone number he’d been given. “I need the call history on this phone number.”

  The kid, because he was only about twenty so Zane considered him a kid, reached out to grab the paper. He looked at it and handed it back. “Sorry, not without a warrant,” he said, his tone smug.

  A huge, not pleasant, smile slowly morphed across Zane’s face. He reached into the breast pocket of his uniform and pulled out the folded sheet of paper. “Not a problem, Nate, what was your last name?”

  He wanted to intimidate this little punk now. Maybe he had warrants. Not that just his first and last name would get him anywhere, but scaring the kid seemed like fun at the moment. Even as he said the words, he knew this wasn’t like him. He wasn’t that asshole cop. But he sure felt like one at the moment, and he didn’t even care.

  Nate took the paper, not even unfolding it to look at it. “What was that number again?” He walked over to a laptop at the far end of the counter.

  Zane read off the number.

  Nate typed away at the laptop while Zane stared him down. The kid kept typing. His brows furrowed, then he moved the mouse around a little and typed some more. “There’s no call history, sir. Nothing. It’s like the phone was activated, but never used.”

  It was everything Zane could do to keep from leaping over the counter, grabbing the punk ass twenty-something by the throat, and shoving his face closer to the computer screen. “Nothing? You’re telling me the phone has no history? Nothing? Are you sure?”

  “I can call the corporate office, sir.” The kid’s voice cracked, not seeming so smug now. He already had his cell phone to his ear.

  “You do that.” Zane looked at his watch and paced.

  How the hell was there no record of any calls to or from that phone? What about tracking? As long as the kid was on the line to corporate, Zane said, “What about tracking the phone’s location?”

  The kid nearly jumped out of his white polo shirt. “I’m on hold, but I’ll ask.”

  Zane wore a pattern in the carpet with his pacing around the showroom while he waited. He didn’t even bother to look at the features on the new iPhone, because he wasn’t due for an upgrade for at least another three months. Looking at his watch again, something caught his eye from the store’s window.

  The silver Pontiac. Same as outside Sousa’s place earlier. What the…but before Zane could step outside to have a discussion with the driver, the salesman approached him like a whipped pup.

  “Sir?” he squeaked.

  Zane didn’t have time to console him as the piss ran down his leg. Not literally. “Well?”

  “Nothing, sir. The internal GPS on the phone has been disabled, so the only way to track the phone is to call it. Right now, the phone is turned off, so it is only going to voicemail, and no towers are pinging. And still the call log shows no incoming or outgoing calls.”

  What the hell was going on? He needed to find Sousa’s phone. There could be key evidence on it, like why he went home instead of to a restaurant for his break. According to the CID report, he didn’t have any food in his refrigerator, and his cupboards were all but empty, except for an unopened bag of potato chips.

  Zane swore the kid expected to be hit when he put his hand out. But Zane only wanted to shake his hand. It took him a second to understand, but he responded with a harder grip than expected. “I really appreciate your efforts. You did everything you could. Sorry I was harsh; it’s been a long day.”

  He stood a little taller. “Thank you, sir.”

  Then Zane asked, “Do you mind if I leave out your back door?”

  Puzzled, he said, “Follow me.”

  Walking through the store’s storage area required a keycard entry, and then another keycard to exit. The exit actually required two cards, probably so no one could walk out the back door with several thousand dollars’ worth of phones. Not that the security cameras wouldn’t witness the entire thing. The kid’s manager, who’d been in the back the entire time, stuck his card in after him, and Zane was out the back door.

  Robert Redford, wearing Rayban sunglasses, sat in the driver’s seat of the beat-up Pontiac Grand Am, half playing Candy Crush, and half watching the store’s front door as Zane approached. He should have been watching the rearview mirror.

  Slipping his Glock from the holster of his duty belt, he approached from the rear driver’s side bumper. Both hands on his weapon, pointing it directly at the driver, Zane said, “Get out of the car.”

  The driver placed his cell phone on the dashboard, then reached outside his open window and opened the door from the exterior. “It’s all cool, Sergeant.” He got out of the car and stood with his hands on his head.

  “You got any weapons on you?”

  He nodded. “There’s also a Walther inside, sitting on the console. A few more items in the duffle on the back seat.”

  His adrenaline pumping hard, Zane said, “Step to the back of the vehicle and put your hands on the trunk.”

  He did exactly as told. “I’m not going to fight you. I’m not going to argue. But when you search me, you’re going to find my name, and it’s Rex Williams. I need to talk to you about Chad Sousa.”

  The skin on the back of Zane’s neck prickled and he felt a tingling in his hands. “Well, no shit.” He patted Rex down.

  “We really need to talk, Sergeant,” Rex said.

  Zane kicked his feet further apart and frisked down his legs, finding another small caliber pistol and a cell phone. He placed both on the roof of the car. “Goddamn, you expecting a war?”

  He pulled the man’s hand down from his head and slipped the cuff on, bringing his other hand down, cuffing it behind his back, then turned him around.

  “Right now, you’re not under arrest. You’re just being detained. The cuffs are for your safety and mine. Just sit tight while I search your car.”

  “You’re not even going to ask permission?” Rex asked.

  “I don’t need to at this point. We call it probable cause.” Zane walked back to the driver’s door and reached inside to unlock the back door of the car.

  He found the duffle bag on the seat behind the driver’s side. A black tactical looking bag was all zipped up except for the one compartment on the near side.

  Inside the duffle, he found a loaded .38 revolver, switchblade, some clothes and several baggies of powder. He needed to get back to his patrol vehicle to test the powder. It would likely be meth, maybe cocaine. Zane also found wads of twenties and hundreds, and another cell phone.

  “Dude, you carrying this kind of cash and driving this piece of garbage?”

  Zane decided he needed to call for backup. He reached for the radio at his shoulder.

  “Please don’t do that,” Rex said. “You don’t need backup. I’m not a threat in any way, and I won’t resist.”

  Something about this guy made Zane think he wasn’t really a dealer. The sleeve of tattoos reminded him of his conversation with Billy. He didn’t key his mic.

  “Sergeant Gwilly, is your chest camera running?”

  So the guy could read, and he’
d called him by his name and rank, so what? It was the mention of Chad’s name that triggered him. That and he looked just like the guy Billy had described.

  It wasn’t, fuck. “Yep.”

  “Do me a favor and turn it off for one minute. There are video cameras in this parking lot that will back any story you have to tell, but what I need to tell you has to be off the record.”

  Zane said, “Go ahead.”

  “I’m not messing with you, Sergeant. Is it off?”

  “The camera’s off.”

  “I’m Special Agent Michael Ulenbacher, with DEA. I’ve been working with the man you know as Chad Sousa. He didn’t report back to me this morning, then the NCIC went out over the wire with the report of his death. I need to know what you know.”

  Shit, shit, shit! Zane knew this was bad when it went down. But he didn’t know this guy, and sure as hell wasn’t taking his word for it. “Yeah, and I’m Ted Cruz.”

  “There’s always a non-believer,” Rex smirked. “Look, I’ve been working with Sousa for six months, and now he’s dead. I can’t blow my cover, so I need you to arrest me. Cuff me and put me in your car. Make sure the dash cam is off, and we can talk. You can haul my ass in, but I need to be out within hours.”

  “If I run your prints?”

  “You’ll get Rex Williams, but my office will get flagged and know I’ve been arrested.”

  “Fine, because you are being arrested. Let’s go.”

  Zane walked Rex across the parking lot to his vehicle. Putting him in the back seat of his vehicle, he shut the door, then went back to Rex’s car to gather up what he’d found and place them in the trunk of his patrol vehicle. After rolling up the windows and locking Rex’s car up tight, Zane walked back to his car, watching Rex sitting completely still in the back seat. He tossed the keys to the Pontiac in with the rest of the evidence and slammed it shut, then pocketed the cell phone he’d found.

  Getting in the driver’s seat, he turned around to face Rex. Or was it Michael? “So what do I call you?”

  “For simplicity, call me Rex.”

  “Fine. Rex, what the hell is going on?” His head was starting to hurt.

  “There’s been a major drug cartel running through the area for about five years, and only recently, we've been able to pinpoint it to Peculiar. That’s when Chad moved here to take the job opening.”

  “I thought you said you’d been working with him for six months. He’s only been here three months.”

  “We needed an opening. You had several in your office, but he had a helluva time getting transferred in.”

  “Yeah, the opening left by my ex-wife getting shot.” Zane’s stomach clenched at the image in his head.

  “Oh, snap, that was your wife? Sorry. That must have been horrific. How’s she doing?”

  Zane didn’t answer his question. “Ex.”

  “Damn, that still sucks, unless it doesn’t, you know?” Rex sort of tripped over his words, then asked, “Did you know that shooting may be related to this case?”

  He had Zane’s attention. “What are you talking about?”

  “That gang. The guy that shot that cop, I mean your ex, Kate Darby, right?”

  “Right.” He really wanted to punch this guy. Damn, he was wound up tight.

  “Oscar Silva. Payaso. He was the lead runner, man. That’s how we were able to trace the ring leader to Peculiar. Oscar may be dead, but his second in command wasn’t ready to face death row, so he squealed for a lesser sentence and no trial.” Rex looked uncomfortable with the cuffs cutting into his wrists behind his back on the hard, plastic seat.

  Damn, this guy had to be for real. He knew stuff. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that whoever killed Sousa may be connected to Kate nearly dying.

  Oscar Silva, better known as Payaso, was reputed to be connected to the cartel. They weren’t from Peculiar, but they infiltrated the town. They recruited dealers and gang members. With recruiting, they brought a mess to Peculiar. Not that Peculiar didn’t have its share of problems with gangs already, but just minor stuff, no turf wars or drive-by shootings. A week after Kate was shot, there was an all-out street fight between a small-time gang that never caused much trouble, and Payaso’s new recruits. Payaso had been stirring up trouble. Even with him dead, initiations were in full swing, and tensions were high.

  Payaso expected his homeboys to walk down the street with a weapon in full view and gun down anyone who questioned them. Everyone knew it, so they ignored them. Besides, Texas is an open carry state, so people are used to seeing guns in public.

  Only problem was felons couldn’t carry a firearm, open or concealed. Soon the holding cells were full, waiting for transfer to the jail. It was a time of sheer craziness. The struggle for control felt like they lived in Mexico, because the cartel was getting the edge. Not everywhere, but they had the east side of Peculiar pretty much wrapped up tight.

  East Peculiar belonged to another sergeant, so Zane hadn’t been directly involved unless brought in for backup. The weirdest part of the whole thing was it ended as quickly as it began. As if word had been handed down, “Stop bringing attention to yourselves in Peculiar.”

  The night Kate was shot, she’d gone to meet an informant in a seedier part of Peculiar, and when she wasn’t looking, she’d been ambushed from behind. She had no way to call for back up because he held her at gunpoint and stripped her out of her uniform, down to her bra and panties.

  Don’t think Kate wasn’t a great officer; she was. This was a situation no one could have imagined. She had no idea she was a target. Silva wanted to rape a cop. Zane wanted Silva’s head on a stick, even if he was riddled with bullets.

  What Silva didn’t count on was that Kate was a smart cop. That idiot thought she was helpless without her belt. No mace, no Taser, no gun. Kate was not only smart, she was quick. He’d beat the shit out of her trying to take her down. Thankfully, Kate had a guardian angel, another drug dealer named Geo Newton. Newton was the informant she’d gone to meet, and he happened upon the attempted rape and shot Payaso. Kate was able to overpower the little shit, got her gun back and unloaded the magazine into Payaso’s chest. But that was after Payaso got off a shot that caught Kate in the gut. They’d later find out the bullet lodged in Kate’s thoracic vertebrae, but the surgery went well. Only there were complications, of which Zane didn’t know the details, but they’d kept Kate in the hospital much longer than she liked.

  Kate’s injuries impacted the city in ways no one would ever understand. A few days after the shooting, Geo Newton was found dead of a gunshot wound. It appeared he opened the door to his house and was shot point blank. That murder investigation was over quickly when the chief announced the killer had been identified and had also been killed by his own gang members.

  Over the next couple of months, Silva’s gang lost eleven members, and with Silva dead, the recruits decided gang life wasn’t so cool after all. Things got back to normal: drug dealing, arrests and meth labs blowing up. Come to think of it, more mom and pop labs seemed to be blowing up, and yet the drugs kept flowing. America’s thirst for drugs was ruining every small town.

  “And how does this relate to Kate and Peculiar?” His mind still on Kate, he knew he needed to get back on the case at hand.

  “Look, Silva’s right-hand man didn’t know who it was, but there’s a dirty cop in your ranks, man. He’s cartel connected. I guess that makes him the baddest of the bad. Double agent. Whatever.” Rex struggled some more to find a comfortable position.

  “Right-hand man? I thought Silva was a small-time pusher.” Maybe not small time, but not cartel either, Zane thought.

  “Look, this is Texas, and any drugs that are sold here came from one cartel or another. And they’re competing. Not to mention the ruthless gangs that get involved who aren’t directly associated with a specific cartel, but work within the ranks all the same.”

  “Like the Bario Azteca members who’ve moved to Peculiar?” Zane said. “But they a
ren’t causing any problems. Other than the one who killed a local dealer named Geo Newton.”

  “Geo is another story altogether. He was one of ours, and I can tell you this, he wasn’t killed by a Bario Azteca member. They just don’t work this far north of the border. If they’re here, they’ve left the gang.”

  Zane felt sick at what he was hearing. A dirty cop, a dead drug dealer who worked for DEA, and somehow all related to Kate being shot.

  “Who’s this right-hand man you mentioned?” Zane hadn’t heard of Payaso working with anyone.

  “Menendez. He got sent up way before all this went down. Even rolled on Payaso, but Corporal Darby took care of that problem for us. Saved the taxpayers a boatload of money.”

  Rex had to be telling him the truth, and Zane suddenly felt bad about cuffing him. “You want I should take those off?”

  “Nah, man, what if someone comes up? This has to look real. I can’t blow my cover.”

  “I thought you were my guy.” Zane rubbed his bald head. “Shit, now I’m stuck in a big way. And you’re telling me things that change the way I’m seeing everything. I’ve been investigating Sousa’s murder with no real map, and now I’m lost.”

  “What do you have so far?” Rex leaned in close to the cage.

  “I ain’t got zip. And I just shot my wad in that damn phone store. I had the cell phone number for Sousa’s phone, but it was a dead end. Even with a warrant, I couldn’t get a history, because there ain’t one. I’m back at square zero.” Zane turned and stared out the windshield.

  “I can help you there.”

  He didn’t even bother to turn around, not wanting Rex to see his frustration.

  “You have my cell phone. There’s a number in there you can call. I’ll give you the code and they’ll know you’re safe. Sousa’s phone was a federal phone, so there’s no way a townie like you is going to get the history. But the Feebs have it, guaranteed. And they know where the hell that phone is, too.”