phone. Gone. He swore. He needed that phone. He nodded to the men on the floor. “They must’ve taken my cell.”
Chavez took out his phone. “Give me her number, and I’ll call.”
Joel closed his eyes and tried to recall Bailey’s number. He gave the sergeant what he thought the number might be.
Chavez dialed it, then disconnected. “That’s not the number.”
“That’s why I need my phone. I can never trust my memory.” He tried once more to visualize Bailey’s number, but it was no use. Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry. If you find my cell phone, it’ll be in it.”
“Let’s see.” Chavez rifled through the pockets of the dead men, producing two black smartphones and a wallet. First he flipped the wallet open, then handed it to Joel. “Yours, I believe.” Then he held the phones up. “And one of these, maybe?”
Joel took the first one he handed him and turned it on. “Not this one.”
The detective powered up the one he held, and it showed a photo of Claire and Maria on the beach. “I assume this is a photo of your wife?”
“My sister.” Joel reached for the phone. He was pretty sure Chavez already knew that.
Chavez moved it out of his reach. “I also assume you have Miss Adams’s cell number in your contacts, so first let’s see if she will answer.”
What was the man’s problem? “Hey, I’m not the bad guy here.”
“I never said you were.” The detective’s hooded gaze said otherwise. He scrolled through Joel’s contacts and pressed Bailey’s number. The call went immediately to voicemail. “She doesn’t seem to be available.” Chavez tossed the phone to him. “Maybe you have another number where you can reach her?”
“Look, Detective—”
“Sergeant.”
Joel took a deep breath. He knew that many of the federal police supplemented their meager salary by extortion. Pretend that a victim was actually the perpetrator, and for a price, the harassment could end. “Sergeant Chavez, let’s stop playing games. I don’t know why they kidnapped me or why they want my niece. If you know, please tell me.”
“If I knew, you would probably be under arrest. The drug cartel doesn’t beat up innocent citizens—they only demand money from them.”
“Well, this time, they did.” He waited for the extortion demand.
“We’ll see. How much insurance do you carry on your niece?”
“I carry five million on both of us. Not sure how much her great-uncle carries.” Joel couldn’t wrap his mind around the sergeant’s strategy, and he didn’t have the time or brain cells to figure it out. He stood, and dizziness threatened to put him back on the floor. “I have to find Maria. With or without your help.”
“You are unable to drive in your condition.”
His car.He’d forgotten he left it in a parking lot near the cafe. Joel felt his pockets. “They took my keys.” Which probably meant the Mercedes was long gone by now. Or stripped.
“Was your house key on the ring?”
Joel nodded. His day had just gotten a whole lot worse. No. Even if they got into his house, he’d locked the safe before he left. Without the combination, it’d take dynamite to get the door off . . . or a plastic explosive.
Chavez’s mouth settled in a firm line. “I’ll take you to get your car, then follow you to your house. Direct me to where you left it.”
Talk was minimal as the sergeant drove. As they turned the corner where Casa del Pan was located, Joel caught his breath. Smoke hovered over what was left of the cafe. He turned to Chavez, and the intensity of his gaze made him flinch. The sergeant had purposefully not told him of the fire to see his reaction. “When did this happen?”
“Not long after you were taken.”
“Maria?”
“No child’s body was found.”
But a body had been found. “Who? Why?”
A slight shrug lifted Chavez’s shoulders. “That seems to be the question of the day. But for your first question, the size of the body indicates it was the
Chavez took out his phone. “Give me her number, and I’ll call.”
Joel closed his eyes and tried to recall Bailey’s number. He gave the sergeant what he thought the number might be.
Chavez dialed it, then disconnected. “That’s not the number.”
“That’s why I need my phone. I can never trust my memory.” He tried once more to visualize Bailey’s number, but it was no use. Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry. If you find my cell phone, it’ll be in it.”
“Let’s see.” Chavez rifled through the pockets of the dead men, producing two black smartphones and a wallet. First he flipped the wallet open, then handed it to Joel. “Yours, I believe.” Then he held the phones up. “And one of these, maybe?”
Joel took the first one he handed him and turned it on. “Not this one.”
The detective powered up the one he held, and it showed a photo of Claire and Maria on the beach. “I assume this is a photo of your wife?”
“My sister.” Joel reached for the phone. He was pretty sure Chavez already knew that.
Chavez moved it out of his reach. “I also assume you have Miss Adams’s cell number in your contacts, so first let’s see if she will answer.”
What was the man’s problem? “Hey, I’m not the bad guy here.”
“I never said you were.” The detective’s hooded gaze said otherwise. He scrolled through Joel’s contacts and pressed Bailey’s number. The call went immediately to voicemail. “She doesn’t seem to be available.” Chavez tossed the phone to him. “Maybe you have another number where you can reach her?”
“Look, Detective—”
“Sergeant.”
Joel took a deep breath. He knew that many of the federal police supplemented their meager salary by extortion. Pretend that a victim was actually the perpetrator, and for a price, the harassment could end. “Sergeant Chavez, let’s stop playing games. I don’t know why they kidnapped me or why they want my niece. If you know, please tell me.”
“If I knew, you would probably be under arrest. The drug cartel doesn’t beat up innocent citizens—they only demand money from them.”
“Well, this time, they did.” He waited for the extortion demand.
“We’ll see. How much insurance do you carry on your niece?”
“I carry five million on both of us. Not sure how much her great-uncle carries.” Joel couldn’t wrap his mind around the sergeant’s strategy, and he didn’t have the time or brain cells to figure it out. He stood, and dizziness threatened to put him back on the floor. “I have to find Maria. With or without your help.”
“You are unable to drive in your condition.”
His car.He’d forgotten he left it in a parking lot near the cafe. Joel felt his pockets. “They took my keys.” Which probably meant the Mercedes was long gone by now. Or stripped.
“Was your house key on the ring?”
Joel nodded. His day had just gotten a whole lot worse. No. Even if they got into his house, he’d locked the safe before he left. Without the combination, it’d take dynamite to get the door off . . . or a plastic explosive.
Chavez’s mouth settled in a firm line. “I’ll take you to get your car, then follow you to your house. Direct me to where you left it.”
Talk was minimal as the sergeant drove. As they turned the corner where Casa del Pan was located, Joel caught his breath. Smoke hovered over what was left of the cafe. He turned to Chavez, and the intensity of his gaze made him flinch. The sergeant had purposefully not told him of the fire to see his reaction. “When did this happen?”
“Not long after you were taken.”
“Maria?”
“No child’s body was found.”
But a body had been found. “Who? Why?”
A slight shrug lifted Chavez’s shoulders. “That seems to be the question of the day. But for your first question, the size of the body indicates it was the
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