He was no closer to finding Salas, the last two hours hadn’t advanced the case at all. It irked him. All he had achieved was using up gas driving from one end of the Third Ward to the other.

  16

  Sat, April 7 10:30 AM

  Cade saw the silver sedan as he hung up. He got a clear glimpse of a white shirt and shades in his rear-view mirror before the other car was turning off onto another street. Cade slammed the pickup into reverse and sent it back in a squeal of tires that were already balding. Reaching the turning that Williams had taken, Cade threw the truck into the turn and floored it. Williams clearly hadn’t expected pursuit, judging by his speed. He seemed to be heading for the nearest on-ramp for the freeway, but was sticking to the speed limit. Cade knew the moment Williams realized that he was being followed.

  He made a hasty right turn, missing the on-ramp and narrowly missing a collision with a driver coming the other way. Cade stayed with him. Williams seemed to be taking turns at random, but Cade had a mental map of the area in his head. Rather than following Williams, Cade took a detour, pushing the limits of practical speed on the narrow residential streets as he swerved around slower cars. He crossed lanes to enter a parking lot through its exit, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a station wagon heading out. Leaving the lot by bumping over the sidewalk, he saw the sedan appear in his rearview mirror and stepped on the brakes.

  Cade saw gray smoke flare from Williams’s tires as he fought to avoid a collision. A car behind swerved around him, the horn drowning out the driver’s obscenities. All down the street, cars braked and blared. Cade was already out of his truck and striding back to Williams’s car.

  “Howdy. I think you and I need to talk, friend,” he said without the hint of a smile.

  Williams looked back over his shoulder as though searching for an escape route, but Cade’s maneuver had effectively jammed the entire lane for fifty yards. A steady stream was already going around the obstruction, blocking the second lane as well.

  “See that lot over there?” Cade pointed to the parking lot he had exited in such an unusual way. “I want you to follow me over there. We can talk about our mutual interest, Victor Salas.”

  Finally, Williams nodded. Cade led the way to the conventional entrance to the lot, which served a nearby community sports center. Williams pulled into a space next to Cade, who again got out of his truck and walked to the passenger side of Williams’s car. The door was unlocked from within, and Cade got in.

  “Real nice to meet you, Mr Williams. That’s your name, right? Mario Williams.”

  Williams looked to be in his early thirties. He had a pencil moustache and sculpted hair. His suit was expensive, as was his cologne. He was fidgeting nervously, seemingly unable to conceal his emotions. Not a cop, fed, or gangster, then, Cade thought. All would be more disciplined.

  “Yeah, that’s my name.”

  “And you’re looking for Victor Salas. Are you going to tell me who you are exactly?”

  Williams cleared his throat. “You first,” he said bravely.

  His momentary bravado broke against Cade’s stoic stare. He had taken off the sunglasses, leaving no filter to separate Williams from the West Texas stone.

  “Okay, okay. I’m an outside broadcast producer for KLXH. Actually, I’m Victor Salas’s boss. I’ve got two guys off sick and need an OB team to head up to City Hall and no goddamned soundman for the crew. Victor’s supposed to be off sick, but I don’t have anyone else to step up. So I came out here to try and find him. What’s your excuse?”

  Cade considered Williams’s explanation for a moment, letting him sweat under the hard-eyed scrutiny. It had the ring of truth, and Williams was clearly not a man used to lying.

  “I’m a PI, working for Ashley Fisher.”

  He dropped the name to see the reaction.

  “You’re looking into Greg Nelson?” came the reply.

  “Yeah. What made you say that?”

  “Doesn’t take much working out. Not much else about Salas to make him worth your time.”

  “Look, it seems to me you haven’t got any loyalty to this guy. Makes no difference to you. So how about I ask you some questions, and if you know the answers, you tell me.” Cade proposed.

  “He was a friend of mine, a good friend. Are you going to make it worth my time?”

  “You know who my client is, right?”

  “Of course. How much?” Williams seemed to recover some of his composure with the scent of money in his nose.

  “Well, now. That depends on you, doesn’t it? In your business, it can’t hurt to have someone like Ashley Fisher thinking well of you, now can it?”

  Williams nodded slowly. Cade could almost see the cogitations as he considered the possibilities. Cade took out the notepad and pencil, flipped to the first empty page.

  “How long have you known Victor Salas?”

  “Since we were kids. We grew up together. Worked together until Victor went off and set up in business with Greg Nelson.”

  “Were they close?”

  “Greg and Victor? Sure they were. Like brothers.”

  “So what happened to break them up? Way I hear it, they came back from Afghanistan and pretty much dissolved their business right then.”

  Williams stared through the windshield for a moment. Outside, the morning had become overcast.

  “I’m going to need something to tell you that, man,” he finally replied. “No offense or anything, but that’s some heavy shit. Or maybe not. I don’t know, but Victor sure thought so. But I don’t know how much trouble I’d be…”

  Cade watched him silently, letting the weight of his stare begin to bear down. Williams was swallowing and clearing his throat.

  “Okay, what do you need?” Cade asked finally.

  “Editor. I want an editor’s job on Ashley Fisher’s station.”

  Cade laughed. He didn’t know what an editor did exactly, but he supposed it was a major step up from where Williams currently was. “I’ll be sure to speak to Miss Fisher about that.”

  “No, man. I’m serious. I could be taking a big risk.”

  Cade’s mirth died away. He frowned. “You know I can’t promise anything, but if your information is important enough, I will tell her, if you think she can do that for you.”

  “Are you kidding me? Anchors are like gods. Okay, man. After he came back from Afghanistan, Victor was in a bad way. Real paranoid, but wouldn’t say why. He started using, cocaine and heroin. Seemed like he was just desperate. We were tight before that. But he just drifted away. No, no. He didn’t drift away. He like, blasted away.”

  Williams was becoming more animated with each word. Cade felt a touch of sympathy. It felt as though Williams was unloading for the first time, and Salas had clearly meant something to him.

  “One minute he was like, the most sought-after engineer in the biz. And he just lost it. Dove into the drugs like he was trying to burn out his mind.” Williams shook his head.

  There were tears in his eyes and he looked away, staring out the side window. Cade gave him a moment and then gently tried to pull him back to his narrative.

  “Was he shutting his ex-partner out, too?”

  “Greg fucking Nelson,” Williams shot back. “Arrogant bastard. Thought he was a hotshot.” Williams made a spitting gesture. “There was something between them, but it was eating them up. I didn’t get what it was until… oh Jesus, I should not be talking about this, man.”

  “Has someone warned you not to?”

  “Yeah, Victor. Made it seem like Watergate or something. Like he was being bugged.”

  Instinct ran icy fingers up Cade’s spine. His gut clenched hard, like he had been sucker punched. He forced stillness to his face, relaxing his muscles against the excited tension of a lead.

  “You didn’t get it until…?”

  “Got a call one night from Chelsea. One of Victor’s girlfriends. Victor had OD’d in her living room. Her partner was coming home from the US Open or something. She and Victor had been partying while he was away, and she was freaking out.”

  “Is she the one that lives down by the university?”

  “Yeah. I made a big mistake going to see her. That guy almost took my head off.”

  “I met him. Golf pro, huh?”

  “Driving range pro.”

  “So, you helped this Chelsea out.”

  “I got Victor out of there and into an emergency room. I stayed with him. That’s when he told me. Said he did it deliberately. Wanted to OD. Couldn’t take the pressure. So I asked what pressure? What’s going on? And he starts telling me about Kandahar.”

  As he spoke, Williams was looking around the parking lot, eyes darting to any movement. His obvious paranoia was draining. Cade found himself tensing, as though expecting a sniper’s bullet to permanently silence Williams at any second.

  “A local man came to them, Victor and Greg, and told them he had evidence of some rogue US soldiers committing war crimes against civilians. He said it was retaliation for a series of suicide attacks that had killed a bunch of Americans. They went with him to a village. Greg was just seeing dollar signs, scoop of his career. Victor said he was dragged there, kept expecting to be kidnapped any second. They saw bodies. People that had been tortured. Fingers cut off, eyes gouged out. Bad stuff.”

  “They filmed it, made a record of it?”

  “Yeah, that bastard Nelson just wanted a Carter, man. Or a IRE award. They interviewed the Afghan who led them there. He told them who did it, unit, and description of the men. Everything.”

  Cade’s mind had already jumped to the next step. There were a lot of controversies in that war. He had watched the twenty-four-hour news coverage just like everyone else, the footage of US troops taken by camera crews. But nothing on that scale. American soldiers accused and identified breaking international law. The US military would have been pilloried by more than half the planet. But there had been no scandal. Nelson and Salas weren’t the next Woodward and Bernstein. No one knew their names. Their business had gone bust. So someone had silenced them. And Salas had gone quietly crazy thinking he was being watched because of what he knew.

  “Before they could do anything with the footage, they were scooped off the streets by the CIA. Bags over the head, all that Guantanamo shit. Took everything and made them sign documents for national security. If they say anything, it’s treason or some shit.”

  “Salas couldn’t take the pressure. Started seeing spooks everywhere, right?” Cade prompted.

  “No, man, Salas kept a recording. One the feds didn’t find.”

  Cade felt the gut instinct again and hit out with a question. “Did Greg Nelson ever find out?”

  Williams shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t really know Greg and didn’t wanna know. Victor told me it was a micro SD card hidden where no one would find it.”

  Cade nodded, but inside he was punching the air. Nelson had known. Of course he had. He had thought he was in the clear; Ashley had helped him get a full-time job at the station, and then he finds out that Salas had kept a copy of the one thing that could send them both to jail without trial for the rest of their lives. And he snapped. Argued with Salas, maybe tried to take the recording from him, then returned home stoked with anger.

  “But I think Victor’s paranoia was catching. The last thing he said to me was that Greg thought someone was following him.”

  Cade felt his phone buzzing and took it out of his pocket. It was Ashley.

  “Thank you, Mr Williams. You’ve been a big help. I’ll put in a good word with Miss Fisher. We’ll be in touch,” he said hurriedly as he got out of the car and picked up the call, getting into his truck. Mario Williams was left openmouthed.

  17

  “I saw him again.”

  Ashley’s words were an adrenaline shot.

  “Where?” He started the engine and backed out of the parking space at speed, spinning the wheel one-handed to turn and head for the exit.

  “At Melissa’s apartment. I actually saw him through the spyhole. He was in the building.”

  “What happened?”

  “He knocked on the door and then ran away. He left a present for me. Jewelry and Greg’s wedding ring. I got rid of it months ago. I threw it away when I moved. I don’t even know how he got hold of it. I don’t know what’s happening to me anymore.”

  There was a note of hysteria in her voice. Cade wondered how much sleep she’d had, if any. His mind was already turning over the new information. It wasn’t enough. He needed to know more.

  “Where are you now?” he asked, not wanting to waste any time on the phone.

  “I’m at a motel. Somewhere in South Houston, off the Gulf Freeway, on the road to Galveston Island. I just ran, didn’t know where I was going. Once I realized where I was headed, I just stopped at the first motel.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “The Traveler’s Rest.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way. Stay where you are. Don’t open the door to anyone.”

  “I don’t think I was followed. When I arrived, I watched for anyone else coming into the motel, and I watched for a few hours last night. I don’t think another car has come in here after me.”

  “Just a precaution, then,” Cade assured her. “You’re probably right. This guy seems to like playing games, so after giving you a scare at Melissa’s place, he’s likely to have gone to ground again. Did you tell anyone else where you were?”

  “Only Melissa. She needs to know so she can clear things at the network for me. They think I’m sick.”

  “Leave it like that. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Please hurry.”

  As he wove his way through the slow-moving rush-hour traffic, his phone rang again. He glanced at the screen for a second before swiping down, hitting ‘speaker’, and tossing it onto the passenger seat.

  “Grillo. What’s happening?”

  “Hey, comrade. Just had a talk with a friend in Homicide. If you want it, I got you a sit-down with Alvarado about your Fisher case. Can you make twelve today?”

  Cade didn’t wear a watch. He glanced at the time on the phone.

  “Maybe, just about. You going to tear up any speeding tickets? I’m heading down League City way, but I should be able to get back across town. Is he at HQ?”

  “Yeah, but I could give you his number if you want to arrange to meet somewhere else. Maybe closer.”

  “He sound interested?”

  “Hey, he’s a politician, wants to be mayor someday. Plays his cards close. But, yeah, I figure this is an unsolved case on his record and this could be a chance to close it out. Would you have been interested?”

  “Still would be. Okay, give me his number. I’ll call him.”

  Grillo read out a number which Cade recited to himself to imprint.

  “Owe you one, buddy.”

  “Buy me a beer sometime.”

  Grillo hung up. Cade punched in Alvarado’s number, fumbling a couple of times and cursing under his breath. It rang out for a full minute.

  “Alvarado,” came a drawled reply.

  “This is Tom Cade. I’m a private investigator working with Ashley Fisher. I’m a friend of Grillo’s.”

  “Yeah, I remember. The ex-cop.”

  “I’m in South Houston. Wondered if you’d like to meet to discuss the Greg Nelson case.”

  “I said I’d see you in the office.”

  “I’m on the other side of town. Think this would interest you.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Greg Nelson looks like he’s about to come back from the dead.”

  “That’s some statement, Mr Cade.”

  “You’re still on the phone, Alvarado.”

  “Detective Alvarado…”

  “Whatever…”

  “Hey, I don’t have to speak to you at all.”

  “You took my call. So, you’re interested. I don’t have to let you lead me all over town by the nose like a prize steer. We could help each other. I need information. Everything you know about Greg Nelson.”

  “In exchange for what?”

  “Everything I find out. Miss Fisher ran out of her home a week ago after seeing an intruder she says is her ex-husband. I want to take her back there to check over the place. You want to come along and bring a CSI maybe?”

  “CSI—know how much they cost, Cade?”

  “Field kit, then. You’re still on the phone. Don’t try to shit me. You’re interested.”

  “Okay. Give me the address. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

  “Make it two.” Cade told him the address and hung up.

  He had decided before even meeting Grillo how to handle Alvarado. He didn’t need to know anything about the man or his character. He was a cop, so possessed a formidable superiority complex. He was a detective, so it was magnified. There hadn’t been many detectives that Cade had liked. They tended to look on uniforms as servants, good for holding back onlookers and standing guard over crime scenes all night. Cade had known he would need to deal with Alvarado as an equal from the beginning or he’d end up being railroaded.

  The sun was flitting in and out of clouds, alternating between sweltering heat and chilling cold. Beth would be sunbathing in this weather, but for the Houston locals it was a little too chilly for comfort. Other drivers were static, going nowhere fast. Cade wove around and between them with enthusiasm beyond his skill. He didn’t need directions, plotting street signs onto a mental map of the city that he trusted more than satnav.

  After passing the university and the airport, the freeway began to shed itself of its choking commuters, and Cade pressed the gas pedal further. The truck rattled as he pushed his speed, sounding distressed. It took another hour of driving before he saw the motel sign. Pulling onto the exit ramp, he watched the passing neighborhood. Ashley’s car stood out, the curtains of the room opposite closed. There were a handful of other vehicles in the parking lot. Cade took his time pulling in and took the first vacant spot. The rooms formed a long line opposite, flanking the office.

 

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