Spine damage, p.28
Spine Damage, page 28
“Ajuda! Where I am?” A bewildered voice with a heavy Portuguese accent rose from the backseat. The worst timing ever. Liliana was waking up. “Onde estou?” I heard rustling, angled the rearview mirror again and saw her struggling to sit upright.
“Down!” I shouted. She blinked, looked around, dazed. “Get down,” I said again, cursing my lack of her language. I heard a loud crack and realized a bullet had punched through the back window. A look in the rearview mirror confirmed it. A spider web of cracks with a hole in the center spread across the window. I prayed Liliana wasn’t hit, but she was out of sight. Crouching on the floor, or struck by that bullet?
We’d gone several blocks when I looked in the rearview again, calling out to Liliana. Too late, I faced forward, approaching an intersection where a homeless man shuffled along directly in my path, pushing a shopping cart piled with his meager belongings. I slammed on my brakes, barely missing him and sending my little compact spinning donuts in the center of the intersection. By the time I came to a stop, I realized Miguel had swerved to avoid me and ended up squished against the nose of a heavy-duty garbage truck coming from the opposite direction. The burly truck driver stood peering into Miguel’s window.
I shouted, “Is he alive?”
“Yeah,” he yelled back, “but he’s pretty messed up. I’m calling the cops.” He held up his phone, waving it at me.
“I have a sick girl with me,” I shouted. “We’re on our way to the hospital.” I got out to check on Liliana. She was on the floor in the backseat, no longer conscious. I examined her and found no blood, no sign she’d been hit by Miguel’s bullet.
I called out to the truck driver, “I can’t stay. I’ll be glad to testify once I get my girl to the hospital. You can take a photo of my driver’s license, but hurry!”
I pulled out my phone and clicked a few hurried shots of the scene while he jogged over, his torso straining the fabric of a blue T-shirt emblazoned with the late Merle Haggard’s whiskered face. He pointed his phone at my license and clicked.
I put my license away and tossed my purse in the front seat. “That man was trying to kill me,” I said. “Don’t let him get away.”
“You got it, lady. I saw his weapon.” He gave me a thumbs-up.
I started to get back in the car, when the homeless man shuffled over with his hand out. I set my phone down on the front seat while I leaned in to grab my purse. I handed him thirty dollars. All the bills in my wallet. The least I could do, after I’d nearly killed him. He nodded his thanks and slowly made his way to the sidewalk.
Back in the car, I prayed it would start. It did. The confused GPS was recalculating, but I’d made it to the intersection of King and Fourth Streets. From there, I knew the way. As I drove off, the homeless man waved at me, beaming with a toothless smile.
Chapter 38
In the wee hours of Monday morning, I sat at Liliana’s bedside in the Emergency Room watching her eyelids and fingertips, praying for any sign of movement. Blood had been drawn and she had been given Narcan, a drug commonly used to reverse overdoses. The ER doctor seemed confident Liliana would pull through, but waiting was taking its toll. The thought of both Ferrera children in comas was almost more than I could bear. But that was only half my misery. I’d had no word from Nick.
Kiri had reached the hospital not long after I did, escaping unscathed from the firefight at the yacht. She had managed to rescue the other drugged, abducted girl, and both of them arrived via helicopter. In a vigil similar to mine, Kiri sat at the second girl’s bedside in an ER cubicle next to Liliana’s.
Kiri had told me the battle was over and her fellow agents were sorting out the damages on both sides. All the bidders who had attended the auction were in custody, along with the auction’s organizers and armed enforcers—at least those who weren’t in the hospital or the morgue. Bodies were in the process of being identified. No word so far about Dr. Prine or Errol Parkington, except that both had been at the auction.
No word about Nick, either. I closed my eyes, refusing to consider the prospect of life without him.
“Aimee?” I heard Kiri’s soft voice. I opened my eyes. “Want some company?”
“Sure. How’s your girl doing?” I asked.
“She’s coming out of it. Her name’s Sarita, by the way. It means ‘little princess.’ How about your girl?”
“Not yet. I’ve been watching. Hoping.” Kiri’s somber face prompted me to ask about her fellow officers.
“Keeping my fingers crossed. We have two in surgery.”
“Mind if I ask another question?”
Kiri managed a weak smile. “Go ahead. I owe you some answers.”
“Are you really Sanjay’s cousin?”
Kiri laughed softly. “Yes, but not his first cousin from India. I’m second-generation American … from Illinois. Sanjay and I are distant relatives, but we had never met until I needed the undercover job in Dr. Carver’s office.”
“Does Sanjay know you’re DEA?”
“He does now. I spoke to him a little while ago. He said Quinn’s arranged to have Liliana’s parents flown down. Nick’s co-pilot will fly them here in one of Buck Sawyer’s planes.”
I hoped Harry would come along with Rella and the Ferreras. I needed my brother in case of bad news about Nick.
“How soon will they arrive?”
“Another hour or so,” Kiri said.
I glanced at Liliana. “I hope she’ll be awake when her parents get here. They’ve spent enough time at her brother’s bedside in TMC.”
“How’s he doing? Any word?”
“I’m told he’s emerging from his coma, but we’ve been through this before. The last time it happened, he relapsed.”
“Paulo?”
“Yes. That’s his name. You must know it was his gunshot wound that prompted Nick and me to get involved in this case.”
“I do, Aimee.” Kiri smiled. “But it wasn’t me who just spoke his name.” She nodded toward the bed where Liliana lay. “It was her.”
I drew a quick breath and grabbed the nurse’s call button.
“Onde estou?” The girl stared at me. “Onde é o Francisco?”
I looked at Kiri. “What is she saying?”
“She’s asking where she is. And she’s asking for someone named Francisco. Do you know who she means?”
Puzzled, I said, “You mean you don’t?”
“No. We haven’t run across that name in our investigation. It was only recently that we became aware that the two girls were on the yacht. We’ve been tracking this operation for quite some time, but our focus was drugs and other contraband. We weren’t aware of human trafficking.” Kiri glanced toward Liliana. “What shall I tell her?”
“Please tell her that her parents will be here soon. It’s probably best we don’t mention Francisco.”
Kiri spoke in Portuguese to Liliana, who seemed confused, but simply nodded and closed her eyes.
Eric, the nurse who’d been checking on Liliana, came by to take her vitals. As he spoke to her, Kiri interpreted. Liliana managed to open her eyes and murmur responses.
Eric said he would alert the doctor. Arrangements were being made for the hospital’s medical interpreter to come in. He left, asking us to use the call button if we noticed any changes.
“I should get back to my charge,” Kiri said. “We’re still trying to figure out where she’s from. All we have so far is her name.”
“She wasn’t taken from the Azores?” I asked.
“Not as far as I can tell. We’re thinking runaway from the Miami area. We're thinking she’s Cuban American. I’m pretty sure she’s bilingual—Spanish and English—but she’s still pretty incoherent.”
“Are you as disgusted by this as I am?”
Kiri’s lips twisted. “I am. Just when I’m convinced human beings can’t think of anything worse to do to each other, someone comes up with another creative way to prove me wrong.”
“We’re not all like that,” I said.
“Of course not.” She stood, looked down at Liliana. “That’s why we keep doing what we do and hoping we’re tilting the odds in favor of decency and humanity.” She blushed. “Listen to me. I sound like a self-righteous hypocrite.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because that scum Miguel is in critical condition, and I don’t have a forgiving bone in my body where he’s concerned. I honestly don’t care if he survives. It was his idea to auction those girls. I just wish I’d known what he was up to before he drugged them.”
“The doctors have determined that neither girl has been attacked or molested. That’s something to be grateful for.”
“That’s because they were tricked into feeling safe until the night of the auction. And because they were being advertised as virgins. Miguel and the Seashell crew members had been warned to keep their hands off the merchandise.”
“You know, Miguel’s in critical condition because of me. I caused his accident.”
Kiri nodded. “I heard about that.”
“Have you heard the odds of him surviving?”
“So-so. If he does, he’ll have one of the ugliest faces on death row. Does that bother you?”
“Not so much,” I said. She snickered, I giggled. Clearly inappropriate considering the setting and circumstances, but the tension of the night had caught up with us. We had to release it somehow.
Kiri went back to check on Sarita. I was glad we at least knew her name. She deserved an identity more fitting than Jane Doe.
Both girls were soon admitted to the ICU. Because neither girl had family available, Kiri was permitted to stay with Sarita. I was allowed to sit with Liliana.
On our way up to the ICU, I asked Kiri if she’d heard any news about Nick.
“No. I’m only hearing about the people in my task force,” she said. “Nick hasn’t called you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve lost track of my phone. I used it to take photos of the accident. When I got here, I couldn’t find it.”
Then it dawned on me. The homeless man. No wonder he was smiling so happily as he waved goodbye. Oh, well. I had almost killed him.
“I’ll see what I can find out,” Kiri said.
She went back to sit with Sarita. I settled into the bedside chair in Liliana’s ICU cubicle. It was soft and comfy, made more so when her nurse brought me a blanket and a pillow. Although it was past two in the morning and Liliana was progressing well, I wouldn’t give in to sleep. Not until I knew if Nick was safe.
“Aimee.” A familiar voice called my name from the depths of a dream. I was walking on a pier with a curly-haired, sleepy baby riding in a carrier strapped to my chest. The baby’s eyes were the same stunning shade of turquoise as the pristine seawater ringing the beaches of the Azores Islands. The same shade of turquoise as Nick’s. The baby had just drifted off to sleep against my chest when I heard the voice again.
“Aimee?”
“Shhh, you’ll wake her,” I mumbled.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. She’s awake.”
“Nick?” My eyes slowly opened, tugging me out of the dream. “Are you really here?” I was clutching a pillow to my chest.
He set the pillow aside and raised me up into his arms. “I’m here.”
I sobbed, unable to stop myself. “I was so afraid.”
Liliana’s parents were sitting on either side of her bed, holding her hands. “When did they arrive? How long have I been sleeping?”
“A few hours,” Nick said. “The Ferreras have been here awhile. I thought we’d give them some time alone with Liliana. Feel like walking down the corridor to the waiting room?”
Several familiar faces looked up when Nick and I walked in. Harry and Rella were there. So was Buck. The fourth face I’d seen only twice before. It was a remorseful-looking Francisco Santos, sitting next to a middle-aged couple who had to be his parents. After introductions, we asked about Francisco’s graffiti arrest.
The Santos family had been visiting relatives in the Bronx, when two of Francisco’s older male cousins decided to initiate him into city life. An hour of fun with a few cans of spray paint had resulted in Francisco’s DNA turning up in CODIS.
Chapter 39
Faial, The Azores
Peter’s Café Sport in Horta bustled with the usual yachting clientele on the bright, breezy afternoon that our group of happy tourists dropped in. A month had passed since the raid on Seashell.
Fado music streamed from speakers high on the walls, accompanying the lively conversations going on around the room. Mouthwatering aromas redolent of Portuguese cuisine shifted our appetites into high gear. Our party started with Nick and me and two couples: Harry and Rella and Kiri D’Costa and Gus Barba. Gus wasn’t exactly a tourist, having lived there for a time before moving on to Marin County. Then there was Buck Sawyer, on his own since his wife had taken a pass in favor of renting a villa in Belize with a few of her friends. It was heartwarming to see Paulo Ferrera well enough to join us. He was still using a walker, but he was healing, and his brain function had not been impaired by the drug-induced coma.
We found a convenient table and ordered beers and pão de alho, Pete’s famous garlic bread.
The Ferrera family had remained in Timbergate until Paulo was well enough to be flown home in one of Buck’s planes. By the time they were ready to return to the Azores, the rest of us had decided to make another attempt at a vacation. This time, with no mystery to solve.
All the law enforcement agencies involved, including the DEA, had determined that Errol Parkington, BWYC Cruising Captain and former TMC neurosurgeon, was enmeshed in the trafficking ring, as was Dr. Oliver Prine. To my surprise and Cleo’s, Dr. Godfrey Carver was completely ignorant of their illegal activities, even though Carver and Prine co-owned not only God’s Gift but also the new medical building in Timbergate.
Everyone had been wondering how Paulo fit in. We were finally hearing his story.
Paulo knew that some of the marina dock workers were more honest than others. In the week before he flew to California, he found the worker who had been bribed by Miguel to refuel Seashell without documenting the superyacht’s presence at the marina. Paulo didn’t get the yacht’s name, but he elicited enough information to point to Marin County and the Bay Wind Yacht Club. His informant begged Paulo not to tell the police about the bribe. He had a family to feed and couldn’t afford to lose his job, but that was only part of the problem. Miguel had threatened the dock worker’s family. That detail had convinced Paulo to keep the bribe from the police.
Paulo interrupted his narrative to sip his beer, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. Kiri spoke to him in Portuguese, and Gus added a few words, apparently reassuring him enough to continue.
After he arrived in Marin County to look for Gus, he had made a crucial mistake. He spotted Miguel on God’s Gift and heard him speaking Portuguese. Paulo hadn’t been able to find Gus, so he questioned Miguel about BWYC, telling him that he was looking for a superyacht and the people who had abducted his sister. He revealed that information without first asking for a name, which gave Miguel a chance to lie about this identity.
In Paulo’s defense, although he had heard Catia’s story about a man who had lured them onto the yacht, he assumed that man was still somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, not in Marin County.
We learned that Miguel had contacted Oliver Prine for instructions. Prine’s orders were to get Paulo to Timbergate. There were many isolated areas in Sawyer County where, if it came to that, his body would never be found. But first, Miguel must convince Paulo to go along willingly without getting suspicious. Miguel drove Paulo to Timbergate in the guise of helping him locate his sister. He timed the drive so they would arrive at Prine’s office before dawn.
Miguel stopped at Carver and Prine’s new building, left Paulo in the car, and went inside to find Dr. Prine. By this time, Paulo was having serious doubts about Miguel, who seemed more nervous and jumpy with each passing minute. While waiting for Miguel, Paulo searched the car for anything that might explain the man’s shifty behavior. He found registration papers in the glove box made out in Miguel’s name and immediately left the car. He had gone only a few feet when Miguel exited the building, caught sight of him and called him back.
Paulo ran off, veering around behind the building and ducking down the embankment toward the river. He heard gunshots and ran for cover under the bridge, unaware that he’d been hit until his legs buckled and he fell on the rocky beach in full view of the homeless people camped there. Fortunately for Paulo, one of those people happened to be Tango Bueller, CI for the Timbergate Police Department. We all knew the rest of the story.
Miguel had survived and been detained, along with the other thugs working for the traffickers. Charges against them, and the jurisdictions, were being sorted out. Other leads might still lead to additional arrests. Prine and Parkington remained in custody.
Dr. Godfrey Carver’s innocence didn’t excuse his being a pain in the rear, but it did leave TMC with one highly qualified neurosurgeon. Jared Quinn was busy trying to recruit a couple more.
Chapter 40
The food our group had ordered arrived, along with another round of beers. Paulo stood, holding up his drink and speaking in Portuguese.
Kiri interpreted for him. “He says that he and his sister thank us. Their parents cannot begin to express the gratitude they feel for what we’ve done to make their family whole again.”
I choked up as I looked around and realized that it had taken all of us, along with the DEA, Detective Kass, the SFPD and its SWAT team to pull off the raid.
I asked Kiri if she had heard anything more about Francisco Santos. “Is he being charged with any crime?”
“No. But his parents are keeping him on a short leash.” She grinned. “From what I hear, he’s a decent kid. Almost too innocent for his own good. That’s how he and Liliana got themselves caught in the middle of our mission.”
