Firebreak (Josie Gray Mysteries #4)(65)
NINETEEN
Josie followed Otto out the police department door at six o’clock, arguing with him over her plans for the evening. He was convinced her social life needed a boost, and he couldn’t accept that she didn’t want to participate in the same activities as he did.
“People hear the word polka and they prejudge,” Otto said. “If you’d give it a chance once I think you’d enjoy it. You’d like our friends too. And there aren’t just old people there. There’s young people, your age even.”
“Seriously. I just want to go home and relax,” she said. “I’m happy with a night on the couch.”
“It’s Saturday night! A young woman your age ought to be out socializing. Meeting people.”
Josie unlocked her car door. “Tell Delores you did your best, but you just couldn’t make me budge. You guys have fun tonight.” She waved and got into her car. She loved Otto, but his persistence annoyed the hell out of her at times.
Before she pulled out of the parking space she checked her cell phone: a missed call and voicemail from Nick Santos. The hostage negotiator’s name caused an instant spike in her heart rate and a dread of what was to come. She’d not heard from him in over three months, when he’d filed a final report on the kidnapping and provided an update on the Medrano cartel. The word on the street in Mexico was that the Medranos had recovered the millions in stolen drug money that had been tied to Dillon’s kidnapping. Nick had explained this story was the Medranos’ way of saving face, and ultimately, the approach had most likely saved her life. They’d had no reason to retaliate if they had recovered their money. But in reality, the money had actually been remanded to the feds the night they had recovered Dillon.
Nick had stressed that Josie should not travel to Mexico. He felt the Medranos had bigger issues at home to deal with than traveling to the United States to kill a police officer. But she also realized the cartel’s leader, the Bishop, could have killed her years ago when he’d had the opportunity. On her darker days she acknowledged to herself that she was alive because he wanted her alive. She was a pawn to him in a game that she didn’t fully understand.
Josie dialed Nick’s number hoping for something other than disaster.
“Josie!”
She smiled at his voice. He lived in Mexico as a kidnapping negotiator but he had been born in South Texas and had spent most of his life in the U.S., including a stint in the military and eight years as a city police officer in New Jersey. He still had traces of the Jersey accent and the tough mannerisms of a street cop.
“Hey, Nick. How are you?”
“I’m okay. Listen. I’m coming through Artemis this evening. I’m staying in Marfa tonight. On my way to a job in Alpine tomorrow. Thought I’d stop in and buy you supper.”
“Oh!” Her mind went blank. It wasn’t at all what she had anticipated.
“Don’t sound so happy about it. Bring Dillon. I’ll buy you both dinner at that Tamale place. I’ve been craving a fat burrito.”
“Well, Dillon won’t be coming. He’s left.”
“What do you mean he left?”
“He left me. He’s moved back to St. Louis to start a new life.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“I bet you have statistics that would have predicted this,” she said.
“Okay. So let me buy you dinner without Dillon.”
She laughed at his inability to accept anything but yes. “Okay. Dinner would be nice.”
“See you in an hour?”
“That’ll work.”
Josie glanced at her watch. It would give her just enough time to get home, shower, and dress.
At precisely 7:00 p.m., Nick Santos pulled into her driveway in the same black Lexus SUV that had been parked in her driveway while he lived at her house during the negotiation. Nick had moved in, commandeering her spare bedroom as his own and using her dining room table as a workstation. But he had been neat, polite, and stayed out of her way as much as the situation permitted. Josie had grown fond of Nick and valued him as a professional and as a friend.
Josie dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a white camisole top, and dried her hair and put it up in a messy bun. She never wore makeup, but she did take the time to apply lip balm. As she looked in the mirror at her shiny lips, she thought it felt a little like playing dress-up.
She realized she had butterflies in her stomach and tried to blame it on the idea of spending an evening with a man she didn’t know very well. But that wasn’t exactly true. She had lived with him. He had seen her at her absolute worst and probably at her best. They knew each other in the extremes, but hardly at all in everyday life: she had no idea what kind of music he liked, what he did in his spare time, whether he liked sports or art or driving fast. What she did know was that he was a hell of a negotiator, and he was committed to his work above all else.
Josie smiled as she opened her front door to greet him.
“Hi! It’s good to see you!” She smiled and watched him walk up. He wore jeans, black work boots, and a white T-shirt that fit snugly around his biceps. Nick was a stocky, well-built man by nature, and he also worked out daily to stay in shape for the job. He had short black hair, reminiscent of his days in the service, and black piercing eyes: a man born for law enforcement.