No Witness But the Moon(65)

Except Ponce didn’t have a car or a means to get away.

“Jimmy? Are you listening to me?” Adele sounded frustrated. “This isn’t about Marcela’s father. It’s about Yovanna. Marcela told me this gangster gave her a week—one week—to come up with eight thousand dollars or he’d kill her daughter.”

The cop in Vega could see it coming a mile off.

“Let me guess.” He crumpled up his coffee cup and aimed for the wastebasket. It flew in cleanly. “Marcela wants you to give her the money.”

“Not give. Lend. Or find a way to raise it.”

Vega grabbed her hand. “Come.”

“Where?”

“Tell the front desk to call you on your phone if they need you.”

“But why?”

“Because I’m not having this conversation in a public waiting area,” said Vega. “That’s why.”

He walked Adele to her car in the hospital parking lot. Neither of them spoke. Adele got in the driver’s seat and slammed the door.

“What?” she asked him.

“You’re getting snowed, nena. And you don’t even see it.”

“Snowed?” He could sense her tensing. She saw everybody as a broad, open surface of good intentions. He was a cop. He saw the sharp edges and angles.

“Marcela wants a payoff. Guilt money.”

“What?”

“Isn’t it convenient that she should approach you, knowing you’re the girlfriend of the cop who just killed her father?” asked Vega. “And isn’t it convenient that you’re so wracked with guilt right now that she could ask for just about anything and you’d give it?”

“What do you take me for? An idiot?”

“No. Never an idiot,” Vega said softly. “Just a very trusting person.”

“Who can’t tell the difference between a con and a sincere request.”

“You’re upset right now. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“And you are?” She threw up her hands. She had a point there. “You don’t know Marcela like I do. She’s not that sort of person.”

“She’s the daughter of a thief. You think blackmail’s beyond her?”

“She came to me because she was scared.”

“But not scared enough to contact the police. In fact, she doesn’t even want you contacting the police.”

“Oh, and contacting the police is really going to accomplish a lot.” Adele gave him a sour look. “I’m sure Detective Greco is going to fall all over himself to help the daughter of the man you just shot protect the child she just smuggled!”

Vega slouched in his seat. He felt impotent as a cop, impotent as a man. He couldn’t do anything right these days. “Look, I’m not saying Ponce wasn’t in hock to someone. It makes sense. And maybe this thug did contact Marcela and threaten her. But true or not, you can’t give her money. You’d be aiding and abetting—”

“A felony. I know, Jimmy. You don’t have to educate me on the law.”

He touched her knee. He felt her whole body relax beneath his touch. He still had that effect on her. That was something at least.

For a moment, he felt the old energy, the spark of desire to undress her right here, right now. But something strangled it as quickly as it came. All emotion and sensation had gone dead inside of him since the shooting. Hunger. Lust. Deep, dreamless sleep. Light, playful laughter. He caught glimmers of those things but they were like trains speeding through a station. He couldn’t latch on no matter how hard he tried. Would anything ever come back? Would he spend the rest of his life at the bottom of this cold, dark well? He couldn’t tell anybody how scared he was. Not even, sadly, Adele.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked her softly now. “Tell me and I’ll do it.”

Adele sighed. “If I had anyone else I could go to, I would. I know you’ve got enough on your plate. But this is a desperate situation. Is there some way you could make a few inquiries without letting Marcela know I told you?”

“My department impounded the cell phone that was on Ponce when he died,” said Vega. “I’m sure Teddy Dolan got a warrant for a record of all his calls. Not that it’s necessarily come through yet, but if Ponce knew this loan shark personally, there might be a traceable number on there. You borrow a big sum like that; I suspect it’s not a faceless transaction. I can run it by him at least.”

Adele huddled deeper into her coat. “Marcela asked me not to go to the police. I feel like I’m betraying a confidence.”

“You can’t just sit on your hands. What if her daughter really is in danger?”

“You won’t take it beyond an informal discussion with Dolan?”

“Let me see what he comes up with—okay?”

Adele locked up her car and they walked back into the building. They’d just sat down when Sophia’s doctor opened the doors of the emergency triage area and beckoned Adele to follow. She rose. “I’ve got to go. Will you—?”

“I’ll be waiting here when you come out.”

Adele disappeared through the doors. Vega pulled out his cell phone and texted Dolan to see if he’d gone through Ponce’s phone records yet. Vega didn’t say why he needed to know. He thought it would be better to discuss the situation in person. Not that Dolan was answering his texts anyway, it seemed. He checked his messages. There was one from Isadora Jenkins: