Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(34)
“The bastards broke into my home. They have kidnapped one person and killed another. They operate with a different set of rules that we don’t understand. I want to at least talk to Santos about the earnest money. I need advice, Otto. I don’t know where else to go with this, and your support would mean a great deal to me.”
Otto caved and finally nodded. “All right. Make the call.”
*
Josie dialed the number and was surprised when the call was answered. After the Arizona senator’s release Santos’s reputation as a first-rate negotiator had spread all along the border. Josie had assumed he would be hard to track down.
“Santos.”
She felt hot with anxiety and beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. “My name is Josie Gray. I’d like to talk to you about a kidnapping.”
“Where you from?”
His dialect surprised her. Expecting a Spanish accent, she instead heard New York City, the voice of a tough-talking street cop.
“I’m the chief of police in Artemis, Texas. Across the border from Piedra Labrada.”
“Who was kidnapped?”
“A community member. An accountant named Dillon Reese.”
“Is he family?”
She hesitated. At thirty-four she could hardly call him a boyfriend. “He’s a … close friend.”
“Your lover?”
She hesitated.
“It matters,” he said.
“Yes. We’ve been seeing each other for several years.”
“You married?”
“No.”
“So, you’re a small-town cop making minimal. He’s an accountant, but you aren’t married, so you have no legal access to his money?”
Josie was caught off guard by his pace. “I don’t have access to his money, but I don’t think he—”
“I’ve been negotiating for ten years. I’m good. And I’m expensive. I’m sorry to say this, but a cop’s paycheck won’t cover my expenses.”
“Just talk with me about the case. Give me an estimate. I’ll find the money.”
He laughed. “You don’t find money, not during a negotiation. The money is there, or it isn’t.”
“Give me thirty minutes.”
He hesitated and she could feel him giving in.
“Who’s working the case?”
“Local police. We just brought in the FBI last night.”
“You talk to anybody in Mexico yet?”
“Sergio Pando. He’s a Federal and a personal friend. He’s the only one. What city do you work out of?” she asked.
“Wherever the case is.”
“Are you close to Piedra Labrada?”
He cursed under his breath. “My location isn’t really the issue.”
“I live in Artemis. Just across the border from Piedra.” She paused, trying desperately to come up with the hook that would get him to talk with her. “It’s the Medrano cartel. I’m sure of it. I have a history with them. I just need some preliminary advice.”
He cursed and took a moment to respond. Finally he said, “Tonight at seven. Preferably your home so I can see the setup, but I want you by yourself,” he said.
“I received communication from them last night. It’s a nine-million-dollar ransom, and they want fifty thousand tonight by five o’clock.” She felt the panic in her throat as she looked at her watch. “I don’t know what to do.”
He whistled. “You got money.”
“What do you mean?”
“They don’t start at nine million for a cop. Unless they know there’s money somewhere. Family money, friends.”
“I don’t have money. Anywhere. My bigger concern is the fifty thousand they want today. Or Dillon is—”
“Look. You give them what they want on the first round, they know they got a money cow. Next demand they double it. Negotiate.”
“What do I say if they contact me? ‘Sorry, I can only give you a thousand out of my savings account’?”
“Shit. I been back home two days,” he said. He was silent for a moment, as if reconsidering. “Fine. I’ll be there at four, but we meet at your place. How’d they contact you?”
She told him about the phone that had been left in her home, as well as the pictures of Dillon and the ransom letter.
“Text me directions to your house. See you at four o’clock.”
Otto looked intently at her over the top of his reading glasses. “Well?” he said.
“He’s meeting me at my house at four. He’s not agreed to take on the case. He knows I don’t have any money. But he’s at least agreed to talk with me tonight.”
“And how do you plan on breaking this to our FBI partners?”
“I don’t. I would like to keep this confidential. Just for now, until I can talk with him.”
The door to the office suddenly swung open and Marta walked in, wearing blue jeans and a white polo shirt. It was only nine in the morning and her shift didn’t start until noon.
She pulled out a chair and sat down next to Josie at the conference table. “Just wanted to check in. Anything new?”
Josie had called Marta after the FBI agents had left the night before and filled her in on the situation.