Family Money(56)

“Miguel Cortez, head of Grande Distributors.”

“Correct.”

“Did he recognize Joe?”

“Joe wasn’t sure, but that was his fear. The guy kept looking at him funny, as if he did, and started asking a lot of questions. Joe got out of the conversation as quickly as he could and then left the gala right away. But he was really uneasy about the whole thing. He wanted to tell us what had happened and put us both on high alert.”

“How did Al Del Luca get involved?”

“Al and I go way back. Spent a lot of years in the field together. Even though I left the CIA to start a new life and have a real family years ago, I kept up with guys like Al. So I reached out and asked him for his help. To look into things for us and see if we should actually be concerned about Miguel Cortez.”

“Did he find anything?”

“Yes. Al called me a few days later, said he’d been to Mexico City and had done some surveillance. He said Miguel Cortez was convinced Joe was actually Daniel Gibson. I texted Joe right away, but it was too late. That’s when you called me and gave me the horrible news.” She sighed. “I told Joe not to go to Mexico.”

I shook my head, felt a fresh wave of guilt push through me. “He tried to pull out of it at the last minute. It’s my fault that he still came with us. I guilted him into it.”

“You can’t blame yourself. You didn’t know. After I spoke with you that first time on the phone, I was still concerned about your family. So I asked Al to hang around you guys for a bit. Both Ethan and I had planned to stay way below the radar for a while. I wanted to make sure there was nothing that tied us back to Joe. But I didn’t realize how far you’d go with all of this.”

“Wait a second? Are you telling me I led them to Ethan?”

Greta finished off her drink, giving me the answer. I sat all the way back in my seat, pressed my hands to my face, feeling like a thousand pounds of weight had just pressed down on me.

“That’s just great,” I sighed.

“As you know,” Greta continued, “the man who Al Del Luca shot out on the sidewalk tonight worked for the CNI. So he was well versed in surveillance. He may have been monitoring your phones.”

“I can’t believe I’m the reason Ethan is dead.”

“Again, you can’t blame yourself, Alex. I should’ve jumped in sooner.”

“Still . . . maybe I will have that drink.”

I stood, walked over to the antique bar cabinet, and poured myself a glass of whatever Greta was drinking. Then I took a big swig of it. “So what happens to that guy out there who Del Luca shot? Won’t the police start asking questions?”

“We have a way of working these things out.”

“We meaning the CIA?”

“Yes. Al will also make sure you stay off their radar.”

“This is unbelievable. Do you think my family is still in danger?”

“I can’t say for sure whether Miguel Cortez will continue to pursue this now that his nephew is dead. We know that Joe didn’t tell them where to find the money because he didn’t know. Ethan always kept it on the move as a secondary point of protection for Joe.”

I walked over to the balcony window. I could see police cars and ambulances and a gathering crowd on Sixth Street below.

Greta got up and stood next to me. “Hey, I want you to know how sorry I am about Joe. And I’m sorry I gave you the runaround this past week. I needed time to figure out what we were dealing with. I have to protect my husband and his potential future in Washington. If any of this leaked out right now, it would likely turn into a big story that could wreck the election for him. I didn’t want to risk that happening.”

“So why did you come to the service today?”

She let out a deep sigh. “I couldn’t stay away. Joe was one of the best men I’ve ever known. I think a small part of me never really stopped loving him, even after all of these years. What we had way back then, even for a brief moment in time, was really special. I had to be there today to say goodbye.”

“Greta, what if I told you that Joe was still alive?”

She snapped her head to look over at me. “What?”

I walked back over to my chair, sat, ran my fingers through my hair.

“Alex?” Greta said. “What are you talking about?”

“I received an anonymous text message from Mexico City right before the service started today from someone claiming to be Joe.”

Pulling out my phone, I brought up the message, held it out for Greta. She walked over, took the phone, and read it carefully.

“How do you know this is from Joe?”

“He called himself Bear.”

“Bear?”

I explained how Nicole would sometimes call him that.

Greta read the text message again and then handed my phone back to me. “But you said you ID’d him at the scene of the vehicle explosion.”

“I did—sort of. The body was too burned to make an ID. But I had his wedding ring and his belt buckle that had been recovered in the fire. Plus, the body type was the exact same as Joe’s.”

Greta sat on the sofa again. I could see her mind working. “I don’t get it. If there is any truth to this, why would they fake his death?”