Velocity (Karen Vail #3)(37)

Dixon began pacing in front of the windowed wall. “A guy like that, we bring him in, I think he clams up at best and lawyers up at worst.”

“Agreed.” Vail thought a moment. “We get a warrant, we go to his place and start going through his rigs.”

“His rigs,” Gordon said. “Those mobile bottling trailers? What do you expect to find in there?”

“Nothing,” Vail said. “But once we start putting our hands on his precision machinery, talk about tearing it apart to look for evidence, he’ll flip out. It’s his profit center. He may start talking just to make us stop.”

Dixon flipped open her phone. “I’ll start the wheels moving for getting a warrant.”

“How long do you think?” Vail asked.

“I’ll need someone to draw up the probable cause statement.”

“Got it,” Mann said. “Plenty of experience with that.” He pulled a chair in front of the laptop.

“Redd,” she said to Brix. “Get NSIB over to Ray’s house. If Merilynn won’t cooperate, get a warrant. Impound his computers, every goddamn thing you can find. Ray made a video; maybe he kept an insurance policy.”

“Insurance policy. Like copies of records, phone calls, video, stuff like that? Wouldn’t he have mentioned it in the DVD if he had?”

“Not necessarily. Looked to me like Merilynn interrupted him and he didn’t finish it.” She pointed at the laptop. “Wait a sec. Look at the DVD Ray made. The file, when was it created?”

Mann opened Windows Explorer, clicked, and scrolled. “The DVD was burned two months ago. As to when it was filmed . . . I don’t know.”

“Close enough,” Dixon said. “My guess is he filmed it, then burned it to disc. No reason I can see to film it and leave it in the drawer. A lot of shit could’ve gone down in the past two months. But maybe things didn’t heat up till we found Victoria Cameron in that cave. Mayfield’s first vic.” She turned to Vail. “Is it possible Ray knew Mayfield was the killer from day one?”

Vail played back the events of the past week in her mind. “I doubt it. But now that we know there was something going on between Ray and Guevara beginning at least two months ago, I don’t think we can rule it out, Roxx.”

“Goddamn him.” Dixon looked at the screen, where the image of Ray Lugo had stared back at them moments ago. “Karen, with me. Let’s go pay a visit to Guevara. You tried rattling his cage before. Maybe we need to try a different approach.”





25


The sun’s March burn melted behind the mountains like wax over a bottle of Madeira: beginning with a smoldering deformation, then accelerating as the heat built, spreading, losing definition, and enveloping all.

They arrived at Superior Mobile Bottling without a warrant in hand, and little time to kill. But kill it they must . . . because going in strong against a César Guevara without the ammunition to back it up had already failed. And at present, their best ammunition was not filled with gunpowder but with written words.

Dixon pulled the Ford Crown Victoria against the curb, down the street from Superior’s facility in American Canyon, and shoved the gearshift into park.

“How long?”

Dixon glanced at the dashboard clock. “No way of knowing.”

“Your judges?”

“Not always sympathetic.”

“At least you got a look around last time we were here.”

“I didn’t have much time,” Dixon said. “It was a quick once-over. We really need to tear the place apart.”

Vail turned and looked at the fading light in the distance. The sky behind her was a purplish black, like a fading bruise on an otherwise pleasing landscape. Ahead, there was still a yellow hue, dissolving to dusky charcoal as the minutes ticked by.

“You okay?”

Dixon’s question pulled Vail from her reverie. “I’m not going to see the sun in Napa again for . . . who knows how long.”

“Did you ever see the sun in Napa?”

Vail chuckled.

Dixon’s phone vibrated. She tapped the Bluetooth receiver. “Dixon.”

“Roxx.” It was Brix’s voice. “You want the good news or the bad news first?”

“I’ll take the good.”

“Just spoke with Timmons from NSIB. He’s taken over as point for us so we have a consistent contact, since it seems we’re going to need them long-term. Or longer-term than we originally thought.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“So Timmons says he’s got a list compiled of all the potential locations where must is produced within earshot of the Napa Valley Wine Train whistle. There’s a margin of error because it’s not scientific or anything like that. But this is like a freaking needle in a haystack, anyway.”

“How many potential sites are there?” Dixon asked.

“Sixty-plus. NSIB’s got some guys looking into the whole list, just to see if there are any that can be eliminated based on some set of criteria Timmons and his team are developing. You want to be plugged into what they’re thinking?”

“No, we’ve got enough to do. Let them do their jobs. Touch base with him from time to time, and if they sound like they’ve landed on the wrong planet, let me know and we’ll meet with them, set them straight. Otherwise, let’s see what they turn up.” Dixon threw Vail a sideways glance. “Redd—I said I wanted the good news first.”