Whitewater (Rachel Hatch #6)(12)

He pulled a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses from atop his head and hung them from the outside of his breast pocket. Hatch met his gaze.

"American? Yes?"

"Yes."

"I'm Officer Eduardo Munoz. How can I help you on this beautiful morning in Nogales?"

"You and I have a totally different idea of beautiful." She gestured to the smeared trail of blood marking the unconscious man's path.

"Oh that?" He laughed. "That's nothing to be concerned with. Just a thief."

"What did he steal that would make him fight like that?"

"Does it matter?"

"I think so."

"He stole some fruit." Munoz's smile disappeared.

"Stolen fruit caught him a beating like that?"

Munoz shrugged. "At least we didn't arrest his mother too."

Hatch thought of the old woman's heated argument and wondered if she was the mother he was referring to when he leaned in close. She choked back a cough. His cologne smelled of vanilla, chestnut, and if she wasn't mistaken, a hint of clove. It gave him a sweet, woody scent as he spoke. "How may I be of service."

Hatch looked over to the main desk sergeant who was fielding a complaint, with a line three deep waiting. Lieutenant Eduardo Munoz was as good as any, and by the frazzled look on the desk sarge's face, might be the best choice. Munoz’s proximity worried Hatch. She was in the lobby of a police department with a loaded pistol pressed against the small of her back. The borrowed clothes fit with just enough excess to hang loose enough to obscure the angular lines of the handgun's butt. She'd seen the beating they delivered the fruit thief and wondered what would be in store for her should they realize she entered a police department armed with a dead man's gun.

"I'm looking for a girl. She went missing a day ago." Hatch took a step back and pulled out her cell phone. She showed him a Facebook image of Angela Rothman. It captured the teen with her head turned. A sunset lit her red hair ablaze. It was a far departure from the last time she’d set eyes on the young girl.

"A missing girl." The lieutenant confirmed.

Hatch heard the sarcasm in his tone but didn't bite. "Her name's Angela Rothman. She's my niece. We got to Nogales two nights ago. We were supposed to head down to a family retreat at Copper Mountain today, but when I woke up, she was gone."

Munoz squinted at the screenshot. "You say this girl is your niece?"

The big officer who'd brutalized the apple thief reappeared from the door he and his partner had dragged the bloodied man through. Officer Rivera stopped beside Munoz and immediately inserted himself into their business. Who's the cutie? That, or something close to that is what Rivera chuckled to his lieutenant.

"This is Miss…" Munoz looked in her direction.

"Nighthawk."

"This is Miss Nighthawk. She's here on a family trip. Her niece Anna was gone when she woke."

"Angela," Hatch interrupted.

"Excuse me?" Munoz snarled.

Hatch saw through Officer Munoz's polished exterior. He was not a man who liked to be challenged, undoubtably worsened by the fact she was a woman. "I said Angela. Her name is Angela Rothman."

"My apologies. Yes, as Miss Nighthawk has just so kindly pointed out, the girl's name is Angela." Munoz put his hand on the bulky Rivera's shoulder. "Luis, I think you're going to need to write this down."

Rivera thumbed open a pocket and slipped out a small notepad. His meaty hands flipped to a clean page. "Go ahead with that name again."

Hatch repeated the name and she watch Rivera write it. He was slick, and if someone else besides Hatch had been there, they likely wouldn't have caught it. But she did. As Rivera looked up from jotting the name in his pad, he made a barely perceptible glance at Munoz. Something was off. If something’s not right, figure out what. If you can't, get the hell out of Dodge until you can. Simply put, if something’s not right, it stays that way until you make it so. Her dad's words always came back to her.

"I don't want to get your hopes up, but this town is home to thousands of lost souls. Do you know how many people go missing in Nogales per year?"

For all Munoz' talking, he never once asked for any details. Not even the basics like height, weight, and clothing. Nothing. Something's not right. One glaring possibility stared her right in the face. Munoz and Rivera never asked because they already knew. The how and why were still up for debate. But following her dad's advice, Hatch decided to get the hell out of that PD lobby.

Hatch pocketed her phone. "I've got to meet back with my family and check in."

"Are you sure?" Munoz gestured to a door, different from the one the bloodied man exited. Hatch had no plans of seeing what was behind door number two.

"I'll be back." Hatch took one step in the direction of the main doors.

"We'd have a better chance of finding her if we had some kind of incentive." Rivera brightened and rubbed his thumb against his fingertips in that greedy money-grubbing sort of way.

Munoz laughed. "For us to do our job effectively in our city, we find that if additional risks are warranted, then those risks come at a price. As municipal police officers, we are not paid nearly enough for what we are asked to do."