Page 25 of Final Reckoning

His eyes come to me. “Good evening, Miss Callahan. I must say that you and your sisters have caused me a great deal of … inconvenience.”

“Well. We could say the same for you.”

Something that might almost be humor glimmers in his dark eyes. “So here we are. After so many delays, it seemed best to deal with you myself. Tell me, Miss Callahan: where is Mr. Mathiesen?”

I try, but I can’t keep the puzzlement off my face. His eyes narrow. “Don’t feign ignorance with me; I know he took you that day.”

Holy crap. Matteo never told me his undercover alter ego’s name. “I haven’t seen him since that day,” I say with total honesty. “You haven’t either?”

Santiago stares at me. “I’ve had you under surveillance, and there has indeed been no sign of him. But then his actions make no sense. What reason did he give for abducting you?”

Wow. Abducting me? There’s a good reminder of how twisted Santiago’s brain is. “He didn’t, really. He was … reticent about his thinking, whatever it might have been.”

“He often is,” Santiago murmurs to himself. Then to me, “And you haven’t heard from him since.”

“Not a word.” Again, absolute truth.

“That’s unfortunate.”

Fear wraps its clammy fingers around the back of my neck. “Why?”

“I need to deal with him. You might have served as adequate bait. But if he has no interest in you …” Santiago shrugs. “I might as well just shoot you now.”

* * *

Three weeks.

Three weeks to the day since I’ve seen Quinn.

Three weeks when I could have been courting her, fucking her, holding her while she slept.

Goddamn Santiago.

I’m in the town where I meet with Garcia, poised to ride in either direction as needed. I text him: Anything?

No movement, comes the answer.

The FBI, my fellow cops, and I have been waging a war of attrition. One by one, Santiago’s associates have been picked up on various charges, state or federal or both. Human trafficking, drug trafficking and distribution, money laundering, and more.

We’ve whittled away at his organization until there’s no one left. Interpol has gotten into the act too, rounding up criminals in various countries with close ties to Santiago.

I called Kelleher, president of the Devil’s Kin MC, and explained that Santiago was going down, and they could go down with him … or not. They made the smart choice and abandoned him.

In response to his increasing isolation, he’s stayed holed up in his compound with his family. The kids haven’t even been allowed out to go to school. He’s been sending his driver out to buy groceries.

Yesterday, he got desperate. The driver called a known hitman and tried to hire him – over the phone, no less. A phone that we’d long since tapped. When he went out on his grocery run, we picked the driver up for conspiracy to commit murder.

So now Bruno Santiago is completely alone.

While all this has been going on, I’ve been giving sworn depositions about key crimes for which my first-hand witness testimony is the primary evidence. When I’m not doing that, I’m doing drive-bys of the compound. Close enough to show up on the security cameras, but no closer, not at first. Santiago didn’t used to have any snipers on staff, but no point taking chances.

As more and more of his men have been picked up, I’ve gotten bolder. Driven right by the main gate, stopping long enough to stare at the house. Taunting him.

The itching between my shoulder blades is getting worse. I text Garcia again: Are we sure they haven’t missed something? “They” being the various cops and agents surveilling the compound.

I’ll check with them, Garcia responds. But it looks like he’s given up any plans to do anything tonight.

I don’t buy it. I know Santiago, dammit. The man’s obsessive and never gives up once he’s locked on an idea.

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