Page 181 of When Lies Unfold

NINE MONTHS AFTER LOLA’S DISAPPEARANCE

“You know, it’s not fun tryin’ to sneak into your office and steal a beer anymore.”

I don’t bother turnin’ to face him. My attention remains on the jungle as I brace my hands on the metal railin’ that borders the side of the house.

Gordo sidles up beside me. “Got a call from Agent Garcia.”

I fight against the hope threatenin’ to break free. Whenever I thought I had a lead, it was a dead end.

Nobody could say what the hell happened to Lola in that explosion. Too many bodies were unaccounted for and unidentifiable, but I know—I know deep in my bones—that she didn’t die.

She evaded death once before under the guise of unidentifiable remains. No reason to believe she couldn’t do it again.

Gordo’s faith is fadin’, though. The past few months, the more leads I went after, the quieter he got with more concern written on his face.

I can’t get people outside my circle to dig for clues on Lola, ’cause I risk bringin’ more attention to her. Not with word of Hidalgo’s death spreadin’ like wildfire and Juarez and some of his agents goin’ to trial. There’s too much at stake.

But now, Gordo thinks I’m wastin’ my time. He hasn’t said it outright, but I know he thinks Lola’s dead.

Worst thing about it is, I waver sometimes, wonderin’ if there’s a chance he’s right. The Lola I know would’ve done everythin’ she could to get back to me—and to Alma.

But here I am, desperate to hold on to the last thread of hope. The main thing that’s motivated me the past few months is the evidence brought against Juarez and several of his colleagues. The trial was fast-tracked due to the “high-profile nature of who they’d been working with.”

A part of me regrets not takin’ Juarez out, but it woulda brought too much attention to me and my business. Plus, my main concern’s been Lola and tryin’ to figure out if she somehow made it outta Hidalgo’s alive.

Watchin’ Juarez go to trial publicly and suffer irreparable damage to his reputation and ego was still pretty damn satisfyin’.

Now that Juarez and the other agents have been convicted and sentenced to prison, I know they won’t last long in there. Convicts fuckin’ hate anybody with a badge of any kind. And when it comes to people who prey on young women and kids? Fuck…there’s no hope they’ll survive long in there.

As it turned out, Juarez had a preference for the underage females Hidalgo trafficked. For that alone, the motherfucker deserves to get tortured in that joint. He’s been in prison for exactly eleven days, and while I could easily call in a favor and end his life, I don’t have it in me right now.

I’d die before admittin’ it, but I’m fuckin’ heartsick. That’s the only way to put it. I miss my woman, and my daughter misses the closest thing to a mother she has ever had.

Gordo continues, drawin’ me from my thoughts. “Agent Garcia had somethin’ interestin’ to say.”

“What’s that?”

“A fight broke out in Juarez’s wing of the prison. Prisoners overpowered the guards and”—Gordo rests his large forearms on the railin’—“somebody took out Juarez.”

My fingers tighten around the railin’. “He’s dead?”

“Uh-huh. It was messy, too, from what she said.”

“Good.”

Gordo goes quiet for a moment. “Garcia also said the file on Lola must’ve been accidentally deleted somehow. Even the hard copy of the file was misplaced. Nobody can seem to find it.” He grunts. “Typical government incompetence.”

I cut him a curious glance. “That so?”

“Yeah.” He meets my gaze. “You know what that means.”

“That without any proof, no charges can be brought against her for the murder of Agent Molino.” I duck my head, starin’ down at my hands. “That’s good news.” My voice grows hoarse. “Real good news.”

Gordo hesitates before posin’ his question. “Find anythin’ else?”

My words are subdued, but there’s no mistakin’ the hope laced in ’em. “Got some intel about that tunnel leadin’ from Hidalgo’s compound.”

A crease of concentrated interest forms between his brows. “What about it?”

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