Page 39 of 25 Alive

Steinmetz said, “There may be a link to a Mexican operation. The only clue we have is this.”

He slapped down one more hideous photo; the decapitated head of a young man, Miguel Hernandez, perched on the top step of a flight of stairs.

“When he was alive, this poor guy was some kind of friend to Dario Garza, now on trial for his murder. Does the name Garza mean anything to you, Agent Wong?”

“Only in the sense that the name Garza is pretty common, and I’ve known of criminals with that surname.”

“Molinari?”

Joe knew a lot about the Dario Garza case from Lindsay and Yuki but kept his response neutral. “I’ve heard about him, yes.”

“The Orlofskys were shot before the killer did his surgery. The bullets don’t match anything in our database, but this is a fact: Dario Garza’s trial has been postponed.

“That’s why I called this meeting. I need the two of you to go to Mexico for some undercover work. See what you can learn. Principally, who’s behind this.”

Steinmetz laid his hand on the photos, then said, “Betty will arrange your airline tickets and will book a car to meet you at Monterrey International Airport. Agents from the Monterrey office will meet you there to give you anything you need, and perhaps some fresh news. Book your rooms today, and when you’ve worked out a plan, call me. Any questions?”

Joe said, “We can make the first flight tomorrow morning, Craig. Okay?”

“Fine,” said Steinmetz. “I’ll call your contacts. Good luck. And keep your heads down.”

He put the papers and the photos back into his center drawer, slammed it shut, and locked it.

CHAPTER60

CINDY WAS AT her desk inside her small office at theChroniclewith its windowed view of the city room—but she didn’t even glance at her colleagues working toward their deadlines. Her mind was split between her office and another small office that was located in the Verne, Nevada, police department.

She and Steven Wilson, the homicide investigator from Verne, had been on the phone for an hour, and this time she was recording it all. Cindy had promised again not to use Wilson’s name, to tell the story with fictitious names throughout and the facts as Steve had been able to learn them. And then he told her why he’d called, saying that one of the “I said. You dead” deaths he knew about now appeared to be a homicide.

“Explain ‘appeared to be.’ How so?”

Wilson said, “She was the second ex-wife of a man in the investigative services. Which one, I can’t say. But I saw a photo of the deceased. And I say it was connected to the ‘I said. You dead’ murder spree.”

Cindy asked, “And what about suspects?”

Wilson said, “Nuh-uh. Not saying.”

“Steve. I swore not to tell!”What are we, in kindergarten?she thought.

“Cindy, you can use what I’ve said or forget it. What I’ve told you could be a key to the whole story—or it’s nothing. And by the way, you owe me. Big-time.”

Cindy agreed. She owed him. She thanked him. And she hoped that one day she could return the favor by giving Steven Wilson some kind of a huge tip with no details and lettinghimresearch the entire known universe to learn the name of a victim—let alone the killer!

She hung up, telling Wilson, “I’m getting another call,” then typed a URL into her browser, calling up the website of a transcription service that would convert her hour-long recording into a perfect transcript in six minutes flat for as many dollars.

Cindy pressed Send and called Lindsay.

When Lindsay picked up, Cindy said, “We need to have a girls’ dinner at Susie’s. Working dinner. No booze.”

CHAPTER61

WHEN I PULLED open Susie’s front door, I saw that the café was packed to the walls with a riotous evening crowd. Rikki’s steel-drum band had been moved from the front of the main room to its center, leaving more space at the bar for the after-work regulars and the sleek women from the Financial District who’d come for ladies’ night: half price drinks and dancing to the irresistible heat of the Caribbean beat.

Claire, Yuki, and I picked our way through the tipsy dancers, along the kitchen corridor to our usual spot in the room in the back. It’s half the size of the front and tonight was jammed with twice the normal number of weekday diners. Cindy was already waiting at “our” booth in the back corner. I read her expression asWhat took you so long?

We hadn’t even settled into the banquettes yet when Cindy began talking. “I just learned—”

Claire asked, “Before we start, Cin, okay to order? I skipped lunch today.”

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