Page 44 of 25 Alive

“What makes you think so?”

“Well, my cop friend in Verne got a lead about a federal agent who may have killed not just his second wife but his first wife, too. There’s no evidence that either death was a murder.

“But someone, the killer, made it look like his second wife had hanged herself, and wrote his slogan on the bottom of her shoes.”

“Come onnn. ‘I said. You dead’? And this was evenconsidereda suicide?”

“Serials often like to get credit. Wouldn’t you say?”

Rich stopped his car at the light on Masonic Avenue. He asked, “You think she wrote it, then hanged herself hoping to frame her husband?”

“I know that sounds far-fetched, but yeah, it’s possible. I need help with this, Richie. Who do you know in or near Portland?”

Rich looked at his wife with a straight face, and then he couldn’t contain his laughter.

“Geez. Even my husband—”’

“Listen, love of my life, beat of my heart—”

“All right, all right … That’s enough.”

“Cindy. Even if I knew someone, I can’t help.”

“Because the case is unsolved,” Cindy said, “or it’s out of state, or blah, blah, blah. So, never mind. But to me, it looks like Angela Palmer’s ex-husband killed her, and if he didn’t do it, some maniac did and that maniac is still at large—and he’s laughing.”

CHAPTER67

THE 5 A.M. Aeroméxico flight 33 to Monterrey International Airport had been delayed due to a mechanical problem, unspecified by the flight crew. Joe Molinari and Bao Wong were strapped into their seats in business class when this announcement was made by Captain Fredericks, who promised that the issue was small, that the part was being refitted now, and “Thank you for your patience.”

Joe and Bao exchanged glances.

“Let me look,” she said.

Bao typed on her phone, scrolled with her thumb, and after a long minute said to Joe, “It’s either this flight or the United flight at two this afternoon.”

He shook his head no.

The whole operation would fall apart if they weren’t in Monterrey on time—three and a half hours from now—when they would meet with FBI agents who had cartel connections. Those connections might lead to the person or persons who had killed the Orlofskys.

Joe texted Chief Steinmetz to give him the flight update, but Steinmetz did not respond. Joe kept his phone on in airplane mode and put it into his shirt’s breast pocket. He answered Bao’s questioning look, saying, “Let’s give it another half hour, and if we’re still on the ground, we pull our badges and ditch.”

Ten minutes later, the lights dimmed in the cabin and the flight attendant made his announcement. “We’ll be taking off shortly. Please return your seat backs to their upright positions and stow your carry-on items …”

Through Bao’s window over the wing, they watched the airliner roll into position, then coast down the tarmac and lift off into a murky gray sky. Joe checked his phone, then stuffed a pillow behind his neck and fell asleep.

Sometime later, he awoke to the bucking of the aircraft as it bounced onto the runway before coming in for a safe landing.

Soon the aisle was filled with people and their hand luggage. A snarl of carts clogged the exit to the stairway that was slick with rain. Bao and Joe gripped the handrail as they stepped down to the puddled tarmac and entered the crowded terminal.

Joe planned to contact Mick Dougherty and Juan Ruiz. He had worked with them both in the past and trusted them. He also knew that the odds of being identified by the Diablo cartel as they made their way through the luggage retrieval section of the terminal was 100 percent guaranteed. By the time they reached the revolving door, this information would have been sent to cartel leaders, even the head of the entire operation.

Since foreigners were not permitted to bring arms into the country, if anyone was waiting to pick them off, this would be the time.

CHAPTER68

JOE SAW DOUGHERTY and Ruiz leaning against the outer wall of the terminal building, waiting for them as planned. Ruiz was forty but looked ten years younger in a bright-greenLIFE IS GOODT-shirt, jeans, and high-top sneakers. Dougherty had put on a few pounds and his hair was streaked gray, but he still looked like he lifted weights and took a three-mile run most mornings.

Ruiz shouted to Joe and embraced him. “What’d you do, man? Walk here?”

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