Page 48 of 25 Alive

The magistrate addressed him. “What kind of gun were you carrying?”

“None. I own a Beretta gun. I lose it in the car crash. I never shot anyone. Only bottles. I shoot bottles and cans.”

“Mr. Lopez. Is it true that all five of you in the crashed car were members of a club or association?”

“I don’t like to talk for other people.”

“I suggest you make an exception to your personal rules so that you aren’t detained, tried, and sentenced.”

“It was a joke. Our club.”

“Feel free to laugh at your joke, sir. What did you call your club?”

“You mean Los Hermanos del Diablo?”

“Mr. Torres,” the magistrate asked Joe’s advocate. “Do you have a question?”

“Yes, thank you,” Torres said. He asked Lopez, “To your knowledge, did the Brothers of the Devil have anything to dowith the deaths of Judge Martin Orlofsky and his wife in San Francisco? I remind you, sir, you are under oath.”

“Yes, I do understand. I swear, before God, Diablo has nothing to do with that. I heard that cops in San Francisco had something to do with it. I don’t know names. I don’t know reasons. I only heard ‘They were killed by cops.’”

“Who told you that?”

“I didn’t hear from one person. It was just talk after someone read about the crime online. I only know it wasn’t us. I have never been out of Mexico.”

The magistrate asked the assemblage if there were any other questions for Emilio Lopez, after which he thanked Lopez for his testimony and the injured man was escorted to a holding cell while the others discussed next steps. The decision was made that custody of Lopez would be transferred to the FBI as soon as it was convenient for the federal agency.

Paul Robles, FBI section chief in Monterrey, requested a conference with Joe.

The magistrate granted it, and Robles took Joe into a private room.

Robles said, “You’re going to have to stay in a cell tonight, as a safety precaution. You’ll have the hearing first thing in the morning.”

“Can Bao stay in the hospital?”

“I’ll work this out with the police chief and the magistrate. Let’s say yes. What else do you need to know?”

“That I have the backing of the FBI, that you’ll represent us and you’ll do whatever is required to keep us out of prison.”

“Joe, both the USA and Mexico are delighted to have yourub out killers for them. Consider it one night in jail. Trust me. You’ll be home in time for dinner tomorrow.”

Hopeful that Robles could keep Bao safe under security overnight in the hospital, Joe shook Robles’s hand, went back into the courtroom, shook hands with Torres, Ruiz, and Dougherty, and followed the guards upstairs to his own holding cell in the jail, where he’d be kept in isolation with 24-7 protection.

It wasn’t until the door was shut and locked that he remembered that he’d had to relinquish his phone when he was brought into court.Oh, God.He hadn’t called Lindsay.

CHAPTER73

CINDY WAS HAVING dinner at home, alone.

Richie was still at work. Cindy had the TV on, tuned to the news, but was paying more attention to the recording of her latest call with homicide detective Steven Wilson. She sipped her smoothie as she typed up her notes.

She stopped typing for a minute to read them over and see if the transcript made sense to her. Detective Sergeant Wilson thought it was more probable than not that Angela Palmer had been killed by her ex-husband, who turned out to be an FBI agent named Brett Palmer. It was only opinion, not backed by a witness or forensic evidence, but Wilson had added more paint strokes to the picture.

He had said, “I found out that Brett Palmer had a first wife, Roxanne Sands Palmer, who also died before her time. The death certificate says that Roxanne Palmer drowned in the bathtub. The cause of death was ‘drowning.’ But the means were also ‘undetermined.’”

Cindy had then asked Wilson, “The ME couldn’t say ifshe’d drowned accidentally or on purpose? Was Palmer a suspect? Was he charged?”

Wilson had said, “Palmer was the number one suspect because he was the dead woman’s ex-husband, but there were no bruises on the body, and Palmer had an alibi.”

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