Page 18 of Faded Gray Lines
“Niceof you to finally show up.”
Brody sat at a small table facing the front door wearing a scowl when I walked into Caliente. Unzipping my black leather jacket, I slung it over the back of the opposite chair, choosing to ignore his blatant insubordination. I didn’t have any sisters, but if I did, I suppose having one at the center of a cartel sit-down would make me antsy too.
“I stopped in Brownsville and had a tea party with the Border Patrol.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t realize it was open mic night.”
“Watch it,” I warned, taking my seat. “I’m here to help, but I can just as easily go back home.”
His face fell, his hands raising in defeat. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You want a beer?”
“One would be a good start.”
“Perfect, I’ve already ordered you one.” Brody nodded to a black backpack sitting by his feet. “I brought some things for you to check out.”
Sitting back, I watched him trace the condensation on the outside of his glass, my silence making him fidget. “A little anxious, huh?”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“You’re not the one who spent the morning standing over a rotting corpse. I think I win this round.”
His pinched expression quickly faded, his eyes widening with interest. “What did you find out?”
“That San Marcos is just as much of a shithole as I remember.”
“I’m serious.”
So was I. The neighborhood I found myself in after a two-and-a-half-hour plane ride was more of an eyesore than the city forced to claim it.
“It looked untouched. Delgado had to have been dead for at least seven hours. The place should’ve been crawling with cops, but that’s not what bothered me the most.”
He leaned in. “I’m listening.”
“I tried the doorknob before causing a scene by kicking the whole damn thing in. It was locked.”
“So?”
I hesitated. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Brody, but when it came to his sister, his reactions weren’t the most rational. Also, I doubted he’d like what I had to say.
“Maybe your sister isn’t as innocent as you think she is.” As expected, Brody’s eyes darkened. “What girl struggles with her abusive boyfriend, accidentally shoots him, then has the mental awareness to remember to lock the front door?”
“My sister is innocent.” Every muscle in his neck tightened.
“So you keep saying. Who are you trying to convince here?” He just glared at me, so I gave up on pushing the issue for now. Leaning back, I changed the subject. “You do know how lucky you are, right?”
“How so?”
“Brody, come on,” I said, gesturing toward him. “If this were anyone else, you and your sister would be dust by now.”
“Val doesn’t hurt women.”
“No, Val doesn’t hurt womenunnecessarily,” I corrected, stressing the last word. “Your sister murdered one of our men. Remember the code you willingly took?”
He paled. “I remember.”
“Exactly, and although Delgado was a lowlife shit, he was still one of our own. It wasn’t your or your sister’s choice to take him out. Only Val can make a call like that.”
We’d had this conversation on the phone, but it bared repeating.
