Besides, if she wanted a life partner he shouldn’t shine any spotlights on his own head. He’d been career driven. He’d passed right over significant. He’d concentrated on quick and meaningless. And yeah, he liked it that way.
He turned his thoughts back to his case. Everything that had happened down here in the past week danced around in his tired brain. There were thoughts of Deputy Stanton, the Salton Sea, then drug dealers, Kingpins, murderers, and finally they were all having dinner at Cliffs.
He half opened his eyes. They were still on the highway. Hell, he hadn’t fallen asleep, had he? He looked into the mirror scanning for a tail, none, one white Lexus up ahead.
A truck or two passed them going up the other side of the highway. He closed his eyes tight again. Did Rachel’s grandfather have anything to do with the drug trade in and out of the lower desert? He didn’t want to think negative thoughts about the old man, but somehow he sensed Rachel could be more involved than even she knew.
There’d been a murder last year, in Almagro. Everything had pointed back to a drug cartel in the Sierra Madres. The authorities in Mexico, and in the US, had been trying for two years to access that compound. Then the FBI agent from San Diego, and the agent from DEA in LA, blew it all apart in one weekend. They’d scored big on the raid of the Saurez compound providing information to the Mexican Government.
The drug Kingpin, his brother, and one cousin had escaped, but everyone else was killed or captured. Then those three men disappeared. Recent rumor through the underground had the Kingpin suspicious that the DEA officer lived in the Southern California desert, and after escaping Mexico he and his brother were hiding out in the U.S. looking for revenge. And it would be a horrific revenge if they ever caught Jack Fischer.
Jack had never violated his cover; he got the job done, and then walked away. But he had retired here in the Coachella Valley and had married a local woman. Michael had no doubt the Kingpin would rebuild his empire once he’d gotten his revenge; revenge runs high in the cartels. His stomach tightened at the thought of the torture his fellow officer would undergo.
His assignment: Take out the Suarez brothers. It would be a major coup. Major. He opened his eyes and stretched, and then glanced over at Rachel.
“What’s up, Michael?”
“How about a compromise?” He stretched out his legs to give Ralph more room in his lap. Odd how the little guy had taken to him. “I know I said you could bring me here but not get involved. You can work alongside of me, but you take direction from me.”
She smiled softly, and kept her gaze on the road ahead, and said nothing.
****
“It’s a simple place,” Rachel said, slowing the car and letting it idle in front of Grandpa Henry’s cabin.
She wasn’t apologizing for Grandpa’s lifestyle, more preparing the detective for one he might not recognize. She glanced over at his neat appearance. He’d probably grown up in a two-parent household with a dog, and a white picket fence. He was well-educated, a stickler for the rules, and had most likely lived in a posh high rise before being sent to the stinky crotch of Southern California.
Rachel parked the car underneath the one-car carport. “There’s only one bedroom. I sleep on the couch when I stay over.”
“I like it,” Michael said.
She watched his face crease into a smile. He climbed out of the car and walked around, looked at the side garden, then stood back staring up at the screened-in front porch.
“I really like this.”
“There’s a verandah out back too,” Rachel said, feeling a flutter of connection. Anyone who “got” this place had to be a neat human being. She scooped up Ralph and her backpack, locked the car, and met Michael at the front steps.
“Grandpa likes to be outside more than inside. He hates mosquitos.” She found the key on her key ring and opened the door
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