36

“Do you know who killed her then?” I asked.

Costilla pointed a finger at me. “Therein lies the problem, Mr. Braddock.”

“I don’t get it,” I said, shaking my head.

He stood and motioned for me to walk to the edge of the plateau with him. I looked at the men and their guns, hoped they weren’t going to shoot me, then joined Costilla where he stood.

“I don’t know who killed her,” he said, gazing out in the distance toward the ocean. “If I did, I would’ve already taken care of it.”

“Mr. Costilla, I don’t understand a word of what you’re telling me,” I said.

He dropped his hands back into his pockets. “Ms. Crier had something that belonged to me.”

“Drugs?”

“Money,” he said, turning to me. “Half a million dollars.”

The knot in my stomach tightened.

“Now, of course, it’s not the amount that mattered to me,” he continued. “Rather a small amount when you look at the big picture. But it was mine and she took it.”

“You’re certain it was her?”

He nodded. “Yes. And even though I am not the one that killed her, I would have if I’d found her first. I can’t tolerate people stealing from me.”

The knot felt cold in my stomach. Kate had managed to operate in Costilla’s world without getting herself killed, even though the man she was informing on knew who she was. Now he was telling me that she stole from him and he’d planned to do what someone else had already done.

“Why’d she steal the money?” I asked. “There’s no way she’d think she could get that past you and her handlers.”

He rubbed his chin. “I’ve wondered that, too. But I don’t know why she did it. Maybe she was going to try and outrun me and her government.” He smiled. “Brave girl.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Brave.”

“When I told you I wanted you to stop looking into this,” he said, “it was because I wanted to find my money. I figured, you or your police find it, I lose it. And also because I will kill whoever took my money and killed our friend.”

“I don’t think she was your friend,” I said.

Costilla shrugged. “No, but she was useful to me. Her death inconvenienced me and disrupted my plans. That doesn’t please me.” He paused, then turned to look at me. “I think I misjudged you, however.”

“How’s that?”

“I figured, if you were trying to solve all this, you would turn in the person that killed your friend,” he said. “But now I see something different.”

His observation irritated me. “You don’t know me.”

“True, but I know it when I see it,” he said.

“See what?”

“Someone looking for revenge,” he said and smiled.

We stood there for a moment, looking at one another, remaining silent. I didn’t like his trying to get in my head. Or the fact that he might have been right.

“You beat up one of my men, you shoot another,” he said. “You come here to meet with me after your friend is hurt. These are things someone does only if he is dumb or determined. And you, Mr. Braddock, are not dumb. I am confident of that.”

I looked away from him. I knew that what he was saying, what he saw in me, was the truth.

“So where does that leave us?” I asked.

He rocked on his heels, jingling some change in his pockets. “I’m going to let you keep looking.” He grinned at me. “I know, you didn’t need my permission. Whatever. I think you are the person who will figure it out. The way I see it, the person that killed your friend has my money.”

“You think I’m going to get you your money back?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s clear to me that you would not do such a thing. I thought at first, maybe. But I’m not going to waste either of our time by suggesting that.” He looked at me. “But I’ll be watching you.”

“So I can take you to your money?” I said.

Costilla shrugged. “Perhaps. But to be honest, I just want to see if I’m right.”

“Right about what?”

He looked at me, his eyes cold and hard like the first day I’d met him in San Ysidro. “To see if you are going to kill this person. Because I think, from what I see, you are.”

“You a psychology major?” I asked, again irritated with his analysis of me.

“No, but you are working in my area now,” he said, smiling again. He rubbed his scalp. “Now, we have one more thing to attend to.”

“We do?”

He nodded. “Yes. When I said that I was going to find your friend after she stole my money, you understand why?”

“I think so,” I said. “Doesn’t look good to have someone show you up.”

He pointed at me. “Exactly. Yesterday, on the freeway, you and your friend showed me up.”

The knot that had been in my stomach doubled in size.

“I can’t have that,” he said quietly. He turned and waved over my shoulder.

I turned around to see Ramon and my other two escorts approaching us. They passed the armed men and stood in front of me.

“I’m not going to kill you, Mr. Braddock,” Alejandro Costilla said. “I actually like you. And it’s easier for me if you take care of your friend’s murder. I get to watch and cheer you on. So I’m not going to kill you.” He paused and stepped closer to me, his mouth right next to my ear. “But it might feel like you are going to die.”

The driver’s hand shot out toward my chest. I managed to knock it away and drove the palm of my hand into his nose. A fist caught me in the temple, and my vision blurred. Another exploded into my kidneys, and I fell to my knees.

I stayed there for a moment, trying to catch my breath, trying to fight the reds and purples that were swirling in my eyes. Something cold and hard smashed into the back of my head, and the colors changed from red to yellow to white and, finally, to black.

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