“There’s the same VW Bug we saw where she works, parking sticker and all,” Gordon said, pulling into the asphalt parking lot of the long, one-apartment-deep rental housing. “No obvious gangbanger rides, so that’s good news. Maybe she is alone.”

  “This place looks like a relocated Route 66 motel from the fifties,” Charlie said. “Ever see any of the old ones with the pueblo look, flashy neon lights, and the fifty-foot arrow stuck into the ground in the parking lot?”

  “Just in National Geographic. Hey, remember I grew up in the big city. Tall buildings, cold winters, bus exhaust, guys puking in the streets, rats,” Gordon said, climbing down from his side of the truck.

  “Yeah. I’ll take sand, the smell of piñon resin, and clean air,” Charlie said, walking toward the ground-floor apartment second from the end. On the sidewalk were skid marks in the layer of blown dust, like something had been dragged in or out of the apartment.

  “I’ll cover the back.” Gordon circled the building to watch the alley in case Ruby tried to duck out a back door or window.

  Charlie walked up to the door, then stopped, looked, and pulled out his pistol. The entrance had been kicked open. The jamb was splintered, the lock askew, and there was a boot print in the surface of the sheet metal door.

  He stepped back and tried to look inside, but was unable to see much of anything because the venetian blinds darkened the room. His eyes in constant motion, Charlie brought out his phone with his left hand and touched the menu key. “Call Gordon,” he said.

  “What’s up? Door’s unlocked back here,” Gordon said.

  “Front’s been kicked in. Step back, hold your position, and keep watch. I’ll clear the living room, then let you know when to move inside. Stay connected.”

  “Copy,” Gordon replied.

  Charlie pushed open the door with his foot, keeping to his left and using the door frame for protection, remaining out of clear view from the window. “Hello, Ruby, are you okay?”

  He took a quick look, saw something big and black on the carpet inside, then ducked back quickly. It was a trash bag.

  “Shit,” he said. “Either she’s suddenly cleaning house, or there’s a body bag on the floor.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Squatting low, he looked around the door frame into the open room, pistol out, arm half extended. There were two big trash bags on the rug, dirty and dusty, like they’d been dragged across the ground. One question answered.

  He came in low, sweeping the room with his gun hand. It was furnished with low-end furniture and a third trash bag. There was a nearly black, reddish smear on the carpet next to one of the bags, where it had been torn open, probably from catching on something while being dragged. A bloody hand was sticking out up to the wrist. He could tell it wasn’t Ruby since she’d been wearing nail polish.

  “Three big trash bags hauled in from outside—smells like three bodies—at least one, for sure. There’s also blood on the carpet. I’m moving through the apartment next,” he said. Inching around to his right, he looked past a partition and counter that divided the kitchen area from the living room. The kitchen was empty, and to his right on the back wall was a door leading out the back.

  Charlie put away his phone, his actions on automatic. He’d searched hundreds of rooms in the past few years. “Come on in. We need to clear the bedroom and bath and check for survivors. Then we can call 911.”

  Gordon entered, weapon out. He leaned over the counter, covering the hall, and Charlie moved around the corner.

  Charlie could see into the bathroom, but not through the dark blue shower curtain. Inching his way toward it, he noticed the bedroom door to his left was open. There was an open carry-on type suitcase on the bed, and women’s clothes tossed inside.

  Charlie signaled with two fingers for Gordon to watch the bedroom, then took a quick look in the bathroom. He shook his head. Empty.

  Gordon inched up to cover him, and Charlie took a look through the gap between the open door and the jamb. Nobody behind it. He stepped into the bedroom, leading with his weapon, and noticed open drawers and clothes scattered everywhere. The closet was open—nothing but clothes, shoes, and a few plastic storage boxes inside.

  “Clear,” Gordon said, looking beneath the bed. “Where’s Ruby? In one of those leaf bags?”

  “You wanna look?”

  “Not really. Let’s think about this a minute before we call the cops,” Gordon said. “Otherwise, we may have to wait for days to get any intel from this place. This is outside APD’s jurisdiction.”

  “You’re right. Okay, Ruby ratted us out to someone who wanted us dead, either Eddie or one of the gangs, or both. But she didn’t stick around work after calling us. She came home, or at least her car did.” Charlie looked around and saw a purse on the dresser. He stepped over and examined it. “VW keys on the top—and a wallet inside. No cell phone.”

  “So she didn’t leave here in her car. Maybe she was snatched by whoever dumped the bodies,” Gordon said, “or she managed to duck out the back with the phone. Door was unlocked.”

  “What’s out there?”

  “Rear of the apartment building and a high wall on the other side—the backyards of houses. It’s just an alley with no place to hide unless she entered another apartment or climbed over the six-foot wall. There are two big Dumpsters…,” Gordon said.

  “Maybe they didn’t have a fourth bag. Let’s take a look,” Charlie suggested, still not eager to open the bags in the living room.

  They stepped out into the back alley, then walked over toward the two green side-by-side trash bins. They were the size of cars with metal covers, the kind the trash collectors picked up with forklifts.

  Charlie walked over and knocked on the metal side. “Ruby, this is Charlie Henry. I’m here with Gordon and you’re safe now. Whoever kicked down your door is gone.”

  They waited for several seconds, heard a faint sound inside, but then it got quiet again. “Ruby, there are three body bags in your living room right now. Any idea who they are?” Charlie asked.

  A minute went by, there was a faint sneeze from inside the bin, and Charlie looked over at Gordon. “I’m not too eager to go in after her, are you?” he whispered. “She likes you—or at least she did for a while.”

  Gordon shook his head, then held up his hand. Clearly, he had an idea.

  “Ruby probably took off on foot. She could be halfway to Corrales by now,” Gordon said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to wait around for the cops to arrive and end up in jail. Ruby left the keys to that shiny black VW in her purse, so I’m taking the Beetle. My girlfriend will love it.”

  “Better fucking leave my car alone,” Ruby’s voice came from inside the metal container. “Don’t move. I’m coming out.”

  The side of the metal container thumped, the lid creaked open, and eight gun-metal gray fingernails appeared, then two painted thumbnails. Ruby’s flaming red hair appeared next, and she peeked over. “You’re shitting me about stealing my car, right?”

  Gordon walked over, holding up his arms. “Climb out. I’ve got you, girl.”

  She scrambled up, leaned over, and gave both men a more-than-generous look at her chest as she inched out of the bin. “Grab my girls and you’re a eunuch,” she grumbled as Gordon took hold of her sides just beneath her arms.

  “Excuse me. Say the word and you’re on your own. I’m just trying to help.”

  “Whatever. Just get me down from here.”

  As soon as her feet touched the ground, Ruby tried to duck away, but Charlie grabbed her arm. “You stay put, Ruby. Run from us and you get away. Not long after that, you get dead. Was it Eddie who showed up and dumped the bodies?”

  Ruby looked around, anxiously. “Yeah, with some big guys I’ve never seen before. They were in a dark green van. What if they come back?”

  Charlie and Gordon exchanged glances. “She’s right,” Charlie said, reaching for his phone. “Let me call 911.”

  The sound of a siren could be heard in the distance. “Too late. Someone must have seen our guns and called the Rio Rancho cops,” Gordon said. “Let’s split. Otherwise we could be tied up here for hours.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie said, putting the phone away. “We don’t want to lose Ruby before we have a chance to talk some more.”

  Keeping a tight grip on Ruby’s hand, Charlie followed Gordon around the alley and to his pickup. Two apartments down, a door was open just a foot. He saw a woman’s face for a few seconds before she ducked back inside. She must have been the one who called the cops.

  A few minutes later, Ruby sitting between them, they were driving back down Highway 528 toward the river. They heard a second siren, but it was going in the opposite direction.

  Charlie looked at his watch, almost gagging as he tried to ignore the not-insignificant stench coming from Ruby’s garbage-enhanced jeans.

  “Yeah, I stink. You try hiding in the trash bin for a half hour.”

  Charlie thought about the four-and-a-half hours he and Gordon had spent in hundred-degree heat, covered in flies and surrounded by mangled insurgents, with other hajjis roaming around outside. They were trying to look as dead as the men they’d killed, knowing that a gag or a sneeze or the brushing away of a single fly could cost them their lives, or worse. “Must be unpleasant.”

  “Damned straight,” Ruby said. “Hey, you said there were bodies in my living room. You mean like animals? Cats, dogs?”

  “Human. Thought you’d have guessed by now, considering what you’d been up to so far today. Setting us up to be killed over by the zoo didn’t quite work out as planned, obviously. Who’d want to get rid of you and the shooters? Eddie?”

  “Killed?” Ruby gasped, sat up straight, then started to sob. After a minute she looked over at Charlie, her eye makeup streaking down her face. “Three bags? Did you look inside?”

  “Didn’t have to. We both saw a hand. Smelled like a slaughterhouse. Can’t forget the odor, lady, it gets into your clothes,” Gordon said.

  “I’m guessing you know who drives the black Acura?” Charlie asked.

  Ruby started to cry, nodding, nearly losing control. Her head was down now, her hands over her face.

  “Never send a boy to do a man’s job. The Acura was found abandoned, full of holes. Somebody finished them off. You know who?” Charlie said. He wasn’t too happy with the woman—she’d set them up as drive-by fodder—but right now she was their best connection to whoever was behind all this.

  Ruby cried a little longer, then finally sat up, wiping away her tears with her fingers. “Eddie, that lying hypocrite bastard. I called and told Eddie you were messing with the WezDawgz, looking for him. I thought he was just going to have some of the guys rough you up. He sold everyone out, not just me. It was Eddie and his new crew. They were the ones who killed Hal and Ernesto and Michael Oliver. The Acura belonged to the brothers. When they came looking for me, I could see they were carrying guns, so I ducked out the back door and hid.”

  Charlie brought out his phone and called Detective DuPree, describing what had just gone down. After a few minutes, he ended the call.

  “Where we going?” Gordon asked.

  “To meet DuPree, who’s conveniently already at our place. He also wants to know more about what’s going on. Up ’til now, we’ve been dealing with amateurs. Eddie’s new crew must be the pros. DuPree insists on talking to us before he takes Ruby downtown and has to fence with the jurisdictional issues—mainly Rio Rancho and the Sandoval County sheriff’s office. Sorry, Ruby. You’re probably going to be arrested.” He almost felt sorry for her now.

  She looked over at him and started crying again.

  * * *

  “He looks pissed, nothing’s changed,” Charlie said, leading the way through the back door of Three Balls. Behind him was Ruby, and Gordon took up the rear.

  Detective DuPree was standing in the short hallway outside their office. Two uniformed officers flanked him. He took Ruby aside and spoke to her for a few minutes, then sent her to the station with the officers.

  “Now, let’s get to the details of your latest adventure,” DuPree ordered, motioning them toward the office. “The Rio Rancho police are freaking out after coming across the scene at Ms. Colón’s apartment. Their lead homicide detective is on his way over. We’ve got about fifteen minutes, tops, to get our stories straight before he arrives.”

  “What did they give you regarding the bodies in the trash bags?” Charlie asked, taking a seat behind his desk. Gordon motioned for the detective to take his chair, but DuPree shook his head.

  “They found three young men, gang members based upon their tats. A black dog. Two of them had taken hits in the leg or arms, that’s still not clear. But all three were taken out with gunshot wounds to the backs of their heads—execution-style.”

  “The dead guys are the ones from our drive-by,” Gordon said.

  “Most likely. They didn’t have IDs, but their prints are being taken as we speak. Ruby said she never saw the bodies.”

  “She didn’t, or she’d be dead too. But we asked her about it on the way here and she has a good idea who they are. She thinks the three are probably Hal Calero, who led us on the chase through the mall, and two brothers, Ernesto and Michael Oliver,” Charlie said. “According to Ruby, they’re the gangbangers Eddie Henderson sent to work us over when we arrived at the apartment near the zoo. We were trying to track Eddie to his digs.”

  “The bangers took some hits from you two, then got polished off when they went to meet their backup. They’d failed, they were shot up, and that made them a liability. That what you’re thinking?” Detective DuPree asked.

  “You’re the detective, but, yes, that’s probably what went down,” Charlie replied.

  DuPree turned to look as a man in his early thirties, wearing a black Jägermeister cap, appeared in the office doorway. “Excuse me, Officer, but there’s someone here to see you. All of you,” he added, pointing up at the light fixture.

  Charlie instinctively looked up, said nothing, then glanced over at Gordon, who shrugged. “You’re Rick’s friend, right?”

  The man, pale and thin but with light blue, intelligent eyes, nodded. “Yeah, I’m Albert. He’s waiting. Let’s go.” Again, he pointed at the light fixture, then put his finger to his mouth, warning them to remain silent.

  “What the hell,” DuPree mumbled, then followed the man into the hall. Instead of going into the main room, Albert led them out the back door and onto the loading dock and shut the door behind them.

  “Now, just what the hell is going on?” DuPree asked, looking anxiously up and down the empty alley. “Who’s waiting?”

  Albert shook his head, then turned to Charlie. “Jake said I needed to say something, right away, and out here. Do you know your shop is bugged?”

  “Bugged?” DuPree asked.

  Charlie looked over at Gordon. “Eddie!” they both said at the same instant.

  “Eddie Henderson?” the detective said. “How the fuck did this happen?”

  “Hang on, we’ll fill you in,” Charlie interrupted. “Where are these bugs, Al?”

  “I was checking out your wiring, trying to find the best places to locate your security cameras and provide them with backup power. I found the device attached to the light above the main cash register, hooked up with an inductive connector that uses building electricity. Small, powerful, and never needs to be replaced. It’s on constantly, day and night. I left it intact,” Albert said.

  “You think there might be one in our office as well?” Gordon said. “Up by the light fixture?”

  “Yeah, in all likelihood. Want me to go in and take a look?” Albert said.

  “Yes, but leave it alone if you find one,” Charlie said.

  Albert stepped back inside.

  Charlie looked over at Gordon. “We’re screwed. Almost everything we planned was discussed in that office, and broadcast to someone out there listening. No wonder it was so easy to follow us. Whoever’s been eavesdropping knows pretty much everything we know.”

  “If they’ve been picking up our conversations in the office too…,” Charlie said, then grabbed for his phone and called Nancy.

  “Shit. We talked about where the woman and her son are being kept,” DuPree realized, the news settling in. “Let’s get over there.”

  “Hell yeah,” Gordon said, following Charlie, who was hurrying for the pickup, phone to his ear.

  * * *

  “Pick up, dammit, pick up,” Charlie said, trying to fasten his seat belt with one hand as Gordon took the corner in a sliding turn.

  There was the sudden blast of a siren, and Gordon eased over to the left just enough to let Detective DuPree whip by. “I’m on your ass, don’t stop,” Gordon mumbled, racing to keep up with the unmarked police unit.

  “Come on, Nancy, come on,” Charlie said, his heart in his throat. He’d been through dozens of operations, but never anything this personal, this close to home and family.

  “Anything?” Gordon asked, his eyes on the road.

  Charlie shook his head. “Crap, still getting her voice mail. Nancy, Eddie knows Ruth and Rene are with you. If he finds out where you live, he may be coming for you. He has men in a green van—pros. They’re killers. Don’t go outside, don’t answer the door. We’re on our way, ten minutes tops. Call back if you can.”

  It took nine minutes and they got no return call. Gordon turned the corner and raced up the block. Two police cars were in the street, emergency lights on. DuPree, ahead and just rolling in, screeched to a halt and jumped out. He was met at the curb by an officer standing across the street from Gina and Nancy’s townhouse. As the pickup screeched to a halt, Charlie jumped out first. He ran past DuPree, who’d brought out his radio. The detective shook his head as Charlie raced by.

  As he reached the sidewalk, Charlie saw Nancy, in uniform, standing just inside the open doorway, her hand near her holstered pistol. Somebody was standing behind her—Ruth. She was crying.