“Yeah, I guess.”

  “Well, Ruth is one of them. But enough of that, let’s cross the street and wait a little while.”

  “We’re going back and breaking in, right?”

  “How well you know me, bro.”

  * * *

  Charlie was fast with locks and had the door open in twenty seconds. They stepped inside an immaculately clean, furnished apartment that still smelled faintly of lemon.

  Gordon closed the door behind them, locked the knob and fastened the chain. They were used to these kind of entries and searches, though in ’stan they were more concerned about booby traps. Still, they remained as quiet as possible while they put on latex gloves. Here, unlike in their military missions, they had to worry about fingerprints, not staying alive.

  Charlie went straight to a writing desk, noting the empty space where a laptop had probably sat. A small inkjet printer was beside the empty space, but there was no USB cable, which suggested a wireless connection. He opened the top drawer. Inside was a nail clipper, a manual on CD for the missing laptop, a few pens, and a pocket spiral notebook, unused.

  There were two larger drawers, the top one locked, but this was a snap to open with his pocketknife. Inside was an almost-full opened package of photo-quality printer paper. Below it was an accordion-type folder and a half-full package of inkjet printer paper.

  Carefully removing the folder, Charlie unfastened the string and brought out a combination of e-mail printouts and printer images.

  He wasn’t surprised to find printed-out images, taken with a telephoto lens, of himself, Gordon, and Nancy. There were also photos of their residences, and Three Balls, out front and down the alley, including his Charger.

  Searching further, he saw two images of Ruth, obviously from several years ago. In one, she was holding a baby. Rene, probably. He noted that there were none of the apartment building where she’d been living most recently. Either Eddie hadn’t found the place, or else had chosen not to print a copy.

  Then he found a page containing images of Diego Baza, some of them in the doorway or the alley of Three Balls. There were also photos of the pawnshop interior, two of them focused on the light fixtures.

  By the time he got to the e-mails, Charlie noticed Gordon had come up beside him. Gordon pointed toward the bedroom and kitchen area, shook his head, then stood beside him as Charlie skimmed the e-mail printouts.

  Then he got to the meat of the matter. The next e-mail Charlie found listed the sender as L898BZm and was being sent to DNTCare. The subject was “HER.”

  Gordo read it in a whisper. “‘Eddy—check into this guy, Baza. He contacted me via my corporate address. I deleted the message, but here’s a copy. Make sure nobody sees it but you.—L.’”

  “I was right. Baza approached Brooks. He’s responsible for our Eddie being here,” Charlie said.

  Gordon continued reading. “‘Mr. Brooks. I know where your wife and son are. If you’d like to buy this information from me, please respond to this e-mail. I’m assuming you mean them no harm, or I wouldn’t have sent this message.—DB.’ I’m guessing Ruth doesn’t know this,” Gordon added.

  “No. She was played in the beginning, but it looks like Baza had a change of heart. Check this one out.” He pointed to an e-mail dated a month later, which Baza had sent to “Eddie.”

  In the message Baza explained that he was playing Mrs. B, trying to find out where the “stolen documents” are. Once he did that, he’d turn them over for the final payout.

  “Here’s the last one. ‘Baza is still stalling.’ That’s just two days before he was killed,” Charlie said.

  Gordon nodded. “What’s with the photos?”

  Charlie slid them over. “There’s a few more here,” he said, looking at the remaining three. “Here’s one of Gina getting into her car outside her office.”

  “Nothing on Baza’s last apartment?”

  “No, but here’s something that confirms what we already knew.” Charlie held up a specs sheet and installation instructions for hooking up electronic bugs.

  “We still might be able to use that to our advantage,” Gordon reminded him.

  “If we’d have set up Gina and Baza’s meet in our back alley she’d be at work right now, not in the hospital. None of those youngsters would be dead. At least part of this is our fault,” Charlie said.

  “Screw guilt and move on, bro. Gina was shot, and the gangs have already sold their souls to the highest bidder. Eddie was playing those boys and Baza, all the time trying to find Ruth. Let’s work for payback—balance—as the Navajos say,” Gordon replied. “How about we take photos of all this shit, put it back like it was, then get out of here? We don’t know where Eddie is, and when or if he’s coming back.”

  Five minutes later, they were clear of the building and walking across the complex grounds toward the rental car. Charlie’s phone started to vibrate. He looked at the display. “Nancy,” he told Gordon, putting the call on speaker.

  “Still nothing from the kidnappers. We’ve relocated to a safe house,” Nancy said. “Some off-duty volunteers on the force are cruising various neighborhoods, hoping to pick up the WiFi signal from Rene’s game, but that’s a real longshot. What’s new with you?”

  “We found Eddie’s apartment, but no Eddie. He’s going under the name of Eddie Patterson here. We’ve got images of some damning evidence that cinches who he’s working for, and why. I’ll send it to your phone, but don’t let Ruth see it, okay?”

  “Why not?”

  “Baza hasn’t always been her protector. He was the one who let Brooks know she was here. Then, later, he tried to undo the damage. You’ll see.”

  “No shit?” A few seconds went by. “That sucks,” Nancy added. “Just send me what you got, okay?”

  “Okay. Can you be the one who tells her?” Charlie added.

  “I knew that was coming. Yeah, but let me pick the time. Right now she’s got enough on her plate.”

  “Yeah, she does. Thanks.”

  Nancy lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know we can’t use any of this in court. I can’t tell DuPree either. You guys just did a B and E.”

  “No trace, no fingerprints. We wiped the doorknob clean just in case. If this gets the kid back, it’s worth it.”

  “Agreed. I can send Eddie’s address to DuPree, though. You got your information through an unidentified informant. There may be enough there to get a warrant. And if the detective gets this damning evidence legally…”

  “Exactly. Though if I was giving advice, I’d suggest that DuPree have the place staked out. Eddie took his laptop with him and is keeping a low profile somewhere, but who knows, he may be coming back, if only to pick up those papers. They link him to Brooks, Baza, and Ruth. And there’s more. According to Ruby Colón, Eddie had a bounty out on Ruth. Anyone who could find her got a new car.”

  “What a bastard,” Nancy replied, her voice cold. “I can’t wait until we lift prints and DNA from his apartment. Who the hell is this guy?”

  “We thought about bringing something back with his prints on it, but didn’t want to tip our hand in case he missed whatever it was,” Charlie replied.

  “We couldn’t have used it in court, not without a warrant, but I still wish we knew his real name. Good work anyway,” she added. “You should consider joining the force. Where you going now?”

  “I was thinking about visiting Gina. How’s she doing?”

  “Healing up, weak but getting stronger. She wants to come home.”

  “May not be the safest place for her right now. How’s hospital security?”

  “I thought about that—Eddie trying to get to Ruth via me, via Gina. There’s a guard by her door now, and he’s been given Eddie’s photo.”

  “Good. Maybe I should just wait until visiting hours. I think we’ll stop by the shop and check on Jake. He looks like he can take care of himself, but he’s alone there now.”

  “I didn’t say this, but maybe he should be strapped for a few days.”

  “Copy that. I’ll send you those images in a minute. Stay in touch, and stay safe.”

  “You too—and Gordon.”

  Charlie ended the call as they came to the corner of the sidewalk, forced to wait for the light to cross Lomas. He handed Gordon the car key. “You drive, I need to send the stuff to Nancy.”

  * * *

  Charlie spent the fifteen-minute travel time rereading and studying the images of the documents he’d photographed. He found himself staring at Ruth and the baby, then enlarged the image, checking out the background.

  “If this is Brooks’s home, it’s a palace. Big lawn and grounds, garden, and a house that must have cost five million dollars easy.”

  Gordon took advantage of a stoplight to glance over at the enlarged image Charlie held up. “Reminds me of those big houses along Rio Grande Boulevard.”

  “Yeah. The guy is worth hundreds of millions.”

  “But not worth shit as a human being. When I was watching over her the other night—Rene was asleep—she told me Lawrence had come from a lower middle-class family. He’d gone to college on a scholarship and loans, toughing it out and even living in his car one summer. He was a whiz in business school and had made his first million in the stock market before he graduated. His roommate’s father was a Wall Street trader, and apparently Lawrence got a bunch of insider tips.”

  “No moral compass. A gambler, eager to take short cuts, going for the big score?” Charlie said, remembering his father, the judge, who was always hard on defendants who’d abused their business position and cheated the little people. That was one of the few things where they’d always seen eye to eye.

  “Yeah. But once he’d hit it big, he had to live large as well. Always the best of everything. Even when they traveled on vacation, early in the marriage, he rented the biggest place he could find. According to Ruth, no four-star hotel was good enough,” Gordon said.

  “So, if he came here, where would Lawrence Brooks stay?” Charlie wondered. “He’s very private and likes his space. Big rooms, lots of space.”

  “He’d probably rent or lease the biggest house available—with an enormous yard, in a nice neighborhood. Like off Rio Grande?”

  “Could be. Most of the big houses up in the Heights have much less property around them. It’s worth a shot. Let me make a call to Claudia Espinosa,” Charlie said, looking up the number of the Realtor who helped them buy the pawnshop.

  “Nancy’s right, you know. When all this is over, we’ve got to change our business name,” Gordon said, grinning. “Maybe Claudia can make some suggestions.”

  “Yeah.” Charlie brought out his phone. “Meanwhile, I’m hoping she can tell us if a place big enough for Brooks has been rented or leased recently.”

  “That still won’t tell us if Lawrence Brooks is actually there. He’d have Eddie or someone else do it for him, using a corporate name for a rent or lease agreement,” Gordo said. “What they call a shell company?”

  “Maybe. But if Brooks’s personality is anything like Ruth describes, once Eddie provided him the leverage, he’d probably want to be in on the score. Get his hands on her.” Charlie felt a twinge of anger at the thought.

  “What we can do is check any likely estates for that WiFi signal,” he continued. “There can’t be that many big homes—estates—available for rent or for sale. This is New Mexico, not California. Still, it’s a longshot.”

  Gordon nodded. “God’s ears. Make the call. Worse-case scenario, we can go house to house in those ’hoods and maybe trigger a reaction.”

  Charlie called, got Claudia’s voice mail, and left a message. “Wait and see, I guess,” he said, noting that they were within a few blocks of the shop. “Hey, four cars out front. Looks like business is picking up. Jake has been drawing them in.”

  His phone rang. “Speak of the devil,” Charlie said. “Hey, Jake, need some help?”

  “Probably, but that’s not why I called. You need to get over here and check out an e-mail that came in through the business Web site,” Jack said, his voice low.

  “We’ll be right there, coming in the back,” Charlie said, ending the call.

  “I know that look,” Gordon said. “Something just hit the fan.”

  “Yeah. Looks like the kidnappers decided to use the Internet instead of a telephone. Disconnect the bug once we get in there, will you?” Charlie added.

  Jake nodded to them when they came in the back, but shook his head when Gordon asked if he needed some help. A half-dozen customers were in the shop, but only two were at the counter where he was serving them.

  Gordon jumped up onto the desk and disconnected the bug from its power supply, then climbed down and dropped it into a drawer. Charlie, in the meantime, took a seat, then clicked the mouse to open the mail folder.

  On screen was an e-mail sent to the contact feature on their business Web site. The first thing Rick the computer guy had done was create a Three Balls Web site. The only problem they’d had so far was showing up on porn Web site searches.

  Gordon came around to read over his shoulder. The e-mail, which listed a likely untraceable ISP address, had the subject line “Ruth—deal.”

  “Crap, this is them, all right. ‘If Ruth wants to trade, she’ll have the original merchandise ready at eight PM tonight. We’ll call the store number with the delivery details. Ruth can bring one friend to the exchange. This is a one-time offer.’ That’s pretty clear,” Gordon said.

  Charlie was already calling Nancy. “I don’t see how we can get this set up to cover the transfer. They’ll probably give the location at the last minute.”

  “It’s what I’d do,” Gordon replied. “I’m betting it’ll be in the middle of nowhere, in the wide open, maybe.”

  Charlie held up his hand. “Nancy, I’ve got some news. We need a plan in a hurry. Is DuPree handy? Okay, put him on the speaker. I’ll do the same with Gordo.”

  * * *

  Ruth insisted on listening in, and after a few moments of arguing back and forth, they came up with a plan they could all live with. If Rene was there at the transfer, they’d make the deal. First of all, however, they’d chose a place to meet, then they’d go together to pick up the stuff she’d hidden. Ruth needed to remain protected.

  * * *

  “Déjà vu all over again, huh?” Gordo said, watching from his pickup in the parking lot as Ruth and Nancy walked into the credit union.

  “At least Ruth, unlike Gina, is with an armed cop. Hopefully, nobody inside will notice Nancy’s carrying,” Charlie said. “That tends to attract attention in a bank,”

  “Ruth played it smart, using a safe-deposit box. Better than an old ammo box buried in the desert,” Gordo replied.

  Charlie glanced at his partner.

  “How big a box?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” Gordon said, a hint of a smile on his face.

  Charlie shook his head and looked in the side mirror again.

  He had barely taken his eyes off the street and the drivers in passing cars since they’d pulled up. DuPree, with another plainclothes officer, was parked beside the curb fifty feet away, just in case.

  As he watched, though, Charlie’s mind wandered back to Gina, still in the hospital, and under twenty-four-hour guard. They’d spoken briefly over the phone, and her voice was finally sounding stronger.

  Maybe, by this time tomorrow, some of the debt he’d incurred putting her in harm’s way would be repaid. The guilt, though, would remain. All he could hope for now was that the balance in her life would be restored, and that she’d be safe and happy for a while.

  At least he’d never feel guilty killing his enemies; he knew that it had been necessary. There were others though, some who may not have been his enemies. How many ultimately innocent people had he brought before those who would do anything to extract information—useful or not? It was better not knowing; there was no way he could make up for that, except, maybe, by helping the innocent now. Like Rene and his mother—and Gina.

  “Thinking too much isn’t good for you, bro,” Gordo whispered. “Concentrate on the here and now.”

  “Sorry, my mind was wandering.” Charlie sat up in his seat just a little and took another look at the bank entrance. “Here they come.”

  Nancy and Ruth came out the door, both carrying big tote bags, but Charlie only noticed that out of the corner of his eye. Like feds guarding dignitaries, Charlie and Gordo kept eyes on passing strangers or nearby cars, doorways, or windows—not the people they were protecting.

  DuPree pulled away from the curb, turned into the parking lot, and the women, who’d turned ninety degrees, climbed into the back seat of his cruiser.

  Gordon pulled out first, leading the way. “Next stop, the police station,” he mumbled.

  * * *

  Five minutes before eight that evening, Charlie, Ruth, Gordon, and Nancy were in Nancy’s car, parked in the McDonald’s parking lot closest to the shop. They’d made copies of the papers and thumb drive carried out by Nancy—Ruth’s tote was a decoy—and had been at the station for most of the afternoon. They’d forwarded calls coming to the shop phone to Nancy’s primary cell phone so they wouldn’t be tied to one location. Only recently had they driven back to the neighborhood near Three Balls.

  Exactly at eight o’clock, Nancy’s phone rang. She put it on speaker.

  “Drive to the parking lot on the west side of Isotopes Park. You’ve got fifteen minutes. When you arrive, you’ll get a second call. Don’t be late,” the familiar voice instructed. “And tell Charlie and Gordon to stay out of this.”

  “Wait. We’re in North Valley. It’ll take us twenty minutes or more to get to the sports stadium,” Nancy said.

  “Hello?” she said. “He hung up. Was that Eddie?”

  “Yeah,” Charlie replied.

  “Crap, I was hoping for some time to get into position. Hang on, everyone.” She turned on her emergency lights and siren, then pulled out into the street and raced east toward I-25.

  Detective DuPree, who was a block away in an unmarked car with another detective, got on the radio right away as he followed. “Where we going?”