Chapter 9
Ben pushed his plate of half-eaten eggs away. “A lot. She was an assistant district attorney in Houston for eight years.”
“Has she ever defended anyone?”
“I’m her first.”
Moto shook his head. He had to be joking. There was no way an inexperienced litigator could handle this case. “Can you get someone else? Someone with a track record?”
“I can’t afford a lawyer with a track record. Besides, she’s a friend.”
The waitress appeared and refilled their coffee before disappearing into the diner. Moto drank the scalding-hot liquid. “Then I’ll pay for it.”
“No, thanks, little brother.”
“You have a bargain-basement lawyer who’s never defended anyone accused of murder. This is your life we’re talking about.”
“As long as that electronic trail leads right to my door, it won’t make a damn bit of difference who’s defending me. The proof is in the pudding, and right now the pudding says I’m guilty as sin.”
“Are you?”
“Stop fucking asking me that. No. You think I’d kill a federal agent?”
“Everyone is capable of murder, given the right motivation. Depends what he had on you.”
“I was selling real estate, for God’s sake.”
“Millions of dollars’ worth to anonymous buyers. You should have known better. You think you suddenly became a hotshot Realtor overnight? You think your fortune changed just like that?”
Ben’s stare hardened over the rim of his coffee cup. “Not everyone gets things handed to them on a silver platter.”
The bell over the diner entrance jingled and a petite brunette entered, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail and her suit two sizes two big. She crossed to their table. “I’m sorry I’m late. Are you ready?”
Moto held out his hand. “Zach Sato. I’m Ben’s brother.”
“Laney Devereux. I don’t shake hands.”
Moto eyed Ben, but he was already getting up. This woman wasn’t much for social graces. Moto took out his wallet and dropped several bills on the table. “How far are the cliffs from here?”
“About twenty minutes,” said Laney. “I’ll drive.
We can talk in the car.” She led the way to a minivan.
Ben took the passenger seat, and Moto opened the rear sliding door to a pink booster seat covered in crumbs.
Laney didn’t miss a beat, reaching for the booster and tossing it into the back of the van. “Sorry about the goldfish.”
Moto frowned, flicking Goldfish crackers and crumbs onto the floor before sitting down. “Tell me about the crime scene.” Ben had already filled him in over breakfast, but he was interested in hearing her take, too.
“Eighty-five-foot cliffs down to the water and rocks below. Body was found floating in the lake a hundred yards away.” The car swerved sharply, slamming Moto into the door.
Laney drove like her house was on fire, deftly passing pickup trucks and eighteen-wheelers.
“Injuries consistent with a fall from that height. A fractured cranium, compound fracture of the leg. But the fall and the water didn’t kill him.
Coroner says he died from asphyxia. No water in the lungs. ”
Moto wondered how skilled the coroner was and made a mental note to have Logan investigate. “Strangulation?”
“Possibly. No ligature marks, but some bruising around the neck, along with severe bruising of his torso and face that are inconsistent with a fall and several hours old at the time of death.”
Moto liked her succinct retelling. “He was beat up.”
“Badly. Speaking of which, you both appear to have been in a fight.”
It was Ben who answered. “We had a few things to settle with each other.”
“I take it that’s over with? Because walking around with evidence of a beating doesn’t help me convince anyone you aren’t the physical type.” She eyed Moto pointedly in the rearview mirror.
“Sorry,” he said contritely.
Ben shifted in his seat. “Won’t happen again.”
“Shit, this is our turn.” She darted across two empty lanes of traffic and took the exit ramp at high speed.
Moto gripped the overhead handle to steady himself. “You always drive like this?”
“No. Sometimes I go fast.” She took a winding two-lane road up the side of a hill, his stomach swirling with each curve. The sun shone brightly. “Hand me my glasses,” she said.
Ben opened the glove box and retrieved them. Moto frowned. Just how often had he been in this car? Ben said Laney was a friend, but exactly what kind of friend was she?
The car bumped over a pothole, and Moto hit his head on the roof. He was grateful when she reached the top of the hill and pulled to a stop in the dirt, a cloud of dust rising up around the vehicle. “Here we go,” she said, hopping out of the car.
Moto climbed out of the backseat. The air was muggy again, a trio of gulls flying overhead as he surveyed the scene.
It was a beautiful view, a bright blue lake and hundreds of miles of land stretching out to the horizon.
Moving to the edge of the cliff, he looked down.
Just as Laney described, a straight drop ended on jagged rocks and water. “Any evidence gathered up here?”
“Blood on the rock by the car, matches our victim. Tire tracks, multiple sets, none of which match Ben’s car. Basically, we’ve got a whole lot of nothing to prove he was here.”
Ben walked to the edge and stood beside Moto. “And nothing to prove I wasn’t.”
Laney put her hands on her hips. “Except the fact that you wanted him dead. He was a federal officer asking serious questions about your illegal activity.”
“I didn’t want him dead! I didn’t do anything wrong. I sold commercial real estate within the confines of the law. It was just business.”
She scoffed. “Save the bullshit for court. You told me yourself you thought something shady was going on, remember?”
Ben cocked his head. “No.”
“You really shouldn’t drink so much. Whether you wanted him dead or not, you had reason to want him dead. It’s damning as all hell, whether you knew it or not. You’ve got motive coming out of your pores.”
Moto looked from one to the other. They seemed a little too familiar to simply be lawyer and client.
Ben’s phone rang. “It’s Ricky Lorenzo, my contact from DeRegina’s office.”
“Put it on speakerphone,” said Laney.
He did. “Hello?”
“Glad to see you made bail. How are you feeling?”
“Other than being framed for a crime I didn’t commit? Fine.”
“We have some business to discuss. Meet me at the usual place in an hour.”
“No can do. I’m being charged with murder, man. I need to take care of myself for a while.”
“But we have work to do.”
“Sorry, but you’ll have to find yourself another real estate agent. I can recommend someone.”
Ricky’s tone suddenly changed. “That won’t be happening. This is business as usual, do you understand me? I need the waterfront deal finalized by Tuesday.”
“Tuesday! That closing isn’t scheduled for three weeks from now—”
“Tuesday, no later, and you handle the deal yourself, or being charged with murder will be the least of your problems. You understand me?” The line went dead.
Laney raised an eyebrow at Ben. “Looks like your real estate days aren’t over just yet, sweet cheeks.”
Moto’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He had a text from Logan. His brow furrowed. “One of DeRegina’s largest companies, an import/export business over in Savannah, got raided by the DEA yesterday.”
Laney peered over his shoulder at the screen. “What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?”
Ben cursed under his breath. “Could be distribution for drugs. Savannah’s a big port town, just like Houston. Was the place that got raided at the port?”
Moto texted Logan, the answer coming back seconds later. “Yes.”
“Then that’s it,” said Ben. “DeRegina could have been running his whole operation out of there. With Savannah gone, he needs a way to bring drugs into the country. Shit, he’s probably got cargo out on the Atlantic right now, just waiting to dock.”
Moto shook his head. “I don’t follow.”
“The property Ricky Lorenzo is so desperate to close on is a warehouse at the Port of Houston. With Savannah out of the picture…”
Laney’s jaw dropped. “All of DeRegina’s drugs have to come into Houston.”
Ben nodded. “They’re going to move the whole operation right into our town.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “And I’m going to help them do it.”
“I’m calling in HERO Force.” Moto dialed his phone.
Ben held his palms up. “I can’t afford—”
“We can’t do this alone.” This was his family. Ben was in danger, backed tight against a wall. All Moto’s anger and resentment paled in comparison to the need he felt to fight alongside Ben. “I’ve got your back, brother.”