She Can Kill Page 19

  “Look, you’ve lived here two years and haven’t done anything wrong. You helped me when Rachel was in danger. You stood up for Sarah. You saved four people in that convenience store. That said, I can’t make promises. I’m operating in a vacuum, Cristan. I can’t protect you or the other residents of this town unless I know what I’m up against.”

  “Lucia would be safer if we leave. We can start over in a new city. I told her this tonight, and she reacted badly.” Cristan nearly choked on the truth. “She likes it here.”

  Mike set his cup on the counter. “Why isn’t she safe here?”

  “Because I suspect the people who killed her mother have come looking for her.”

  “We’ll get into the whos and whys in a minute.” Mike digested the information with a frown. “But do you really think moving her to another place will keep her safe? Whoever you’re running from found you here. Why do you think they won’t track you down again?”

  “I know how to disappear.”

  “I’m sure you do, but I think you’d better look at this from a different perspective.” Mike leaned his palms on the counter. “If Lucia runs away in a new city, who will pick her up on the side of the road? Who will make sure she’s safe? And God forbid, anything ever happens to you, wouldn’t you feel better knowing there are people who will step up and take care of her?”

  Cristan opened his mouth to argue, but Mike held up a hand. “What happens to Lucia if these people kill you? Do you have a provision for that?”

  “I admit there’s a gap in my escape plan.”

  “Does she know about any of this?” Mike asked.

  “Not until tonight.” Cristan shook his head. “I wanted her to have the most normal childhood possible.” But now he realized he’d put her in danger. “It was a mistake. I should have told her.” He should have done many things differently.

  Mike nodded. “Here’s another thing to consider. Lucia won’t be eighteen for five years. What if you’re killed tomorrow? She’s a child. She’d end up in foster care. I hate to say it, but the foster system isn’t always a safe place. And if these people track her down then, she’d be on her own. I want you to think hard about this. She walked almost five miles in the cold tonight. When you were in the police station the other night, she stayed with Sarah. She came out of the woods tonight and got into my car. If you start again in another city, how long will it be before she has anyone she trusts?”

  The turmoil in Cristan’s chest burned. Mike was right. If he hadn’t found her on the side of the road . . . If Lucia hadn’t been heading for his farm . . . If she hadn’t felt she had a safe place to go, then who knew what would have happened to her?

  “What made you decide to leave Westbury tonight?”

  Cristan inhaled and exhaled a single, long breath. Once he started talking, there would be no way to take back the information. Mike would know everything Cristan had been hiding for twelve years. But what else was he going to do? The cop was right. Lucia needed other people in her life other than him. She needed a safety net rather than an escape plan.

  Cristan spied Lucia’s backpack on the floor next to the kitchen island. He opened it and rooted through the contents for the two images that Lucia had taken from the house: the picture of her and her mother and the photo in the newspaper. Cristan found the pictures in a manila envelope and pulled them out.

  He lined the images up next to each other. “When you came to tell me about the bodies, I was hanging this picture in Lucia’s room.” He pointed to the photo of Lucia and Snowman and pointed to the dark-haired woman in the crowd. “This woman looks like my wife.” He tapped the picture of Eva and infant Lucia.

  Mike squinted at the images. “It’s blurry, and with the hat and scarf, not much of her face is visible.”

  Cristan turned up his palms. “I could be wrong, but the image took my breath away. Do you have a magnifying glass?”

  Mike rummaged through his top drawer and pulled out a handheld magnifier. He held it over the newspaper photo. “It could be the same woman, but I wouldn’t bet on it, and I thought your wife was dead?”

  “She is, but she had a younger sister, Maria. The resemblance was strong between them.”

  “OK. Say this is your wife’s sister, Lucia’s aunt. Why did she kill those men?”

  Cristan paced the kitchen. He scrubbed a hand over the top of his head. “I’m not sure. My best guess is that she wants Lucia. Wait.” The robbery jumped into Cristan’s thoughts. “During the robbery, one of the men told the other to forget about Kenzie. He said, ‘He’s the one we need.’ At the time, I thought he was referring to the store manager, and that they needed him to open the safe. But now I wonder if I was the target.”

  “Why would they want you?”

  “I wonder if Maria hired them to make me collateral damage in that robbery.”

  “You think the robbery was staged?” Mike asked.

  “I don’t know. But it makes sense. Maria hires those men to kill me, but she wants it to look like a tragic accident. When I’m gone, she either steals Lucia from a foster home or swoops in and says she’s a long-lost relative. A DNA test would validate her claim. She wouldn’t have to deal with me.”

  “Then when the men were unsuccessful, she kills them because they can identify her.” Mike rubbed his leg. “But why not just dump them where no one will find them? It doesn’t seem to make much sense to attract attention to the murders.”

  Cristan slapped his palm on the stone counter. He swore as the answer clarified in his mind. “She was hoping I’d run.”

  “You want to explain that?”

  “She couldn’t find a way around my home security.”

  “You have an alarm system. I assume you have some weapons.” Mike held up a hand. “That I don’t want to know about. You’ve built a stronghold, and she wanted to flush you out of it.”

  “And I almost did exactly what she planned.” Cristan resumed pacing. He cupped the back of his head, where an ache pulsed.

  “I’d like to know why you’re running from this woman. You want to tell me the whole story from the beginning?”

  The kitchen door opened and Sarah walked in. Her cheeks were reddened from the cold. “I want to make some hot chocolate for Lucia.”

  “I don’t suppose she’s ready to talk to me?” Cristan asked.

  Sarah shook her head. “Give me a little more time.”

  “When you go back to the barn, would you check in on Lady?” Mike asked. “Rachel thinks it won’t be long now. With her a couple of weeks late, she wants the vet on hand in case the mare runs into trouble with a big foal.”

  “OK.” Sarah stripped off her hat, gloves, and coat, and set them on a stool. She opened a cabinet and pulled down a thermal mug. Lighting the burner under the teakettle, she added an envelope of hot chocolate to the mug. Then she stopped and studied the men for a few seconds. “Am I interrupting something?”

  Cristan shook his head. “No. You should hear this too. I’m not who you think I am, Sarah.”

  She turned and gripped the edge of the counter, as if bracing herself for bad news.

  “My name is Christopher Navarro. Twelve years ago I was living in Buenos Aires with my wife and infant daughter. My wife’s father was an arms dealer. Franco Vargas’s main customers were gangs in Brazil and Argentina.”

  “Is that Vargas with a V?” Mike asked, his face grim.

  “Yes.” Cristan took a breath. Sarah had not moved and her face was expressionless.

  He continued, “Franco owned several properties, but his favorite was the ranch outside Buenos Aires, where he bred polo ponies. After Lucia was born, I took a leave of absence from the business. I cannot explain what happened to me when my daughter was born. From the first moment I held her in my arms, I was a changed man. I no longer wanted to be a part of the violent world I’d lived in all my life, a
nd I certainly didn’t want that life for my child. I tried to talk Eva into running away. I bought new identities for the three of us, but she was afraid, both of her father’s wrath and of one of Franco’s long-time enemies, Aline Barba.

  “A meeting was held at the ranch. Eva had gone ahead. Lucia and I were late. We argued about that.” The last time he’d seen his wife, they’d fought. “We arrived in time to see the beginning of the attack. There was an explosion and gunfire. I took Lucia and hid. I ran while my wife and her family were slaughtered. Every last one of them. I’m not proud of what I did, but at the time, I was concerned with only my child’s safety.”

  Sarah’s face had gone white.

  “During the massacre I heard the men speaking Portuguese. I assumed the attack was orchestrated by Franco’s Brazilian business rival. Aline Barba had a personal vendetta against the Vargas family. Her organization and my father-in-law’s conflicted over a sale to a gang in Bolivia years before. Aline’s son was killed in the ensuing altercation.”

  “Do you think this Aline Barba is the one behind all this?”

  “I don’t know. Aline had sworn vengeance against the entire Vargas clan. Eva was the one who killed Aline’s son, so I would think her revenge was complete after the massacre.” Cristan stopped pacing. “The only two people who would have any interest in me and Lucia are Aline Barba and Maria Vargas.”

  Mike’s gaze dropped to the picture. “You’re sure your wife is dead.” With a quick glance at Sarah, he cleared his throat. “You saw her?”

  Cristan didn’t blink. The sight of Eva’s ruined face and body was clear in his mind as it was that day twelve years before. “Yes.” He lifted his glass and swallowed cold coffee. The liquid hit his stomach like pure acid. “There is a death certificate. DNA tests were done.”

  “Where was your wife’s sister during the explosion?” Mike asked.

  “At school in California. In addition to the ranch and penthouse, Franco owned a vineyard near Mendoza. That is where Maria usually stayed when she returned to Argentina during school breaks. She was supposedly studying business and interning at a winery in California, but Eva often complained that Maria was having too much fun. My wife was a very serious woman. She didn’t believe in leisure activities, aside from the occasional polo match.”

  The teakettle whistled. Sarah jolted. She went to the stove and poured hot water into the mug. Steam rose, obscuring her face. “How much of this does Lucia know?”

  “Not much,” Cristan said. “I was afraid the knowledge would be a burden for a child, but it seems I should have been more honest.”

  “We all make mistakes.” Sarah stirred the cocoa, her eyes studying his.

  Could she forgive him for his deception? Because he realized that it mattered very much to him that she could.

  “I’m not sure that, under the circumstances, I would have done anything differently. I’ve kept many of the awful things Troy has done from my girls because they didn’t need to know.” Sarah added milk to the cocoa and screwed the cap on the thermos. “I’d better get back to Lucia.”

  “Thank you,” Cristan said. He wasn’t sure which he appreciated more, Sarah’s kindness toward his daughter or her empathy toward him. But would she still be as supportive if she knew about the men he’d killed? That was a conversation they’d have in private. He liked Mike, but a cop wasn’t the audience he wanted for a confession.

  She shrugged into her coat, put on her gloves, and went back outside.

  Once she was gone, Mike said, “There are a few other things I didn’t tell you about the bodies.”

  Cristan waited.

  “We’ve withheld this information from the media, but each man had the letter V carved into his chest.”

  A chill slid through Cristan’s blood. “V for Vargas.”

  “Seems like,” Mike agreed. “Have you ever seen that before?”

  “No.” Cristan scrambled to make sense of it all. “Does that mean the men were killed by a Vargas or was the killer simply sending me a message?”

  Mike shrugged. “Who knows that you’re still alive?”

  Cristan shrugged. “Everyone. I was a person of interest at the time. Once the police sorted out the identities of all the victims, they knew I was missing. Luckily, I’d gotten Lucia out of the country before that happened.”

  “Did they think you were involved?”

  “I was a suspect for a period of time, but charges were never filed. Franco had many enemies. Eventually, the police concluded that the scope of the massacre was too big for one man, and they focused their investigation on Franco’s competitors.”

  “So you’re not wanted for murder in Argentina?”

  “No,” Cristan said.

  “Do you know where Maria Vargas is today?”

  “The last time I conducted a discreet query, she was living on the vineyard in Mendoza. Maria never had any interest in the family business. To my knowledge, she hasn’t resurrected the enterprise.”

  “But this Aline Barba, she is still active?”

  “Yes. Very. Her organization absorbed many of Franco’s clients.”

  “I’m going to need more information to investigate.”

  “I have a dossier on both Maria and Aline, but I only have photos of Maria. Possibly there are pictures of Aline in some government database, but nothing I could hack into without triggering alarms.” Cristan paced. “If you start making legitimate inquiries, the dust trail your investigation kicks up will let everyone know exactly where we are.”

  “It seems they already know,” Mike said.

  “I can’t take that chance.”

  “I’ll make a copy of Maria’s photo, I’ll check the local motels. She must be staying somewhere.” Mike tilted his head. “Also, I have a friend I’ve used for digital inquiries that require discretion. Would you have any objection to pulling him into this?”

  “My daughter wishes to stay in this community,” Cristan said. “But if my identity is compromised, I won’t be able to stay here.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Mike said. “You’re going to have to trust me. I’m not looking to ruin Lucia’s life.”

  “Trusting people isn’t one of my skills.”

  “Maybe you can learn from your daughter.” Mike set his coffee in the sink. “I don’t see where you have many options.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Sarah leaned on the door and watched the chestnut mare.

  Cristan walked into the barn and stood next to her. “Some mares won’t foal while someone is watching.”

  “Rachel’s worried about her.”

  He went into the stall and walked a circle around the gentle mare as she chewed her hay. Smiling, he stroked a hand over the horse’s rounded belly. “She seems fine.”

  “Where did you learn about horses?”

  “My father-in-law bred polo ponies on his ranch.”

  “I thought he . . .” Sarah searched for neutral words to say sold illegal guns. Lucia was in Snowman’s stall at the other end of the barn. She needed to hear the truth from her father’s lips. She went into the stall and rubbed Lady’s nose.

  “Horses were his love. The other was his business,” Cristan said. “Franco was a hard man, and he did some terrible things, but he wasn’t all bad.” He paused, looking away as if afraid to see her response. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “I killed men, Sarah. Granted, none of them were innocent. They were all violent men, but taking a life leaves a stain on a man’s soul.”

  “Then why did you do it?” Sarah asked, still trying to wrap her mind around all he’d told her. Try as she might, she couldn’t see the man she knew as cold-blooded. Killing for a very good reason, that she could imagine very clearly. He would fight for a cause or to defend loved ones. Cristan had a warrior’s nature. But she didn’t see him as a murderer.


  “I was a boy when I went to live with Franco. What he gave me went beyond food and shelter. For the first time in many years, I belonged. At the time in my life, I would have done anything for that feeling, to not be alone.”

  “It sounds like he manipulated you.”

  “If Franco recruited mass numbers of orphans and turned them into his soldiers, I would agree with you. But he only took three of us, one at a time, over the years.”

  “What happened to the others?” Sarah asked.

  “They died in firefights before I joined the family.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  Cristan shrugged. “Back then, I would have willingly given my life for Franco. Before he took me in, I wasn’t really living.” He paused, his dark eyes meeting hers. “I don’t want to say I didn’t know any better back then because it sounds like an excuse. So I’ll say that I hadn’t yet learned to value life. I was young and very alone. Having people who cared about me felt like everything.”

  As different as she and Cristan were, they had that in common. The very human need to love and be loved.

  Sarah rested her forehead on the mare’s neck. “I felt the same way when I married Troy. My mother was mentally ill. My birth sent her over the edge. Dad loved her more than he ever loved us. My sister was five when I was born, and she practically raised me. When my mother died, dad turned to alcohol. He couldn’t cope. No, he didn’t want to cope with my mom’s death. Rachel had left for the European show-jumping tour. So, it was me and Dad in that house.” She splayed her fingers on the horse’s neck, absorbing some of the mare’s tranquility. “When Troy said he loved me, I jumped at the chance to marry him. I don’t even think I knew what love was, but I wanted it so badly, I didn’t think. I said yes.”

  “Is your father still living?”

  “He is, but my mother’s life—and death—destroyed him. He loved her with his whole heart, and she wasn’t capable of loving him back. She took drugs. She cheated on him, and he let her. Over and over again.” Sarah shivered. “I used to stop and check on him twice a week, but this week I told him I couldn’t do it anymore. He can destroy himself, but I can’t watch. I feel relieved I don’t have to witness his daily decline and feel guilty for abandoning him. To make it worse, I feel guilty that I’m relieved.”