“And what?”
“And what did your investigation find?”
Gutierrez’s eyes turned dark. “Ask your friends at the FBI and consulate.”
“Look, this may not be important to you, and you may not be equipped for this type of investigation, but my family’s dead. So I’d appreciate it if—”
“You want to sass me, boy?” The man pulled out a nightstick from a ring on his belt and smacked it on the table.
Matt swallowed hard. “I’m not sassing. I’m— Never mind.” Fuck this. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with this guy. Matt stood to leave.
“I didn’t say you could go. Sit down.” When Matt didn’t oblige, Gutierrez stood, gripped the nightstick with his right hand.
“Sit!”
Matt held up his hands, palms in retreat, and slowly lowered to his chair.
“I meant no offense,” Matt said. That wasn’t true. If Matt had learned one thing from his father, however, it was to never underestimate the power of an angry cop. When his dad gave talks about Danny’s case, he always warned parents to teach their children to treat police officers like a big dog they didn’t know. Most dogs were friendly, but you still wouldn’t just rush up to pet the creature; you’d use caution, make sure it didn’t bite. And you’d certainly never poke it with a stick. The same was true with cops. Most were hardworking, decent people. But the profession also attracted a certain breed. Like a rabid dog, you might not know the good from the bad until it was too late.
“So tell your children no matter how angry they are, no matter how unjust the situation,” Dad would say, “that they should be overly respectful, overly cautious, and not make any sudden moves—it could save their lives.”
Matt followed the advice. “It’s been a hard time,” Matt said. “I meant no disrespect. I’ve been up all night.”
“I know. Fraternizing with prostitutes.”
“What are you—”
Just then a woman burst into the room, the receptionist trailing after her. The woman wore a business suit, her face twisted in anger. In Spanish she started castigating Gutierrez.
Gutierrez said something in an equally harsh tone. Matt’s eyes went from one of them to the other, a tennis match of insults he couldn’t understand.
The woman finally pointed a stern finger at Gutierrez. She said something as if it were a dire warning.
To Matt’s surprise, Gutierrez, so amped up just moments ago, retreated.
The woman looked at Matt now. “Let’s go, Mr. Pine.”
Gutierrez didn’t try to stop them.
Outside, the woman handed Matt a business card. “I’m Carlita Escobar—no relation—from the consulate.”
“I thought Mr. Foster was assigned to—”
“He’s been reassigned. I’m taking care of your case.”
Matt didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t much care. He just wanted to get the fuck out of there. “The officer said my parents were released last night.”
“That’s right. Senior State Department officials insisted, and I had to go over Gutierrez’s head. You have some important friends, Mr. Pine.”
Matt didn’t know what she meant by that, but again he didn’t really care. The last twenty-four hours had been what his friend Ganesh would call “a dog’s breakfast.”
“Where did they send my family?”
Escobar retrieved her phone from her handbag, then tapped on it as if she were looking for the details.
“Nebraska,” she said. She pronounced the word Knee-Baraska, like she’d never heard of the place. “They went out on a flight last night.”
It made sense. The family plot was in Adair. Someone must’ve talked to his aunt.
“We have a car to take you to the airport.” She gestured to a town car parked nearby. “You’ll want to go now,” Escobar said, and glanced at the station house. “You should get out of Tulum.”
CHAPTER 30
SARAH KELLER
The bright morning sun reflected off the skyscrapers lining Michigan Avenue. Sarah Keller walked into the lobby of the office tower, her first visit to the Chicago branch of Marconi LLP. She’d analyzed the company for two years—talked to former employees, scrutinized bank records, studied bios of the executives—so it was strange to visit the place in person. Headquartered in New York with offices in nine other states, the entire firm wasn’t dirty—at least, Keller didn’t think so. Just the Chicago office.