Page 39 of There Once was a Dancer
I growled, opening my mouth to argue when Candy started laughing. “Shut up, Monroe. You have no idea when I’m kidding? Even a decade after meeting you?”
“I-I—”
“Seriously…shut up and get in the BearCat. Everyone else is waiting for you.”
I glanced at the big tactical vehicle where the rest of my team was milling around, watching our interaction and pretending not to. They’d probably seen the entire vignette with Cachi and me play out from start to finish. Bastards.
“Yeah. Thanks, Captain.” I noted how the boss smiled as he slapped me on the back. We both turned and headed for the vehicle.
Stopping myself from looking back to see how Cachi was faring was pure hell.
Chapter Ten
CACHI
My Sunday had turned into hell. It was as simple as that. As I sat in a plain and cold room, waiting for Agent Wallace to come in and ask more questions, all I wanted was to see Rex. I missed him and now I thought I knew why he hadn’t called. He’d been involved with work, which was more important than me, especially if his job at the FBI was hunting down very dangerous men who sold drugs and carried huge guns. I didn’t know exactly what Rex had done during what Special Agent Wallace called an “operation,” but it involved taking down a very dangerous drug cartel. I’d overheard him talking about it with the other agent who was questioning us while we were sitting on the curb.
Everything had happened so fast before the man climbing out of the back of the car had been shot right next to me. It had taken several minutes to understand exactly who he probably was. He’d been similar to the polished, rich men I’d seen leading cartels in the movies, but that hadn’t meant he was actually a drug lord. Just because they spoke Spanish and their wives wore diamonds, didn’t mean they weren’t dentists and lawyers. Still, I wanted to kick myself for being so naive.
I’d had no idea that any of the men I’d seen driving up with guests, were part of a drug cartel. That was very scary. I’d gotten an odd feeling from some of them, but I hadn’t questioned anything. The job was simple; I wasn’t doing anything wrong and I needed the money. And even though I’d answered both agents honestly, we’d still been brought down to the FBI offices. I was very upset. I didn’t understand why because I’d told them everything I knew.
I felt terrible, wishing the whole time that Rex would come in and tell me he was taking me home. Instead, it felt like hours had passed while I sat all alone. I couldn’t imagine where they’d taken Marcello, although the building was huge when they brought me in through a side entrance. We’d been taken up in a freight elevator with all the other valets and put in separate rooms. I was still dressed in blood-soaked clothes which left me even more upset.
After an hour, I’d put my head down on my crossed arms and dozed until finally the door was opened. I glanced at my watch and was surprised to see that more than three hours had passed since I’d been put in the room. When I looked up, Special Agent Wallace was there. He’d changed into a suit and tie, and I noticed the contrast between his clothes and the way I was still dressed. He had a folder in his hands and when he sat down across from me, he didn’t greet me with warmth or even scorn. He simply opened the folder and began pulling out photographs, sliding them across the desk to me.
“Tell me who you know.”
I looked down at the photos. They were all pictures of Hispanic men, ranging in age from thirty to sixty. I picked them up one by one, examining the faces and setting them aside. When I’d gone through all of them, I glanced up at the agent. “I don’t know anyone.”
He sat back in his chair, studying me. “You don’t know any of these men?” He jabbed at the table where the pictures lay.
I shook my head. “Like I say before, I get valet job from Marcello. I don’t know anyone except Marcello. I hear him tell you that too.”
He stared at me, seeming to size me up, trying to decide—in my opinion—how much I was lying about.
I shook my head. “I no lie to you.”
He said nothing, sat forward, and opened the folder again. He pulled out a picture and slid it over to me. “And this man? What do you know about him?”
But I couldn’t answer. All I could do was stare down at the corpse of the well-dressed man who’d gotten out of the car which I’d been called to park. What was left of his head was nothing but mush. I was pretty sure I was wearing half the man’s brains in my hair. My hands instantly covered my face as the tears came. I was shaking my head when I heard the door open. I didn’t look up because I didn’t want to see anyone. I’d had enough. If I took one more look at the carnage, I was afraid I would throw up right there.
“Cachi? You’re still here?” I didn’t immediately react as he took several steps toward me. Something was snatched off the table. “What the fuck is goin’ on here?” That time, I dropped my hands, looking at Rex. His expression was one of rage as he looked down at the picture Agent Wallace had put on the table.
“Agent Monroe?” Agent Wallace said. His icy tone couldn’t be missed. “Get out! You’re interfering with this interrogation.”
Rex looked at me, probably reading the expression of horror on my face, saw my tears, and instantly bent his head to closely examine the picture of the corpse. He shoved it toward the agent. “Why you showin’ somethin’ like this to him?”
He shrugged. “I wanted him to identify the man in the photo,” the agent replied cooly, sounding innocent.
“Hard to do without a face,” stated Candy flatly.
Wallace looked uncomfortable for a moment.
“He already told you and your partner that he knew about the job from his friend, who, along with all the other valets, went home hours ago.”
Wallace looked up at him with a smug smile back on his face. “Your point, Monroe?”
I watched Rex’s mouth tighten to a thin line as his face darkened. “My point is, you’re keepin’ this man in an interrogation room after he’s already told you everythin’ he knows.”
