The Fall Moon Read online

  I sighed. “Well, we don’t take the law into our own hands…”

  “Bromides and clichés. Don’t tell me what we don’t do, that’s no damn use to anybody. Tell me what we do do.”

  Again I had no answer.

  I took the I-35 out of Des Moines toward Kansas and the landscape began to change and the hills began to roll among patches of woodland and tall evergreens. Dehan opened her window and the air whipped her hair across her face. She fingered it away from her sunglasses, then pushed her shades up on her head and squinted at me, raising her voice above the air battering at the window.

  “Last night, you slept next to me and took my gun so that you could defend me if those two guys broke in. Those same two guys. What would you have done if Nestor and Gustavo had come in and tried to rape and kill me?”

  “That is hypothetical, Dehan…”

  “Bullshit! Would you have killed them if necessary?”

  “Of course I would!”

  “Well, here’s a news flash, Stone, you don’t get to cherry pick! This killing is OK because I was defending my partner. That killing was not OK because my partner led them into the woods…”

  “You cannot compare a personal threat with…”

  “They are always a personal threat to somebody, Stone! And that is what you do not get! Just because it is not personal to you, does not mean it is not personal!”

  After that, we fell silent.

  We eventually stopped for a late lunch at a gas station in Kearny, outside Kansas. We hadn’t spoken for about an hour, maybe more. As I chewed on my plastic burger, I watched her face. She was aware I was watching, and I could see some of the anger had drained away.

  “What has made this so personal for you, Dehan?”

  She shook her head and gave a small sigh. “Before I met you, before I decided to be a cop even, I had one overriding passion in my life. There was just one thing I wanted to do. Avenge my mother and my father. My family, my neighborhood, my whole world was terrorized and controlled by Mick Harragan, and the people who gave Mick power. There were several, but chief among them were the Chupacabras and the Camacho brothers.[2]”

  I sat back in my chair and sighed. “Your parents…”

  She shook her head. “You know what happened to them. But this had nothing to do with Mick, and it didn’t affect me directly. This was a neighbor of mine, lived a few doors down, I didn’t even like her much. But she was raped and her boyfriend was stabbed. He lived, but he was broken and they broke up afterwards. She ended up getting sucked into that world and became a hooker. The guys who did it were probably Chupacabras, but it was never proved. All the witnesses were too scared to testify, as was she, so the case got shelved.”

  I frowned. “And that made you so passionate about this case…?”

  She shook her head. “No, Stone, it’s what I keep trying to explain to you. When Maria got raped and I saw how everybody was too terrified to testify, it was like an echo of what happened to my dad and my mum. It made me realize that our system favors the most violent members of society. Julio Camacho was right in what he said, violence is the most valuable commodity there is. And I swore to myself that I would wage war on these people, one way or another…” She hesitated. “When I joined the cops, my intention was to use the system to hunt down these bastards and kill them. I asked Captain Peralta to team me up with you because you were the best, and when she told me you’d be doing cold cases, that suited me to the ground.”

  I was frowning at her. “You planned to be a vigilante?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Stone, and it was because of you that I never did. You gave me something else to live for.”

  “And this case…”

  “This was one of the cases I had an interest in. Because I was sure the Camachos were involved, I was sure there was a tie in with the cartel…”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She gave a small, dry laugh. “Asked the man who never talks about his early life or his family.”

  I puffed out my cheeks and blew. She gave a sad smile and shook her head. “In any case, that is not important. What is important is that there were no reasons that were personal to me! That was what I learned. Moral justice is always personal. Murder, rape, the destruction of a person’s life—they are not worse because they happen to somebody you happen to love.”

  She leaned across the table and pointed at me. “Listen to me. I knew we had to get rid of them so we could get to Arizona. I knew we had to do that fast. We didn’t have time to piss around, so I took a calculated risk. I drew them into a situation where they would have to make a choice: allow themselves to be arrested or try to kill us. They made the wrong choice and I took them out. I will not mourn their deaths, because the world is a better place without them. But I will mourn you if you turn around in Phoenix and go home.”

  She leaned back in her chair and took a pull on her coffee, then held out her right hand, palm up. I frowned at it. “My turn to drive. You do the night driving this time.”

  It was a long, tedious drive. At first, we tried taking it in turns to sleep while the other drove. But the long, straight, dark roads through Oklahoma and New Mexico were hypnotic and we found we needed to keep each other awake by talking. Finally, at three in the morning, we pulled into the Sky City Travel Center and Casino Hotel, slept four hours, and at seven o’clock the next morning set out with a thermos of strong black coffee and a couple of donuts.

  We were about three hundred and seventy miles from the FBI field office, so I hit the gas and kept it between eighty and a hundred and ten most of the way. So we entered the Deer Valley area of north Phoenix at about eleven that morning. As we approached down the Black Canyon Freeway and turned into Happy Valley Road, Dehan called the field office and was transferred to our designated contact on the team. He told us his name was D.C. and he would alert the gate and meet us in the parking lot.

  The field office is a large complex which sits on the intersection of East Deer Valley Road and North Seventh Street. Technically it’s inside the city of Phoenix, but sitting at the intersection, at close to a hundred degrees under the glaring sun, all I could see in any direction, beside the five story box of concrete and glass, was desert: hot dust and scrub as far as the eye could reach.

  The lights turned green, we crossed the intersection and turned into the gates. We were buzzed through and saw a man waiting for us. He didn’t look like an FBI agent. He looked like a university professor approaching retirement. He was bald on top, with a band of unkempt, sandy hair across the back of his head, and an easy, amiable smile. He was wearing Timberland boots, blue jeans and a University of Arizona sweatshirt.

  We shook hands through the window and he waved at Dehan, then pointed ahead. “Sharp left will take you into the parking garage. I’ll catch you up there.”

  Inside the cavernous darkness, I found a spot near the elevator and killed the engine. As we climbed out, I saw him, a small, black silhouette warping in through the entrance against the fierce glare of the sun outside. He raised a hand and his voice echoed.

  “Welcome to Phoenix! Hell of a drive you did there. You must be exhausted.” As he approached, he turned steadily from a black silhouette to a slightly out of breath man. “D.C., I’m your point of contact on the team.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “Let me take you upstairs and introduce you to Brad and the guys.”

  The elevator took us to the second floor and we stepped out into a broad, busy area with a lot of desks and cubicles. Over on the left, there was a series of doors into conference rooms and offices. He pointed at one of them and we crossed the open space.

  He pushed through the door and we found ourselves in a functional briefing room. There was a big, athletic man with very short hair and deep-set blue eyes sitting on a desk against the far right wall. He was wearing cowboy boots, a white shirt and a shoulder holster. Sitting on a chair with her back to the window was a girl who looked Chinese or Korean. She smiled as we came in. Opposi
te her, by the door, was a young guy in his mid twenties with sandy hair and a sandy moustache. He also smiled. D.C. closed the door behind us and said, “Guys, meet Detectives Carmen Dehan and John Stone. John, Carmen, please meet Angel, she is in charge of logistics. This is Randy, nobody knows what he does, but he does it with computers and he tells us he’s good at it. And sitting on the desk over there is Brad. He’s the team leader and supervising agent.”

  We all said hello to each other and Dehan and I were invited to sit. D.C. was dispatched to get coffee and Brad examined us a moment with narrowed eyes.

  “You must be real tired and I bet you’d give just about anything for a rest right about now. Thing is…”

  He didn’t get any further. Dehan cut him short.

  “Brad, excuse me interrupting, but it may save us time in the long run. We’re here to work, not rest. I am sure D.C. is a really nice guy, but we don’t want to be fobbed off. We’ve been busting our asses on this investigation and we do not want to be sidelined. So my request is, debrief us and let’s get to work.”

  He grinned at the floor, then lifted his grin and showed it to Dehan. “OK, I appreciate your directness, Carmen. Here’s the deal. It’s the only deal there is. I am in charge of this operation and I am taking with me the people I know and trust. Why? Because this has not been short notice, it has been no notice. It is a very dangerous operation and there is a very high probability that people will get injured—or killed. Now, my number one priority is that those people are not my people.

  “Carmen, if I had a month to train with you and work with you, I would be very happy to put you on my team, if I thought you were good. I haven’t got that luxury. Today is Wednesday and we hit the ranch tomorrow. So, like I said, I am taking the team I know and trust.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this your team?”

  “No. And you will not meet my team. I will debrief you. I will be very grateful for all the information and advice you can give us regarding Julio Camacho and what is going down tomorrow. We will carry out the operation, D.C. will take care of you, and then you will be given full access to everyone and anyone we arrest, so that you can interrogate them. That’s how it is and that is final.”

  She sat nodding at the floor. Then she looked at the walls and the ceiling. Finally she gave him a smile that was devoid of anything resembling friendliness. He was a nice guy, a responsible leader and a good agent, and she wanted to string him up and gut him right there, in the briefing room.

  SIXTEEN

  There followed a very stressful hour during which Dehan didn’t so much brief Brad and his two agents as lecture them on Julio Camacho, the Chupacabras and how dangerous the Sinaloa cartel was. At least three times, Brad stopped her. The last time, he said, “Detective Dehan, we live with the Sinaloa on our doorstep. We know better than anybody what they are like. We don’t need a lecture on how dangerous they are. Please confine yourself to the facts.”

  By the time we had finished, the facts proved to be precious few. Brad looked at Angel, Randy and D.C. in turn and said, “So in fact, we know little more than when the New York field office contacted us yesterday. We know the location, we know it’s a shipment and we know that it will arrive by air with a Sicario. We don’t know how many men we are up against, we don’t know what the shipment is or how big it is, we don’t know what time it’s arriving or if the aircraft will touch down at the ranch.”

  I saw Dehan’s cheeks color. “That intel was the product of last minute improvising in a high risk situation while we were investigating a murder. I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet your usual standards…”

  “Detective Dehan!”

  She stopped.

  “Nobody is criticizing the intelligence, or the gathering of it. We all believe you did exceptional work. We are just assessing the risks.” He turned to Angel. “We don’t know how many men we are up against, so we will need maximum firepower. We must also have backup available, and air cover if necessary. Get onto that. We are on the clock. Randy, we need intel on aircraft coming into that area. We have taps on phones courtesy of Detective Dehan and Detective Stone, but let’s see what else we can get at the ranch.” Angel and Randy left.

  Dehan drew breath, but I spoke before she could dig herself any deeper.

  “Brad, we are both exhausted from driving, not just from Iowa, but a couple of days before that from New York to Vinton, too. We would appreciate a few hours rest. Meantime I, personally, would be really very grateful to you if you would consider a request?”

  He knew what I was doing and smiled. “What’s your request, John?”

  “Detective Dehan and I both have experience with Julio and Feliciano Camacho going back many years. We have a…” I spread my hands. “A feel for them. Would you consider allowing us to come along as observers? In the event of something unexpected, we might be able to anticipate Julio’s behavior better than most people, just because we know him so well.”

  He thought about it a moment, then smiled at Dehan, who didn’t smile back. “You could learn something from your partner, Detective Dehan.” He sighed. “Let me give it some thought. I’ll let you know. But I need to make this point. We are tight, and we have good rapport. There is no room for ego-tripping in this team.”

  He said it to Dehan, who looked away and muttered, “Yeah, thanks.”

  “D.C. will look after you.”

  We followed D.C. out of the office and back across the big, busy room toward the elevators. “You’ll be staying at my place. Kids have flown the nest so there’s plenty of room, and Penny, that’s my wife, she’ll take good care of you while I’m not there.”

  We stepped into the elevator. He looked at Dehan’s face as the door slid closed and laughed. “I can understand why you feel sore. I’m pretty sure I’d feel the same. In fact, I know I would have, back in the day. But look…” He gestured at me with his open hand. “Your suggestion seemed very reasonable to me. I’ll do my best to persuade him when I get back. But if I know Brad, he’s a real reasonable guy, and what you said made sense to him. I think he’ll let you ride along, just so long as you don’t try and go in with the guys.”

  The elevator came to a halt and we stepped out into the parking garage. It was dark and our voices and our footsteps took on a strange, cavernous echo. I asked him: “You’re not on the team?”

  “No, I got injured pretty bad a few years back. Lucky to be alive, truth be told. So I push a pen these days. Your car is pretty recognizable. If they have a contract on you, I think it would make sense to leave it here. What do you say?”

  I said it made sense and a big Buick sedan flashed and bleeped from the darkness in the corner. We grabbed our stuff from the trunk of the Jag and transferred it to the Buick. After that, it was a twenty minute drive through glaring desert from the field office to the suburb of Fountain Hills, to the east of Phoenix.

  In New York, his house would have been palatial. It was a two story Spanish villa shaded by tall palms and what looked to me like a jacaranda tree. Out front, there was a double garage and a desert garden with cacti and yucca. He parked the car by the sidewalk and led us around back, where there was a large pool and a paved terrace in the shade of the trees.

  “Penny is usually out here by the pool in the afternoon,” he said. But she wasn’t. She was in the kitchen, making lemonade, and opened the back door to welcome us.

  She was a woman who, in her late forties, was still attractive and had a good figure. She had blonde hair tied up on her head, she wore a green bikini and a light, transparent floral housecoat. She and D.C. kissed affectionately and he introduced us. She kissed Dehan on the cheek without affectation and shook my hand.

  Then D.C. was slapping my shoulder and saying, “OK, I’m leaving y’all in capable hands. I’ll see you for dinner in a few hours.”

  He kissed his wife again and was gone.

  “You guys must be pooped!”

  She pushed the kitchen door open and held it for us while we
went in. The kitchen was large and modern, with a terracotta floor and a dining table in the middle. She led us through to a broad hallway with a parquet floor and wooden stairs leading to the upper story. She spoke over her shoulder as she walked ahead of us. “I’ll show you around once you’ve showered and rested. I have no idea where you’ve come from, but I know you’ve been driving all night, and I know Brad and Daryl have not shown you any mercy since you got here.”

  The landing divided into two passages that led to right and left from the top of the stairs. She paused there and pointed to the right. “That’s me and Daryl down there, and you two have this room here on the left. This pretty pink one…” She opened a door onto a very girly room with a spindly four-poster bed. “…used to be Alice’s room. She’s at college, so now it’s yours! Make yourselves comfy. You have an en suite, she insisted on it! Come down when you’re rested and I’ll fix you some food.”

  We told her she was too generous. We closed the door, fell on the bed and within thirty seconds, we were unconscious.

  Something woke me up. I didn’t sit up. I lay with my eyes closed, listening to the buzz of cicadas outside the window and the desultory slosh of water in the pool, where I figured somebody was swimming. After a while, I opened my eyes, half expecting Dehan to be sitting on the end of the bed, watching me. But she wasn’t. I was alone.

  I stood and went to the window. I could see the cool turquoise of the pool almost directly beneath me. The water warped and rippled as a body moved beneath it and exploded to the surface. It was Dehan. I searched for Penny, but she wasn’t there.

  I had a shower and went downstairs in jeans and bare feet. When I stepped outside, the terraced area around the pool was in the shade of the trees, but the glare and the heat from the sun were intense. There was a slosh of water, and Dehan’s head emerged sodden from the brilliant turquoise, blowing spray and pushing her hair back from her face. She laid her arms on the salmon-pink slabs and almost smiled at me.