Page 539 of Devil’s Disciples

“What are we going to do?” I asked.

“I don’t know, Carmelita.” She sobbed. “I’m scared, too.”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can get there,” I blubbered. “I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

“Carmelita?”

“Yes, mother?”

“Be careful, Carmelita.”

“I will, mother.”

With a shaking hand, I hung up the phone.

Then, I cried like I’ve never cried before in my life.

200

Reno

“Watson,” I said to the desk sergeant. “I need to see Detective Marc Watson.”

He didn’t bother looking up from his computer monitor. “Is he aware you’re here?”

“He will be when you fucking tell him.”

He looked up. “Name?”

“Reno.”

“Full name?”

“Re. No.” I gestured to the two chairs at the side of the lobby. “I’ll be over there.”

In five minutes, the door buzzed, and then opened slightly. Watson peered through the opening. “I haven’t got the paperwork approved for the—”

“Not why I’m here.” I stood. “You got a place where we can talk? In private?”

“Sure.”

“Private as in private?”

He pushed the door open and stepped aside. “Come on in.”

Being in a police station was contrary to everything I believed in. When it came to Carma and her family, however, I was willing to take whatever measures I must to take care of them.

I stepped past him. It was nothing like on television. There were normal-looking offices with normal-looking men in them. There wasn’t one uniformed officer anywhere to be seen.

“Read the write-up in the newspaper?” he asked over his shoulder.

“I’ve seen it. Didn’t read it yet.”

“Manos’ cousin and two known cartel members were arrested up the street from Manos’ place by a patrol cop,” he said. “They were coming back to the house in a truck that happened to be fitted with stolen plates. From what we could tell, the truck was El Alacrán’s.”

“Black Ford?”

“Yep.”