Getting back to the subject, Milla said, “Let’s lay out the facts. Late yesterday afternoon, I got a call on my cell phone giving me the tip on Diaz. The caller was a man. I didn’t notice the number, but I’ll check it, see if it matches up with today’s call. Brian and I both thought it might be a setup, not for us, but for Diaz. Someone wanting him out of the way.
“We get to the meeting place, and the man who took Justin is one of the men who show up. He’s the only one I recognized. The odds are he’s Diaz, because the coincidence is fairly large.”
Milla noticed that as she talked, Joann was busily writing down each point.
“The four men arrived in two cars, two in each car, and took something out of one car trunk and transferred it to the other. I couldn’t see what it was—” Because her head had been pulled back at a painful angle.
“A body,” said Brian, his tone flat. “Wrapped in a tarp or blanket.”
A chill went down Milla’s spine. She should have realized, but she’d been too focused on the one-eyed man. This was yet another illustration that she had to get control of her emotions; she was missing things that should have been obvious to her.
“I was knocked down by an unseen assailant who was also very interested in the four men, and not at all interested in what I was doing there. When the four men drove away, he used the carotid-artery thingie to knock me out—”
“You didn’t tell me that,” Brian interrupted, his gaze sharpening.
“Knocked out is knocked out. At least I didn’t have a concussion.”
“No, but unless you know what you’re doing, you can cause brain damage if you press too long. Though I guess in most cases you wouldn’t care, considering you’re cutting off someone’s blood supply to his brain. Or her brain, in your case.”
That was a perspective she could have done without, to realize how easily she could have been left impaired. Not that there was anything she could have done to protect herself, other than not be there in the first place, and withdrawing from the search simply wasn’t an option.
She shook away her retrospective alarm. “I assume the man then followed one of the cars, but he might not have. He might have followed Brian and me. I can’t think of any reason why he would, other than curiosity, but it’s still a possibility. I offered a ten-thousand-dollar reward to a cantina full of men, for information leading to Diaz, and this morning a woman calls telling us to stay away from Diaz or die.” She paused. “Does anyone else have anything to add to this hodgepodge?”
No one answered. Joann studied the flow of facts. “I’d say the only anomaly is this guy who assaulted you. Everything else connects. I’d say the one-eyed man is Diaz and someone tried to set him up. When you went into the cantina and made that announcement, he heard about it, obviously figured out you’d been very close to him that night, since you were in the same village at the same time, and he had someone call to warn you off.”
Milla had already formed the same opinion, but not as concisely. Joann had a knack for clarity that made Milla prize her even more.
“It’s obvious someone—my original caller—wants us to find Diaz, for whatever reason. Probably a rivalry, but I don’t care why. All we can do now is wait for him to contact me again.”
That went against the grain. She wanted to scour the area around Guadalupe, even though logic told her it would be a waste of time. She wanted to be actively doing something, anything, instead of waiting around for a call that might not come for days, weeks, if it ever came at all.
The phone rang right then, and a staffer hurried to answer it. After listening for a minute, he looked up and said, “Amber Alert in California, San Clemente area.”
It was a call to battle stations. Within seconds, they were all on the phone, raising their army of volunteers in the San Clemente and surrounding sectors, getting people on the freeways and highways, searching for the vehicle in question, a blue Honda Accord. According to witnesses, a man had grabbed a twelve-year-old girl in a fast-food parking lot and shoved her into his car. One woman had managed to get a partial on the license plate as the car fishtailed out of the parking lot.
With that information, the Finders would set up observation points, people with binoculars who searched for blue Honda Accords with a man driving. When one was spotted, information was relayed to the Finders in vehicles who would zero in on the car and check the license plate. Finders didn’t try to apprehend; if they located the vehicle, they would in turn notify the area law enforcement and let them take over.
Milla checked the time: eight forty-three in California. Traffic would be very heavy, which might or might not help. If a commuter was listening to his radio, he would hear the Amber Alert, but if he was playing a CD or listening to an MP5, he wouldn’t; he would just be in the way.
She shoved last night’s events away, and concentrated on recovering the little girl in California while she was still alive.
She hadn’t been able to do this for her own child, but she could do it for someone else’s.
5
The fund-raiser that night was held in a local high school gymnasium. Finders generally didn’t rate a black-tie event, which suited Milla, though occasionally she found herself at more ritzy affairs. She had invested in one suitable evening gown, which meant it cost the earth, but she didn’t want to spend the money to buy more than that one. She did have several good cocktail dresses, and tonight she wore her favorite, needing that pick-me-up to keep her going when she was so tired. The ice blue did wonders for her warm complexion, and the shoes that went with the dress were comfortable enough that she wasn’t in agony by evening’s end.