What Happened to those Characters? A Nation of Immigrants (Alicia Castro)…
[This is the eighth installment in a series of short stories titled “What Happened to Those Characters?”. Each one revisits a character or characters from one of my novels and takes a peek at what happened later. This one is about Alicia Castro from Angels Need Not Apply, the second book in “The Detectives Chen and Castilblanco Series.” Enjoy.]
A Nation of Immigrants
Steven M. Moore
Copyright 2014
Alicia Castro-Grant unlocked the passenger’s door at the repair shop. Her tall and lanky adopted son, Jimmy, struggled into the small SUV.
“Thanks for picking me up, Alicia.”
She smiled, although it always bothered her that Jimmy never called her Mom. She felt like she was his mother, ever since Peter and she had adopted the kid. Of course, he didn’t call Peter Dad either.
“Do you have the estimate for the insurance company?” she asked. He dug it out of a shirt pocket—a legal-sized page folded enough to fit in the star athlete’s pocket. “Unfold it for me. We’ll run it by to the insurance company on the way home.”
Jimmy, one of the most careful drivers she knew, had been T-boned at a Las Vegas intersection by a drunken tourist in a rental car. His car had come just under the price for a complete totaling. Alicia hoped it would be OK after the costly repairs, all paid for by the drunk’s insurance company. In the interim, she would have to be a soccer mom again. Rather, basketball mom, considering Jimmy’s major sport. He was so good that he had won a full scholarship to UCLA. That helps on the household finances, she thought. They still owed the kid a nice dinner in celebration.
During the drive home, Jimmy talked basketball. He was addicted. Not a bad thing, considering the dark days he had lived through when his mother had passed. Focusing on the traffic, Alicia kept the conversation going by interjecting a question from time to time. It didn’t take much stimulus.
She hated the outside of their house. You could never keep a good lawn in Las Vegas. The soil was so bad that plants couldn’t thrive anyway, even with fertilizer. The Grant family had given up trying. Alicia grew some flowers and vegetables in a small greenhouse and left it at that. That was more than most people managed.
“That’s strange,” said Jimmy as they approached the house. She tried to see what caught his attention. “The front door’s ajar. Do you think Peter’s home?”
“More than likely, David came home from school and left the door open.” She pulled into the driveway, dismounted, and unholstered her gun, feeling nervous in spite of her assurances to Jimmy. “Stay here.”
Peter had adopted David too, Alicia’s biological son from a previous marriage. He got along well with both boys. He wasn’t much of a jock, but went to all their sporting events and cheered them on. And they loved going camping, something Alicia also enjoyed.
She pushed open the door slightly and saw the backpack and blood. She walked around that section of the living room rug and called out her son’s name. No answer.
She backed out of the house, bumped into someone, and swung around with gun raised.
“Shit! I told you to stay in the car.”
“What’s going on?” said Jimmy.
“Something’s happened to David. Call 9-1-1. I need the cops ASAP. I’ll call Peter. This is now a crime scene.”
***
“Why don’t you do something?” said Jimmy.
He was speaking to Peter. Alicia and Peter sat at opposite ends of the dining room table. Jimmy was pacing.
“We need to let the authorities do their job,” said Peter. “They’re not new to this, right Alicia?”
She was still stunned by the events occurring in their peaceful little household, but she heard Peter’s voice—it only seemed miles away. “Yeah, I guess. Sheriff’s deputies have an APB out for the entire county and the FBI is trying to come up with a motive and a profile.”
“But everyone’s just sitting around doing nothing! I don’t care about profiles. David’s injured. That’s his blood there on the rug.”
Alicia didn’t look over her shoulder at the rug. CSIs were still milling around. She knew techs were also installing equipment in case a ransom call was made. FBI agents and Sheriff’s deputies were meeting in the kitchen. She could hear their quiet voices as they tried to make sense out of what happened.
“It has to be related to your job,” said Peter.
“Why my job? You handle money matters for a major casino. Maybe it’s your job.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m reacting emotionally and not thinking well.”
“Well, I can’t sit around here and do nothing,” said Jimmy. He stormed out the front door, a door that was still ajar, a grim reminder of how it all began.
“Should I go after him?” said Peter.
“He’ll discover soon enough that he’s just as helpless as we are. Leave him be. This is probably bringing up lots of bad memories for the kid.”
Peter nodded.
***
There were no calls, only a false alarm when Jimmy’s girlfriend called.
“We’d like you to go into your office, Ms. Castro,” said Derek Miller, the FBI lead on the case. “One of our agents will accompany you. We’d like the two of you to go over your past cases. Think you can do that? Your husband can take care of things here.”
“As long as your agent drives me,” said Alicia. “I’d be a public menace driving in my present state.”
Miller nodded. “Willie here well accompany you. I’ve already explained to her what we need. She’s one of our best profilers and might see something you don’t.”
Alicia gazed up at the tall woman who looked to be right out of college. “She’ll have to sign a waiver. Our files are strictly confidential too. We deal with some delicate cases.”
Willie and Miller both nodded.
“Our number one problem right now is figuring out what the motive is for your son’s kidnapping,” said Miller. “The Sheriff’s deputies are still conjecturing that your son barged in on a home invasion. We don’t think so. That wouldn’t explain his kidnapping. Moreover, you and your husband claim there’s nothing missing.”
“There’s not much to steal,” said Alicia. “One big screen TV and some laptops. We don’t spend a lot on luxury items. My husband’s coffee bean grinder is our only nod to luxury.”
Miller smiled. “I gathered that. Saving for college, right?”
“Jimmy, our oldest, has a sports scholarship at UCLA. That helps a lot but will still stretch the budget. David—“ Her voice caught. “—David likes his sports, but he’s not very good at them, probably not good enough for a sports scholarship. Maybe an academic one that will help a bit. It’s tough.”
“I know,” said Miller. “I have two daughters at UNLV. We’ve always had mac and cheese as a common menu item.” He laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll get David back.”
“Thank you for assuming he’s still alive. I wish I had evidence for that.” And, if he’s alive, what’s the motive? As Peter had said, at least the FBI was asking the right questions. She needed some answers.
***
For the first time in years, Jimmy found his past useful. His birth mother, Daniela Ortiz, was an ATF agent who fell into a trap constructed by a murderous Mexican cartel leader, dying in an attempt to do his bidding in order to save Jimmy’s grandmother, who now lived in LA. He had led an uncontrolled life that had only been reined in by the grandmother, but she wasn’t able to stop him from making friends on the street.
He parked in front of the run-down house, slid out of Peter’s little FIAT, and made sure the boys in the front yard saw his empty hands.
“Oscar here?” he asked.
A muscle-bound boy in a stained sleeveless undershirt and low-slung jeans approached the picket fence that once had been white. “Who’s asking?”
“Jimmy Ortiz. He knows me.”
“Does he now?” He laughed and said back over his shoulder, “Oscar knows Jimmy. Ain’t that something!”
He reached across the fence and grabbed Jimmy by the throat. “But Miguel don’t know you, see, and I’m the one out here. I don’t like assholes who dude up like rich white kids, you know.”
“Alto, pendejo!” A voice from the porch told Miguel to stop. “Dejalo entrar,” a boy almost as tall as Jimmy said, meaning, “Let him in.”
Miguel let Jimmy go, pirouetted, and made a sweeping motion with his left hand after opening the gate. “Guess you do know, Oscar,” he said with a laugh.
Jimmy looked daggers at him but went up the steps, rubbing his neck. Oscar shook his hand.
“Hace mucho tiempo,” he said, meaning, “It’s been a long time.”
“I need a favor,” Jimmy said, hoping the others wouldn’t understand the English so his conversation could be semi-private at least.
“Come inside,” said Oscar.
They entered. Oscar waved a hand and two young girls disappeared. He plopped down in a stuffed chair that had seen better days.
“You owe me one, you know,” said Jimmy.
Before his mother’s death, even before basketball, Oscar was caught shoplifting. Jimmy was his alibi, and the case was dismissed. Jimmy made his friend promise to stop, but Oscar became a gang member, ran drugs for the dealers that supplied rich tourists, and moved up in the gang’s hierarchy.
“That was a long time ago, bro, but I’ll concede the point. Heard you’d gone straight as straight can be and you’re one big swingin’ dick on the basketball court now.”
Jimmy smiled. “Not literally. I only have one girlfriend.”
Oscar shrugged. “They’re gang, and they’re useful.” He winked. “For many things. So, what’s the favor?”
Jimmy explained his situation. “Somewhere, someone knows why David was kidnapped. I need to find that someone.”
“So, I repeat, what’s the favor? Want me to find him and kill him?”
“No, just find him. I’ll take it from there.”
“I’ll give you a free piece of advice. Your new mamacita is a Fed, and the Feds are handling this. I think you’re in way over your head. I don’t want to get involved with no Feds either. Half the time, I’ve got DEA on my case. Don’t need no more.”
“I just need information. You can keep it quiet. I’m just asking you to tell the gang to keep their eyes and ears open.”
“They don’t like Feds either,” said Oscar.
“I’ll deal with the Feds,” said Jimmy. “But you guys go places I can’t. You might hear or see something useful.”
“Suppose this is some payback to your mamacita?” said Oscar. “I bet she’s caught plenty of illegals.”
“She’s more often occupied with stopping the human trafficking,” said Jimmy. “Half the girls working the streets here are illegals, supplied by cartels and other assholes south of the border.”
“Tell her I wish her good luck on that,” said Oscar. “As long as there’s a demand, someone provides the supply. It’s called capitalism, bro.”
“You aren’t involved in that, are you?”
“Shit no! I’ve got—whatcha call them? Scruples? The cartels just supply my stuff. Got some cool meth yesterday. Want some? It’s selling like hotcakes.”
“No thanks. Will you do me the favor?”
“It’s not high on my priority list, but I do owe you. ‘Course, some cops might say you did me no favor by alibiing for me. Maybe if I’d serve some juvy time, I’d turned out to be a good boy, right?” Jimmy frowned. “OK, estoy tomandole el pelo,” said Oscar, meaning, “I’m just kidding.” “I’ll talk to the gang. Got a phone where I can reach you?”
Jimmy gave Oscar his cell phone number.
***
Willie gave Alicia her mug and started sipping her own coffee. “Just like the home office brew. It’s horrible.”
“We call it full octane,” said Alicia. They had taken a break from studying Alicia’s old cases. “What’s with the nickname?”
“Way back in grade school I became tired of kids asking, ‘Wilma, where’s Fred?” so I began insisting that people call me Willie. After a few skirmishes, both boys and girls accepted the idea.”
“You’re tall and rangy. Ever play basketball?”
“No, but I was the best spiker on both my high school and college volleyball teams. I heard your other kid is quite the player, though. I was brought in from Chicago, so I’m not up on local sports trivia.” She looked at the screen. “Any other candidates?”
Alicia slid back through the icons of a few files and enlarged one. “We have a list of seven so far, but I keep coming back to this one.”
“Yeah, I remember that one. Ugly little SOB, isn’t he?”
“He threatened to kill me if he ever made it back to this country,” said Alicia. “The Sheriff’s department collared him because someone OD’d on heroin and the junky’s girlfriend testified against this little shit. I was brought into the case because he was also involved in human trafficking. He had no papers, so it was an easy case to make for deportation.”
“You think he might be back in the country?” said Willie.
“Could be. But why would he go after David instead of me?”
“Maybe he’s getting at you through David. I like that theory, in fact, although it could match up with any of these jerks.” Alicia frowned. “I don’t mean ‘like’ in the sense of a Facebook ‘like.’ I mean, it’s a possibility. You didn’t receive a direct threat from the others in your list, right?”
“No, just general rants against our unfair system.”
“It must be hard. Most immigrants, illegal or otherwise, are just here doing what everyone else wants to do—have a decent job, feed their family, and give their kids a decent life down the road.”
“That’s my take, too. Beyond my pay grade to try to have fairer laws that recognize special circumstances. My son Jimmy’s grandmother was almost deported. My defending her was frowned upon by some of the biggies.”
“I’d guess Grandma isn’t exactly a cartel member,” said Willie with a chuckle. “Let’s get back to Miller with this. I’ll bet the Sheriff’s office has some informants who will know if Bernardo Gil is back in town. I’d doubt he’s able to stay away from the only trade he knows.”
Alicia nodded and grabbed her purse to follow Willie back to the parking garage.
***
Jimmy was sitting in a 24/7 diner sipping a diet Coke when his cell phone rang.
“Some dude named Bernardo Gil has your brother.” It was Oscar’s voice. He gave an address. “Be careful, hombre. I’ve heard of this dirtbag. He’d kill his mother for her gold fillings.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll go armed. Any intel on why he’s doing this?”
“I don’t know. Word is that the guy’s a meth-head now. Maybe he’s just crazy. I’d bet it has something to do with your mamacita, though. Be careful.”
“Thanks, Oscar, we’re even now.”
“You’d better believe it. If this douchebag ever learns you got your info from me, I’m toast.”
“What? And with all those muscle-bound gorillas you pal around with as bodyguards?”
“They can’t shoot worth anything. This dude is lethal. Good ties with a cartel. Word is that your mamacita had something to do with busting one of them a while ago. Maybe this is all traceable to them?”
“I don’t care what the reasons are. They’re not acceptable. And David’s innocent of all that.”
“OK. Don’t know if I’d go out on a limb like that for a stepbrother, but that’s your problem.”
There was a click. Jimmy listened to a dial tone.
A half hour later he was sitting in front of an abandoned factory on the outskirts of Vegas. He had come through abandoned neighborhoods too, houses belonging once to people caught by the near depression and bank foreclosures. It didn’t look like Detroit—not yet. And yet, Vegas is one of the fastest growing housing markets in the U.S., thought Jimmy. How can that be?
He was a quick thinker on the basketball court, but he recognized he was out of his comfort zone as he sat in the car trying to put a plan together. How do I approach the warehouse? How do I make sure David survives? It had occurred to him to at least call Alicia or Peter and tell them what he was doing. But everyone was probably still sitting back in the house, just waiting for the kidnapper to come to them. Jimmy liked to be proactive.
***
“We’ve received a tip,” said Miller, waving a slip of paper. “Bernardo Gil has been dealing meth from an old warehouse out in the burbs. Let’s go, ladies.”
“That’s Peter’s car,” said Alicia as they approached the warehouse. Miller stopped behind the FIAT. “He’s not in it! Gil has him too!”
“Calm down,” said Miller. He began giving orders to two SWAT teams to surround the warehouse.
“I think I understand this guy,” said Willy. “Let me go in alone and talk to him.”
“No way,” said Miller. “We don’t know anything about the situation.” He turned around when he heard the car door close. “Stop her!” But Alicia was running toward the warehouse. “Shit, she doesn’t even have her weapon or a vest.” He gave orders for the front SWAT team to stop the ICE agent.
But Alicia was already pulling the sliding door open. A hand appeared, grabbed her arm, and jerked her inside. The door slid shut.
“Sorry, Derek,” said the SWAT team leader.
“She’s fast,” said Miller, shaking his head.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Alicia Castro was a desperate mother. He had a premonition that this was going to end badly. Maybe Gil had been hoping for something like this?
***
Alicia tried to crawl away from Gil. He had held her and used the gun to pistol-whip her. After pushing her to the floor, he stood over her, legs spread, like a triumphant gladiator. She wiped blood away from her torn cheek and lip.
“My, my, this is getting better all the time,” he said. His eyes were bloodshot. With his evil smirk and white skin, he looked like some kind of monster, albeit a small one.
Aren’t some of the most vicious animals small? She managed to sit.
“You have me. Let my boys go.”
“Well, well, motherly love at its best. The bitch wolf protecting its pups.” Gil squatted and pointed the gun toward her face. “Given the circumstances, I could just put a bullet in your head and call it a day. The cartel might even give me a reward. But that’s too easy, isn’t it?”
“Let my boys go. You can do anything to me you want.”
“Whoopee! Your old man not fucking you enough, bitch? You just going to adopt other brats because he shoots blanks?”
She spit in his direction. “I won’t even respond to that question.”
He stood, went to her, and slapped her, aiming for the wounded part of her face. She winced and reached for him, but he backed away, laughing.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then. You should have stayed with your first mate, she-wolf. At least he was a man. I hated his guts too, but he’s more like me.” Gil puffed out his chest. “We’re both macho types who can’t stand meddlesome women.”
He waved the gun toward David and Jimmy, who were tied up and silence with duct tape. They were sitting on old crates. Alicia saw fear in David’s eyes. She only saw hate in Jimmy’s. And frustration.
“Here’s what we’re going to do, bitch.” Gil pulled two vials and a needle out of the pocket of his leather jacket.
There was a sound at a side window. Gil and Alicia both looked. He took a shot.
“Brought the whole wolf pack, huh?” he said. “No matter. I’ll continue. This isn’t heroin you can get on the street. It’s the really good stuff. You have to be careful and not OD on it. But I’m not going to be careful with your two brats here. You see, Agent Castro, they’re going to die from a drug overdose. And you’re going to watch them die!” He laughed and took another shot at a sound farther back in the warehouse. “Persistent, aren’t they?”
“You won’t get out of here alive,” said Alicia.
“I’m a dead man anyway. Oscar Cifuentes and his gang are after me. I stiffed them and resold their junk to some other dealers. The cartel’s furious with Cifuentes, thinking he owes them money. Ain’t that a hoot!”
Alicia saw Jimmy’s wide eyes. So that was how he found this place. Cifuentes had used him! He probably prefers the Feds do his dirty work—it’s revenge, all the same.
“You don’t have to do this. We can protect you from the cartel and the gang.”
“Don’t think so. That didn’t work well with your real mom, did it?” The last question was directed to Jimmy.
But he knows that situation was different, thought Alicia. They used Daniela Ortiz as a tool, blackmailing her by holding her mother. There had been no question about protecting Daniela from the cartel.
Two more shots. On the second, Alicia heard an oof! Hopefully the SWAT team member was hit in his protective vest and not something vital. But she was worried. People outside were getting into position for an all-out assault. The worry was that her boys would be caught in a crossfire.
“Please, no!” She watched Gil plunge the needle into David, reload, and then into Jimmy.
“Sweet justice,” said Gil. “Now, watch them die!”
Anita heard a sound from far back in the dark recesses of the old warehouse, away from the blackened but broken windows that let in some light. There was a brrrrt! from an automatic that spun Gil around. Before he went down, Alicia saw the line of bullet holes across his chest spouting blood.
“Now we’re really even, Jimmy” said a voice from the darkness.
Alicia heard footsteps scurrying away.
***
David and Jimmy shared a room. They were still groggy, but the new OD antidote had taken effect. Several FBI agents had been carrying it. Alicia and Peter were talking to Derek Miller in the corridor. The boys were being guarded by Sheriff’s deputies.
“Near as we can figure, the Cifuentes gang had their revenge,” said Miller. “You three are lucky. The Sheriff’s deputies tell me they don’t usually leave witnesses. Willie thinks they were the ones who tipped us off about the warehouse. They wanted us to take care of Gil, I guess, from what you told us, Alicia.”
“Pretty clever,” said Peter. Alicia glared at him. “I mean, for gang members. They’re probably laughing about pulling one over on the Feds.”
“But we didn’t kill Gil,” said Miller. “I guess they wanted to make sure he would die.”
Alicia turned and watched her boys. Jimmy stirred a little. They’d soon be watching TV. She’d have to remember to bring in their laptops on her next visit. With their homework assignments.
She’d also have to remember to ask Jimmy sometime what Oscar Cifuentes had meant. There was no hurry.
