The rear doors to the van close, and then the man who fell over walks back to the driver’s door and climbs in. There’s movement at the passenger door but it’s so dark I can’t see who climbs in there. The van pulls away, and then they’re gone. The street is empty.
“Who are they?” I ask. There’s a lump in my throat the size of a basketball. I can barely talk around it.
Lowell shifts in her seat, tracing her fingers over the fat file in front of her. “They’re a cartel.”
“Colombian?”
She shakes her head. “Mexican.”
“Not…not Julio Perez?”
Lowell looks intrigued, like I’m finally talking her language. “No, not Perez, though he is connected to this group. They’re called Los Oscuros. Their leader, Hector Ramirez, started off in drugs but quickly realized guns were more profitable. They were based in Mexico for years. Some shit went down on US soil and Hector apparently decided he didn’t want his business remotely managed anymore. He legally immigrated and set up a carpet cleaning business. He used that as a front for money laundering. Still does.”
“And where does my sister fit in?”
“He also sells pussy,” Lowell says. My father flinches—I doubt anybody has ever said pussy in front of him before. I definitely doubt they’ve ever essentially referred to his daughter as pussy. Lowell clearly doesn’t give a shit that she’s offended my father’s delicate sensibilities. “Your sister’s a pretty girl, Dr. Sloane. Hector took one look at her and saw dollar signs. He made a deal with Perez. Perez bought her from him, was going to keep her at that little fuck village he’s set up for himself out in the desert, but your good friend Rebel somehow managed to get his hands on her. That’s where things get tricky. The Widow Makers are at war with Los Oscuros. The cartel found out Alexis was with the bikers and they immediately put a contract out on her life.”
My head is officially hurting at this landslide of information, but I do understand what Lowell is telling me. “They wanted her dead because the bikers might be able to convince her to testify that Los Oscuros killed the judge. Right?”
“That’s right, sweetheart.” Dad leans forward, propping his elbows against the table. “Your sister called me four months after she went missing. I didn’t know anything about her disappearance before that, I swear. She told me what had happened and asked me to send her some money so she could get away. She was frightened, but she sounded like she was okay. She told me not to call the police, but—”
“Your father’s not an idiot, Sloane,” Lowell says. “As soon as he found out Alexis was alive, he did the right thing and contacted the authorities. We’ve been handling the case ever since.”
A bolt of anger fires through me. “And by handling the case, you mean nearly killing my sister?”
“What? She was…Alexis was nearly killed?” The disbelief in my dad’s voice makes me scream at him. He thinks he’s in possession of all the facts, but in reality he’s been kept in the dark. His face has gone as white as chalk.
“Oh yeah, didn’t Agent Lowell tell you that? Alexis nearly died because your buddy here shot her?”
The muscles in my dad’s face fall slack, all expression completely slipping away. He can’t believe the words I’m saying—I can see that plain as day. He turns to Lowell, shaking his head. “Surely that’s not true?”
I receive a glare from the woman sitting opposite me, as though me spilling that little secret is highly inconvenient. Yeah, I’ll bet it is, bitch.
“I only meant to clip Alexis’ shoulder when I fired at her. The motorbike she was on swerved and the round ended up hitting her square in the torso.”
“You nearly killed her,” I snap. “You nearly fucking killed her.”
“This is all irrelevant now. I didn’t kill her. Your sister is alive, and we need to talk to her. Her involvement with the Widow Makers motorcycle club is a mystery to us, but her repeated refusals to leave them leads us to believe she is now working with them. Over the last eighteen months, twelve people have died because of the feud between Rebel’s motorcycle club and the cartel. We need the killing to stop, and we need your sister. A thirty-minute gap took place between Alexis disappearing down that alleyway and those men shoving her in the back of that van. During that time, she was witness to the murder of one of Seattle’s most prominent High Court judges. We need her, Sloane. We need her so she can testify.”
Testify.
And there it is. The whole thing makes a whole lot of sense now. Yes, of course this is why the DEA are so desperate to get their hands on her. They need her to complete their case, and in doing that they want to put Alexis on the stand so she can speak out against a crazy fucking Mexican cartel. And they’re wondering why she doesn’t want to go with them?