Read Dirty Souls Page 5


  “Yes, the Zetas. The crazy ones.” She shivers. “Something went wrong. They ended up dead, all the Madanos. But Camden and Ben were already long gone. At that point George figured he disappeared for a reason. It took a few years before I found the courage to look him up, to make sure he was alive. I found Camden in the phone book but I never could call. I just knew he was alive and that was enough.”

  I finish the rest of the drink and sit back into the couch.

  “I’ll go get the coffee,” Vicente says, patting my knee. “Raquel, what do you take?”

  “Just black is fine,” she says. She looks at me, her face seeming to crumple. “Violet, I’m going to ask you something and please don’t be worried by it but…have you noticed anything unusual lately?”

  I blink at her in shock. “Unusual? My whole fucking life has been turned upside down this last month. So yes. Unusual!”

  “Yes, of course,” she says quietly. Her gaze grows hardened. Afraid. “This is hard for me to admit but I must tell you the truth.”

  There’s more truth?

  Even Vicente’s brows raise as he brings over a tray of mugs filled with coffee. I’m too shocked to even find the sight charming.

  “After they died, about eight years later, a man came to see us at the house. I only moved into this place when George went into the hospice. We lived in a big beautiful house before. You can still go see it—I’ll give you the address if you want. Anyway, a man came to see George. He saw him a few times.”

  “What did the man look like?” Vicente asks.

  She gives him a curious look. How could that be relevant?

  “He was pretty average looking. Handsome, I guess. Italian, though born here. No accent. His name was Leo Madano. He was Sophia’s cousin. And unbeknownst to me, he was threatening George, threatening all of us for years, before I found out.”

  “Threatening what?” I ask.

  “He said he knew what Camden had done. He had blamed him for their deaths. And more than that, he wanted the money back that Camden stole. Plus interest.”

  “That’s extortion,” Vicente says quietly.

  “Whatever you call it,” she says, and now her voice is starting to waver, “it’s what happened. For the last twelve years, George was paying Leo ten thousand dollars every three months. The checks went out like clockwork.”

  “Why?” I exclaim. “He was the sheriff! Arrest the fucking guy.”

  “Leo had information that he said he’d leak, to make it look not only like Camden was a wanted murderer but that George covered it up. George would lose his job. And he threatened to hurt our children, Colleen and Kelli. That it would happen the moment we stopped paying or if we slipped up. He said he had people watching them all the time. We believed them.”

  “Holy fuck,” I say, shaking my head. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get out of this state of permanent shock.

  “And so we paid and paid and then George got sick and it was harder to make the payments. And now George has died.”

  I look at Vicente.

  “I believe Leo is the one who sent Camden the article,” she says. “A reminder.”

  “Does my dad know about this? There’s no way he would be paying it back.”

  “I don’t see how he could. Unless Leo has been extorting him for years at the same time. But only you would be able to tell me if it’s true.”

  God. I honestly have no idea now. Every single thing my parents have ever done seems incredibly suspect.

  “But what about you?” Vicente asks her gently. “How are you handling this? Aren’t you in danger?”

  She takes a long sip of her coffee, her hands shaking. “Honestly, I’m not afraid anymore. I’ve been afraid for a long time. I’m tired.”

  “But you can’t pay it back,” he points out. “Unless you are somehow.”

  She laughs. “You see where I live, right? No. I don’t have money. George didn’t leave us with a lot. He made a lot of mistakes, costly ones. I have enough to get by, but not enough to pay Leo. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m off the hook.”

  I frown. “Just like that?”

  “He came by about six weeks ago. Showed up one morning, just like you both did. Told me that I didn’t owe him anything anymore.”

  “And you believed him?” Vicente asks, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. She nods. “Could you describe him to me?”

  “I told you. There’s not much to say. Average height. Italian descent.”

  “Not an albino?”

  Ah, I see.

  “No, not even close. Nice tan. Had a pricey watch, no doubt bought with our money.”

  Doesn’t sound like my stalker or attacker. I didn’t notice the man’s watch. Then again, I didn’t notice much while I was fighting for my life.

  “Why the questions?” she asks. “Have you seen him?”

  “No,” Vicente says quickly. “We haven’t.”

  I watch him for a moment, wondering if I should tell her what happened to me. But for some reason, whatever vibe is rolling off Vicente is telling me to keep my mouth shut.

  “Well, that’s good,” she says. “The man has gotten more than what Camden owed, interest and all that. Perhaps he is just as tired as I am. Perhaps he realized an old woman deserves to be left alone.”

  “That would require a change of heart,” Vicente says quietly.

  “We all change,” she says.

  But from the set to Vicente’s jaw, I can tell he doesn’t believe that at all.

  “Well, thank you for your time,” he says, and I’m surprised that he’s getting up to go so soon. “We’re sorry to barge in like this.”

  “Vicente,” I say to him. “We could at least finish our coffees.” Even though the caffeine is already doing a number on my heart. I usually drink decaf for a good reason.

  “It’s quite all right,” Raquel says, getting to her feet. “To be honest, I need a nap after all this.” She gives me a sad smile. “I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, but I’m glad I finally had the chance to meet you. I really do hope you’ll stay in touch.” She seems to hesitate, then comes around the coffee table and pulls me into a soft hug. She smells like roses. “Don’t blame Camden. He’s a good man. He didn’t have an easy upbringing. That was on George. And me. And Camden’s own inner demons. Your parents kept all of this a secret because they were trying to protect you.”

  It’s hard to swallow. I feel tears welling up.

  She pulls back, puts a cold hand to my cheek. “Take it easy on them. They’re just people, and I have no doubt they love you. People make parenting out to be easy. It’s not. Just because you’re a parent doesn’t mean your flaws, your past, goes away. No, it stays with you. I know it’s hard to accept when you’re their child, but believe me, they’re trying their best. And that’s all a parent can do. Try their best. Remember, no one is perfect, even those that pretend they are. Just look at the life I lived. Eventually life gives everyone a good hard slap in the face.”

  “Thank you, Raquel,” I say softly.

  “You’re welcome, Violet.” She goes over to the kitchen counter and scribbles something down on a notepad stuck to the fridge before tearing it off and placing it in my palm, folding my fingers over it. “Here’s my phone number. I know people rarely call anymore but if you need me, here I am.”

  Breathe, I remind myself. Don’t start crying here.

  “Thank you,” I say again.

  Vicente places a hand on my shoulder, steering me toward the door while he nods at Raquel. “Thank you so much for having us. It was lovely to meet you.”

  “Same to you. Take care of my granddaughter,” she says.

  Then Vicente and I are out the door, standing outside her house, blinking at the sunshine and the wave of heat rolling off the pavement.

  “That went better than I thought,” Vicente says, taking my hand and pulling me along until we’re walking down the road toward the gate.

  I chew on my lip
, still trying to make sense of everything. My brain is on information overload, and my heart is waterlogged, overwhelmed.

  “I should call my dad when I get back to the hotel,” I eventually say.

  “Why?”

  I look at him in disbelief. “Why? Did you just hear all that? I have to tell him I met Raquel, I have to tell him about Leo Madano if he doesn’t already know.”

  “I’m sure he knows.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He shrugs. “A hunch.”

  “And if you’re wrong? What if it was Leo who attacked me?”

  “Oh, I doubt it.”

  “Why?”

  “Seems too sloppy,” he says, taking a cigarette out of his pack and placing it in his mouth.

  “But, Vicente. Someone did attack me. Don’t forget that.”

  He lights up the smoke with a single strike from his matchbook and takes in a long drag before he exhales, his lips pushing the smoke up and away from me. “Don’t worry. I haven’t.”

  Ugh. He’s being so blasé about all of this. I’ve always blamed it on the fact that he’s part of a cartel and so I guess attempted kidnappings are just daily occurrences, but it’s not that way for me. Or, really, the rest of the population.

  He gives me a sideways glance. “Seriously, Violet. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Because I have you?”

  His mouth quirks up into a crooked grin. “Precisely.” He takes in another drag, the smoke coming out as he talks. “Be honest. Have you felt unsafe with me?”

  “No.” I don’t even have to think about it.

  “Then that’s that. Look, I get that you want to talk to your parents, but this isn’t the sort of thing you can talk about on the phone.”

  “I just want to warn them.”

  “Why?”

  “What if my dad has no idea what’s going on? What if you’re wrong? What if he really did send the article, as Raquel thinks? What if Leo is heading up there to extort him, like he did to George and Raquel? What if he does worse?”

  “As I said, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  We stop outside the front gate, waiting for the guard to open it. “Do you know something that I don’t?”

  “Violet,” he says. “You’re overthinking things. You’re worrying. You know this is what you do. You know that your brain likes to dwell on something and turn it into a puzzle when it shouldn’t. Your hypersensitivity has its flaws.”

  One minute he’s telling me it’s a blessing, the next he’s telling me it’s a flaw.

  He grabs my hand again as the gate rumbles open, leading me past it and onto the main road. “I can guarantee you that your dad knows about Leo. Your mom, too. And maybe if you think back you’ll find some instances that support this.”

  At this point it feels like my whole life supports this.

  He goes on. “Whatever it is, they have it under control. Just as I’m sure they always have. I wouldn’t worry about them. You just feel so bad after the way you left things with them that your mind is making all this stuff up. You need to let it go.”

  A shadow passes over me and I look up to see a buzzard circling high in the air. A few yards down the road, the bloody carcass of an animal is off to the side, cars zooming past. I quickly look away, knowing that if it’s a dog or cat it will eat me up inside.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he says. “If you agree to stop worrying about your parents, I’ll teach you how to protect yourself.”

  “Protect myself?” I think I’ve already proven I can do a good job of that.

  He squints at me, nods. “Yes, we both know you’re a fighter, mirlo. But I’m talking about what we talked about weeks ago. Guns. You need to learn how to shoot. And I’m going to teach you. Today.”

  My heart starts to flutter nervously. I hate that I love this idea.

  “Do I get to carry a gun after?”

  “If you’d like.” He flicks the cigarette onto the dusty sidewalk. “But only if you’ll agree to stop worrying about your parents.” He pauses, sighs. “Okay, you want the truth, Violet? There’s another reason why I don’t want you contacting them today.”

  I stop in my tracks, staring at him. Scared. “What?”

  “First of all, I honestly believe that they’re fine, especially now that I know their past. I made a joke about guns being in your house, but I can guarantee your parents do have them and they know very well how they work. Even if something goes wrong, they can protect themselves. But second of all…I’m selfish.” He shrugs. “I’m enjoying, loving, having you here with me. Alone. I’m afraid if you call them, they’ll guilt you into coming back home. I’m afraid they’ll try and knock the strength and independence out of you.”

  He raises my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it, his eyes searching mine. Again, I feel that electric thrill from my heart to my toes. “I don’t want to lose you. Even for a day. I know it’s selfish of me to want you all to myself but it’s true. I’m a terribly possessive man over you.”

  Be still my heart. But it can’t be. It’s all over the place, fighting and swelling and growing hotter in my chest.

  And the thing is, he’s right. About me. That if I talk to them, they’ll barely have to say anything before I’m asking Vicente to take me home. It’s not that I’m powerless against them, but I’m powerless against my guilt over what happened. And now, especially after learning about their pasts, it’s something I’m still trying to sort through.

  “I’ll tell you what, my mirlo,” he says, pulling me close to him and wrapping his arms around me, pressing my damp shirt into my sweaty body. I can feel the gun underneath his shirt dig into my stomach. “How about I call them for you?”

  I laugh into his chest. “That is not a good idea.”

  “I know. But I could just tell them that you’re fine.”

  “They’re going to want to talk to me and when you don’t let me on the line, they’ll definitely think I’m your hostage.”

  “Well, I do have those ropes in my car,” he says in a teasing voice.

  Heat runs through me, hotter than the air.

  “Let’s just leave it for now,” I tell him. He’s probably right that I’m worrying too much over this. Sometimes it’s hard to know what’s worth worrying over when I tend to dwell and fret over absolutely everything.

  He cups my face in his hand and kisses me, tasting like sweet tobacco, a taste I’ve grown to love. “Let’s go teach you how to shoot.”

  Chapter Five

  Ellie

  Ellie hasn’t slept.

  Camden managed to doze off for a few winks, but that was because he downed half a bottle of NyQuil. Though he’s been trying hard to be the steady one in the broken house, inside Ellie knows he’s torn to pieces.

  They both are. How can they not be? How can they ever be whole, be right, again?

  How could they have not realized that they were whole before all this happened?

  They had it all, a life they never thought possible.

  A family. Stability.

  If only I had been honest from the start, Ellie thinks to herself, staring at her hands clasped in her lap, at her wedding ring. If only, if only, if only.

  But hindsight has never done anyone any favors. And now Ben and Gus are sitting across from her in the living room, and Camden is walking over to pour her another cup of coffee.

  They know the news now in full. Gus caught up in seconds. To his credit, he didn’t lecture his daughter about her mistakes. Because it had to be her mistake. To not see Vicente is Javier’s son.

  You knew it was him, she reminds herself. You knew it was him and you pushed your gut instinct out of the way. You buried the truth because you were afraid it would cost you your daughter. And it did.

  Then there’s Ben. He’s been sitting silently in the corner of the room for so long now it’s like he’s become part of the furniture.

  Things weren’t addressed as they should have been.

  I
f it had been the Friday they had planned on, they would have sat Ben down and explained about Sophia. Explained that Ellie isn’t his birth mother but still his mother all the same. The only mother who was there for him. Fuck, Ellie remembers how Sophia didn’t even care about Ben in the end, that she was willing to trade him to them in exchange for her own freedom. Ellie knew at that moment that Ben was hers, that he deserved to be with her and she would do everything to protect him.

  But as it is, that explanation came last, and now Ben is mulling it over. The first thing they had to throw his way was what Vicente did to Ellie. What he said. And that Violet was gone. Then came the truth about Javier.

  To Ben’s credit, he took all of that in stride. He’s taking everything in stride, considering.

  “I know how to track them,” Ben says suddenly. His voice sounds so loud in the quiet room. “I know where they’re going.”

  Ellie looks at him in surprise. He sounds so self-assured.

  “How?” Gus asks, his voice dry and gruff. He’s tired from the late night drive down and only slept a few hours on the couch. But despite his paunch and his white hair and mustache and the deep bags under his eyes, Ellie knows her father is as spritely as ever.

  “A hunch,” Ben says, taking out his phone. While he taps and scrolls away, he talks. “If I were thinking like Violet, if I was leaving here based on pure emotion, I would want to go somewhere somewhat familiar, even in an absent way. Let’s say that she didn’t decide to go anywhere until last night, after the fight. I mean, she was looking forward to me coming up this weekend, to talking to you about, well, everything. This trip with Vicente was not planned. She acted out of anger and resolve.”

  He looks up at Ellie and Camden to make sure they’re following. “Violet doesn’t gravitate to the new and exciting when her life is already upside down. She wants to get away but she can’t handle too much change. I doubt she’s left California. I doubt she’s gone to LA or any city either. I bet she’s thinking of the one place where her family has connections.”

  “Palm Valley,” Camden says.