Free Karen Vail 01 - Velocity by Alan Jacobson Page A

shielded from Guevara’s view until she was ready. She needed to watch his face careful y for the slightest of tel s: a flicker, a sudden flutter of his eye, a squint, a hardening of his brow or a lift of his Adam’s apple.
    Vail flipped the photo over and handed it to him. “Know this guy or seen him around? Name’s Roberto Hernandez. Also goes by Robby.”
    There—a narrowing of his eyelids.
    “Should I?”
    Vail tilted her head and leaned forward. “I’m a federal agent and I asked a question. That usual y means you give me an answer, not another question.”
    Guevara held his gaze on the photo a long moment, then lifted it closer to his face and studied it.
    “What is it?” Vail asked.
    “Obviously,” Guevara said, “he’s someone important to you. A witness?”
    “A friend and col eague. He’s gone missing. I figured you might know something about it. Do you?”
    He handed back the photo to Vail. “And why would that be?”
    Vail stepped forward. “See, there you go again. Answering my question with a question.”
    “Is that a crime?”
    Vail looked over at Dixon. “What we’re investigating is.”
    “Real y,” Guevara said. “And what is it you’re investigating?”
    Dixon craned her neck around. “Where’s the ladies’ room?”
    Guevara held Dixon’s gaze for a beat, then said, “In the front. Toward the office.”

    He cricked his head back over his right shoulder. Dixon walked off in that direction.
    “We’re investigating the disappearance of Roberto Hernandez,” Vail said. “I thought that’s obvious, since I told you he’s missing, I’m showing you his photo and asking if you’ve seen him.”
    “Yeah, wel , I haven’t. Haven’t seen him and don’t know him.”
    Vail stepped closer. “I don’t believe you.”
    “Oh yeah?” Guevara asked. “That’s a shame.”
    In one motion, Vail reached for her Glock and cleared leather in record time.
    Stepped forward and slammed the muzzle not so gently against Guevara’s prominent forehead, driving him back into the fender of the adjacent rig.
    Guevara’s eyes bugged out—but he wasn’t afraid. Vail sensed anger, not fear.
    “Are you fucking out of your mind?”
    “You know what, Mr. Guevara? Yes, I am out of my mind. I’m goddamn pissed.
    My friend is missing and I think you had something to do with it.”
    “What does it take to get through to you? I told you, I didn’t know the guy.”
    Vail held the Glock in place. “We’l see about that.”
    Guevara laughed. Mocking her. “I think you should remove your gun from my face, Agent Vail. I haven’t done nothing wrong. And you’ve got no proof I have, or we wouldn’t stil be standing here. Would we?”
    Vail’s eyes narrowed. She felt her blood pounding in the arteries of her head.
    What am I doing? What can I possibly gain?
    “How did you know Ray Lugo?” she asked.
    Guevara’s eyes narrowed. “Past tense? Is Sergeant Lugo dead?”
    Vail cursed herself silently for being so careless. At present, until they knew who al the players were, it was best everyone thought that Lugo was stil alive. “Answer my question. How wel do you know him?”
    “What makes you think I know him?”
    Vail clenched her teeth and dug the Glock’s barrel into Guevara’s forehead.
    “Don’t fuck with me. I’m not in the mood!”
    “He’s a cop. First time I saw him was when you walked in here couple days ago.”
    “Bul shit.” Vail twisted her wrist, the Glock’s metal now digging into the skin and muscle of Guevara’s face. He winced and wriggled in pain. If she didn’t draw blood, he would have a substantial bruise there by this evening.
    “Why don’t you ask him?”
    “I did. He said you two knew each other when you were kids, teens working on vineyards. He’s a good man. I believe him.”
    “Fine. Yeah, I think that’s right. I knew he looked familiar when he walked in. I couldn’t place the face.”
    “You’re such a piece of shit,” Vail said. “And you suck