Free Traitor, The by Jo Robertson Page A

his left. "Are you trying to tell me that you have no
other official notes except what's in here?"
    She nodded, as if satisfied with the strength of her
position, and sat down, crossing her legs at the knees and tucking her skirt
around them like a prissy school teacher.
    Rafe didn't like the game she was playing, but he'd bet he
was better at it than her. He was curious about only one thing. Why would she
lead an investigation in this impractical way? Wouldn't it be easier for her to
copy her notes and pass on the originals to him? Run a quiet parallel
investigation of Vargas? Why make a big fuss over jurisdiction when she had to
know she'd lose in the end? What was her hidden agenda?
    He eyed her speculatively. "What about the rest of your
investigative team? The cops' reports, witness interviews?"
    While Isabella stared at her lap, Rafe's intuition told him
she was wondering how much to tell him. And that fact informed him she was
holding back much more information than he'd initially supposed. She flat out
didn't trust him. He didn't trust her either, but her hesitation pissed him
off. "Look, sooner or later I'll get everything. Why not cooperate with
me?"
    "What's in it for me?"
    He knew what she meant and it sounded like blackmail. She
wanted to continue on the investigation. He considered what it would cost him
and how much she could compromise the direction he was taking the case if he
didn't cooperate with her. On the other hand, did he really want to work with
her? See her every day? That seemed like a recipe for disaster.
    He almost decided to tell her she could go to hell, but
thought about how he needed to switch his headquarters anyway. Diego Vargas
lived in Sacramento and Rafe would have to fly up to Bigler County, which
bordered on Sacramento County, right away. He suspected Vargas' drug dealings
had their origins up north, not here this close to the Mexican border. At
least, that was part of his latest strategy – he didn't think Vargas was
getting his drugs from Mexico.
    "I won't promise anything, but maybe we can work something
out," he finally answered, sliding back from his desk. At the surprised
look on her face, he added. "No promises. Understood?"
    "Absolutely." She smiled like a child who'd gotten
away with something on Daddy's watch.
    He had the distinct feeling she'd just played him. What the
hell had he gotten himself into? Isabella Torres was much craftier than he'd
thought. "Now what about the rest of those documents?"
    She grinned. "They'll be waiting for you when you
arrive in Sacramento."
    "Our Mr. Vargas has his fingers in a hell of a lot of
enterprises," he said, pulling out his own thick book on Vargas and
watching her eyes grow larger. "What particular part of his criminal
activities are you looking at?"
    Before she could respond, the noisy buzz of a cell phone
sounded inside his pocket. He reached inside his jacket and removed it, held up
a forefinger to forestall her answer, and flipped it open. A feeling of relief
surged through him. Lupe Rodriquez. Thank God.
    He'd already beaten himself up over ignoring his intuition
in the alley and getting the two of them assaulted. Since then, an irrational
idea had begun to worry him, the thought that the blood in the alley belonged
to Lupe Rodriquez and Rafe was guilty of not protecting his informant better.
    "Sorry, I need to take this." He swiveled his
chair toward the window, his back to Torres. "Lupe, what the hell ...
" he barked into the phone before being interrupted.
    It was Lupe's phone but not Lupe's voice.
    "Lupe's not here anymore." A deep voice with a
slight accent.
    "Who the hell is this? Where's Lupe?"
    The voice ignored the question. "Lupe's not anywhere
anymore. And you should be very careful, amigo, or you might be next."
    The cell phone went dead in his hand.
    "What's wrong?" Isabella asked, her finely arched
brows drawing together at the sharp sound of his response. "Lupe – that's the
man who was with you in the bar last