I’ll ask his pals instead. Maybe they’re smarter than this dumb shit.”
“What’s the question?” Manny snickered. “I got all kinds of answers.”
“It’s real simple, and I already know the answer, so it’d be good idea for you to get it right the first time. Which one of you is Junior Sanchez’s cousin?”
She saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. The two other boys exchanged glances and backed up a step. Manny’s brow knotted, his face twisting into a frown. “What’s Junior got to do with anything?”
Sam nodded. “So you know Junior?”
“Yeah, I know him,” Manny said. “What of it?”
“He’s your cousin.” She watched his face, waiting for his answer.
Manny licked his lips, craning his neck to look at his friends. They ignored him, staring down at the ground. After a long moment, he hitched up his tuxedo pants, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, he’s my cousin, so what?”
Sam pulled out her cuffs and nodded at Alec. She heard a shout, and turned her head in time to see Lombardo plowing through the trees. Rafe trotted alongside him, Lombardo huffed and puffed running over the grass, his face an alarming shade of cherry red.
“Sam,” he grunted, swiping a veil of perspiration from his eyes. “Don’t cut these fuckers loose. I got them on all counts.”
She dangled the cuffs in her hand. “I’m not cutting them loose. We’re bringing them in.”
“Like hell.” Lombardo’s color deepened to burgundy. “We made a deal, remember? We work together, but if the punks were guilty, me and Rafe get the collar.”
“I never actually agreed, Lombardo. We were interrupted by Thorpe,” she said.
“A deal’s a deal in my book.” His eyes shot daggers at her. “Besides, I got the proof to nail them.”
Sam lowered the cuffs. As long as Manny didn’t walk, she didn’t care who got the collar. “What kind of proof?”
Lombardo foraged in his jacket pocket for the evidence bags. “I got these off the scenes.” He handed her the bags containing the garters. “These assholes just had their frickin’ prom.”
Sam turned the bags over in her hand. “Where did you find these?”
“They were turned over with the dirt when they dug up the legs.” Lombardo boasted, “I got something else too.”
Sam passed the bags to Alec. He glanced at them and looked at Lombardo. “You were holding out on us. First thing you should have done was turn the evidence over to Sam.”
Alec was right, but she held up a hand. “What else do you have?”
“This.” He passed her the picture of Miguel Sanchez and his family. Manny stood to the left, right beside Miguel’s son. “Ties it all up in a nice little package. The dickwad offed his own god damn relative just so he could do the women.”
Sam worked her tongue over the inside of her cheek, mulling over the evidence. “When were you planning on sharing this with the rest of us?” she demanded.
“When I had enough to put them away.” Lombardo said.
“Really?” She knew damn well he was lying and wanted him to admit it. While the rest of them were chasing their tails, Lombardo was building a stockpile of evidence, desperate for the collar. It was her case, damn it, and he shouldn’t have withheld vital information. “Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like you planned to share it at all. You ran down here to make an arrest. You have a phone and a radio, but you didn’t bother to call me and you didn’t bother to call Alec. Is this your idea of a truce? It sure doesn’t look like one to me.”
Lombardo knew he was outnumbered. Sam was pissed. Alec and Rafe glared daggers at him. He backpedaled to save his own ass. “I should’ve called you when I found the picture, when I knew I had enough.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Damn right you should have.” She closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to still her angry heartbeat. Until Thorpe cut her conversation with Lombardo short, she’d been about to