Guilty by Innocence Page 3

“After that I began to recall more. About a year ago, I finally told my parents I was gay. My father disowned me that very day, cut off the money he gave me to go to college, took away my car, my computer—almost everything and drove me out of the house. Left with nothing, I ended up on the street.”

  He hunched even tighter, as if he tried to shrink into himself. “It gets worse from there,” he said, barely above a whisper. “After a few weeks, Armando Contreras took me in. I didn’t know at first, but he’s a hoodlum, maybe with the cartel. I never dared ask. He put me back on the street, sometimes as a decoy or a courier and then as a male prostitute, but I had food and clothes and shelter. So long as I did what he said, he took care of me and provided some protection. People knew I was his property, so few tried to hurt me. I’m not proud of this, but I had to live.”

  Despite his rigid moral code, Jax felt a stir of sympathy. The young man had been raised very sheltered, probably over-protected. Then suddenly he was cast adrift in the jungle of the street, as innocent as a child, more naïve than Catalina Rodriguez, although he was six or eight years older. When a clearly powerful older man offered him aid, he expected another father figure; instead, he got a master who saw in him only a useful tool, little more than a slave.

  Still Jax knew he had to push in a final effort to jolt some more information out of Gabriel. If nothing else, maybe some fact that would help to clear him.

  “Contreras ever asked you to do anything like a hit, maybe a drive-by shooting?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “I…“ He looked down at his clasped hands again, twisting them in his lap. “I don’t think he believed I could do anything that critical, that huge. He called me names like baby and sissy; treated me like a boy instead of a man.”

  “What if there was a witness, one who can place you at the scene of the killings? Someone who managed to survive?”

  Gabriel’s dark gaze flashed to Jax’s for an instant, something almost like hope in his face. “Is there? Did you find someone, a person who saw it? I would sell my soul to be sure, to know the blood of those people is not on my hands by my deeds. Yes, I know, I was holding that machete when you arrived. But I cannot, I will not believe I slashed people to death—old people and children. ¡Por Dios! There are not enough drugs in all El Paso to twist me that far. If Contreras told me to do such a thing, I’d tell him to kill me because I could not obey him.”

  The young man’s vehemence sounded real and sincere. Jax studied him in silence for a few seconds, waiting to see the liar’s squirm or some other hint he knew more than he admitted. No such sign came. Finally, he had to speak his own mind.

  “I don’t think you did it. We do have a witness, a survivor. She speaks of another man who broke into the house, a man who doesn’t resemble you at all. And she says he’s the one who did the butchery. I’m not sure if she has a name or not, but the description was clear and detailed. I’m just not sure where you come in—that’s what we need you to recall.”

  “I keep trying,” Gabriel said. “I try all the time. Slowly, I do remember more of the past, but nothing of that day…not yet. I think, I pray it’ll come back in time. Until then—I can stay here in jail, can’t I? I have nowhere to go now for sure.”

  Jax shrugged. “Probably. You’re still a person of interest, and we’ll see after your arraignment tomorrow. It’s up to the judge whether we have enough to charge you or not. With the witness’ statement, he might say to let you go.”

  Gabriel went stark white. “No! Oh, please, God, no. I mean I don’t think I’m guilty, but I don’t want to get out, to go back on the street. I’d be dead in hours. They—Contreras or someone in the cartel must’ve put me in that house for a reason. I know how he thinks and works. I was supposed to die or be found guilty to take the heat off someone else. He decided I was expendable when they needed a scapegoat. If you let me out, I might as well kill myself.”

  Jax had to restrain himself from laying a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and offering reassurance. Since he could not do that, he did what he could. “If you get your memory back, you might become a witness. Under such conditions, you’d probably merit protective custody. That’s what’s being done for the survivor, a young woman. You’d better pray for that.”

  He stood then and wheeled around to leave. If he stayed any longer, he’d very likely say or do something he shouldn’t. Cops and sympathy made a bad combination. He had to remember the blood and the machete clenched in this young man’s fist. That was real. Until evidence and hard proof changed the scenario, he had to stick with that one.

  Jax knew a jailor was watching through the one-way glass and would immediately take Gabriel back to his cell so he did not look back. He stepped out the first door when it swung clear for him, heard it click behind him and then the next one opened to let him back out into the normal world. He couldn’t say right off if the interview had helped him understand the case better or not, but he did have a lead or two to pursue. The name Contreras was one he knew.

  Chapter 4

  Back in his cell, Gabriel sank onto the edge of his bunk. There were no chairs. He was not sure why he was being isolated, but he found it both a blessing and a curse. Having no one to talk to had begun to disturb him, though. Solitude gave him too much time to worry, letting the fear and despair build. He wasn’t used to being alone. At home, he’d had his older brother and sister and a younger sister. When he went to college, he had a roommate and some friends. Even at Contreras’ place, he rarely found himself alone.

  Gradually the picture of his past was emerging and clearing from feeling like a hazy dream to being real again. There was just that last day…

  He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clenched fists. He lectured himself about the foolishness of letting a whole day vanish as if it had never been. Of course, he knew he wished it had never been. Maybe that was part of the problem. His mind was trying to erase it and simply take those hours out of his life.

  Think, tonto. Think! You have to remember something. Your life depends on it. What happened on November 28th? How did the day start? I woke up in my room, in the back servants’ wing of Contreras’ house. I had coffee and maybe toast or a roll. What was I wearing? Jeans and a shirt, my Nikes that were getting tattered, an old jacket someone gave me after I got there. Then Pancho came for me.

  He closed his eyes, trying to visualize the man’s face and exactly who he was. Yes, Armando’s driver and bodyguard. He told me I had to pick up a package from someone who was coming across the bridge from Juarez. He’d be watching and I had better not mess up.

  The female courier he’d met looked like someone’s elderly abuella. Bundled in layers of old sweaters and a bulky jacket, she appeared very heavy and solid. She knew the password and followed him to a hidden spot behind some of the riverfront buildings. Half her apparent bulk turned out to be packets of white powder. He crammed them into his backpack and went back a few blocks to where he was to meet Pancho.

  They drove across town by a roundabout route and again Pancho let him out of the car, this time by a park. He was to leave the backpack in a certain trashcan and then go back to the other side of the park and wait. It seemed like a long time before he saw a man, supposedly taking the full bags out of the trashcans and putting in new ones. He had a cart with squeaky wheels. The one bag went on top and the rest underneath the top shelf of the cart. About then, Poncho drove up, tapped the horn, and Gabriel got back in the car.

  Then things began to get fuzzy. He thought they drove around a while and finally went out on the northeast side of town close to the army base. Not long before dark they pulled up at the end of a block of plain little houses, mostly a bit rundown and some vacant. Another vehicle came in behind them. Pancho got out and went back to the other car. He told Gabriel to wait where he was.

  When the passenger door jerked open, he’d been half asleep and almost fell out. Someone grabbed his arm in a punishing grip. “Come on. Hurry.”

  He staggered along
as the big man half-dragged him. Pancho didn’t seem to be around. They walked halfway up the block and into a yard. The man did not knock. He yelled once and then simply kicked the door open. Someone screamed. Gabriel had only a second to look into the room. There were several people there—a couple of kids, a baby crawling on the floor…Shock and terror painted all their faces.

  The broken door, swinging on a single hinge, hit him as he came through the doorway. He stumbled, grabbed for something to catch himself and found nothing, then something slammed into the side of his head with a brutal, smashing blow. He saw stars and flares as pain exploded through his skull. Then everything went black…

  Gabriel drew in a breath, let it out and took another. Was that all real or had he strained so hard to come up with answers that he’d made up the whole thing? He tried to bring the big man’s face to mind, but nothing came. He realized he’d really not gotten a clear look at him in the fading twilight. The only impressions he had were of size and strength; a few snatches of words spoken in a gruff, low voice. Was the strange man the one who had really wielded the machete? What was the purpose of killing what seemed to be an ordinary family in their home?

  But the detective had said they had a witness. What would she say? Would her story go along with what he had maybe remembered or blow all of it out of the water? He wished he could go back and talk to the detective again. The man had seemed kind for all that he asked hard questions and kept his face stern. Maybe Gabriel would have a chance before the arraignment. If not, he’d just have to hope and pray.

  * * * *

  After he left the jail, Jax did some research on Armando Contreras. The damn man seemed to have a Teflon suit; he’d been suspected more than once, but charges never stuck. A few of his underlings had been busted, but they never squealed, at least not enough to implicate their boss. Seemed like Contreras had friends in high places or put out enough mordido to buy all the protection he needed.

  Next, Jax decided to talk to Rita Lopez again. She should know where Catalina Rodriguez was and maybe he could check with her about Contreras. The girl seemed sharp for her age and, considering the trauma she’d been through, more rational than many kids. He hated to dig into it anymore, but there was so much at stake he had no choice.

  At least his study of Contreras had yielded a few names and a couple of blurry photos of some of the man’s entourage. It would be worth a try to see if any of them proved familiar to Catalina. As he expected, he had to do some serious talking to persuade Rita that he needed to talk to the girl again, with Rita serving as interpreter.

  “We need to go to the convent in an unmarked, unobtrusive vehicle and hope we’re not identified as cops. The sisters will do all they can to protect her, but against thugs like Contreras and his crew, what could they do? Right now, she’s the only witness we have and that puts her in grave danger.”

  Jax nodded. “I know. What if we go separately? You drive your own car or borrow one, and I’ll take my bike and put on some of my old undercover hippie druggie stuff.”

  That convinced her. She called the convent and arranged to see Catalina after the midday meal. Later, he thanked his lucky stars he’d managed to see her. The girl identified one of the photos as the man who’d kicked in the door and started cutting people. He then pulled out a copy of Gabriel’s new mug shot. “Have you seen this man?”

  She gazed at the photo for nearly a minute. “Si, I think so. There was another man, I am pretty sure now. When the big man broke in, he was dragging another by one arm. Before he did anything else, the big one hit him in the head, and he fell down. I think the smaller one was still there when I crawled out to find Mama and my brothers…I did not pay attention, though, after I saw everyone seemed to be dead. It did not matter, but yes I think this is that man.”

  Jax met Rita’s gaze across the girl’s bowed head and gave a slight nod. “We’re good,” he said. “This should give us what we need. Gabriel Suarez will go free, and we’ll see if we can get hold of Refugio Soliz. From what I read about him, he’s wanted in Mexico for some pretty grisly stuff, so this kind of bloodbath would be right up his alley.

  “I’ll try to talk to Judge Ramos this evening if I can and to the chief right away. Maybe we can organize a raid on Contreras’ place here in town, even if it is damn near a fortress.”

  He left before Rita did, peddling his bicycle back to the station by a roundabout route. He wasn’t sure why, but the likelihood he had enough evidence to clear Gabriel lifted his spirits. Of course, the kid would be in grave danger, just as he’d told Jax earlier in the day. If Gabriel somehow managed to recall Soliz dragging him into the crime scene house and bashing him in the head, it would add a lot to Catalina’s testimony. That should make him a definite witness protection candidate until the trial—if they were lucky enough to grab the Mexican butcher and charge the lousy fucker.

  Even if things did not move that fast, he’d almost bet after tomorrow’s arraignment hearing Gabriel would go free.

  Hell, if it comes to that, I’ll find a way to take care of him myself. Won’t be easy, but I’ll give it my best shot…

  * * * *

  The arraignment hearing went much as Jax had hoped. He’d managed to speak to Judge Ramos briefly and provided a written report on his interviews with Catalina and Gabriel. Even though he hadn’t been able to speak to Gabriel again, the judge readily agreed there was little to no probable cause to indict the young man despite the initial evidence.

  After the hearing, Jax watched as Gabriel walked out, a free man. He stopped on the sidewalk outside the courthouse, casting anxious glances up and down the street. When Jax approached, the younger man reached out and caught Jax’s wrist.

  “Please, I need to talk to you. I tried to get word to you, but they said you weren’t available. I thought what I remembered might have helped with the hearing, but I guess it wasn’t necessary.”

  Jax immediately caught the younger man’s anxiety. “Yeah, you’re free. What are you going to do now?”

  “I remembered some more about that day, that night. At least, I think I remembered. It feels like real memories. Now I am even more worried, scared to be out on the street. Have you got time to let me tell you?”

  Jax glanced at his watch. His shift would be over soon and Lord knew he’d put in enough overtime lately. “I have to go by the station, but after that I’m going home. You may as well come along.”

  At first, he feared the younger man was going to jump into his arms and kiss him on the spot. He held out a cautioning hand. “Cool it. If anyone’s watching, we don’t want this to look like anything is going on that might not be kosher. Here, shake hands like we just spoke briefly, and I’ll go on. The station is only a block down this street; you can follow me there, but not too close. My car is parked in the back, a battleship gray Chevy SUV. Wait for me there.”

  Gabriel clutched Jax’s hand as if he’d never let go, his expressive eyes overflowing with emotion. A shiver of anxiety traced along Jax’s nerves. He didn’t want this kid developing a case of hero worship or some warped crush. Gabriel had said he was gay; Jax was, too, but the younger man had no way to know that. Cops and even released suspects did not mix well. He’d have to watch his step here.

  He drew his hand back and spun on his heel, starting off at a fast pace. It took longer than he had expected once he was back at the station—didn’t it always? Finally a few minutes after sundown and a half-hour after the normal end of his shift, he walked out the back door.

  Sure enough Gabriel stood by the old gray four-wheeler, still looking around as anxiously as a rabbit sensing a nearby hawk. He slouched down against the side of the vehicle, almost like he tried to fade into the dull dusty paint.

  Oh fuck, the kid’s scared shitless. If I were in his shoes, I suppose I would be, too. Once Contreras and his thugs hear Gabriel’s alive and has walked, his life won’t be worth a pile of dog turds. The judge didn’t think there was enough to put him in witness protection, but
if he’s recalled more…Oh, screw it. I’ll take him home with me for now and see what comes out.

  Gabriel jumped at the sharp raps of Jax’s heels on the pavement as he approached. “I had almost decided you fed me a line and had gone home some other way; that maybe this wasn’t your car at all.”

  For an instant Jax bristled. “One thing I don’t do is lie. If I tell you something, it’s for real. People may not always like what I say or want to hear it, but it’ll be straight talk.”

  As the lights in the lot came on, he felt exposed and unprotected. That wasn’t a normal thing for him. He unlocked the passenger door. “Get in so we can get out of here.”

  Chapter 5

  Jax never drove the same way from the station to his house twice in a row anyway. Today, he took a more circuitous route than usual, just in case anyone had been watching. He didn’t notice anyone following them. Fortunately, he had a garage at home so he could pull in, shut the door, and go straight inside without anyone seeing he wasn’t alone. So far none of the dirt bags he’d sent to prison had come looking for revenge, but the first one could show up any day. To say nothing of Contreras.

  Once inside, he went about his usual routine, checking the house and making sure there were no doors or windows messed with, listening to the voice mails, and returning a couple of calls. While he tried to get a handle on what he should do with Gabriel, he simply ignored him, but that was easier pretended than actually done.

  The young man was not noisy or obtrusive—quite the opposite really—but there was no way in hell Jax could forget he was there. Used to being alone, another person’s presence was as hard for him to ignore as a bloody body in the middle of his living room.

  After a few more minutes, he had to acknowledge Gabriel and start to deal with him. “Hungry?”

  The other man had found a spot at the end of the beat-up couch and sat there, almost motionless, while Jax puttered around. “Not starving, but I could eat, I guess.”