Ling said, “Ignatio thought he could buy his son a different life, but them spoiled rich kids got him hooked on Oxy.”
“Was Ricardo in rehab?”
“Shit, little dude lived in rehab.” He shifted again. Will could hear the material of his stiff orange shirt rub against the metal door. “You got kids?”
“No.”
“Not that you know of, right?” He laughed as if this was funny. “I got three. Two ex-wives always bitchin’ at me for money. I give it to ’em, though. They keep my boys in line, don’t let my daughter dress like no whore. Keep their noses clean.” His shoulder raised in a shrug. “What can you do, though? It’s in the blood sometimes. No matter how many times you show them the right way, they get to a certain age and they get ideas into their heads. They think maybe they don’t have to work their way up. They see what other people got and think they can just walk in and take it.”
Ling seemed to know a lot about Ignatio Ortiz’s parenting woes. Odd, especially considering the two were locked down in separate prisons that were almost an entire state away from each other. Boyd Spivey had been wrong. Yellow wasn’t making a play for Brown. Yellow was working for Brown.
Will said, “You have a business relationship with Mr. Ortiz.”
“That’s a fair statement.”
“Ignatio asked Julia to give his son a job on the legit side of the business.”
“It’s good for a young man to have a trade. And Ricardo took to it. He had an eye for the work. Most of ’em, they’re just putting together boxes, slapping on doors. Ricky was different. He was smart. Knew how to get the right people on the job. Could’ve run his own shop one day.”
Will started to understand. “Ricardo got a crew together—Hironobu Kwon and the others worked at your sister’s shop. Maybe they saw the money coming in from the less legitimate side of the business and thought that they deserved a bigger piece. Ortiz would never approve of some upstart gang taking a piece of the Los Texicanos pie, even if it was his own son.”
“Starting a business is harder than it looks, especially with a franchise. You gotta pay the fees.”
“You heard about Ricardo’s trip to Sweden.”
“Hell, everybody heard.” He chuckled as if it was funny. “Problem with being that age is you don’t know when to keep your mouth shut. Young, dumb, and full of come.”
“Your people talked to Ricardo about his trip.” Will didn’t say that they were probably torturing the young man during the discussion. “Ricardo mentioned that there might be a way to buy himself out of his problem.” Will imagined Ricardo would’ve been willing to trade his own mother by the time they were finished torturing him. “He told you that he could get his hands on some money. A lot of money. Almost a million dollars. Cash.”
“That sounds like a deal no businessman can say no to.”
Everything was lining up. Ricardo had taken his crew to Evelyn’s, where they met with a hell of a lot more resistance than they’d anticipated. They had killed Hector. Even if Amanda was right and Hector Ortiz was just a car salesman, there was no getting around that he was Ignatio Ortiz’s cousin. “Ricardo took them to Evelyn’s house to get the money. Only, they didn’t count on her fighting back. They took too many casualties. They had to regroup. And then Faith rolled up.”
Ling asked, “You heard this story before?”
Will kept talking. “They took Evelyn somewhere else to question her.”
“Sounds like a plan, man.”
“Only, she hasn’t given up the money. If she had, I wouldn’t be here.”
He laughed. “I don’t know about that, brother. You seem to be missing something in your story.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it.” Will was still at a loss.
“The only way you can kill a snake is to cut off its head.”
“Okay.” He still wasn’t following.
“Far as I can tell, that ol’ snake’s still out there twitchin’.”
“You mean Evelyn?”
“Shit, you think that old bitch could get a bunch of kids to follow her? Whore couldn’t even keep her own house in order.” He tsked his tongue the same way his sister had. “Nah, this is man’s work, bro. How do you think they got one over on my sister? Bitches don’t got the balls for this kind of work.”
Will wasn’t going to argue the point. Gangs were the ultimate boys’ club—more patriarchal than the Catholic Church. Julia Ling had only been in charge at her brother’s pleasure. Generals don’t go into battle. They send their pawns to the front lines. Hironobu Kwon was shot within minutes of breaching the house. Ricardo Ortiz had been left behind. Benny Choo had held a gun to his head. The man had been beaten. He was abandoned. He was expendable.
Someone else had tipped them off about Evelyn. Someone else was leading the gang.
Will said, “Chuck Finn.”
Ling laughed as if the name surprised him. “Chuckleberry Finn. I thought that brother would be dead by now. Fish sleeping with the fishes.”
“Is he behind this?”
Roger didn’t answer. “And old Sledge taken down, too. From what I hear, they did the brother a favor. Go out like a man instead of waiting to be put down like a dog. Can’t say some good ain’t come outta this.”
“Who’s behind—”
“Yo, this is over.” Roger Ling banged on the cell door. “Enrique, close it up.”
The guard started to slide back the panel. Will reached out to stop him. Like a snake striking, Ling’s hand snared out, clamping around Will’s wrist. He pulled so hard that Will’s shoulder slammed into the door. The side of his face was pressed against the cold metal surface. He felt hot breath on his ear. “You know why you’re here, bro?”
Will pulled back as hard as he could. He pushed with his leg, tried to brace his foot against the bottom of the door.
Ling’s grip was tight, but his voice implied effortlessness. “Tell Mandy that Evelyn’s gone.” His voice got lower. “Tap-tap. Two in the head. Ding-dong, Almeja is dead.”
Ling released him. Will fell backward, his shoulders banging into the concrete wall. His heart was going like a metronome. He looked back at the cell door. There was a squeal of metal sliding across metal. The viewing panel closed, but not before Will saw Roger Ling’s eyes. They were flat black, soulless. But there was something else there. A flash of triumph mixed in with bloodlust.
“When?” Will yelled. “When did it happen?”
Ling’s voice was muffled behind the door. “Tell Mandy to wear something pretty to the funeral. I always did like her in black.”
Will brushed himself off. As he walked up the corridor, he wondered which was worse: feeling Roger Ling’s hot breath on his neck or having to tell Amanda and Faith that Evelyn Mitchell was dead.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FAITH GRABBED A GROCERY BUGGY FROM THE LINE OUTSIDE the store. She found an old list in her purse and clutched it in her hand as she walked into the building, pretending like this was just another day at the market. The Atlanta police had taken her Glock to process for ballistics, but they didn’t know about Zeke’s Walther P99 that he kept loaded in his glove compartment. The weight dragged on her purse strap as she hefted it over her shoulder. The Germanmade weapon was well suited for her brother, who’d never seen combat. It was bulky and expensive, the sort of thing you’d carry for show. It could also drop a man at one hundred yards, and, at the end of the day, that was all Faith needed it for.