hold grudges against them, Isabel believed the only real suspect they had was Bobby Soto.
Chapter Eight
Micah had never been the best of friends with Bobby Soto, and the incident at the Coyote Lounge had put an end to it. He’d changed by then, anyway. All Isabel’s doing. He gave her credit for making him grow up, for challenging him to be a better man. Bobby had pretty much ruined his life engaging in criminal activity. He’d served some time in prison, but not nearly enough, in Micah’s opinion. Someday, his bad choices would catch up to him.
Micah glanced at Isabel, sitting in the passenger seat of his truck radiating anxiety as they shot down the highway toward Santa Fe. Her expression was part hopeful, part just plain scared.
“We don’t know Bobby has her, Isabel.”
“We don’t know that he doesn’t.” She gave him a stricken look. “You don’t think he’ll tell us, do you?”
“If he’s involved, I’ll get it out of him.”
Not that he knew how, exactly. He might be bigger and stronger than Bobby, but Bobby was a snake, ready to strike when you least expected it. Plus, Micah knew the bastard walked around armed.
The family meeting had broken up a short while ago, and everyone had gone off to confront their possible enemies, to decide whether or not the person had been involved in Lucy’s kidnapping. They’d all agreed to meet back at the Gecko later to report in. Micah didn’t think any of the others would learn a thing. He feared—and hoped—that he and Isabel would.
“Maybe we should have called Detective Ochoa,” Isabel said, her tone strained with worry. “Let the police handle Bobby.”
“Ochoa wouldn’t get anything out of him, even if there’s something to get. Cops have rules to follow. And Bobby hates cops.”
“Bobby hates us,” she reminded him.
“It’s been twelve years.”
“You really think he’s changed? Look at his younger brother. Bobby started Hank drinking beer when he was only fourteen. Now he’s twenty-six and not only did the drink ruin his life, but also the lives of three innocent families.”
Hopefully not four , Micah thought. He hoped to God his daughter wasn’t collateral damage.
“If Bobby has something over us, he’ll want to taunt us with it,” Micah said. “You remember how he was.”
“I remember he was dangerous. Still is. Micah…please be careful.”
“That goes for you, as well.”
She could be one tough cookie when she was riled. He hadn’t forgotten that she’d pulled a knife on Bobby at Suicide Hill that time. Or that she’d punched him in the gut at the Coyote Lounge. He worried she might go off on Bobby and get hurt. He couldn’t let that happen.
Wouldn’t let that happen.
He wished he’d come alone. That he’d left her in the care of her family where she would be safe.
Suddenly he realized that Soto Used Cars was just ahead. He got an idea. Bobby wouldn’t try anything in public. Not at his own business.
And if he did…Micah had Ochoa on speed dial.
Bobby and Hank had left their family ranch several years before to open a used-car lot on the highway from Soledad to Santa Fe. They’d always been interested in tricked-out cars like the lowrider Hank had been driving when he’d caused the bus accident. Lowriders were part of the Chicano culture in this part of the Southwest. Micah noted a few on the lot. Their exteriors had custom paint jobs, with several thin layers of different colors, and they were all decorated with hand-painted graphics, each one unique. The specially installed hydraulic suspensions allowed drivers to instantly drop the chassis from a normal height down to nearly touching the ground. The lifts could also make their cars “jump,” abruptly dipping and raising the front or rear of the vehicle, or make them jiggle and sway. It was a kind of art form, making your car dance. In the right place and time.
According to Lucy, Hank had been showing off his lowrider tricks when he’d
Chapter Eight
Micah had never been the best of friends with Bobby Soto, and the incident at the Coyote Lounge had put an end to it. He’d changed by then, anyway. All Isabel’s doing. He gave her credit for making him grow up, for challenging him to be a better man. Bobby had pretty much ruined his life engaging in criminal activity. He’d served some time in prison, but not nearly enough, in Micah’s opinion. Someday, his bad choices would catch up to him.
Micah glanced at Isabel, sitting in the passenger seat of his truck radiating anxiety as they shot down the highway toward Santa Fe. Her expression was part hopeful, part just plain scared.
“We don’t know Bobby has her, Isabel.”
“We don’t know that he doesn’t.” She gave him a stricken look. “You don’t think he’ll tell us, do you?”
“If he’s involved, I’ll get it out of him.”
Not that he knew how, exactly. He might be bigger and stronger than Bobby, but Bobby was a snake, ready to strike when you least expected it. Plus, Micah knew the bastard walked around armed.
The family meeting had broken up a short while ago, and everyone had gone off to confront their possible enemies, to decide whether or not the person had been involved in Lucy’s kidnapping. They’d all agreed to meet back at the Gecko later to report in. Micah didn’t think any of the others would learn a thing. He feared—and hoped—that he and Isabel would.
“Maybe we should have called Detective Ochoa,” Isabel said, her tone strained with worry. “Let the police handle Bobby.”
“Ochoa wouldn’t get anything out of him, even if there’s something to get. Cops have rules to follow. And Bobby hates cops.”
“Bobby hates us,” she reminded him.
“It’s been twelve years.”
“You really think he’s changed? Look at his younger brother. Bobby started Hank drinking beer when he was only fourteen. Now he’s twenty-six and not only did the drink ruin his life, but also the lives of three innocent families.”
Hopefully not four , Micah thought. He hoped to God his daughter wasn’t collateral damage.
“If Bobby has something over us, he’ll want to taunt us with it,” Micah said. “You remember how he was.”
“I remember he was dangerous. Still is. Micah…please be careful.”
“That goes for you, as well.”
She could be one tough cookie when she was riled. He hadn’t forgotten that she’d pulled a knife on Bobby at Suicide Hill that time. Or that she’d punched him in the gut at the Coyote Lounge. He worried she might go off on Bobby and get hurt. He couldn’t let that happen.
Wouldn’t let that happen.
He wished he’d come alone. That he’d left her in the care of her family where she would be safe.
Suddenly he realized that Soto Used Cars was just ahead. He got an idea. Bobby wouldn’t try anything in public. Not at his own business.
And if he did…Micah had Ochoa on speed dial.
Bobby and Hank had left their family ranch several years before to open a used-car lot on the highway from Soledad to Santa Fe. They’d always been interested in tricked-out cars like the lowrider Hank had been driving when he’d caused the bus accident. Lowriders were part of the Chicano culture in this part of the Southwest. Micah noted a few on the lot. Their exteriors had custom paint jobs, with several thin layers of different colors, and they were all decorated with hand-painted graphics, each one unique. The specially installed hydraulic suspensions allowed drivers to instantly drop the chassis from a normal height down to nearly touching the ground. The lifts could also make their cars “jump,” abruptly dipping and raising the front or rear of the vehicle, or make them jiggle and sway. It was a kind of art form, making your car dance. In the right place and time.
According to Lucy, Hank had been showing off his lowrider tricks when he’d
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