I watched Bailey’s facial expressions as he chatted with his mother about the Dawson Foundation she’d created in Philadelphia. That was a surprise to me. Apparently, Bailey’s mother came from money and wasn’t selfish. The Dawson Foundation was known for its philanthropy.
“Mom, I have a question for you, and please don’t lie to me. Did you send money to Thomas for any reason?” Bailey’s eyes were glued to the front windshield of my truck.
There was silence over the line for a moment. “Bailey, you know we don’t discuss financial matters in our family.”
He turned to me and mouthed, “That’s a yes.”
“Yes, Mom, I’m aware of that ridiculous rule you and the General recited repeatedly when Thomas and I were kids. This is important. Did you filter money to Thomas?”
“Bailey, dear, your brother is under unique circumstances, and his reelection campaign will start next spring. You weren’t home for the last campaign, and if Thomas gets reelected for a second term, the United States House or Senate is a lock for him. A run for the presidency wouldn’t be far behind. He’s building a war chest, and I’m sending cash as I can before he officially files to run so he can avoid violating any campaign finance laws. That’sas much as I’m going to tell you, son. I love you.” The line went dead.
I made a left onto Goodsprings Road, where Rita Ramirez lived in a three-bedroom house just inside the Nevada-Arizona border. She was Maria’s aunt and had been taking care of Maria’s son while Maria was in jail after her arrest a few weeks prior.
The judge found that Maria, who was born in Mexico and had both parents still living there, was in the United States on a student visa that had recently expired and therefore denied her bail.
When Maria’s attorney produced the documentation showing that Maria was scheduled to have a meeting with the immigration authorities the week after she was arrested in hopes of sorting out her immigration status, she was granted another arraignment to deal with bail.
When she went before the new judge, Maria was given a twenty thousand dollar bail amount for the shoplifting charge, but she needed fifteen percent of that, which she didn’t have. She called her aunt, and Ms. Ramirez, who was a naturalized American citizen, reached out to us for help, using her home as collateral for the three thousand seven-hundred-and-fifty-dollar bail amount.
Sparky and I had talked about why Maria hadn’t attended the hearing that morning, and we’d guessed she probably thought they were going to deport her, so she wanted to see her son before she was sent back to Mexico.
Monty, whom Sparky had called a sentimental sap, bailed her out against Sparky’s wishes. No doubt Maria was a flight risk, but he had a soft spot for a young mother trying to make a life for her child. Her jail sentence could be up to twenty years on the shoplifting charge, so why wouldn’t she take the boy and leave the country?
“I’m going to stop down the street and talk to Rita Ramirez, Maria’s father’s sister, if she’s home. I hope I can take Maria back to Vegas without incident. She’s only twenty, and her little boy, Ruiz, is two, so I’m sure she just wanted to say goodbye or pick him up to take him with her back to Mexico if they deported her. I’ll be back.”
I reached under the seat and pulled out my Sig Sauer P320 before going into the console for my mace and Taser. As Sparky always said, “Mace. First line of defense. Taser, second—unless we’re fired on. Please be aware of your surroundings. I want no heroes today.” It was sound advice.
“I’m not staying in the truck, Trooper. You need me as backup. You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.” Bailey reached under his seat and pulled out a Glock 19, which surprised me. I had no idea when he’d stashed it there.
I turned to my right. “You got a permit for that?”
“This old thing?” He held up the Glock and chuckled. He reached into his back pocket to retrieve a leather wallet and pulled out his concealed carry permit, smirking the whole time. “Let’s go.” He stepped out of the truck and closed the door.
We met on the sidewalk, and I stopped. “I want to take her back alive and well, even though she did something dumb by taking off. Hopefully, her lawyer can explain things to the judge, and they’ll reschedule the hearing in a day or two. I don’t see the aunt’s car, so I’m guessing she’s at work.”
I clipped my gun to my belt and went to the truck bed, where I had a large chrome toolbox filled with everything but tools. I pulled out two Kevlar vests and handed one to Bailey. God knew I didn’t want anything stupid happening to him.
Laughing as he took it from me, he strapped it on. “This takes me back, baby.”
“I guess it would, Master Sergeant. I hope you know how much it would hurt me if something were to happen to you aftereverything else you’ve been through. Please, please don’t do anything dumb. Let me handle this, will ya?” I didn’t want him involved at all, but based on his expression, I didn’t think I could talk him down.
“Let me help you. I can’t imagine Sparky sending you guys out alone. Where’s your partner?”
I sighed. “Fitz is on a hunt with Monty, Keats, and Greeley. Sparky has other shit on his mind, though I don’t know what, or he’d have come with me.”
Bailey checked his gun and shoved it behind his back. “Lead the way, Trooper.”
I stepped closer and kissed his lips before stepping back. “When we get back home, I’ve got plans for you.” Damn right I did.
“Like I said, lead the way.”
“Stay to the left of the porch. I’ll knock on the door.”
Bailey nodded and took his place where I asked.
I walked up the front stairs to the house, knocking on the black wrought-iron safety door. I could hear noise inside—it sounded like a cartoon on television. “Maria, this is Bail Agent Hansen. You missed your court date this morning, and, Maria, this date was to set a trial schedule. You shouldn’t have missed it. I’m sure your lawyer talked until she was blue in the face to keep the judge from issuing a warrant for you to go back to jail during the trial. You blew it by not showing up today.” I was trying like hell to keep from shouting at her. Speaking in a normal tone worked better.
The door opened, and I stepped back, not pulling my gun, Taser, or mace. When little Ruiz reached for my hand, I knelt in front of him. “Is your mommy in there?”
