Page 55 of Faded Gray Lines

The place was ransacked, and Diaz was fucked up. He lay face down on the floor of his kitchen, the back of his head looking like a bowl of red Jell-O. I knelt beside him to check out the damage. Whoever got here first did a number on him. The man’s skull was bashed in so far, I wasn’t sure if he ever had a face. On closer inspection, the side of what used to be his forehead seemed to have the imprint of the number six on it.

Golf club.

It couldn’t have been a quick and painless death. He’d obviously suffered.

I stood up to check out the rest of the apartment. Everything had been torn apart, ripped down, and dumped out. Someone was definitely looking for something, but the question was what and why. Covering my hands with my jacket, I sifted through his shit.

Nothing.

The scene didn’t sit well with me. Someone wanted something bad enough to kill for it. This wasn’t just about shutting Hector up. I glanced down at the pile of mangled flesh again, trying to understand the thoughts of a dead man.

If I wanted to hide something, what would I do?

Hide it in plain sight.

My gaze immediately drew toward the television. It was a piece of shit—one of those old box types with a remote control sitting on top. That was what made it seem so unassuming. So safe. So easily overlooked.

In two steps I had the remote in my hands, ripping the back off the battery holder. Diaz didn’t watch much TV in his last few hours because there wasn’t one battery to be found. Instead, I turned the remote upside down, and a black USB flash drive fell into my hand.

I’d spent enough time inside and couldn’t afford to waste anymore. Pocketing the flash drive, I left Diaz’s place, making sure to fix the lock on my way out.

Once in the car, I drove to a gas station and pulled Luis’s laptop from the backseat. In seconds I had the flash inserted. However, instead of answers popping up, a file full of random letters and numbers filled the screen.

“Goddamn it!” I yelled, slamming my palm against the steering wheel.

Encrypted.

I knew Val would be waiting on a report, so with a frustrated sigh, I pulled out my phone and made the call. It only took half a ring for him to pick up.

“What do you have for me?” His tone left no room for pleasantries.

“Diaz is dead, and his place was ransacked.”

I could hear him pacing. “Find out as much as you can. Call in a clean-up crew to get that asshole out and down a drain somewhere.”

“There’s more,” I said, a sharper edge to my voice. “This wasn’t a cartel hit. It was too sloppy. Fucker’s head was bashed in. That’s not our style. Plus, asicariowouldn’t have left the body to be found.”

Val’s silence spoke more than if he’d said anything. He knew I was right.

“Whoever did this wanted something Diaz went to a lot of trouble to hide.”

“Butyoufound it,” he said, knowing me well.

“Yeah, a flash drive. It’s encrypted though. I’m going to take it to one of the suits on our payroll this afternoon.”

“Muy bien.” Be discreet.

* * *

Pocketing the flash drive, the suit in question reached for the passenger’s side door handle. “I’ll take care of it as fast as I can.”

Relaxing in my seat, I pressed the door lock button. “You’ll take care of it today,” I corrected. “I need that decrypted by tonight.”

He flinched, sweat beading across his forehead. “Things like this take time.”

“How are the wife and kids, Professor Bright? Does your wife still enjoy driving that Infinity we paid for?”

“I earned that money,” he bit out.