“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiled crookedly. “But I know the answer. You’re one of those people who have to be there twenty-four/seven for those they care about.”
“You still haven’t answered me.”
“I believe that Nalchek is here to see me,” Joe said. “And the middle of the night is an excellent time for our discussion.” He turned and headed for the waiting room. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Margaret gazed in bewilderment at Nalchek.
He shrugged. “Come along. By all means, let me satisfy your curiosity. I don’t give a damn any longer, now that Walsh is dead.”
“I don’t want to— Yes, I do.” She followed them down the hall to the waiting room. “I have to know.”
“Those were my feelings exactly.” Nalchek turned to face Joe as he entered the waiting room. “I had to know.”
Joe nodded. “Because you’re like Margaret. You had to be there twenty-four/seven for those you care about.” He paused. “Even if there was a chance that it might destroy you.”
“What are you talking about?” Margaret asked.
“Bryland Medical Center,” Joe said. “When Margaret raised a red flag where you were concerned, I started investigating you, Nalchek, and that included everything about you.”
“I would have done the same thing.”
Joe nodded. “I couldn’t find anything in your past or public career. You were everything your voters thought you were. So I dug a little deeper. Family. You had a very close and affectionate family relationship.”
“Yes, I do.”
“And that includes your grandfather, Marcus Nalchek, who owned the vineyard and several valuable farms to the south. You grew up on his lands, and he was like a second father to you. Your own father was the sheriff and very busy. You bonded with Marcus, and he considered you his son and heir.”
“My father didn’t cheat me of affection. He was great,” Nalchek said. “Stop trying to make me into a martyr. We were all family.”
“But you were close enough to Marcus to go to work for him when you got out of the service.”
“I wanted a break. I loved those vineyards.”
“But you found out that things weren’t the same as when you went to Afghanistan.”
Nalchek didn’t answer.
“I checked with your grandfather’s financial consultants and creditors and found out that around the time of Jenny’s death, he was having a good deal of money trouble because of the drought that was devastating the state. He was close to going bankrupt.”
“So were half the other farmers in the state.”
“But Marcus Nalchek felt it as a personal failure. The vineyards had been in the family for generations. He was the head of your family, and he couldn’t stand the thought of you all knowing that he’d failed you.”
“He didn’t fail us. It was the drought. Even if we’d lost everything, we’d still have been able to make a living. We still had each other.”
“But he didn’t look at it like that, did he? However, he didn’t have to face your father or you with how bad the situation actually was.” He paused. “Because suddenly everything was all right, he’d managed to save all those properties in jeopardy. Even his financial advisors didn’t know how he did it. But you found out, didn’t you, Nalchek?”
Silence.
“I’m on the track,” Joe said quietly. “I won’t stop. I’ve talked to the personnel at Bryland, and they gave me a few hints about your grandfather’s meanderings after his stroke. And the financial stuff will just take time.”
“I could make you do the work.”
“You could, but I don’t think you will.”
Another silence. Then Nalchek finally answered, “I didn’t suspect anything. Not right away. It wasn’t until after my grandfather’s accident that I put it all together. Before that, I only thought that my grandfather had aged enormously since I had last been with him.” He grimaced. “But after Afghanistan, I thought the whole world had aged and was going to hell.”
“Your grandfather had this accident a year after you went to work for him,” Joe said. “Would you like to continue?”
“No.” Nalchek’s lips twisted. “But I’m sure that you have an idea where this is going and are planning a follow-up.”
Joe nodded.
Nalchek shrugged. “We found my grandfather in the wine cellars one morning with his head split open. I had reason to believe that it was no accident. He kept holding my hand and telling me that it was a warning. He kept saying the word over and over. Warning. On the way to the hospital, he had a massive stroke that affected both his body and mental capacity. My entire family was devastated. He was taken to Bryland for rehab, but we knew he’d probably never come out of it. So did he. We were right, he died six months later. It was a bad six months. Whenever I visited him, he tried to talk to me. He appeared wracked with guilt. I could make out a few words and those words were … chilling.”
“He told you that he was the one who had arranged with the Castino cartel to bring in those forced laborers to work his properties,” Joe said.
“What?” Margaret said.
Both of them ignored her. Nalchek nodded. “I found out that he’d had to salvage the harvest any way he could. He kept the vineyards out of the deal. It was his home territory, and any change would have been noticed. But he made a deal for forced labor for his farms to the south. He didn’t realize the horror of the human trafficking … until he experienced it. He said … slavery.”
“Did he mention anything about Walsh?”
He shook his head. “Do you think I wouldn’t have gone after him, if he had? I think my grandfather tried to get out of the deal once he realized what he’d gotten into. Too late. I knew that someone had tried to keep him from confessing what he’d done when he was struck in that wine cellar. It must have been Walsh. But I had no names then. Not Walsh, not Castino. I even put out some feelers with the Mexican government, but nothing came of them. My grandfather was a powerful and influential man, and Walsh didn’t dare kill him outright. The second-best deterrent was a warning. I’m sure it would have been followed by a deathblow if the warning hadn’t worked.” He added bitterly, “It turned out not to be necessary after that stroke.”
“What else did he tell you at the medical center?”
“Not much. The three words I remember most clearly. Forest. Child. Grave.”
Margaret felt a chill run through her.
“Anything else?” Joe asked.
“He mentioned a name. Elena Pasquez … Help her.”
“He wanted you to help her?”
“Or he wanted to tell me that he had helped her. After he died, I went to his office at the vineyard and went through his books. He always kept meticulous records. Yet he’d destroyed all paperwork connected to his deal with the cartel. Not one name or contact. But I found an entry for Elena Pasquez for $75,000 deposited in a bank in San Francisco. No reason given for the disbursement. I checked, and all the money had been removed the day after he’d deposited it. Enough funds to keep Elena and Cara hidden and safe for quite a while.”
“Elena must have come to him to ask for help when she was taking Cara on the run,” Margaret said. “And told him about Jenny.”
“Then she had to have been desperate,” Joe said. “Marcus Nalchek could have been in league with Walsh.”
Nalchek shook his head. “People trusted my grandfather. Any of the workers would have told Elena that she’d be safe with him. He wasn’t like that scum. He made a terrible mistake. He tried to correct it.”
“The grave,” Margaret said. “Your grandfather must have been looking for Jenny’s grave when he was in the forest.” She met his gaze. “And so were you after he told you about it. You were Sajan’s ‘other one.’ Both you and your grandfather, full of violence and rage.”
“What?” He shook his head impatiently. “Will you keep that coyote out of this, Margaret? I don’t want to deal with him at the moment. Yes, I was definitely filled with both of those emotions. But I didn’t even know what I was looking for. There was no sign of the grave. Walsh did his job well,” Nalchek said. “Every now and then, I would go and look again. But I never found it.” His lips twisted. “Until that freak series of heavy rains that washed away the dirt.”