CHAPTER SEVEN
Alexa studied Jeronimo Cortez and his lawyer from across the table in the jailhouse. Stuart and Rebstock sat by her side. This was getting repetitive.
“You lied to us,” she growled.
The lawyer leaned forward, raising a protesting hand. “My client promised you information on the alleged killer and provided it. He gave you a name, all the biographical details he knew, and his home address.”
“He gave us a name that could be false, a bunch of vague stuff we can’t check, and an address that’s been abandoned for at least a week. And he knew that Pérez or whatever his name had already left. That house would have been the first place Los Diablos Auténticos would have looked for him.”
“We never went there,” Jeronimo Cortez said.
“Oh, come on! Cut the bull!” Stuart said. He was s
