“Miguel . . . he said he has hidden drugs in our house. That if I go to the police he will tell them I am a drug dealer.” He swallowed and wiped a hand down his face. “I have worked hard to be an American, and I was afraid I would lose everything. I don’t care as much for myself, but I want my wife and unborn child to have a future here. And I had nothing to offer but suspicion. So I stayed silent. But now I have heard my brother-in-law speak of murder . . . and I have this.” He pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and held it out.

Zeke took it. Scanned the notation. “A license plate number?”

“Yes. From the car that belongs to the other man. I snuck outside and listened to their conversation—and wrote this down.”

Eduardo had accomplished what their own people couldn’t.

Since the man had overheard last night’s conversation, there was no point in keeping up the pretense of his role play.

“I appreciate this.” Zeke lifted the paper. “We’ll run the plates immediately.”

“So what I heard . . . it is true?”

“Yes. I’m an undercover DEA agent—but please keep that information to yourself.”

“Of course. And I have more. Do you remember the day my brother-in-law came here?”

“Yes.”

“Afterward, he asked me to take a photo of you. He thought he recognized you from Mexico, but he wanted to see if his contacts there agreed.”

So that was how his cover had been blown.

“That fits. I’ve done work in Mexico.”

“But why are you here?” Eduardo swept a hand around the office.

“As part of an investigation.” No need to share details. “Has your brother-in-law ever mentioned the school?”

“No. He came here the day you met him to cause me discomfort. To let me know he had power over me. But he has never talked of the school. Do you think he is involved in whatever you are investigating?”

“Perhaps on the fringes. How long has he been mixed up with the person who owns this car?” Zeke lifted the slip of paper again.

“I first noticed the man coming around about six months ago. They always meet in the alley behind our house, and the man gives Miguel a small package. I believe it is drugs.”

That would be a safe bet.

“Do you know anything about this man?”

“No—but I think he is important. He said he was training Miguel to be second-in-command, after his boss retires.”

Zeke’s pulse skyrocketed.

They had the license plate for the number two man in the ring—who had to know the identity of the leader.

Finally they were getting a real break.

“Could you identify this man if you saw him again?”

“No. It was dark, and he wore a hat down over his face.”

But they had his license plate.

That was huge.

“Thank you for coming forward, Eduardo.”