“Minus-seven Fahrenheit,” Ava said. “Bone dry. That’s why the fire spread so fast.”
Nodding, Special Agent Dabrowski collapsed into a chair at the table. He dropped his head into his hands. Ava hopped up and got a glass of water. When she returned, Leslie was softly speaking to the Special Agent. She looked up at Ava and mouthed “panic attack.” Ava nodded. She set the water down, and the special agent drank it down.
“What do you think this means, Special Agent Dabrowski?” Leslie asked.
“Every Viet Cong carried one of those,” Special Agent Dabrowski said, looking up from his hands. “Every single fucking one. Lots of guys brought them home as souvenirs of the Viet Cong they’d killed.”
“With the grenade?” Ava asked.
Special Agent Dabrowski nodded.
“I’ll tell you this,” Special Agent Dabrowski said. “Those things worked one out of five times. The grenades didn’t go off. The munitions didn’t cause the grenade to be ejected.”
“This one doesn’t look like it exploded,” Ava said. She pointed to the metal fragments. “Grenades fragment from the middle, where the explosive is packed. This one split vertically.”
“You’re saying that this grenade didn’t cause the limo to explode,” Special Agent Dabrowski said.
“If this is the only one,” Ava said, “then no. This is not the cause of the explosion.”
Special Agent Dabrowski looked off into the near distance.
“I’ll tell you this,” Special Agent Dabrowski said, as his eyes flicked to Ava’s face. “The RPG-2 gave a hell of a kick. I personally saw a VC have an arm sheared clean off from the recoil on those things.”
Special Agent Dabrowski looked at Leslie and then turned his gaze back to Ava.
“Whoever shot this thing at the limo had to have injured their arm or shoulder,” Special Agent Dabrowski said. “Broken shoulder. Severe bruising. Something bad.”
He pointed to his shoulder.
“There’s no way to fire one of those and not injure yourself,” Special Agent Dabrowski said. “We’d find VC in a bad way from shooting these things. It’s why the Soviets dumped so many of them into Vietnam.”
“Anyone have those injuries in your investigation?” Ava asked.
Special Agent Dabrowski shook his head and fell silent.
“If I had known about that. . .” Special Agent Dabrowski shook his head.
Ava waited for a moment, but the special agent said nothing else.
“Where did the idea that someone shot an RPG at the limo come from?” Ava asked. “We couldn’t find a witness or really anyone who saw this thing happen.”
“The driver,” Special Agent Dabrowski said. “He was on the radio with his command. They had some trouble in Aspen and were slipping out of town. He said something like, ‘Someone just stepped into the road.’ Then ‘Get down! RPG! Oh, my God! We’re dead!’ Then there was an explosion.”
He looked at Ava and then at Leslie.
“You didn’t get the tape?” Special Agent Dabrowski asked.
Ava shook her head.
“Must have been lost over all this time,” Leslie said.
“Or someone’s fucking with you,” Special Agent Dabrowski said.
“That too,” Ava said with a nod. She scowled. “There’s a discrepancy with the number of handgun cartridges. It looks like some are either missing or one of the police wasn’t carrying his weapon.”
Special Agent Dabrowski looked at Ava for a long moment. He nodded to the box of metal parts.
“That what you’re looking for?” Special Agent Dabrowski asked.
“In part,” Ava said. “We wanted to look for some evidence that an RPG had been fired. This is what we found.”
Special Agent Dabrowski nodded.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Special Agent Dabrowski asked.
“The fire burned too hot for just an ‘RPG meets vehicle,’” Leslie said. She gestured to the lab. “Fran’s worked in forensics for a long time. She’s volunteered in war zones. She has experience with this kind of thing. She says the fire was too hot.”
“Napalm,” Special Agent Dabrowski said in a soft voice.
“We’re testing for that right now,” Ava said. “We should know by end of day today or tomorrow.”
Special Agent Dabrowski nodded and looked off into space again.
“We’re exhuming the bodies,” Leslie said.
“I know,” Special Agent Dabrowski said. “That’s how I got here. I got a call from the family of one of the victims. They didn’t want their family member dug up for some fishing expedition.”
“What did you tell them?” Ava asked.
“I said that Dr. Quincy was the best of the best,” Special Agent Dabrowski said.
“That she is,” Ava said.
“I told them that if she wanted to take a look, they should let her take a look,” Special Agent Dabrowski said. He looked at Ava. “You think they were dead before the explosion.”
“It’s a possibility,” Ava said.
“Driver jumped out like James Bond?” Special Agent Dabrowski asked.
Ava and Leslie nodded.
“It’s possible,” Senior Agent Dabrowski said. “Hell, anything’s possible.”
“Did you know that the sheriff owned the land next to where this thing happened?” Ava asked.
Special Agent Dabrowski dropped his head to the table.
“No,” Special Agent Dabrowski said. “Every witness talked about the sheriff’s dying sister having to move. . .”
“To that property,” Ava said.
“God damn,” Special Agent Dabrowski said. “She moved to the house right next to the limo blowing up.”
“My teammate says the house is close enough to the road to ‘roast marshmallows’ on the fire,” Ava said with a nod.
“God damn,” Special Agent Dabrowski said.
He shook his head and reached for his folder.
“I brought you my personal notes,” Special Agent Dabrowski said. “I don’t know if they’ll help, but here they are.”
He slid the folder over to Ava.
“Everything is helpful. We put this. . .” Ava held up the shell of the grenade. “. . . together from boxes of scrap metal that was held by all of the different agencies.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Special Agent Dabrowski said.
“She’s not,” Leslie said. “We put all of the gathered evidence together and then started going through it.”
“Did you find the missing shells?” Special Agent Dabrowski asked.
“Not yet,” Ava said. “You’re welcome to help.”
Special Agent Dabrowski looked at Ava for a long moment before pulling the box over.
“They should have had at least one shotgun,” Special Agent Dabrowski said. “For the agent in the front seat. Any melted weapons here?”
Leslie gestured to a line of gnarled metal objects on the side of the table — three smaller ones and two long pieces of melted metal.
“Hot enough to melt the weapons,” Special Agent Dabrowski said.
“No more cartridges,” Leslie said.
“They had already discharged their weapons,” Special Agent Dabrowski said in a shocked, slow voice. “What do you make of that?”
“Nothing,” Ava said quickly. “We try to wait until we have all of the evidence before we start conjecturing. Only then do we decide what we think.”
She looked at the older man and smiled.
“It’s easy because we have a small team,” Ava said. “Not a huge federal agency.”
Special Agent Dabrowski nodded and looked over Ava’s head for a moment. His eyes flicked back to her face.
“You think they killed Michaud,” Special Agent Dabrowski said.
“Sounds like he was a real bastard,” Ava said. She looked at Special Agent Dabrowski. “Any evidence linking Michaud with the sheriff’s sister?”
Special Ag
ent Dabrowski gave Ava a long look before he shook his head. He pointed at Ava.
“You find that out, you call me,” Special Agent Dabrowski said. “Right away.”
With that, Special Agent Dabrowski stood up and walked out of Ava’s office.
|-||-|||-||-|||-||-|||-||-|||-||-|||-||-|||-||-|||
Sixteen
“You will call me the moment you have the results,” Ava said.
“I will,” Fran said. “Probably a half hour, maybe less.”
“Okay, thanks,” Ava said. “I have to get to the hospital to see Billie Joshua Trujillo, Jr. before Seth gets discharged.”
“Get going,” Fran said. “I’ll call.”
“Thanks,” Ava said with a nod. She started toward the door and turned back, saying, “Don’t forget to. . .”
“I will make sure all of the equipment is off and turn off the lights,” Fran said.
“I will check her work,” Leslie said with a grin.
Leslie and Fran were working on what was left of the carpet from the limousine. The mass spectrometer beeped, and Ava looked at it.
“Not yet,” Fran said.
“Go,” Leslie said.
Ava gave a nod and left the lab. She jogged to the Police garage, where she picked up her car.
“Any news?” the Sergeant leaned out of the garage security box.
“He’s supposed to get out today,” Ava said.
“Great news!” the Sergeant gave her a grin. “I’ll let the pool know. There’s about a thousand bucks in the pool now.”
Ava laughed as he opened the gate to let her continue on.
Anxious, Ava had never done an interview with an actual suspect. Yes, she’d sat in on at least a hundred such interviews.
But this guy? He held the key to the entire case. She turned on the radio to distract her, but the music on the radio was so jarring that Ava turned it off and drove in silence.
Just as her nerves calmed down, her phone rang. It was a number that she didn’t recognize. Assuming that it was the hospital, Ava pressed “Answer” through her car’s radio system.
“Hello?” Ava asked.
“Ava?” Dr. Quincy asked. “It’s Dr. Quincy. Joan.”
Ava was so surprised at Dr. Quincy speaking her first name that she was slow to respond. Dr. Quincy laughed.
“I’ve decided that if I’m going to be on this team, you should call me by my first name,” Dr. Quincy said. “We are equals. Equal names seem appropriate.”
“I’m so grateful for your help that I’m happy to call you anything you’d like,” Ava said, in earnest.
“I know, my dear,” Dr. Quincy said.
“How can I help you. . . uh. . . Joan,” Ava said.
“You’d asked for an update as soon as I’d reviewed the bodies,” Dr. Quincy said.
“Yes, please,” Ava said. “I’m driving to Anschutz for my first witness interview. I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t be,” Dr. Quincy said. “You’ll do great.”
“Thank you,” Ava said. “What did you find?”
There was a shuffling of papers before Dr. Quincy cleared her throat.
“Two of the bodies were buried in Colorado,” Dr. Quincy said. “From two of the U.S. Capitol Police. Both remains were shot a number of times — defensive wounds, non-lethal — with what looks to me like a .45 caliber.”
“Any guess on the weapon?” Ava asked.
“From the markings on the bullet, I’d say that it’s a revolver,” Dr. Quincy said. “Don’t quote me. Rifling is not my specialty. That’s just what it looks like to me.”
“The Capitol Police carried pistols,” Ava said.
“I am aware,” Dr. Quincy said. “Do we have their pistols?”
“No,” Ava said. “We found what we think were their pistols, but they are melted hunks of metal.”
“The fire was hot,” Dr. Quincy said.
“Super hot,” Ava said. “We’re lucky to have remains at all.”
“Mmm,” Dr. Quincy said, thinking. She sighed. “It looks to me like they fought back.”
“We’re missing some spent casings,” Ava said.
“Then it makes sense,” Dr. Quincy said. “All were killed with a rifle shot — .308 — through the heart.”
“Do you have Michaud?” Ava asked.
“I do, in fact,” Dr. Quincy said. “His remains arrived with his widow this morning. Have you met her?”
“Yes,” Ava said. “I like her.”
“I do, too,” Dr. Quincy said. “Surprised me, but I did.”
“Me, too,” Ava said. “And Michaud?”
“One shot through the heart. .308, again,” Dr. Quincy said. “If I had to guess, he was shot first, and the other men returned fire.”
“It makes sense,” Ava said.
“You don’t sound surprised by any of this,” Dr. Quincy said.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Ava said. “It’s shocking. It also confirms a suspicion I had.”
“Which was?” Dr. Quincy asked.
“That they were killed before the explosion,” Ava said. “We found the exterior casing of the grenade that went under the limousine.”
“Oh?” Dr. Quincy asked.
“It doesn’t look like it executed,” Ava said.
“Really?” Dr. Quincy said. “What caused the fire?”
“We’re not sure,” Ava said.
“But you have a suspicion,” Dr. Quincy said.
“Napalm in bomb form,” Ava said.
Dr. Quincy whistled.
“I know,” Ava said. “Turns out that the sheriff’s sister lived right next to where the limousine exploded.”
“And this sister?” Dr. Quincy asked.
“Mother of the man I’m going to interview,” Ava said.
“So, we may know more later,” Dr. Quincy said. “Good.”
“One question,” Ava said.
“Please,” Dr. Quincy said.
“Could the coroner have missed this?” Ava asked.
“Good question,” Dr. Quincy said. “I have reviewed their notes and the images. I. . . Gosh, I hate this because. . .”
“If it helps, the coroner is no longer living,” Ava said.
“It doesn’t,” Dr. Quincy said. “I don’t wish to disparage another professional.”
“Of course,” Ava said. “Between you and me?”
“Ah, yes,” Dr. Quincy said. “That’s easier. We won’t put it in official reports.”
“We will not,” Ava said. “We are solving a cold case, not reviewing other people’s work.”
“Good. I like it,” Dr. Quincy said. “To your question, ‘Did the coroner miss this?’ I would have to say ‘No, no way.’”
“It’s a cover-up,” Ava said.
“Likely,” Dr. Quincy said. “I should receive the third Capitol Police remains in the next hour or so. I plan to review the body immediately so that the families will have some idea of what happened. My guess is that it will be the same.”
“Begs the question,” Ava said, “who drove the vehicle?”
“I wondered that myself,” Dr. Quincy said.
“We had a visit from one of the original FBI investigators,” Ava said. “Special Agent Cal Dabrowski?”
“Don’t know him,” Dr. Quincy said.
“He said that there’s a tape of the driver over the com,” Ava said. “He said that he saw someone step out of the forest and shoot the grenade under the car. So, there was a driver.”
“And the tape?” Dr. Quincy asked.
“Missing,” Ava said.
“Of course, it is,” Dr. Quincy said.
“Can you text me your findings on the third Capitol Police?” Ava asked. “I’m near the hospital and will be with either our suspect or with O’Malley.”
“Of course,” Dr. Quincy said. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Ava said.
Dr. Quincy ended the call. Ava clicked off the call through the steering wheel. Turning on her blinke
r, she drove into the UC Anschutz parking lot and parked. She grabbed her bag and got out. She was walking toward the hospital when her phone rang. Ava fumbled around with her bag before taking out the phone.
“Fran,” Ava said, as she went through the sliding doors to the hospital.
“Napalm,” Fran said. “And I’m not talking homemade napalm. This was the genuine article.”
“Okay,” Ava said. “Is Leslie there?”
“Right here,” Leslie said.
“Napalm is a powder mixed with gasoline,” Ava said. “They either mixed it in the vehicle or it was in some kind of container with an ignition switch. Would you mind going through the metal pieces to see if you can find something that would act as an ignition switch?”
“I think I saw something that might fit the bill,” Leslie said.
“Good,” Ava said. “Can you think of how it would work?”
“Of course,” Leslie said. Leslie was their out-of-the-box thinker. “I’ll call my dad. He has some experience with the stuff.”
“Perfect,” Ava said. “Okay, I’m at the hospital door.”
“Good luck!” Fran and Leslie said into the phone before clicking off.
Ava pressed open the door to the hospital room. There were three beds in the room. The two beds by the door were empty. Ava rounded the hanging curtain to the end of a hospital bed. The man in the bed didn’t turn to look at Ava. The man was about the right age — late forties, early fifties. His hair was dark. He looked muscular and fit. When he turned to look at her, she gave a slight gasp.
“Yes, I look just like my father,” Joshua Trujillo said. “You must be Ava O’Malley. I’d recognize you anywhere.”
“Mr. Trujillo?” Ava asked.
“You can call me, ‘Billie,’” he said.
“Not Josh?” Ava asked.
“William Joshua Trujillo,” he said with a nod. “Most people call me ‘Billie.’ Bill-I-E. Didn’t matter that it was a girl’s spelling. My mom was a huge jazz fan, and I was her Billie. You know, Billie’s Bounce.”
“I don’t know a lot about jazz,” Ava said.
“You should,” Billie said. “You’re married to one of the jazz greats.”
“I should have said that I’m learning,” Ava said with a grin. “Is that why you’d recognize me anywhere?”
“I’m a fan of O’Malley’s,” Billie said. “My mom was a huge fan.”
Billie's Bounce Page 9
