The Silenced Women

by Frederick Weisel

  The two men looked at each other. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to make an arrest,” Truro said and walked down the hall.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  (i)

  (THURSDAY, 4:13 P.M.)

  Eden stood beside the entrance gate of the employee parking lot and watched a dozen uniformed officers approach as they came off shift. In the middle of the pack, she spotted Gina Cipriani and Bob Pace, the officers who’d helped two days earlier with the telephone tip line. They were laughing as they walked. Then Cipriani looked ahead, past the other officers, and met Eden’s eyes.

  When they reached Eden, Cipriani nodded and smiled. “Detective Somers.”

  Eden nodded back.

  “Something else come off the tip line?” Cipriani asked. “I hear we ID’d the victim.”

  “No, it’s…not that.” Eden waited.

  Cipriani turned to Pace. “Give me a minute. Girl stuff.”

  Pace shrugged and turned into the lot.

  They watched Pace walk down an aisle of vehicles and disappear behind the cars. Eden was aware again of Cipriani’s height and broad shoulders. She found herself looking up at Cipriani’s face. “I’ll try to make this quick. I know you’re headed home.”

  “How’s the case?”

  Eden hesitated. “It’s…still there. I need to ask you about Fresno.”

  Cipriani’s face tightened. “What about it?”

  “On Tuesday, you said you worked a homicide tip line when you were on the job in Fresno.”

  “So?”

  “This is about Sandra Avelos.”

  Cipriani gave a low whistle. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “On April 18, 2017, two days after Easter, the body of Sandra Avelos was found in Roeding Regional Park in Fresno. Twenty-one years old. Five feet seven inches. Strangled with a cord. Unusual pattern—three and a half times around the neck.”

  “I’m familiar with the case.”

  “No physical evidence at the scene. The investigators talked to a former boyfriend and a jogger in the park at the time of the murder. But in the end they had no leads. No arrest was made. She was one of seven female homicides that year, the only one strangled.”

  “What’s this have to do with anything?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You’re not sure? Really? And yet you came all the way out to the parking lot to see me.”

  “It may be connected to the girls killed in Santa Rosa two years ago.”

  “I’m waiting to hear why I’m standing here listening to you.”

  “The Fresno medical examiner found an anomaly on Avelos’s body—a two-centimeter cut at the base of the spine. It wasn’t related to the cause of death. The ME made a note in the file, and everybody forgot about it.”

  “So what are you accusing me of?”

  “The two girls in Santa Rosa and another in a park in Vallejo had the same cut. It’s called a signature. It’s left there by a serial killer. One particular serial killer.”

  Cipriani rested her hands on the top of her duty belt. “Are you trying to say something to me, Detective Somers?”

  Eden could see Cipriani coming apart. Some instinct arose in Eden to help her. “Why’re you so up in my face about this?”

  “None of your business.”

  “I’m trying to get some information.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Calm down. I phoned the Fresno PD and spoke to the investigator on the Avelos case, Lieutenant Sandoval. I told him about the signature. He said I should look at a transcript for the tip line on the case.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me what it was. He’s faxing me a copy. He told me to read the transcript and get back to him.”

  “You’re in over your head, you know that? This is not how you treat a fellow officer.”

  “When he found out I was in Santa Rosa, he said I may as well talk to Gina Cipriani, who worked the tip line and is now working for the Santa Rosa PD.”

  Cipriani stepped close to Eden. “I’m going to say this thing once, since you’re young and new to law enforcement and obviously don’t know how things are done. I shouldn’t have to, but I guess someone thought it was a good idea to give you this job, even though you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.”

  Eden fought the urge to back away from the larger woman but couldn’t move.

  “This is a small department in a small town.” Cipriani stuck a finger in Eden’s breastbone. “Word gets around about this, the way you treat me, you’re going to have a real hard time with the uniforms. You work with Eddie Mahler, you start to behave like him, and you’ll have everyone lined up against you. That what you want?”

  Mahler’s name triggered something in Eden. Suddenly his voice sounded in her ear. “I’m investigating the murders of three girls whose bodies were dumped in a park, and I don’t give a fucking shit about your code or whatever this is.” It came out before she could stop herself.

  “You freaking little princess.” Cipriani looked down at Eden. “We weren’t officers, you’d be on the ground right now.”

  Eden stared back. “Well, at least, for once, you remember what your job is.”

  Cipriani pressed her lips together. She slowly turned away and walked into the parking lot.

  Eden watched Cipriani make her way between the cars. “What’re you afraid of?” she whispered.

  (ii)

  (THURSDAY, 6:30 P.M.)

  Rivas sat at the kitchen table, finishing Teresa’s salad—part of his wife’s efforts to help him lose weight and lower his cholesterol. He watched her across the room, working at the sink. He remembered his Aunt Malena saying, “When you get older, Danny, love looks different. It’s still there, if you’re smart or lucky, but now it’s in her eyes, or a joke between you, un chiste, or the food you make for each other. The trick is to see what the love is in your life and not to expect what it isn’t.”

  “Should I take some posole to Steve?” Teresa asked without turning around. “The hospital food’s probably not very good. Do they let you bring food to patients?”

  “You can try. But he’ll probably get out tomorrow.”

  Teresa looked over her shoulder. “Really? The way he’s hurt?”

  “You know him. All that macho Marine stuff.”

  Heavy feet sounded on the stairs, and Alex bounded into the kitchen. Rivas looked at his sixteen-year-old son and the mass of shaggy black hair that fell to his shoulders. Teenage boys all went through a phase where they became a single part of their body—in this case, hair. Alex leaned against the table. “Mom told us what happened to Frames. She said someone may be coming after you guys.”

  Rivas glanced past Alex to his wife.

  “What?” Teresa shrugged. “I’m not supposed to tell my sons? This is about them, too.”

  “Can I get the Glock from the upstairs safe?” Alex asked. “I know how to use it. You took me to the range, remember?”

  Rivas shook his head. “No, absolutely not. You’ll shoot your brother and tell me it was the gun’s fault. You’re not registered to use it, you’re underage, and you’re not trained. You need more reasons?”

  “So what do you want us to do?”

  “I talked to one of the uniforms, Hector Mendes. You remember him? We went to his daughter’s quinceañera last year? He’s going to drive by in his unit a couple times a day. You and your brother keep your eyes open. You see anything, you call 911 or Hector. I gave your mother his number.”

  “I’d feel better if I had the burner.”

  “The burner? Really?” Rivas smiled. “Go do some homework. You might be too stupid to be my son.”

  With Alex gone, Teresa sat at the table. “Do you know who these guys are, the ones who put the dogs in Steve’s car?�
�

  “We have a name. Martin might have a photograph of one of them.”

  “So you’re getting closer?”

  “It’s hard to know. These things don’t always follow a straight line.”

  “If they could break into Steve’s car, can they break into yours or mine?”

  Rivas sighed. “These guys are smart. But I don’t think they’ll do the same thing twice.”

  “What’s Eddie say?”

  “Eddie? Eddie may be irrelevant. Truro’s trying to replace him.”

  “Really? In the middle of an investigation? Isn’t that kind of unusual?”

  “Who knows? The rest of us don’t know what goes on behind the scenes.”

  “Would you stay if they brought in someone else to run VCI? Eddie’s the one who recruited you from Gangs.”

  Rivas shrugged. “Someone new might clean house. Each year goes by, I don’t know why I’m still in Investigations.”

  “You know everyone in the county who’s been in and out of the system.”

  “These days it’s more about databases. The other guys are always on their phones. I don’t even know what they’re looking at.”

  “Tom Woodhouse said you have an instinct for interrogations.”

  “I’m definitely not the kid anymore. They’ve got Frames for that.”

  “So is it time to take the package and leave?”

  “I’ve got two more years for the full package. We can’t afford for me to go early. We took a hit in the recession. The house isn’t worth as much, and we’ve got two college tuitions coming up.”

  “I don’t care. I’d be happy if you were doing something that didn’t involve people trying to hurt you.”

  “It’s not that bad. This thing with Frames is an exception.”

  “What about that officer killed last year, Ray something?”

  “Fessler. Narcotics. Something went wrong undercover.” Rivas pushed back his chair. “I’ve got to go back to work.”

  Teresa struggled to smile. “I’m not going to worry about you, Danny. You know that, right?”

  “I know. You have your limits: ‘The human heart has only two chambers, Daniel, and you gave me two boys to love.’ I’m on my own. Besides, anything happens, the death benefits are pretty decent. Pay for the boys’ college, get yourself the Boxster convertible you always wanted, the red one.”

  “No, silver.”

  “All right, silver. You’ll be good in silver, your hair blowing in the wind.” He looked across the table and saw her eyes fill. He reached out and held her hand.

  “Remember when you started?” she asked. “I said, don’t say you’ll be safe, don’t make me promises you can’t keep.”

  Rivas squeezed her hand and smiled. “No promises, mi cariño. No promises.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  (i)

  (THURSDAY, 7:02 P.M.)

  Thackrey picked up his vibrating phone. “Thought you’d never call.”

  “We’re a little busy. Vic’s destroying anything that could be traced to us. We’re leaving in the morning. You should, too. Where are you?”

  “Residence of one Edward Mahler.”

  “Oh, fuck. You really did it?”

  “Yeah. I’m sitting on the floor in the master bedroom, north by northwest.” Thackrey took a drink from the bottle beside him and tasted the sharpness of the cold beer.

  “Any trouble getting in?”

  “Not much. You’d think a cop would expect the worst. But he’s got a middle-grade alarm system. Magnetic sensors on the doors, front and back. Glass-break sensors on the windows.”

  “Motion sensors?”

  Thackrey drank from the bottle again. “Nope. Like I said, middle-grade. The guy must not have any shit worth stealing.”

  “Are you drinking something?”

  “India pale ale. Found it in the fridge.”

  “Jesus, Ben. You didn’t fuck with the wires on the outside box, did you?”

  “No, I did not, because my little hadji friend advised me not to. The keypad is beside the front door. I did a search on the brand name and found it requires an alphanumeric password with at least eight characters. Used a password-capture software to get the pass code.”

  “You are taking precautions, right?”

  “Gloves and disposable shoe covers like we used on our last endeavor. Should I have a condom pulled over my head?”

  “So apart from breaking in, what’s your plan?” Russell asked.

  “I’m leaving the lieutenant some music in my late friend’s name. I downloaded it to his sound system and patched a remote to my phone. Untraceable, of course. Beethoven’s ‘Bagatelle in A Minor.’ Catchy little number.”

  “I thought your girlfriend hated that thing.”

  “I’m beginning to think I never understood that girl,” Thackrey said. “Waiting for your call, I remembered something. A few weeks ago, I woke up at 2:00 in the morning. Elise wasn’t in bed. I walked around the house and found the patio door open. The deck and the yard were empty. I was about to give up when I heard Petey barking in the meadow.

  “Elise stood in the tall grass with the dogs. Just stood there. Naked, her gown a few feet away. She was facing the vineyard, but she must have heard me. ‘I dreamed you killed me, Ben,’ she said. I told her she needed to cut down on the OxyContin. She was doing two eighties every couple hours. Off-the-charts shit.

  “She turned around with this funny look. ‘In the dream you made me dance, and you killed me. At first I thought you’d save me. But now I can tell you’ll kill me.’ I asked her why I’d do that. She laughed. She said it was because I’m smart, because I know how to do everything. ‘You know how to kill me.’”

  Russell sighed. “She was crazy, Ben. I think we all saw that.”

  “That’s just it. Maybe she wasn’t. She knew I was going to kill her because of what she heard about Reggie. But she didn’t run. Why would she do that? Why would anyone do that?”

  “I hate to change the subject, but shouldn’t you be leaving, Ben?”

  “No. I’m staying until this guy Mahler comes home.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. It’s really the point of it all.”

  “How do you even know he’ll show up?”

  “That’s the sweet part. I found the alarm control panel in the front hallway. On the main menu, I went to user settings. In case of a break-in, the default is a call to the alarm company. On my cell, I downloaded an app called Alarm Remote. Then I added my cell number to the alarm as a remote control.”

  “Not traceable, right?” Russell asked.

  “The usual spoofing.”

  “So what happens?”

  “When I’m ready, I bypass one of the alarm zones. That triggers an error message. I set the preference for error messages to signal owner.”

  “Suppose he calls the company or sends someone else there?” Russell asked.

  “Then I’ll deal with it. But my guess is, he’s a macho do-it-yourself kind of guy. After you boys put the dogs in the other cop’s car, he’ll be curious. If he’s downtown, once I trigger the alarm, he’ll show up in eight minutes.”

  “You know where you’ll be and how to get out?”

  “I’ll stay here. The bedroom has two doors—one to the living room, the other to a utility room that goes out the back door. I’ll choose the one he doesn’t.”

  “What if you guess wrong?”

  “Well, that’ll be a problem, won’t it? That’s why I brought the gun.”

  (ii)

  (THURSDAY, 7:45 P.M.)

  Mahler waited beside Eden’s car on the second floor of the downtown parking garage. He’d arranged with Coyle to keep an eye on her for the night.

  From the stairs came the sound of someone climbing. Mahler
was about to call Eden’s name but stopped. A figure reached the top step and paused. It was Irwin Partridge.

  Mahler watched Partridge position himself behind a beam with a view of the stairwell.

  Quietly pulling out his gun, Mahler aimed across the garage at Partridge. The gunsight covered what he could see of Partridge’s head. He fingered the trigger.

  It’s a sign, he thought. Do it. For an instant he imagined the scene unfolding: his finger pressing down, the Sig kicking, the shot echoing, Partridge falling. Over. Done. Just like that.

  Light steps echoed in the stairwell. Mahler saw Eden reach the landing and look toward her car.

  “Hey there, Chiclet.” Partridge was behind her in a dark corner of the stairwell.

  Eden turned around to face him.

  He smiled. “Now, if I killed those girls in the park, you’d be in a pretty bad spot right now, wouldn’t you?”

  Mahler watched Eden feel for her gun.

  “You really think you have time for that, darlin’?” Partridge shook his head. “Unsnap the holster, pull out the gun, flip off the safety, hold that big, old weapon of yours with both hands? All before I get there? You that sure of yourself?”

  Eden hesitated. Her hand rested on top of the gun. “Are you threatening a police officer?”

  “Am I? Here I thought I was just talking.”

  “You’re a person of interest in a homicide investigation, confronting me in a threatening manner. I’d be justified in shooting you.”

  “Really? You’ve done this before?”

  From thirty yards away, Mahler watched them, his gun leveled on Partridge’s head and one finger near the trigger.

  Eden unsnapped her holster and took out her Glock.

  Partridge stepped forward again, raising his hands, palms out. “Apparently, I’m unarmed. Not even a cord in my pocket to wrap around your long, white neck, like the girls in the park.”

  “What makes you think they were killed with a cord?”

  “I think we all know they were killed with a cord, don’t you? You’re not going to be stupid now, are you? I like it so much better when you’re smart.”

  Mahler listened. He could see Eden’s command of the encounter and felt no need to intervene. Something about Partridge’s voice held him. What was he up to?