“I agree, Ms…”
“Celestine is fine.”
Dang. He’d really hoped to get a last name from her. Looked like he’d have to ask. Although his gut told him she didn’t want to give it, so maybe he could get her to warm up to him first. “Okay. Celestine. How did you meet my brother?”
“Through some mutual friends.” She waved her hand, her manicured nails flashing. “What do you know about his death?”
So she had no interest in small talk. Fine with him. He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands loosely on the table. “What do you know?”
She considered him for a second. “I know he was stabbed. Once. That he bled out. And that his killer got away with it. Your turn.”
“It was a very precise wound. The killer knew exactly where to cut him to inflict maximum damage with minimal effort.” He paused. Maybe he could catch her off guard. “Did Jave know you were pregnant?”
“I found out after…” She pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes on him. Seconds scraped by before a ghost of a smile glimmered across her face. “Well done. That kind of thing doesn’t normally work on me.”
A niece. He had a niece he hadn’t known about. While he’d suspected, having it confirmed made it seem more real.
He leaned forward, his breath coming hard. “So your daughter. She’s Jave’s?”
A tight nod. “I didn’t find out until two weeks after Jave died.”
Well, at least Jave hadn’t been keeping that secret from them. Just his gang affiliation and criminal activities. “He would’ve been a good dad.”
Her hand shook slightly as she sipped from her coffee. Setting it back down, she speared him with a look. “So. This precise wound. Where was it?”
“Shouldn’t you know?”
Her thin, well-shaped eyebrows lowered over her eyes. “How would I know? I’m not family. I didn’t see his body. Nor did I have access to the police reports or investigation.”
True enough. “You sure you want to get into this? It’s not pretty.”
She jutted her chin forward. “I can handle it.”
“Okay.” He touched his upper chest, slightly above his sternum. “The blade went in about here. The killer made a short slice, severing the artery. He bled out in minutes.”
Her jaw tightened but she didn’t look like she was going to be sick.
In fact, she looked angry enough to kill.
“And the blade? What kind was it?”
What kind of woman asked about the blade? Now he really needed to learn her last name so he could look into her. His gut said there was more to her than met the eye. “What does it matter? You know a lot about weapons or something?”
“My father was a bit of an expert and taught me some things.” She pushed her hair behind her ear, a large gold hoop shining against the black backdrop. “It was a rough neighborhood. He always said no daughter of his would ever be a victim.”
And yet, in a way, she had become a victim. Of tragedy, of loss.
They both had.
The question that remained was if she had any part of the gangs that had stolen Jave from them both.
Not that she’d likely answer that one outright.
“So do you know? What kind of knife was used?”
“No. The weapon was never found.” Even if he did know, he wouldn’t have told her. Not as long as the case remained unsolved. “It was a sharp, curved blade, but that’s all we know.”
“Curved. An interesting choice.”
So far he’d been the one sharing most of the information. Time to turn the tables. “So about Jave’s friends. Got any names for me?”
She shrugged one leather-clad shoulder. “Just first names. Jose, Aaron, Michael, and Jacob, to name a few.”
So nothing useful. Great. “I know Jave was an Alma member. These guys run with the same gang?”
“I tried to stay out of that part of Jave’s life.”
“How do you know them?”
Unreadable dark eyes bored into him. “From the neighborhood. Like I said, it was a rough area.”
So they were gang members. She may as well have just come out and said it. “Did Jave ever talk about what he did? Who he ran with? Anything that might give us motive?”
“No.”
Really? Not ever? His disbelief must have shown because she leaned in.
“Did he ever tell you? Or tu madre?” Challenge laced the words.
“No.” He held her look evenly. “He wasn’t rushing to tell his cop brother or mass-attending mother about his illegal activities.”
“So is it so hard to believe he’d leave his fiancée out of such conversations?”
Fiancée. How could Jave have kept this from them?
He held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. I’m learning that Jave was really good at keeping things from the people he loved.”
There must be something she could tell him that would help. He refused to believe that this one lead would turn into a dead end.
“Did Jave leave anything at your house? Anything that might give me something to follow up on?”
She hesitated. “Some clothes. Toiletries. He’d more or less moved in by the time…”
Well, that explained why they hadn’t found very much at Jave’s apartment. “Would you mind letting me go through his things? There might be something in there–”
“I looked through it. There’s nothing but personal things.”
Nothing to her, maybe. But there might be something that she didn’t know was important. “It wouldn’t hurt to have a second set of eyes.”
She stared at him.
Man. This woman had one heck of a poker face. She didn’t give away a thing.
Finally she nodded. “I suppose it belongs to your family anyway. It’s just been sitting in a box in my garage.”
Phew. He’d been afraid he’d have to force the issue.
If he could. Technically, it’d be hard to prove that the items were even Jave’s.
“Thanks. Maybe I could pick them up later on?”
“That’s not going to work for me. I can bring them to you in the next few days.”
Not going to work for her? He hadn’t even specified a date or time.
Was she being extremely cautious? Or did she have something to hide?
Or maybe she wanted time to go through Jave’s things and remove anything she didn’t want him to see.
Regardless of her reasons, if he pushed her she might change her mind. “Whatever’s easiest. I really don’t mind picking them up.”
“I’ll drop them by the station tomorrow. I take it you’ll be working?”
“Yes.” He stared at her. This stranger who would have been his sister-in-law. This woman who had probably loved Jave as much as he had. The mother of his niece, a niece he’d barely seen and never really met. “What’s your daughter’s name?”
The hard lines on her face softened. “Angelique.”
“Di–” What was the best way to ask this? “Does she have Jave’s name?”
“She’s a Montoya. Jave was gone, so it seemed simpler that way.”
“Makes sense.” Montoya. He finally had her last name. Something about it seemed familiar, but he couldn’t nail it down. “Would it be okay if… I mean, I’d like to be a part of her life, if that’s okay. I know Madre would want to meet her, too.”
“I–I don’t know.” Indecision warred on her face. She abruptly stood. “I should be going.”
As much as he’d hoped she’d agree, he wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t. He rose, too, dumping his empty cup in the trash on his way out the door.
Her heels clicked a brisk pace on the concrete and he jogged to catch up to her.
“Celestine, hold up a second.” He reached out, lightly catching her elbow. “Just think on it. Please.”
“Let go of me.” She jerked her arm away. When she turned to face him, moisture lurked in her dark eyes.
Had he pushed too far? �
��I’m sorry. She’s the last part of Jave we have.”
“Me, too.”
“Celestine?” A man’s voice came from their left.
Zander turned to find a muscular man striding toward them. Clenched fists hung at his sides. A gargoyle tattoo glared from his neck.
Alma Negra. And a ranking one at that.
He obviously knew Celestine, but how was she involved with him?
Celestine didn’t turn, didn’t take her eyes off Zander. “I’m fine, Damien. Leave us.”
A second ticked by. Damien glared at Zander before whirling and stalking away.
Hmmm. A ranking Alma listened to her. Her tone in addressing him evidenced that she knew he would obey.
Who was this woman?
Zander turned back to Celestine. “Please think about it. You know how to reach me.”
A single, decisive nod answered him. She turned and headed for a cream colored Escalade with windows tinted blacker than the legal limit.
Yes, she knew how to reach him.
He made a mental note of her license plate number. And now that he had a last name and plate number, he’d be able to find her, too.
Sixteen
Light filtered through Monica’s dreams which, for once, were peaceful. She stretched and opened her eyes.
Where was she?
She jerked upright, looking around the unfamiliar room, feeling the sheets on the unfamiliar bed.
What…?
The boat. Elly and her brothers.
Her head whipped to look at the door.
The chair was exactly as she’d placed it last night, wedged beneath the knob.
No one had come for her during the night.
Safe, just like Elly had promised.
Footsteps crossed softly above her. She looked at the ceiling as though she’d be able to see who was creating the sound.
What time was it?
She searched the walls and surfaces for a clock, but found none. Sunlight angled in the window so she knew it was day, but it could be early morning or late afternoon for all she knew.
Not that it mattered. She didn’t have anywhere else to be anyway.
Her stomach gurgled.
Memories of the tasty meal from the previous evening made her mouth water.
Had she slept through breakfast?
If so, maybe there’d be some leftovers.
She pushed out of bed, leaving the covers in disarray.
Moving the chair, she headed for the bathroom. Maybe she should take a shower. She felt dirty. She was dirty.
Then again, so were her clothes. What was the point of showering if she had to put dirty clothes back on?
Her stomach grumbled again.
Okay. First food, then shower.
After washing her hands, she moved on silent feet down the hall. The kitchen was empty. No food sitting on the counters, either.
She could go through the fridge, but that felt funny. Maybe wrong. Nice as everyone seemed, she wasn’t sure how they’d feel about her digging through their stuff.
Staying here seemed like a good thing. She couldn’t do anything to screw that up.
She crossed the kitchen and went up the stairs.
The main cabin was empty.
Through the windows, she saw Elly at the front of the boat, staring out to sea. The wind swirled her curls around her head like a halo.
Maybe it was a halo. Elly might be her guardian angel.
That was stupid.
Monica wrapped her arms around her waist and looked around.
Just Elly. No sign of her brothers anywhere.
Maybe they were still sleeping, too.
Unlikely. The clock on the wall pointed out that it was after eleven.
Her feet carried her to the door leading outside. Elly turned as she slid open the door.
“Good morning, Monica. Did you sleep well?”
Better than she had in months. Maybe years.
She simply nodded.
The wind had a bite that cut through her clothing, making it cool, in spite of the sun. “What are you doing out here?”
Elly turned to look at the sea. “Talking to God. I always feel His presence so clearly when I’m near the water.”
The way she said it made it sound like a conversation. “Does He talk back?”
What kind of question was that? She waited for Elly to laugh and ridicule her for such a dumb thought.
Elly just smiled. “Of course He does. God is always there, always listening, always talking. Our problem is that we don’t usually take the time to hear Him.”
“What does He say?”
“That He loves me. Loves you. And wants you to know that.” Elly’s face radiated a peace that Monica had never known.
In fact, Monica hadn’t heard anyone talk about God like that before. Ever.
Elly clearly believed God was a real person. Could she be right?
Jessie had believed it. Just before her death, she’d started talking about God dying for her or something and said she was going to make things right.
And it had cost her life.
“Are you hungry?”
Now Elly could read her mind, too. She nodded.
“Then let’s get you some breakfast. Do you like omelets? I make a really good omelet with spinach, cheese, and peppers.”
That did sound good.
Then again, she was hungry enough to eat most anything. Living on the street had taught her not to be too picky.
She nodded, then followed Elly below deck.
As she watched Elly prepare the omelet, Elly’s earlier words ran through her mind like a recording. “That He loves me. Loves you. And wants you to know that.”
There hadn’t been a hint of doubt in Elly’s voice. She was convinced.
Could it really be true?
What was it like to be loved by God?
“How do you know it’s God talking to you?”
Elly looked up from the sizzling skillet. “The same way you know it’s me talking to you. I recognize His voice.”
Recognize…? “You mean you actually hear Him? How come I don’t?”
“I don’t actually hear Him with my ears, although I know people who do. Zeke does, so if you want to know about that you should ask him.” Elly pressed a hand to her upper chest. “I hear Him here. You might think of it like a conscience except that He’s not just telling me right and wrong. He’s giving me words for the stuff of everyday life.”
Suddenly so much made sense. “That’s how you found me in the alley.”
Elly gently turned the omelet. “Yes. God led me there.”
Which, in turn, saved her life.
Maybe God was real and did care. After all, why else would He send Elly when she needed help?
“Why would God save me?”
Elly scooped the omelet onto a plate and set it in front of her. “Because He loves you. It’s not any more complicated than that.”
The smell of eggs and melted cheese tingled her senses. There were no chairs in the kitchen but she didn’t care. She could eat standing by the counter. She picked up her fork. “Then why didn’t He save Jessie? Didn’t He love her, too?”
“Of course He does.” Sympathy weighted the words. “I don’t know why God sometimes chooses not to stop the bad things from happening, but I can tell you that Jessie is in heaven right now because she trusted God to save her. Not save her from death, because at some point we all die, but save her for eternity.”
Eternity. Did she even believe in eternity?
Maybe.
This topic was too deep to tackle on an empty stomach.
The omelet tasted heavenly. She swallowed the bite and scooped up another.
Elly set a glass of orange juice in front of her. Monica reached for the glass the second it hit the table.
When had she last had juice? Or regular meals? She could get used to this.
But how long would it last?
Surely she couldn’t stay here
forever.
She pushed the thought aside as she shoveled in another bite. One day at a time. That was how she’d survived the last two years. It was how she’d continue to survive.
When she’d cleared the plate, she looked up at Elly. “What did you mean about Jessie trusting God to save her for eternity?”
Elly gestured around them. “There’s more to life than all this. In fact, this life is just a small blip on the radar of eternity. The choices we make here, particularly about Jesus, determine what happens to us after we take our last breath.”
It sounded so serious.
Then again, wasn’t it?
In the week before her death, Jessie had really gotten into the whole God thing. She’d talked about Jesus a lot. “Jessie said we’re all sinners. That Jesus saves us from our sins and gets us into heaven. You believe that, too?”
Elly nodded solemnly. “I do. Jessie chose to believe that Jesus is the only one who can save us from the judgment our sins deserve. By dying in our place, He took the punishment for all who choose to follow Him. Everyone makes a choice about Jesus and it’s the most important choice they’ll ever make.”
Everyone, huh? “I haven’t made a choice.”
Elly reached across and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not choosing is the same as rejecting Jesus.”
Which meant that she was going to go to hell. If Jessie and Elly were right.
So far Elly had been right about everything else. Why not this, too?
The fatigue hit then. Not that she had any reason to be tired, given all the sleep she’d gotten. Maybe her body was making up for lost time.
She couldn’t deal with thoughts of God right now. There were more pressing issues.
She looked at Elly. “Ho–how long can I stay?”
“As long as you’d like. As long as you need to. The door’s always open.”
Always open. With no expectations of anything from her?
It sounded way too good to be true.
There had to be a catch. There always was. Like that boat ride that took her away from her homeland and family and everything she knew to a life she’d never wanted.
Yet she didn’t exactly have a lot of options.
Aside from that, she should be safe here from Jessie’s killer.
Elly’s hand dropped away. “Now I imagine you need some things. Clean clothes, maybe a toothbrush?”
Silent is the Grave Page 18
