by Josh Karnes
Chapter 23
Isla de Vieques, Puerto Rico
James, Eli and Mark hailed a taxi from the marina and arrived at the police station shortly after they were expected. Lieutenant Ramos walked up the hallway towards the desk to greet them as soon as he heard the door to the police station shut behind them.
“Hola, Señor,” Ramos said as James approached with his sons behind him. “I assume you are James Grady?” Ramos said as he reached out his hand to shake.
“Yes, and this is my son Eli,” James said as he shook hands and leaned his head towards his eldest son. “And Mark.”
“Hello Lieutenant,” Eli said as he shook Ramos' hand. “We met last night.”
“Of course, I remember.”
Mark shook hands without speaking.
Ramos directed them back to the conference room that the FBI was using as a command post, where they found Melissa sitting along with ASAC Ortiz and Special Agent Morales. “Hey mom,” Mark said as Melissa got up to hug her boys.
“Did you find anything more?” Melissa asked.
“Nothing since we last talked. We did swing by the buoys that are there at the edge of 'the crease', and we talked with the Zodiac guys. They didn't see Joey,” James said.
Ortiz broke up the homecoming, “Mr. Grady. We need to get a statement from you and each of your sons. Can we get started?”
“Sure,” James said, really not at all sure. He gave Melissa a questioning look, and she responded with raised eyebrows and a slight shrug. I don't know what the big deal is either, she seemed to be telegraphing.
“Mr. Grady, if you will come with me, we can take your statement in the Lieutenant's office. Eli, Mark, you will stay here with Special Agent Morales.” The boys both looked over at Allison Morales, standing with her arms folded across her chest advertising toughness. “She will take your statements,” Ortiz said.
James was led across the hall to Ramos' shabby office as his sons were directed to sit at the conference table. After he entered the office, Ortiz shut the door behind him.
“Mr. Grady,” Ortiz said as he indicated the chair for James to sit in, “My name is Ray Ortiz. Assistant Special Agent in Charge, San Juan office of the FBI. I will be leading the investigation to find your son Joseph.” Ortiz sat behind Ramos' desk. James didn't respond. “First, some formalities. Do you have identification with you?”
“Yes,” James said as he retrieved his passport from his pocket and placed it on the desk. Ortiz gave it a cursory look, doing a rapid match of the picture to James's face. Satisfied that James was who he said he was, he set his phone on the desk beside the passport.
“I will be recording this conversation and we will transcribe it and it will be added to the digital file along with the audio recording. For the record,” Ortiz said for the benefit of the recording, “I am ASAC Ray Ortiz, interviewing James Grady of Houston, Texas regarding Bufile seventy-nine, SJ, seventy-three oh one. Mr. Grady, do you consent to this recording?”
“Yes,” James said simply.
“Okay, thanks. Now, can you take me through the events that happened beginning when you arrived in San Juan up until now?”
James recounted the story, beginning with their arrival at the airport, the puddle jumper flight over to Vieques, and all of the other events up until now, including his fruitless search of the area around El Pliegue. Ortiz interrupted for clarification a few times, but otherwise allowed James to tell what was now a reasonably familiar story.
“These men in the Zodiac, did you get their names?”
“No. Since they didn't seem to have any information, it didn't seem important,” James said. Ortiz made a note.
“Did they tell you that they worked on the little island?”
“I asked, and one of them confirmed. Said they were doing some routine GPS tests.”
“They didn't say who they work for? Name of the company?”
“No. I didn't think to ask.” James was now beginning to really feel inadequate. He hadn't asked nearly enough questions, not the right questions, didn't take any notes, didn't make a recording. What was he thinking? He was no investigator. He should have just left this in the hands of the FBI from the beginning. He hoped he hadn't tainted the investigation.
“Could you find the little island on a map?” Ortiz asked.
“Yeah, sure.”
Ortiz produced a map of the ocean area between Vieques, Fajardo and St. Thomas. “Right there,” James said, as he pointed out a tiny island right next to El Pliegue on the map. “Isla Roca,” James said, reading the label on the map.
“Okay, Mr. Grady. Let's shift gears a little bit,” Ortiz said. “Tell me about the money.”
