Tony Marcella 07 - Call of the Witch

by Dana E. Donovan

“Nine?”

  “Yes, and they’re all over the place, Tony. The first call pinged off a cell tower in Peabody, the next in Marlborough, and then Andover, Waltham and…. Well you get the picture.”

  “Yes, and all points in-between. You’re telling me that the kidnappers are mobile.”

  “I’m telling you they’re smart. They know that pulling the battery out of the phone isn’t enough. In a densely populated area, you could have cell phone antennas spaced just blocks from one another. If they made every call from the same place, we could possibly narrow their location down to within a few hundred yards. Instead we’re looking at an area encompassing the entire eastern half of the state.”

  I looked at Carlos and shook my head. He could tell that what I was hearing was not good news. “Look,” I said to Dominic, “all that running around the kidnappers are doing might work to our advantage. Assuming they’re still in a van, and assuming Kelly’s with them, then all we need to do is expand the BOLO state-wide for a van possibly traveling with a nine-year-old girl fitting Kelly’s description.”

  “That’s a lot of assuming,” said Dominic.

  “It is. When you have a better plan let me know.” I hung up and stashed the phone in my pocket.

  “What’s this about running around?” Carlos asked.

  I took a sip of iced tea and set the glass aside for a refill. “Dominic says the kidnappers are making sure their calls ping off cell towers all over the state. They could be holding Kelly anywhere.”

  “Oh, that poor kid.”

  “Carlos, do you think there’s any chance at all that you could persuade Lionel Brewbaker to let us call in the FBI? They’ve got so many more resources at their disposal than––”

  “Tony, no! I know Lionel. He won’t have it. If we try to force it on him, he’ll push back. He’ll want to do it his way. The kidnappers know that you and I are working the case. They seem willing to tolerate that. I don’t know why, maybe they think they’re smarter than we are, and that’s a good thing if they think that. The fact they outwitted us at the park this morning could work to our advantage. But I’m telling you; if we call in the FBI, I think we’ll lose Lionel’s trust, not to mention the kidnappers’ sense of superiority.”

  Our server came back to our table and refilled both our glasses of iced tea. I waited for her to leave before responding to Carlos. “I don’t know. I hope you’re right,” is all I said.

  I took another sip of tea. Carlos sipped his, and for a moment, we both just sat there, tight-lipped, staring at one another. It was Carlos who broke eye contact first. His gaze fell to a spot on the tablecloth. He moved his finger over it and spread it out some. It was tartar sauce. He wiped his finger clean with a paper napkin and then tossed the napkin onto his plate. He looked up at me again.

  “Me too,” he said.

  I called for the check.

  We had just got back into town and were pulling into the parking lot at the Justice Center when Spinelli called again. He sounded excited, but then he sounds that way a lot, often for no reason. This time, however, he did have reason. A good one.

  “Tony, we got him.” I put him on speaker so that Carlos could hear, too.

  “Got who?” I asked.

  “Raul’s friend, Hector.”

  “Santana?”

  “Yes, we have him in custody. Can you believe it? Powell, of all people, brought him in a few minutes ago.”

  “Great. We’re just outside the building now. We’ll be right up.”

  “Okay, but listen. We’re not upstairs. We’re down here on the first floor in Interrogation Room One.”

  “Got it. Thanks.” I turned to Carlos. “Let’s hope he doesn’t plead the Fifth.”

  Carlos came back, “I hope he’s nothing like Raul or he’ll be pleading for mercy.”

  I didn’t answer, but I hoped he was kidding.

  We met up with Dominic in the hall outside I. R. 1 on the first floor. He filled us in on what he found, which was considerable, considering what little we had up until then.

  “Like I told you over the phone,” he began, “Sergeant Powell brought Hector in a few minutes ago. In the meantime, we established that the van we towed in belongs to Hector. We’ve been going over it with a fine-tooth comb. So far, we found a house key and confirmed that it’s Brewbaker’s. That could explain how someone got in the house this morning through the back door.”

  “How did you confirm it?”

  “I scanned the key and uploaded an image of it to Detective Olson via email. She simply held Lionel’s key up to the screen and the two keys matched.”

  “Nice work. What else you got?”

  “A sock.”

  “A sock?”

  “Yeah, a child’s sock.” I could see Dominic’s expression harden as he said that. “A little kid’s sock,” he repeated. “Can you believe it? I sent a picture of it over to Brittany. She showed it to Lionel and he identified it positively as Kelly’s. He did it, Tony. That scumbag in there kidnapped Kelly.”

  “Maybe,” I said, and I could tell my lack of conviction didn’t set well with him.

  “What do you mean, maybe? Tony, we got the man dead to rights.”

  I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “All right then. We’ll see. Don’t worry. We’re not going to let him just walk away. We got enough to hold him.” I looked to Carlos, who had remained tight-lipped himself. “You ready to go talk to him?”

  He gave Santana a piercing glance through the two-way mirror. I could see that his disdain for the man already equaled Dominic’s. The thought of allowing them both in the room with me to question Santana worried me slightly, but I knew they were both too emotionally involved in the case for me to say no. I opened the door and walked in. Carlos and Dominic followed. We came around the table where three chairs were pulled out opposite Santana. I sat in the middle chair. Carlos sat on my right; Dominic on my left. We each scooted our chairs in and folded our hands on the table.

  “What do we have here,” said Santana, his tone ripe with sarcasm, “the three amigos?”

  Dominic pointed at him and started to speak. I put my hand up, ushered his arm back to the table and quieted him with just a roll of my throat.

  “Hector Santana,” I said. “Did Detective Spinelli read you your rights?”

  “I read them,” said Dominic.

  I raised my hand again. Dominic took my cue this time with a little more heart. He flopped back in his chair and folded his arms at his chest.

  “Yeah, he read `em,” Santana answered. “And so did that pig, Powell, who by the way used unnecessary force in bringing me in.” He turned his right cheek to us to show the bruise he had suffered. It looked like someone shoving his face into the ground, perhaps while cuffing him might have caused it.

  “Do you want to talk to a lawyer?” I asked.

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “I don’t think so.” I turned to Dominic. “Detective Spinelli, did you place Mister Santana under arrest?”

  “No,” he said. “Just read him his rights is all.”

  “Did Sergeant Powell arrest him?”

  “No.”

  I said to Hector, “You’re not under arrest.”

  “So I can go then, right?”

  I shook my head. “No, we have probable cause to hold you long enough to ask you some questions.”

  “If I answer your questions, then can I go?”

  “That’ll depend on your answers.”

  “You got nothing on me, you know. I wasn’t even there this morning.”

  “Wasn’t where?”

  “At Amanda’s.”

  “Brewbaker’s?”

  “Yeah. I was nowhere near there this morning.”

  “Who said you were?”

  “Well, they tell me they found my van there. You towed it in, didn’t you?”

  “You know we did!” Spinelli said, his voice louder than necessary. Even Carlos jumped a little in his seat. I turned to Domini
c and drilled him with a stare that, in the old days worked on Carlos all the time. It’s not as effective as it used to be, not since my return to prime, but having never needed to use it on Dominic; I thought it would work wonders. Instead, it seemed to bounce off him and ricochet back to me. I swear for a minute I actually felt a twinge of intimidation. I think Dominic must have seen it because he suddenly blinked and the look was gone. He settled back into his seat, crossed his arms at his chest again, and melted into something resembling submission.

  I returned my attention to Santana. “This isn’t about what happened over at Amanda Brewbaker’s. It’s about what we found in your van.”

  “My van? What, did you find drugs? They’re not mine. I swear. I don’t know how that stuff got in there. Someone planted it. That fat pig, Sergeant Powell must have planted it.”

  “I shook my head. “We didn’t find drugs.”

  “You didn’t?”

  Funny, but the look of relief on his face made me think that was the only thing he was worried about. I gave Carlos a curious glance and he returned the look. I know he was thinking the same thing. I raised my hand and craned my neck to look beyond Santana and into the mirror. Moments later, a fellow officer came in and handed me two plastic evidence bags. I showed the first one to Santana.

  “Do you know what this is?”

  He seemed surprisingly unconcerned. “A sock?”

  “Just a sock?”

  He offered a passive shrug. “A kid’s sock?”

  “Do you know where we found it?”

  His condescending tone returned. “I bet you’re gonna tell me you found it in my van.”

  “That’s right. We found it in your van. You know who it belongs to?”

  Again, in that condescending tone, “I don’t know. I’m guessing some kid?”

  I slammed my hand down on the table hard. “You know it’s some kid’s and you know whose. A little girl was kidnapped yesterday. We found her sock in your van and we want to know what you did with her!”

  “Kidnapped?” He truly looked surprised. “Hey, man. I don’t know nothin` `bout no kidnapping. That ain’t my thing.”

  “No? Then how about this?” I held up the second evidence bag containing Brewbaker’s house key. “This is the girl’s house key. Are you going to tell me you have no idea how it got in your van either?”

  He pushed his chair back as far as the chains holding it to the floor would allow. “Listen man, I’m telling you I don’t know nothin` `bout no little girl. You got the wrong man. Someone planted those things in my van.”

  “Are you saying you’ve never heard of Kelly Brewbaker, Amanda’s daughter? Because we know you and Amanda have been dating.”

  “Kelly Brew…. That’s Kelly’s sock? Dude, listen, I don’t know what this is all about, but you got this thing all wrong. You gotta believe me.”

  “You know nothing about this sock or this key?”

  “That’s right. I swear!”

  “But you admit that you and Amanda Brewbaker have been dating each other?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So I think you and she have concocted a plan to extort money from Lionel Brewbaker by staging her daughter’s kidnapping.”

  “No!”

  “Where is she? Where’s Kelly?”

  “I told you. I don’t know.”

  “You used this key to get into the Brewbaker mansion this morning.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “You snuck in and got Kelly’s medication.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “You arranged for us to make a test drop of the ransom money in the park this morning.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Then how do you explain this sock we found in your van; the one Kelly was wearing yesterday when she disappeared?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t even drive my van yesterday. I was wacked out on coke all day. I don’t drive when I’m high.”

  “So you’re a real law-abiding citizen now, eh?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “Then how did the sock get in your van?”

  “Why don’t you ask Raul? He’s the one with the fetish for little girls. He likes to go around stealing their panties and sniffing their little crotches.”

  “YOU BASTARD!” Dominic squalled. I put my arm out, but was unable to stop him from flying across the table and latching onto Santana’s neck. Santana’s chair fell over backwards. He went down with Spinelli on top. Both began rolling on the floor, kicking, screaming and punching.

  Carlos and I leapt from out seats and came around the table from opposite ends. He grabbed Spinelli. I grabbed Santana. The two were still clawing at each other’s necks when we pulled them apart. I pointed to the door and yelled for Carlos to get Spinelli the hell out of there.

  “I’m suing!” Santana cried. “Police brutality! I’m fuckin` suing!”

  It took a couple of minutes to get Santana to sit in his chair and stay there long enough for me to get out into the hall and have a word with Dominic. I caught up with him by the water cooler. Carlos was with him, and was probably the reason Dominic hadn’t gone busting up the place. He was still that upset. I came up behind him and put my arm around his shoulder.

  “Dominic, tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

  He was staring at the ground and shaking his head. His hands were still trembling. Sweat dripped from his forehead and temples as though he had just run a marathon.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and I was happy to hear the conciliatory tone in his voice. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that….” He broke off. I could hear his voice cracking, but he kept it together. He took a deep breath, steadied himself and continued. “He’s just so damn smug about it, Tony. I just snapped. I know he knows what happened to Kelly. You know I wanted to.…” I saw him clench his fists tightly. “I swear I just wanted to beat the crap out of him.”

  “I know you did,” I said, though I found it odd because Dominic is usually the level-headed one in the group. I still had my arm around his shoulder. Pulling him in closer, I could feel his entire body shaking.

  “Dominic, you have to let it go. I wanted to beat the crap out of him too, but we can’t do that. We can’t let it get personal.”

  He shook his head and shrugged my arm off his shoulder. “I know that. Look, I said I’m sorry. Can we move on?”

  “We can, but you understand I can’t let you back in there.”

  “I don’t want to go back in there.”

  “All right then. Do you want to go back to the garage and see how they’re doing with the van? Maybe there’s a clue there we’re still missing.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that.” He wiped his cheeks with the backs of his hands, though there were no tear tracks there that I could see. “You know there’s something else I almost forgot to tell you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Those cell towers I mentioned before, the ones that carried the calls from Kelly’s phone.”

  “Yes?”

  “Remember how I said they were all over the place?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay you see I did a little more checking, and there’s a curious thing about them.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “They’re spread out all right, but they’re also all located along major truck routes.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Yeah, none of the towers are off the beaten path. I’m not sure how significant that is, though.”

  “Me neither, but it could be helpful. Truck stops usually have restaurants nearby, and both often have security cameras inside and out. We know we can isolate the exact times of the calls. Maybe we can get our hands on some video that’ll place Hector or his van at the right spot and at the right time.”

  Spinelli smiled at that. He pointed his finger at me and gave it a jab. “I’m on it.”

  He started away when I snatched his sleeve a
nd pulled him back. “Dominic.”

  He turned back. “Yeah?”

  “How’s Ursula doing?”

  He gestured ambiguously. “Good, I guess. She hasn’t thrown up today. Lilith’s been monitoring her blood pressure. It’s still edging up a bit; not as much as we’d like to see, but she’s resting comfortably.”

  “That’s great. So tell me, have you two picked out a name yet?”

  He smiled at that. “No. I asked Ursula if we could name her Daddy’s little girl. She said she’d think about it. Can you imagine that? I think she’d let me do it if I really wanted to. She’s wonderful. Isn’t she?”

  “She is special,” I said. I smiled back warmly and gave him a pat on the shoulder. He turned, headed down the hall and disappeared around the corner.

  I went back into the interrogation room. Carlos was sitting across from Hector, his hands folded neatly on the table in front of him.

  “Everything all right?” I asked.

  “Fine,” he answered. “We’re ready to start recording whenever you are.”

  “Ready?” I looked up in the corner at the camera. The red light was off.

  “We had some technical difficulties.”

  “Oh?”

  “With the recording equipment.”

  “I see.”

  “Bullshit!” Hector protested. He looked up at me in a perpetual sneer; his right eye now swollen shut, his bruised cheek a brilliant strawberry red. “That camera caught your man attacking me. I want a copy of the tape. I’m gonna sue you!”

  “Sure,” said Carlos. “You mean the tape of you falling down the stairwell on your way to booking?”

  “Stairwell? I didn’t…. Oh, I get it. This is how you’re gonna play it, huh? You’re gonna pretend like I fell down the stairs?”

  “Pretend?” said Carlos. He looked up at me and laughed. “He thinks we’re going to pretend.”

  I smiled back. “Are you talking about the camera in stairwell-B that only sees the bottom of the stairs?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  I said to Hector. “He won’t be pretending. Just say the word and we’ll get you that footage.”

  I watched the sneer on Hector’s face reduce to a crooked grin. He rolled his head back, stretched the kink out of his neck and shoulders and then settled in against the back of his seat. “I see how this works,” he said. “You know I don’t have to say nothing.”