by Jordan Dane
If Santiago had gotten a complaint from Cavanaugh, her lieutenant would know she had lied about not knowing the identity of the victim. Her lie by omission. He gave no sign of that, so she stuck with her makeshift game plan. Becca had grown accustomed to treading on thin ice.
"Is that all, Detective Montgomery?" Draper persisted. "Do you suspect Hunter Cavanaugh of any wrongdoing on this case of yours?"
How much did this man know? If he or Murphy had dug around, they might know she had requested two archived boxes on missing persons. Would they call her bluff? To throw these men off their game, she decided to go on the offensive. After all, they had hit her broadside. Time to return the favor.
"At present, I don't have any reason to suspect Cavanaugh of anything." She hadn't really lied. "But I have some questions for you, sir."
Becca leaned forward in her chair, placing an elbow on Santiago's desk, her eyes fixed on the fed. She didn't wait for Draper's permission to go on.
"Just now, you called the Imperial an arson fire. The final report isn't out yet. Why would you call it arson? And how did you hear about my visit to Cavanaugh this morning? I hadn't mentioned it to anyone. What's really going on here?"
Draper tightened his jaw and narrowed his eyes. For a second, she saw his flinch of surprise, but the man recovered quickly. Even Santiago and Murphy reacted. She saw it from the corner of her eye. But hitting the bull's-eye wouldn't win her any prize.
"By the end of shift, you will turn over all your case notes to Murphy. Any files you've started on the fire and the skeletal remains will be his."
"But, sir." She looked at Santiago for help. "Why am I being pulled off this case? I don't understand . . ."
Her lieutenant took back control of the meeting.
"You'll be reassigned. But until then, I'd like you to consider taking some vacation time, like we talked about the other day." Santiago sat back in his chair, his eyes unwavering. "You mentioned taking time to help your mother. I think that's a great idea."
Becca felt like she had stepped through a portal to another dimension, an alternative universe. Only the other day, her lieutenant told her time off was not an option. He wanted her close at hand, to watch her. But today, he doled out vacation days like party favors. Something was definitely up, and Arturo Santiago wanted her to play along. She knew the man, sensed his message. But above all, Becca trusted him.
She looked over to Murphy and shrugged.
"You'll have my files by the end of today." Glancing back to Santiago, she asked, "Anything else, sir?"
"No, that will be all. Thanks for your cooperation, Detective."
And just like that, she was out. Becca avoided looking at Draper and Murphy as she stood. She opened the door and walked out of Santiago's office without a sideways glance. The urge to slug them both would be way too strong. She headed down the hallway, gnashing her teeth until her jaw ached.
Thinking back to her earlier cell phone conversation with Santiago, the man had bucked the system to share the news on Danielle's case. No doubt the chief would have reprimanded him if Draper had found out. Maybe she still had Santiago on her side.
"Thanks, LT. But you and I aren't done yet. Not by a long shot."
Becca bounded up the stairs to her desk on the fourth floor, in no mood to ride the elevator with other people. She had until the end of the day to turn over her files and case notes. Murphy would get a sanitized version, one to back up the story she told Draper. She owed her lieutenant that much. In the meantime, Becca had a Medical Examiner waiting and the Marquez brothers coming at shift end. And if that wasn't enough to keep her busy, Isabel's background needed a thorough search.
Her investigation at the Imperial had gotten the attention of the FBI. She suspected the abducted girls and Danielle's case were somehow linked to all of this. The fed had all but confirmed that with his line of questioning. The arrogant bastard.
At the heart of it, she pictured Hunter Cavanaugh. Mike Draper didn't give a damn about Isabel. A seven-year-old murder of a local girl would have no sex appeal for a fed. But a wealthy guy with an international travel business and connections to the mob would lure Draper like a bottom-grubbing catfish to stink bait. A high-profile case that might cross borders.
"This is about you, Cavanaugh. I know it."
After today, Becca would be forced to take time off. Although she'd be cut off from the action, being on vacation would allow her to keep her badge and gun. A clever move on Santiago's part. Through it all, her lieutenant had proven himself a loyal friend. Maybe he'd keep her connected to the case within the SAPD.
But having someone on the inside of Cavanaugh's organization would be a real coup. Becca made up her mind. She would recruit Diego Galvan for the honor, even if she had to play hardball to get him.
"Sorry, Galvan. The gloves are off. Don't expect me to play nice."
Bexar County Medical Examiner's Office
Louis Pasteur Drive
The skeletal remains found at the Imperial Theatre had been steam cleaned and arranged in order on a light table. The bones were stark ivory white with a section of the skull cut out. A macabre jigsaw puzzle. And with all other lights in the room dimmed, the light table cast an eerie glow on the faces of crime-scene investigator Sam Hastings and the Medical Examiner, Charles Leibowitz.
The ME was a short, pudgy man with thinning white hair. His eyes bulged out from their sockets with puffy bags of skin beneath them. Shadows traced his full cheeks, masking their true size. Both men had pale green surgical gowns draped over their clothes, with latex gloves on their hands, same as she wore. Even with the added layers, she felt the constant chill in the room through her clothes.
"Well, the age, gender, and height are in line with what we know of the Marquez girl, but you say we'll have the family's DNA to match the mitochondria?" Leibowitz asked.
"Yeah, probably after six," Becca replied, bending over to look closer at the cutaway of the skull. "Tell me about this fracture here? An odd shape. Kind of a wedge."
"Blunt force trauma. The indentation is pronounced enough to indicate some kind of hammer. Something with a long, narrow head and slight curvature. See here?" The Medical Examiner pointed with a gloved finger. "The edge of the break in bone hinges downward. That indicates the bone was fresh and elastic when the injury took place. The fracture lines radiate out from there. But the blow wasn't a solid, dead-on strike. The impression is deeper here, but barely noticeable on this end. More of a glancing blow."
"But Sam, remember the scratches on the wall where we found her?" Becca turned toward the crime-scene investigator. "I thought she was buried alive."
Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Leibowitz beat him to the punch.
"Oh, this blow wouldn't have killed her," the ME explained. "I believe the cause of death will be determined more in the context of how you found her, Detective."
"Let me translate for Charlie," Sam intervened with a grin. "Buried alive in a vault without much air and no food or water is a pretty good indicator she didn't die of natural causes or a crack on the head. And the scratches on the wall and condition of her fingernails paint a grim picture. Charlie's right on the head trauma thing. She wouldn't have died from it."
"So the killer knocked her unconscious and bricked her into the wall, knowing she was still alive?" she asked.
"We may never know the killer's intention here, unless we get it in a confession. A head wound like that? There would have been a lot of blood given all the blood vessels in the scalp. Maybe whoever did it thought she was dead." Sam gave his opinion, one that would never end up in an official report.
"And back to the weapon. What kind of hammer, Sam?"
"Since we only have a partial impression, I'm gonna have to do some comparisons before I commit to anything. Unlike the good doctor here, I'm a hardworking stiff." Sam Hastings crooked his lips into a smile, a gesture that quickly faded. "Stiff? Can't believe I used that word in this place."
Becca raised an ey
ebrow. "I don't remember seeing any fabric in the hole where we found the bones. Any theories on that?"
"There's an outside chance the body was buried without clothing, but more than likely, the fabric deteriorated over time. You figured this girl went missing seven years ago, right?" When she nodded, he continued, "And we found evidence of rodent activity in the vault. That suggests another factor to the decay of fabric. Scavenging critters can break down the material pretty quick."
"Lovely. I hate rats." She winced.
"Especially the two-legged variety." Sam smirked. "Anyway, that's all we've got for now."
"Call me when you have something more definitive, huh? On my cell?"
"Yeah, sure thing. Charlie and I have some more work to do here, taking an inventory and measurement of the bones and their conditions. But I'll let you know what I find out."
Becca should have told them she was off the case, but something stopped her. She might get mileage out of keeping that fact a secret.
But another thing ate at her craw. Murphy had every opportunity to attend this meeting with the ME, but he never showed an interest. If the bones on the table belonged to Isabel Marquez, Becca had a feeling the case would get shoved onto a back burner. Whatever they had on Cavanaugh would take precedence. Isabel's killer might never be identified. Becca couldn't let that happen. After meeting the Marquez family, she owed them the truth.
Shrugging out of her surgical gown and stripping off the latex gloves, she headed for the door.
"I'll get the DNA sample to you ASAP. Later, guys."
Becca dumped her surgical gown and latex gloves into a receptacle outside the autopsy room. She had a lot of ground to cover before she'd be ready for the Marquez brothers.
Central Station
Downtown San Antonio
The room adjacent to interrogation room number 5 was dark, but not empty. Through the two-way mirror, a pale light shone, giving shape to Becca's silhouette. She stood in the dark with arms crossed, watching the Marquez brothers wait for her to show up in the next room. A crime-scene tech had already swabbed both men for DNA testing. Now she let time do its work. Both looked anxious, each in his own way. Their voices were muffled on the intercom speaker.
"Don't volunteer anything. If you have any doubts, don't answer. Just look at me, and I'll tell you what to do."
Dressed in his priest vesture, Victor sat rigid in his chair. His tone low and forceful. He talked out of the corner of his mouth, not really looking at his brother.
"I don't need you here, Victor. You should have let me drive myself."
Rudy rolled his eyes and slumped deeper into his chair, but the priest ignored his objection.
"Don't worry. If we need a lawyer, I know someone who may do it for free."
"You get what you pay for, bro."
The priest didn't reply. He shut his eyes for an instant and took a deep breath. Victor raised his chin and maintained his stoic expression, hoping to assure his younger brother he could handle the situation. But by Rudy's actions, Becca saw he hadn't bought into Victor's overtures. The guy avoided looking at the priest and fidgeted in his seat. His eyes darted to the closed door every few minutes.
Despite his nervousness, Rudy's dark brown eyes appeared childlike. An undeniable innocent quality to them. He looked most like Isabel in that sense. Dressed in his work clothes of faded blue jeans and a black Spurs basketball T-shirt, Rudy looked like he'd barely had time to wash his face and hands. His clothes had a layer of dust and grime, the pattern only broken by the darker markings of sweat. Shorter than Victor and very slender, Rudy had the appearance of a boy in a man's body.
But Becca couldn't let her first impressions of Rudy sway her judgment as a cop. Her instincts told her this family was holding something back. Now she'd push them to uncover the truth. Becca walked through the door of interrogation room 5.
"Sorry to keep you waiting." She dropped her casebook on the table in front of the Marquez brothers. "I appreciate your cooperation, Father."
Becca extended her hand to Rudy. "My name is Detective Rebecca Montgomery."
After a long moment, he eventually returned her gesture.
"Rudy . . . Rudy Marquez."
His eyes avoided hers. He raised a hand to his mouth and chewed on a thumbnail. Becca sat in front of him. She leaned forward with her elbows on the table, forcing him to look at her.
"Your brother tells me you and Isabel were very close. So I'm going to need your help, Rudy." She paused, making sure she held his attention. "Tell me what she was like. Tell me about your Isabel."
Her request surprised him. Eyes wide, he looked up and sat straight in his chair. Nearly a minute ticked by before he spoke, his voice almost a whisper.
"When she was little, Isabel wanted to please Mama so much. She was a good girl." He stared across the room, not focusing on anything in particular. The past had caught up with him. "When I think of her, I remember Isabel putting her hand in mine when we walked to school, and not just at the crosswalks. She used to tell me how I made her feel safe."
That memory took its toll. Tears welled in his eyes, a contradiction to the sad smile on his face. "She needed me then."
He quit talking. Silence overwhelmed the room. And Father Victor didn't fill the void. The priest swallowed hard, watching Rudy.
"But at some point, little girls grow up," Becca prompted. A flash of Danielle's sweet face wedged a knot in her throat. "Little girls learn to live their own lives."
A tear slid down his face. Rudy never looked up. "Yes, they grow up. And they learn about ugliness from despicable men with no honor."
Father Victor turned his head in surprise. "Please, Rudy . . ."
"You never want to hear about this, Victor. Yet here, you drag me in front of this stranger to talk about it. Why is that? So you can act surprised, like you never knew? So you can remain the saint?" Rudy's voice rose in anger. He glared at his brother. "You were gone. I was left to deal with it alone."
"Deal with what, Rudy?" Becca asked. "Tell me about Isabel."
"Don't do this, mi hermano. Please." Father Victor clutched Rudy's arm, pulling his brother closer. "Hasn't our family suffered enough? Hasn't Mama been through enough pain?"
Rudy yanked his arm free and turned his back on Victor.
"About a week before she went missing, I saw Isabel get into some kind of Mercedes, a block down from our house. She was with another girl, Sonja Garza. It was kind of dark, but I recognized the Garza girl. When I asked Isabel about it, she lied. She told me the car belonged to Sonja's boyfriend."
"But you didn't believe her?" she asked. After Rudy shook his head, Becca persisted, "Why didn't you believe her, Rudy?"
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He looked tired. After a moment, Rudy wiped both hands over his face. "I followed the car, that's why. Out I-10 to some rich guy's place. I didn't like her sneaking around like that. It wasn't right."
"Did you ever actually see the man driving the car?" she asked.
"It was Hunter Cavanaugh."
Hearing Rudy say Cavanaugh's name surprised Becca. She tried not to let it show.
"How did you know it was Cavanaugh, Rudy? Had you ever seen him before?"
He hesitated. Anger replaced the accusation in his eyes.
"Oh, I get it. You don't believe me. You wanna protect that son of a bitch." He stood and paced the floor behind his chair, running a hand through his thick dark hair. "The dude's old enough to be my old man. A guy like that only wants one thing from a young girl like Isabel."
"So you actually saw him?" Becca needed confirmation. "You said it was dark."
"I saw good enough. I recognized the car. He came out to the Imperial Theatre sometimes, during the renovation. I saw him there." Rudy sat back down, on an edge of the chair.
"You worked the renovation at the Imperial?" she asked.
She'd know the answer soon enough. Becca had requested the billable personnel listing taken off the architectural
firm's invoices from the subcontractor on the renovation. And she had requested the personnel records for the subcontractor for a comparison, but none of the information had come in yet.
"I think we've told you enough, Detective." Father Victor stood and reached for Rudy's arm, pulling him to his feet. "Go talk to this Hunter Cavanaugh but leave my brother out of it."
Yet despite Victor's plea, Rudy wasn't ready to quit. He leaned across the table and pointed a finger at her.
"Cavanaugh bought her that damned necklace. The one you were asking about, the gold heart. I'm sure of it."
"You don't sound sure, Rudy. Sounds like you're guessing." Becca stood and stepped closer to Marquez. "Tell me about the last time you saw Isabel."
His eyes grew wide. He stopped himself and swallowed. As Rudy opened his mouth to speak, Victor intervened.
"That's it. No more." The priest rattled off in Spanish, too fast for Becca to keep up. Whatever he told Rudy, it was enough to shut him up. "Please, Detective, stop this. If you want to speak to either of us again, it will be through an attorney. Now I'd like to take Rudy home. Mama is expecting us for dinner. Are we free to go?"
Father Victor's voice wavered. And his eyes no longer looked confident. He clung to his brother, hoping she'd let him claim his small victory. Eventually, Becca nodded and watched them leave the room. After they shut the door behind them, she sat down, alone with her thoughts.
Not once did Father Victor or Rudy ask about Isabel, where her body had been found. She had deliberately held back the information to see if they would. One of them had been at the Imperial after the fire. Becca had a sinking feeling if she told them where Isabel's body had been found, she wouldn't be telling them anything new. Damn it!
She replayed the interview in her mind and made notes in her casebook. When she was done, Becca pulled the cell phone from her jacket pocket.
On the second ring, Hastings answered the call.
"Hey, Sam. When you're looking for that hammer, check into masonry tools first, will ya?"
