The River and the Roses (Veronica Barry Book 1)

by Sophia Martin

  “If he’s a cop,” Isaac muttered, “Petrovich’ll disappear him if he finds out.”

  “I’ve got it under control, darlin’. I swear,” Jimmy said to Felsen. He stroked her hair. “There’s a big deal coming up in a couple of weeks. Some new Pakhan from SF’s been trying to muscle in on Sacramento. I heard Petrovich’s been meeting with some brigadiers from LA. And there’s going to be a deal, it’s just a matter of time. We could nail Petrovich and maybe these other gangs, too.”

  Isaac stepped out from behind the van. Evander tensed. He reached after his brother, but Isaac walked toward the couple, crossing the street. Felsen saw him first. Her whole body went rigid.

  “What?” Jimmy asked, then he turned in the direction she was looking and saw Isaac.

  “I heard you,” Isaac said, his flannel shirt hanging loosely on his lanky form, his jacket clutched in his hands. He came to stop in the middle of the crosswalk. Evander knelt further down behind the van.

  Jimmy blinked at Isaac as if he found it hard to take him in. He ran both hands through his hair.

  “Whoever the hell you are,” Felsen hissed, “get out of here.”

  Jimmy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his breathing coming faster. He ran his hands through his hair again. “Oh no,” he groaned.

  “Hey man,” Isaac said. “It’s cool. I got this memory thing, right. I forget stuff all the time. I mean it. I do.” Evander’s heartbeat quickened and sweat dampened his brow and upper lip.

  Felsen tried to step in front of Jimmy but the latter still shifted his weight back and forth, and it made him move from side to side.

  “You didn’t hear anything,” Felsen said to Isaac. “Just get out of here!”

  “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. See, it’s tough out here, you know. I live in that park over there, would you believe it? I see all kinds of stuff you know—and I hear stuff, too. It sure would be nice if I had the money for a hotel or something. Yeah. Some money sure would make that memory thing of mine easier to bear. You know. It wouldn’t be so bad to forget things, then.”

  A high pitched noise, faint at first, gained volume steadily. It was coming from Jimmy.

  Evander wiped his lip but his palm was damp, too.

  “Now, say I was to go have a talk with Yuri. I know Yuri, did you know that? I bet Yuri might give a friend with a memory problem a little financial assistance, don’t you think?” Isaac continued.

  “Jimmy,” Felsen said, reaching for him. He evaded her hand, still emitting the awful noise.

  “I sure wish I didn’t have to go all the way to find Yuri, though. It might take hours. You know how it is when you need money bad, and you can’t get any for hours, right?”

  “Fuck,” Jimmy moaned.

  “And you know what else would make things easier? Some stuff, man. You know what I’m saying. I could take some instead of money,” Isaac said. Evander’s body ached to run out and grab him, drag him away by his collar, but he knew this was bad, he knew this whole thing was going nowhere good.

  “Jimmy,” Felsen said, trying to catch hold of his arm.

  Jimmy pulled a gun from inside his jacket, pointed it at Isaac, and fired off two shots.

  “No!” Felsen cried, clawing at Jimmy’s hands.

  Isaac collapsed.

  “No!” Evander bellowed. Veronica felt his anguish.

  Jimmy pointed the gun at the van.

  “Jimmy, stop! Give me the gun!”

  Evander pushed the fingers of his right hand into the pavement and pressed the palm of his left against the cool metal side of the van. His body shuddered.

  “Give it to me!” Felsen shouted.

  As Evander rose to his feet he watched Jimmy hold the gun steady for a moment. Then his grip went limp and Felsen pried the gun away from him.

  Evander’s body wavered. He gaped at his brother, crumpled on the street.

  “Come on,” Felsen said, grasping Jimmy’s sleeve and tugging him away.

  Evander managed to walk to his brother’s side before his knees gave out. He buried his head in Isaac’s chest.

  ~~~

  Veronica’s eyes cleared. She tried to understand her surroundings—she was sitting in the passenger seat, but Daniel had the door open and he crouched beside her.

  “You okay?” he asked. He sounded concerned.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Jesus, Veronica. You like, checked out there for a while.”

  Veronica shrugged.

  “What happened?”

  “We should go,” she said.

  Daniel took her hand. “You saw something.”

  Veronica turned to look at him then. He gazed at her, his face open. Was he ready to believe her if she told him what she’d seen? She didn’t think so.

  “It was unrelated,” she said, pulling her hand away.

  Daniel’s face darkened.

  “We have to go,” she said. “We have to find Grant Slecterson.”

  Daniel straightened and put his hands on his hips, looking around. Veronica peered at him from her lower vantage point. What must he be thinking?

  “I’m sorry, okay? I have no control over these things.”

  She saw Daniel shake his head. He came around to the driver’s side.

  Finally he drove them back to the freeway. She tapped her fingers on her knees and sucked on her lower lip.

  Felsen in McKinley Park. With some cokehead named Jimmy—an undercover cop? Did cops do drugs undercover? She supposed it made sense that sometimes they might… but this Jimmy, he was far gone. So far gone he shot Isaac Collins.

  What did it mean? It couldn’t be a coincidence that Evander was arrested for Sylvia’s murder then, could it?

  When Evander showed up at the police station to make a report, he must have recognized Felsen. And she must have recognized him.

  Veronica hugged herself and sucked on her lips, staring out at the huge oleander bushes without flowers that lined the freeway.

  Had Felsen framed Evander Collins for Sylvia’s murder? Maybe she had. To keep him from revealing what happened to Isaac. To protect Jimmy.

  Veronica pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. It was too much. She had to focus on Angie right now—on catching Grant Slecterson so he could never hurt Angie again. She couldn’t worry about Evander Collins—besides, if Grant got arrested, they’d have to release Evander anyway. She didn’t want to tell Seong what she saw. She didn’t want to try to argue him into believing her.

  “Veronica, are you sure you’re alright?” he asked.

  She shook her head. It felt like an alarm was going off in her head, and she didn’t know why.

  “Just hurry,” she said.

  Chapter 23

  At last they pulled up to the Gomez house, which was a nice Victorian, painted blue with white trim, in Boulevard Park. Veronica could barely keep from running ahead of Daniel to knock on the door. She managed to stay a few steps behind him.

  He hit the heavy brass knocker three times. And then they waited.

  And waited. Several minutes passed and Veronica was starting to feel like she might crawl out of her own skin. Daniel knocked again.

  After another long pause, she heard noise coming from inside. The creaking of boards got closer until the door swung open. Albert Gomez stood there in pajamas and an open robe, unshaven and reeking of gin.

  “What?” he said, squinting at Daniel.

  “Mr. Gomez?”

  “Yeah,” Gomez said.

  “Mr. Gomez, I’m Detective Seong.” He paused but didn’t introduce Veronica. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

  Gomez seemed to be having trouble opening his eyes. The light must be too bright. He didn’t say anything.

  “Mr. Gomez, I’m following up on some leads in your wife’s case,” Daniel tried again. “Would it be alright if I came inside?”

  Gomez looked past Daniel at Veronica, who froze and hoped he wouldn’t recognize her. If he did, he made no
sign. “My wife’s dead,” he said at last.

  “Yes,” Daniel said. “I know this is a very hard time. I promise this won’t take long.” He waited, but all Gomez did was stand there. “May we come in, Mr. Gomez?”

  Finally Gomez moved aside and then wandered into the house without looking to see if they followed him. They did.

  The inside of the house was just as pretty as the outside. The hard wood floors were well maintained. There was flower-print wallpaper in the entry hall and a framed black and white photo of a Parisian scene with the Eiffel Tower in the background on the wall. The living room, however, was a mess. Gomez trudged into it and slumped down onto the couch, which had a blanket and pillow on it. Plates lay all around on the floor as well as empty microwave meal cartons. Veronica counted four visible empty gin bottles. And it did not smell good in there. She hated the smell of gin. She wasn’t going to sit down anywhere, she decided. She noticed that Daniel seemed content to remain standing, as well.

  “Mr. Gomez, your step-son is named Grant, is that correct?” he asked, whipping out the little notebook.

  “Uh-huh,” Gomez responded. The smell of the gin, mixed with his sweat, was nauseating. Veronica wondered if she was going to have to step outside.

  “But he doesn’t use your last name? What name does he use?” Daniel asked.

  “Slecterson. It’s Sylvia’s first husband’s name.”

  “And is her first husband around? Does he live near here?”

  “No,” Gomez said. He rested his forehead against his palms. “He lived in Placerville, up until a couple of months ago, with Grant.”

  “But not anymore?”

  “Nope,” Gomez said, and raised his head again. He looked around the room and reached for one of the empty gin bottles on the floor. The bottle was out of reach. Veronica’s chest felt tight and her stomach rolled. Why was this bothering her so much?

  “Grant lived with his father in Placerville?” Veronica asked, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

  Gomez nodded and Daniel shot her one of his looks. She shot him one back.

  “What was the father’s name?” Daniel asked.

  Gomez’s mouth peeled back as if saying the name tasted terrible. “Max. Max Slecterson.” Gomez shook his head and the corners of his mouth turned down. “Bastard took off,” he said. He reached the bottle with his foot and kicked it toward him.

  “Grant’s father?” Daniel clarified.

  “Yeah,” said Gomez. “Some time last October.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Daniel asked.

  “The viewing!” Veronica gasped. Daniel and Gomez both looked at her. Then Gomez nodded.

  “That’s right. He disappears for months and then he has the balls to show up at Sylvia’s viewing. Bastard.” He picked up the bottle and waved it in front of his face. Only then did he realize it was empty. He threw it hard across the room. Veronica flinched as it hit the wall and shattered.

  “Sir, if you could just focus for a moment here, we’ll get through this a lot faster and be out of your hair,” Daniel said in a calm voice.

  Gomez slouched in his seat.

  “So you were saying,” Daniel prompted. “Grant’s father showed up at the viewing?”

  “That’s right. Caused a scene. Bastard.”

  “And then…?”

  “And then nothing. He just crawled back into whatever hole he’s been hiding in. Probably full of meth. He’s a bad guy.”

  Daniel jotted down some notes.

  “The kid’s not right,” Gomez said.

  “How so, Mr. Gomez?”

  Gomez rubbed the side of his face with one hand. “Sylvia left Max in the first place because of that kid. She knew there was something wrong with him, but Max—that’s her first husband—he wouldn’t have it. Wouldn’t believe it. Kid could do no wrong.”

  Daniel said, “So you said Grant lived with his father—”

  Gomez didn’t notice. “Bad shit. Hurting animals, that kind of thing. Some rumor about accidents at the river.”

  “Accidents?” Veronica echoed. Daniel glared at her, but she pretended not to notice.

  “Thing was,” Gomez continued, “Max wasn’t like a super nice guy himself. Used to knock Sylvia around. But she stuck with him for years. Years!” He gave a sound that might have been a laugh, but it came out like a cough.

  “Grant lived with his father—” Daniel began again.

  “She just stayed and stayed,” Gomez said, pursuing his thought. “Not until she started seeing that kid was doing—it was more than she could handle.”

  Daniel raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

  “She left, then. Sure, and she took Grant with her, at first. I think she wanted to save him—change the way he was turning out.” Gomez shook his head, his watery eyes staring off into space. “That was a few years ago, before I met her. But the kid was more than she could handle. It got so she was afraid of him. So she sent him back to live with his dad, and she started over.” He shook his head. “Never forgave herself.”

  “So when he came to live with you, Grant got into trouble?” Daniel asked.

  Gomez turned and looked at him then. “We tried our best,” he said. “I even got him into Saint Patrick’s—I had to call in some favors. But he hurt a girl there. He almost killed her.”

  “What girl?” Veronica asked, without even looking to see Daniel’s reaction.

  “Little freshman girl named Jennifer Clancy. He tried to choke her—almost crushed her windpipe. Poor kid. It was in the bathroom. It was lucky—some other girl walked in on them and called for help.”

  Veronica clasped a hand over her mouth and walked to the living room’s bay window, turning her back on the men. “Show me,” she whispered under her hand. “Please show me what happened. I want to see.”

  In a rush, the messy living room of the Gomez house fell away, and Veronica was rushing into the cold, drab restroom at Saint Patrick’s. Her breathing was ragged and she wiped tears from her eyes. Then the door opened and a tall boy came in. He had broad shoulders—the kind of boy who played football or other sports. He had dark, curly hair and light eyes. Veronica didn’t like the way those eyes fixed themselves on her.

  “What are you doing?” she cried. “You can’t come in here!”

  “You think hiding in the girls’ bathroom is going to work?” Grant demanded.

  “Leave me alone!”

  Grant advanced on her, grinning.

  “Leave me alone!” she shouted.

  “It’s after four. No one is out there. Maybe if you ran all the way to the dance room or something, then they’d hear you.” His voice was low and taunting. He widened his eyes, and then leapt for her. She lunged away, hitting the outside of one of the stalls and letting out a little scream.

  He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hard shake that smacked her head against the stall again. She cried out and then moaned. His grin widened and his hands moved from her shoulders to her neck. She struggled then, and he grasped her throat.

  The door opened again. Angie entered, looking down at first. When she lifted her face she froze and then bolted from the room, calling for help.

  Veronica came out of the vision, feeling a little dizzy. She looked around at Sylvia’s living room to try to get her bearings.

  “Where is Grant now?” Daniel asked.

  Gomez shrugged. He shifted in his seat, looking around at the bottles on the floor again. Veronica turned around and watched him, willing him to answer—say that Grant was just upstairs—but meanwhile her mind was puzzling over what she’d seen. It didn’t make sense. Why would Angie go on a date with a boy she’d seen assault a girl?

  “Mr. Gomez, don’t you know where your step-son is?” Daniel asked.

  Gomez pushed himself up using the armrest of the couch. He wiped his hands on his shirt and licked his lips. He was looking around the room as if hoping to spot another bottle.

  “It’s really important that we talk
to Grant, Mr. Gomez,” Veronica said.

  The man turned his ruined gaze to her. His eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know where he is,” he said slowly. “I kicked him out. Must be at least an hour ago.” He looked around again. “Maybe two hours.”

  “Would you mind if we went and took a look at his room?” Daniel asked. Gomez shrugged and gestured toward the stairs in the entryway. He started shuffling in the other direction.

  Daniel turned to Veronica. “Well, at least we can see if there are any clothes with bright blue polyester fibers.”

  Her phone went off. Veronica pawed through her purse and pulled it out as Daniel watched her. It was Melanie. “Mel, I’m so glad you called, I—”

  “Veronica!” Melanie exclaimed. Her voice sounded strange.

  “Mel, what’s wrong?”

  “She’s missing,” Melanie said. “I came to pick her up and she’s not here, and her coach says she didn’t come to practice.”

  Veronica’s eyes met Daniel’s. “Angie’s missing?”

  “One of the girls said she was in class, so she must have gone somewhere when school let out instead of going to basketball.”

  Veronica’s heart started to pump faster. She took three quick steps to a side window and peered out at the house’s driveway, which was empty.

  “Mr. Gomez?” she called. She hurried in the direction he’d gone, finding her way into his kitchen. He was searching through shelves of his pantry. “Hang on, Melanie. Mr. Gomez? Do you have a car?”

  Gomez stopped searching for a bottle long enough to turn toward her. “Little bastard took it,” he said.

  This doesn’t make any sense, Veronica argued with herself. Why would Angie get in a car with Grant, when he’d tried to kill her? “Melanie, did anyone see her leave?”

  “No,” Melanie said. “I’m trying not to totally freak out, here, Veronica. But I’m starting to. Where is she?”

  “I’m coming over there.”

  Veronica hung up and turned to see Daniel watching her, his brow furrowed.

  “Melanie’s daughter is missing,” she told him.

  “You think Grant’s involved?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Veronica said. “But I’ve been having this really bad feeling. I need to go to Saint Pat’s. Maybe something will come to me.”