“That’s where my baby died. That’s where she met her.”
“Who? Who’s her?”
“You know, the one she chose over me. The one who made her start worshipping the devil.”
Tom looked at Jane and Emma with a frustrated expression. Jane gestured for him to leave her sister alone. As he stood, Jessica grabbed his wrist. “You listen to me, boy, and you listen good. That girl was no good. She destroyed my Annabel. I prayed every day for her to die, but I didn’t mean for her to.”
Tom looked at Emma and nodded slowly. “Penélope.”
“Don’t you dare mention her name.” Jessica lunged and repeatedly hit him in the chest, crying uncontrollably. He restrained her as best he could, but she started to kick him, too.
Jane pulled her off him. “Go,” she shouted to the agents above Jessica’s screaming. “Go now!”
They quickly made their way outside, where Tom proceeded to pace, arching his neck from side to side.
“So what do you think?” Emma asked.
“I think we need to find out what happened in Mexico. That seems to be where everything for Annabel changed and, from what we know, where she met Penélope.”
“I agree. This is all more than it seemed when we started looking at it. Annabel might be more involved in her friend’s death than we think.”
“I want a car here, day and night.” He walked toward the car.
“You don’t think she’ll come here, do you?”
“I don’t care, but I’m not taking any chances. Right now, Jessica is our best chance of finding Annabel.”
“What’s the hurry?” she said as he opened the car door. “Where are we going?”
“I’m going to Antonio’s place.”
She frowned. “What for? We’ve covered every inch of that place.”
“But we know more now. I just have that feeling in my gut that we’ve missed something.”
17. A Second Look
Tom dashed behind a young couple entering Antonio’s apartment building on East Sixty-sixth Street and held the door open. He showed the man his badge when he gave him a questioning look. The man raised his right hand in apparent apology and led his girlfriend into the building. Emma walked up the stairs to the entrance and joined Tom.
“So remind me again what we’re doing here,” she said.
“Just follow my lead.” He glanced around the exceptionally clean foyer. The marble floors hinted at sophistication, as did the chandeliers on the ceiling. He walked up to the doorman’s desk, but no one was there. He leaned over and peeked through the open back room, from where he could hear the sounds of a television, possibly a football game. He spotted a bell and pushed it a few times.
A square-jawed man peered out of the room and frowned. “Can I help you?”
Tom held up his badge. “Agent Saddle, FBI.”
The man swallowed.
“And this is Agent Green. Can we have a word?”
The man nodded and disappeared from view. He reappeared a few seconds later and made his way to the front desk without a hint of urgency. He leaned against it and eyed Emma for a moment before turning back to Tom. “What can I do for you?”
“Your surveillance tapes,” Tom said. “We need to see them.”
The man shot him a sharp look but soon relaxed. “What’s this about?”
“We’re investigating a murder,” Emma said. “Penélope Salazar’s.”
“I’ve already told the police all I know. They’ve spoken to me, my boss and at least two of my colleagues. What more is there?”
“I understand that,” Tom said. “We just want to take another look. See if they missed anything. We’ll just be a few minutes.”
The man turned toward the back room and then back to Tom. “Just a few minutes?”
“That’s all we need,” Emma said.
“I guess you could take a look at the recordings. I’ll tell you what my boss told the others, though: You won’t find anything.”
“Thanks,” Tom said.
The doorman raised a bar next to the desk to allow them into the back room. Before entering, Tom noticed a tall blond woman he had not seen previously, standing by the elevators. She seemed to be paying a bit too much attention to them. Where the hell did she come from? He took a step back and turned toward the woman, and she rushed for the stairs.
“Anything wrong?” Emma asked.
Tom sighed. “I don’t know.”
Inside the room, the doorman gave them what they requested: a month’s worth of video, beginning with footage from March 19. The man showed them how files were arranged on his computer, and they scanned through hours of footage, hoping for a sighting of either Penélope or Antonio.
They reached March 28 and still had found no recording of the dead woman. Tom stood and paced around the room. He occasionally peered out at the doorman, who sat with his legs up, watching football on a miniature TV. What a lazy bastard.
“I’ve got something,” Emma said.
Tom rushed back to his seat. The footage showed a broad dark-haired man walking into the building with a suitcase in his left hand. With his right, he held on to a tall woman with curly black hair falling past her shoulders. As he set the luggage by the elevators, she turned and tenderly kissed him on the lips. After the couple pulled away, Tom and Emma exchanged glances and nodded. It was definitely Penélope.
“They look so happy,” Emma said.
“What’re you trying to say?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s so black and white anymore.”
“Just remember that the most volatile people can just snap like that. He might have thought of marrying her and having babies earlier the day she died, but all it would have taken would be for her to piss him off and then bang.”
They continued watching the recordings, going well into April. They saw both Penélope and Antonio every day, each time seemingly happy and in love. They also caught a glimpse of Annabel walking in with Penélope on April 5. Both were dressed in spandex as if just returning from a run. They laughed and joked, with no sign of worry or animosity.
Tom continued looking through the files until he clicked on the one for April 12. There was nothing but flicker on the screen. He glanced at Emma before skipping ahead to midday. More snow. He advanced the recording to 10 p.m. Still nothing.
“I thought the footage cut out from the fourteenth,” he said.
“That’s what the police report said.”
Tom scratched his head and opened the following day’s file—snow again. The files for the following three days—including the day of Penélope’s murder—were also blank. He leaned back in his chair and looked back and forth between Emma and the screen before jumping to his feet. “Who’s tampered with the files?” he asked the doorman.
The man casually removed the headphones in his ear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The police report said that the cameras went faulty from the fourteenth, but we can’t see anything all the way back from the twelfth.”
The doorman shrugged. “I don’t know nothing about that. To tell the truth, I haven’t watched any of it. We just gave it all to the police.”
“But you must know the period of time your system was down.”
“If the files from the twelfth are blank, then they always must have been. I’m guessing the police took their information down wrong.”
“But it was carefully logged,” Emma said. “They wouldn’t make that kind of mistake with something as sensitive as this. It must have been deleted after.”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I just work here. My boss gave the police all the information they have.”
Emma pulled out her cell and walked into the back room. Tom folded his arms and gazed at the man. “You just wait there, we’ll have this cleared up in a second.”
Emma walked out two minutes later. She edged toward Tom’s ear. “The police have nothing on the twelfth either?”
“Yo
u’re kidding,” Tom whispered. “But the report—”
“Not here.” She entered the back room again and he followed her, shutting the door after him. “Something’s definitely going on here. Those files were deleted. Both copies. This whole thing could be an inside job. Someone in the force might be involved.”
“Or the bureau even.” Tom took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling before pushing the door open. He pulled a notepad out and clicked his pen. “What’s your boss’s name?”
“Gerard Mickelson. Why?”
Emma leaned toward Tom’s ear. “I’ve already interviewed him. He doesn’t watch the recordings, and to be honest, he isn’t the brightest guy around. He just goes by what his staff tells him. He won’t be able to help us.”
Tom nodded and moved closer to the man. “I need to know the names of all Birdstone’s employees.”
The man leaned to his right and pulled out a sheet of paper. “It’s all here, everyone that’s worked in this building for the last year. I’m telling you, we gave all of this to the police. They’ve already spoken to all of us.”
“Is anyone here new? Maybe someone that started a month or two ago?”
The man squinted for a moment. “That would be a ‘no,’ mister. As far as I know, I’m the newest person here, and I came over six months ago.”
Tom folded his arms and glanced at Emma. He folded the paper and put it in his jacket pocket. “Okay, thank you.”
Tom and Emma didn’t speak until they reached the exit. “I’m telling you,” Tom said. “They’re hiding something. I saw the report myself. There must have been something incriminating on either the twelfth or the thirteenth, which is why it was deleted. The killer might have been caught on film and was trying to cover their tracks.”
“But they would need help for that. One of these doormen must be involved. And what about the recordings the police have. What could have happened to them? Someone there must have been in on it.” She ran a hand through her hair.
“What’re you thinking?”
“I don’t think we’ll find anything else here. Whoever deleted that recording probably covered their tracks well. We need to go back to the office and keep digging into Annabel’s past.”
Tom pushed the door open and looked up to see a blond woman abruptly looking away from him. She hurried down the street with a set of keys dangling from her right hand. “That’s the second time I’ve seen that woman.” He dashed down the stairs and called out to her.
“Can ... can I help you?” the woman asked.
Tom studied her. She was tall with bright blond hair, probably in her mid-thirties. She seemed jumpy, as if she feared for her life. Her black skirt, white shirt and pearl earrings hinted at wealth and sophistication, but her glassy eyes and fidgeting suggested so much else: She was a junkie. He showed her his identification and introduced himself and Emma. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
The woman swallowed and glanced to her sides before answering. “Vic—Victoria. Victoria Madison.”
“I saw you by the elevators when we first got there. You seemed to take an interest in what we were saying to the doorman. Can I ask why?”
“I just thought I heard you talking about that poor girl who died.”
Tom moved closer. “Penélope Salazar?”
She nodded.
“Do you know anything about her death?”
“I only know what I read in the papers. I don’t live here. I come around sometimes to see my cousin.”
“And were you there on the sixteenth or seventeenth?” Emma asked.
The woman hesitated.
“Victoria.” Tom moved even closer and almost whispered. “Were you there?”
“I ... I was, but I didn’t see anything.”
Emma stepped beside her and held her right shoulder. “Don’t be afraid. If you saw something, you can tell us. No one else has to know.”
Victoria glanced toward the apartment’s entrance and then looked across the street at the pedestrians. “Not here.”
Tom put his hand around her waist. “Then come to our office and we can talk.”
“No. Not like this. Meet me on the corner of Second Avenue and East Sixty-fifth and I can get in your car.”
Tom nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
They picked her up five minutes later and took her to Federal Plaza.
***
Victoria sipped her glass of water and gazed around their office, her knees trembling. Tom exchanged a few glances with Emma as they waited for the woman to get more comfortable. She had sat there for the past five minutes without once looking at them. Her neck muscles and her feet twitched, but Tom was sure she had valuable information and was willing to give her as much time to compose herself as she needed.
After finishing the water, she looked at them with sad eyes.
“Are you ready to talk now, Miss Madison?” Tom asked.
Victoria nodded and leaned forward. “The dead girl, she didn’t seem like she could hurt a fly. I used to see her most days I went there, sometimes just walking around, looking into the sky. She was so peaceful. That’s why I was so sad when I heard someone had killed her.”
“Then help me. Help us catch her killer. Anything you might have seen the night she died, no matter how small, would be a great help.”
“It’s funny, but I kept hearing all sorts of things on the news and in the papers, but I never listened properly. It wasn’t until the other day that I realized something was so off about the whole thing.”
“What do you mean?” Emma said.
“They kept saying that the dead girl left her boyfriend’s apartment early that morning.”
Tom nodded. “That’s correct. Eyewitnesses say she left soon after she got there.”
Victoria covered her mouth with her hand for a few seconds. “Please understand that I wanted to come forward sooner, but I’ve been so scared. I hear about some of the awful things people like that do. But I don’t know if I can stay quiet any longer.”
“It doesn’t matter that you’ve taken your time in coming forward,” Tom said. “The important thing is that you’re here now.”
Victoria took a deep breath and straightened in her chair. “I don’t think it was Penélope who left Antonio’s place that morning.”
Tom looked at Emma and half-rose from his chair. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I came home quite late that night, and as I was walking in, I heard two people whispering, so I sort of hid so they wouldn’t see me.”
“What two people?”
“At first I thought it was Penélope, but the person looked toward me and it definitely wasn’t her.”
Emma frowned. “Are you sure?”
Victoria nodded.
“And who do you think it was?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know, but this woman looked almost exactly the same. Her hair was curly and dark. She had the same big lips. Real good-looking girl, this one was, so I’d assumed she was Penélope, but I swear to you it wasn’t. She didn’t talk like Penélope did or walk like her. Her mannerisms were a bit off. She spoke quite crudely, too.”
“What about the man?” Tom asked.
The woman winced. “He was quite scary. He was so big and tall. Had lots of tattoos covering both arms, with some on his neck.”
“So did you hear what they were whispering about?”
Victoria shook her head. “But the man was really nervous. They ended up taking the stairs when the elevators didn’t come. I just wanted to make sure the girl was all right, so I took the elevator up to their floor.”
“And?” Tom stood up and took a step forward.
“They went into Antonio’s apartment.”
“Wait, you’re telling me that you saw a woman fitting Penélope’s description going into the apartment? And you’re positive it wasn’t her?”
“Yeah, I swear it wasn’t her.”
“Do you remember the time?”
“I can’t be sure, but it was
definitely before everyone else says they saw Penélope leave.”
Tom paced up and down, muttering to himself: “The son of a bitch killed her.” He stopped in front of Victoria. “Would you testify to this?”
She shook her head. “No way. You can’t say anything against them. I was just staying with my cousin and her boyfriend. If I talk, they’ll kill me. They’ll kill them.”
Emma walked up to her. “We’ll protect you. New identities and—”
“Witness protection? No thanks. I watch the movies. I know what happens with those things. Someone will find us. They always do.”
Tom held her hands. “You met Penélope, right?”
The woman nodded.
“What did you think of her?”
“She was always nice to me. Very pretty, too.” Her smile gave way to a frown. “It’s such a shame what happened to her.”
“But don’t you see?” Tom said. “From what you’re telling me, we’re chasing the wrong man. Do you want that? Do you want an innocent man to get convicted for her murder while the real killer gets away with it? You said you came here to do the right thing. Well, if you don’t testify, coming here won’t have made the slightest difference.”
“But what about my life? And my cousin’s?”
“I understand that you’re scared, but don’t you owe it to yourself as well as that man on the run to tell the truth? You have my word I’ll do everything in my power to protect you.”
Victoria’s hands trembled. She stared at him. “If I go somewhere else, my cousin and her boyfriend have to, too.”
“You have my word on that.”
“I don’t know. I have to talk to them first. It’s their lives at stake, too.”
“That’s just fine,” Emma said. “You go and talk to them. And if you’re happy to testify, we’ll be right here.”
Victoria nodded and folded her arms.
Tom walked to the door. “I’ll be right back.” He walked to a conference room where a number of DEA agents were giving a presentation. He looked around the room until he spotted Nathan standing against the back wall. Tom signaled to him, and Nathan quietly made his way into the hall.
The Kiss after Midnight (The Midnight Trilogy) Page 15
