by Stevan Mena
Hester leaned over Carmen's casket, placed a kiss on the lacquered wood, then knelt and did the sign of the cross. She erupted in a fit of tears; the young man had to help her up to her feet. He walked her back towards the exit.
Jack swallowed, maybe this wasn't the best time to talk with her. But she noticed him right away.
"Detective?"
Jack stood up and nodded. "Mrs. Muniz. I was wondering if I might speak with you some more."
"What's this about?" the young man said, his tone adversarial. Hester placed her hands on his to silence him.
"This is my son, Francisco." Francisco and Jack exchanged glances. "Jack is the one who found Carmen." Hester's tone demanded he respect the detective. Francisco softened immediately and extended his hand. Jack took it.
"Not all the credit is mine," Jack said — no intention of divulging the other deserving party. "I realize this isn't a good time, but maybe if I could stop by your home? When it's convenient."
"Of course, anything."
"We should go, they're waiting," Francisco said, giving her wrist a gentle tug.
"Si, okay." She turned to Jack. "Goodbye. God bless you."
Hester and Francisco exited, leaving Jack alone with the priest. His name was Father Carlos Gonzales, he had a stocky build, and thin black hair with graying along his temples. His face was gentle and disarming. Jack could see how someone like him was just the right person to deliver a message of peace during sorrow, or blessings during joy. In a way, they were both public servants, but for his own reasoning, Jack saw himself as the dark one in the room. Even though Jack fought on the side of good, he was constantly immersed in the dark side of his fellow man, whereas this servant of God saw only the goodness in people.
The priest collected bibles from the pews. Jack approached him.
"Father, my name's Jack Ridge, I'm a detective-"
"I know who you are," he said with a warm smile catching Jack off guard, "Thanks to you, Carmen's spirit can at last rest in peace."
Jack tilted his head, not necessarily agreeing with his assessment. "Then you don't mind speaking for a moment?"
"How can I be of help?"
"How long have you been with this church?"
The priest looked up at the ceiling, calculating in his head. "Eh, I'm 58 now. So, 26 years, I think."
"Carmen was a member of this church?"
"I know her family a long time." The priest continued to collect prayer books as they spoke. He motioned with his head for Jack to step aside so he could collect the ones behind him. He continued to the next aisle.
"Do you remember anything unusual about her before she disappeared?"
"Not that I can remember."
"Maybe she confessed to something? Was anything bothering her? Trouble at home, maybe?"
The priest turned to Jack, the casual demeanor in his expression gone, replaced with a sudden formality.
"She was a devout member of this church. Her mother still is."
"I'm sure of that. You didn't answer my question."
"Dead or alive, there is a sanctity of confession I will not violate. But I can tell you she never gave her mother a day's trouble. And I know she always wanted the best for Carmen. It was not easy after her husband passed. The sadness became too great for him, the Lord called him home."
"Carmen's murder is part of a larger investigation now. Another girl is missing. Her name's Angelina Rosa."
"We are all well aware of it in this community. I know Mr. Rosa, he's a good man. We both emigrated from Ecuador. I lit a candle with him to pray for Angelina's safe return." The priest motioned towards several burning candles near the entrance. He picked up two more prayer books, the stack almost up to his chin.
"Can I help you with those?" Jack asked.
"Gracias." Jack took half of the books into his arms. The priest walked over and opened a storage drawer by the side of the stage. He bent over and placed the stack inside. Jack did the same.
"You think these cases are connected."
"I know they are."
"You will catch this devil before he takes another beautiful child?"
"I hope so."
The priest stared at Jack as if sizing up his ability to make good on it. He nodded, as if to say, I believe you will. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Jack tucked his pad and pencil away inside his front coat pocket and shook his head. "Thank you for your time."
As Jack walked towards the exit he noticed a white statue of St. Mary on a pedestal. He hadn't noticed it on his way in. He turned to the priest. "Actually, there is one more thing. The statue outside, where is it?"
The priest stared at Jack blankly. "Statue?"
"By the side entrance, near the street?"
The priest scratched his head. "Not that I'm aware of."
Jack waited a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "My mistake." Jack moved to the door.
"Detective," the Priest called out, "there was a statue - The Sacred Heart. Some vandals defaced it, we had to take it down. But that was years ago."
Jack was silent. He opened his mouth to say thank you when a sudden cough burst from his lungs, nearly doubling him over. It caught him by surprise; he quickly fished for his handkerchief. He found it — covered his mouth — and just let it out. Five long, wet hacks that echoed through the rafters of the church's high ceilings.
The priest took a few steps towards him, but Jack waved him off, signaling that it would pass. It finally did. Jack straightened up, inhaling slowly, making sure it was safe to breathe again. He wiped his mouth with the handkerchief and opened the door. "Sorry, excuse me."
"Detective," the priest called out, "have you found Jesus?"
Jack paused, "I'm still looking."
Jack exited the building and turned his phone back on. There was a text waiting for him. It was from Laura, just two words:
We're ready.
CHAPTER 36
"Does your car have a siren?" Rebecca asked. Jack looked at Laura, sitting in the passenger seat, then into his rearview mirror at Rebecca in back. She was sitting slouched over, her elbow on the door, chin resting on her fist. She seemed disinterested, maybe just making conversation. But Jack played along.
"It's not that type of police car. But I have this-" Jack flipped a switch and his blue spinning lamp came to life. It got a tiny smile from Rebecca. He turned it back off and returned his focus to driving.
"Rebecca, the dreams you keep having… about the girl. What can you tell me about them?" Jack didn't want to sound like another doctor, probing. He wanted to sound like a friend — which he was, his tone very conversational.
Rebecca glanced in her mother's direction.
"It's okay, sweetie," Laura said.
"It's like I'm dreaming, but when it's over, the feelings — they're so real."
"How do they make you feel?"
"Sad. Afraid."
Jack turned a corner and headed into an urban neighborhood. The streets seemed to narrow, houses got smaller, closer together. Laura looked around, familiar with the area.
"The man in your dreams, does he have a name?" Rebecca's shoulders tensed as she drew inward. "If you saw his face would you recognize him?"
Jack could feel Laura's eyeballs on him. He turned his attention back to the road, withdrawing the question.
"They're just dreams. They're not real," Rebecca said. Jack knew it wasn't her talking, she was repeating something her mother had said — probably repeated — over and over, hoping to make it true.
Jack checked his mirror and was surprised to find Rebecca staring back at him, as if to say you're right, I don't agree with what she says. They are real. Maybe you'll believe me. More and more, Jack felt a bond growing between him and Rebecca — kindred spirits.
"Where are we going?" Rebecca asked. Jack looked at Laura. You didn't tell her?
"Rebecca, how would you like to be my deputy for the day?" Rebecca sat up with a smile, as if he'd said how would you like some ice crea
m.
"Okay. How?"
Laura was interested in his answer too.
"We're going to stop at a few places, and I want you to tell me anything that comes into your mind."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, anything. Doesn't matter."
"Doctor Hellerman asked me to do that too. Said some words, then asked me to tell him the first thing that came into my mind."
Jack nodded. He stopped at a red light adjacent to a park. It had swing sets, benches, a basketball court. There were a lot of tough looking teens hanging out.
"I know this area," Laura said, "we used to come here a lot after school." Some of the teens started cursing, pushing and shoving each other. Fists started flying. "Not much has changed."
Jack drove another half mile and pulled into a parking lot adjacent to the railroad station and a motel. Laura looked back at Rebecca. A folder on Jack's back seat was spilling its contents — several 8x10 gruesome crime scene photographs had slid out onto the seat. Rebecca was peeking through them.
"Oh dear God," Laura said with a gasp. Jack spun around.
"Sorry." Jack swiped the folder off the seat and shoved it back into his briefcase, snapping it tight. Laura opened her car door angrily and got out, slamming it. She opened Rebecca's door and collected her. Jack hung his head, feeling awful.
He got out and caught up to them, Laura had opted to walk a good 20 feet from the car, not knowing which direction they were headed, she just needed to put space between them at that moment.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize—" Jack said.
"Let's just get on with it," Laura said, not angry with him, just shaken by what she had seen. Jack motioned for them to follow him.
"This was one of the last places Angelina was seen," Jack said, as he led them towards the motel. Laura held Rebecca's hand tightly. "Angelina answered an ad for a job at this motel. I've already interviewed the owner and his employees, they claim they never spoke to her. So there's a possibility this was just a pre-arranged meeting place for something else."
"Why bring Rebecca here?" Laura asked Jack discreetly.
"I thought maybe… if there's some kind of connection."
"What do you mean?"
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know, really. Maybe both victims might have disappeared the same way, you know? Maybe there's a common link, perhaps this spot. It's the kind of place where a lot of people come and go without questions asked. A lot of drug dealing, prostitution."
"Carmen? Not on your life."
"Maybe she was lured here somehow. Look, all of this is a shot in the dark." Jack knew he sounded like he was grasping at straws, and he was. He had no idea where to begin, he was just after something that might trigger a reaction from Rebecca. Something like he'd heard on the tapes. Rebecca looked bored and tired, dragging her heels.
"Is this where I'm supposed to tell you what I'm thinking?"
"Yes."
Rebecca put her hands on her hips, as if concentrating real hard. "Okay." Her innocence lightened the mood.
They entered the motel. All three stood at the entrance. It was dark inside, a thin ream of smoke escaped from behind the counter. A man poked his head out, he recognized Jack and frowned.
"Anything?" Jack asked Rebecca. She looked around, a bit confused as to what she was supposed to be doing.
"No," she said, disappointed.
This was a stupid idea. Jack panicked, not wanting Laura to think this was the best he had and pull the plug. He didn't drag her out here just for this. He needed a better idea, fast. "Okay, come on," Jack hurried them out.
CHAPTER 37
Jack sat across a table from Rebecca in his office. She stared intensely at a book of photographs — mug shots of known criminals and suspects. Laura stood over Rebecca, holding their coats under her arm. She kept looking at Jack, he could tell the fuse of her patience was burning short.
When Jack had suggested they go to his office to review some photographs, Laura immediately resisted, but Jack assured her they were nothing like the graphic ones that slipped from his briefcase, so she reluctantly agreed.
Jack turned the page to the next black and white picture, an older man with a bald head and a scar on his chin.
"Take your time, Rebecca," Jack said. Rebecca inspected the picture intently. She shook her head. "Okay." Jack turned to another mugshot.
Jennifer walked by Jack's open office door, peeking in curiously at Rebecca and Laura. Jack spotted her and got up, heading her off at his doorway.
"What's going on?" Jennifer asked.
"Something you need from me?" Jack's body language like a door closing in her face.
Jennifer paused at his curtness. "Another relative you've never mentioned? Ex-girlfriend and your illegitimate offspring?"
Jack moved forward, backing her out of the door.
"Don't you have things to do?"
"I just came to tell you Harrington was looking for you." Jennifer looked around Jack at Rebecca. "Kid's too cute to be yours anyway. Is she the one?"
"Is she the one what?"
Jennifer realized she had opened her mouth too wide. "Oh, nothing."
Jennifer hastily retreated back into the hallway. Jack watched her suspiciously, then returned to his seat across from Rebecca, who was looking at the next picture with one eye closed; concentrating, feeling important. She seemed to enjoy helping out. The photo was of a man named Espinosa, a leathery face with a tattoo below his eye and one on his neck.
"He's ugly," Rebecca said.
"Rebecca." Laura poked her in the ribs.
"Yes, he sure is." Jack grinned. "Anything?"
"Mm-mm, no," Rebecca said assuredly. Jack turned a few more. "No… No."
He turned to a white male with a long nose and one eye larger than the other. His name was Bishop. Rebecca stared longer than the others. Jack's eyes locked.
"Something?"
Rebecca took her time, studying. But then shook her head "No". Jack emptied his lungs in frustration. Rebecca turned the page to the next mugshot herself. Then another, and another, occasionally stopping for second glances, but not much interest or familiarity with any of them.
Jack waited, hopeful. He realized this was probably going nowhere. Needle in a haystack, if that. He was expecting Laura to begin tapping her foot any minute, surprised by her patience. Instead, she turned and began snooping aimlessly around Jack's office.
"I'm going to go outside for a sec," Laura said. She fished around in her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
"We'll be here," Jack said. Rebecca turned some more. Jack sat and watched. His thoughts drifted, Jennifer's ribbing lingered in his head. He imagined what his life might have been like had things been different. Coming home after work, unconditional love bursting from the front door, lollipop in mouth, hair in pigtails, hugs and kisses. Someone to miss him when he was gone, smile at him when he was feeling low. Helping with math homework. Laughter.
Jack got up and took two pills from his shirt pocket and poured himself a cup of water.
"Thirsty?" Jack asked.
"Nah," she said, not looking up from her work.
He opened his desktop drawer and fished around, finding a half eaten pack of lifesavers. "How about some candy?"
"It'll give me cavities."
He looked up at his map, focusing on the red thumbtack where Carmen's body was found.
"Rebecca?"
"Yeah?"
"You like hiking?"
"What's that?"
Laura came back in the room, smelling of smoke. Jack held on to his answer. "So?" Laura asked, meaning, are we finished?
"We're ready," Jack said.
Laura held open Rebecca's coat so she could slide her arms in. Just then, Harrington entered the room, bursting at the seams when he spotted Rebecca.
Laura took note. "We'll be in the car," Laura said suspiciously, pulling Rebecca along with her out of the room.
"Was that the arteest?" Har
rington said with a grin. Jack wanted to knock it right off his face.
"That's right…" Jack replied curiously.
"Jack, I know you're pressing because you feel you have some kind of moral obligation or something. But… we all know how this is going to end."
"It's not over till we find a body."
"What are you gonna use next, a divining rod?"
A sudden realization hit Jack. He turned and spotted the cassette player, left out in the open. The asshole had listened to the tape! Now Jennifer's slip of the tongue made sense.
"I'll tell you what that is, Jack. Dumb luck. Like that prick who had us running in circles in the Mitchell case; all he needed was to touch her undergarments, remember?"
"Didn't have me running in circles."
"Whatever, even more to my point. Hard work, facts, intelligence solves cases, isn't that what you said? Solid detective work, not superstition? Remember? Imagine what the press would say to this."
"I don't care what anyone thinks. All I care about is finding Angelina. Stopping him before he can kill again."
"And you think this little girl's story is gonna lead you to his front door? She has a bad dream, describes some very common landmarks, the dogs get lucky and voila, it's supernatural! Come on, man. You're a glass is half empty kind of guy. Lately you've been a glass is empty, broken on the floor kind of guy."
"You don't know the whole picture."
"I think Hellerman has spent a little too much time with psychotic patients. You better be careful, it might be catching."
"At this point, I'd rub two sticks together if I thought it would make fire."
"You're wasting your time — this nut's had his way with Angelina, chopped her into little bits. All we can do is wait for him to do it again, pick up a fresh scent."
In his gut, Jack knew Harrington was right. But the idea of doing nothing, just waiting around, had a reek of failure that was suffocating to him. Jack was a man of action. He needed to keep moving. He waved at Harrington's words like he could no longer stand the sight or smell of him.
"I think it's also time you sat Mr. Rosa down and fed him a truth sandwich, too. He needs to start accepting reality. Calls here 10 times a day. Got the press hounding the Captain, tossing around accusations of racism. They know which buttons to push."
