“No wonder the super told me to back off.” Peter grunted.
“You think your superintendent is protecting him?”
Peter shook his head. “Donaldson? No way. He’s been after Gutierrez for more years than I can count.”
“Then why did he tie your hands like this?”
“I may, at some point, have had a run in with Gutierrez, and I may have overstepped the mark slightly, and Donaldson may have warned me that he’d have my badge if I ever went near Gutierrez again.”
Diana hid the smile that curled her lips. Harassing Gutierrez definitely sounded like something Detective Hot-kinson would do. “So, your superintendent is trying to protect you.”
“Looks like,” he said, drumming his fingers on the table in frustration. “But it’s not doing my case any favors.”
“You know, just because Gutierrez owns a stake in the hotel, it doesn’t mean he’s involved in this.”
Peter cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Gutierrez would gut his own mother if he thought he could make a buck.”
Diana lifted a hand to stay his tirade. “Listen for a sec. Gutierrez isn’t stupid, as evidenced by the number of times he’s gotten off and the fact that he isn’t rotting in prison, right?” Peter just nodded with a grunt. “So then why would he get his people to perform a clearly illegal procedure and let the guy die in one of his hotels? He would have known it would lead us directly to him.”
“You’re right,” he said with a sigh. “I was just hoping that he may have made a stupid mistake this time.”
Diana shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can see you hate him, but I really don’t think he’s involved in this. He’s not that stupid.”
Peter nodded.
“What name was the room registered under?” Diana asked out of the blue. She needed more information if she was to come up with a working theory.
“Give me a moment.” He pulled out his tablet to check. “Montclair.”
The name set alarm bells ringing in Diana’s head. It sounded so familiar but she just couldn’t place it. “Maybe the name is connected somehow,” she said.
He shook his head. “Unlikely. It’s such a common name that it was probably the first thing they came up with.”
She decided to ignore the alarm bells for the moment. The detective was right. It was a pretty common name. Then she had an epiphany.
“You know, in a situation like this, if I wanted to find out who was involved for a story I was writing, I would follow the money.”
Peter glanced up with a wry look on his face. “I did think of that. But I have no idea where to start, remember? We don’t know who the buyer is.”
“But you have all the information you need already,” she pointed out.
“What are you talking about?”
“Leonardo Perez. Get your M.E. to do a full work-up on him and work backward —”
“Find out who he would be a match for. That’s a great idea! I can run the results against the national transplant waiting list —”
“The buyer will definitely be on it because most people don’t resort to buying organs on the black market until the situation is pretty dire.”
Peter jumped to his feet. “You, Ms. Hunter, are a genius,” he said with a wide grin. “I have to go.” He grabbed his sandwich and dashed out of the kitchen. He popped his head around the door. “Thank you.”
Diana smiled and waved him off. “Find the buyer.” He nodded and disappeared. She heard her front door slam and in the silence that followed, she found herself wondering more and more about the detective. Fifteen minutes later, she was sweeping the floor before she realized that she’d cleaned up after their lunch but couldn’t remember a thing about doing so.
* * *
On the way to his car, Peter called Doc Riddle. “Doc, can I get a full work-up on Leonardo Perez?”
“What do you need it for?”
Peter didn’t take offense at the Doc’s curt tone. He was like that with everyone. He didn’t have patience for small talk – most of the time – and that suited Peter just fine, especially today.
“I need to find out who he could be a possible organ match for,” he explained.
“Ah, I see. Good idea. I’ll get right on it. It will take a while though.”
“How long?”
“You’ll have the results first thing in the morning.”
Peter sighed in disappointment. He had hoped to make further progress on this case today but there was little he could do about it except wait. At least he had a lead to work with now.
He ended the call with the Doc and got behind the wheel of his car. He fired up the engine. Pulling away from the curb, he got to thinking about the magazine editor. He’d been right to go to her. Her insight had been very useful. His limited experience with organ trafficking would have had him going around in circles. And then, once he’d discovered the Gutierrez connection, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to let it go. He would have wasted more time barking up the wrong tree. This way, if Gutierrez was connected, he’d have concrete proof, and if the snake wasn’t involved for once, he wouldn’t be wasting any more time.
Diana Hunter was unusual. The way the woman’s mind worked was uncommonly logical and smart. It was rare that he came across someone who could process information or make connections on the fly like she did. Especially a civilian. And that made him wonder. How did she know as much as she did and how had she honed her skills? And who the hell was she, really?
As his mind turned over, he became restless, and a feeling of paranoia reared its ugly head. He was familiar with it. Hyper vigilance had become his constant companion ever since the murder of his brother, Matthew. Matthew had been found shot in the head – execution-style according to the detective on the case at the time – and the killer never found. The crime scene had been immaculate, with every trace wiped away. Even the bullet had been removed, so no ballistics match could be made. According to the police, it had been an intricately planned killing committed by someone who knew police procedure well. Since then, Peter had had a lot of trouble trusting people, especially those who seemed to know more than they should.
Yes, Diana’s mind was fast. Too fast. What if he was kidding himself and she really was involved? What if she was engaged in some elaborate game? She knew too much to be an innocent bystander. And he’d had the feeling ever since he met her that she knew a lot more than she was saying. She was hiding something. And that feeling hadn’t disappeared when they’d eaten lunch. In fact, if he thought about it, the feeling had become even more acute.
While she seemed to keep the doors in her apartment open, including the one to her bedroom, she shut one particular door. She had tried to act like it was no big deal, but she got this slightly pinched look on her face when she’d realized it was open. And, every time he’d glanced at it, he’d seen her stiffen slightly. Maybe she was hiding a dead body in there, he thought with a rueful grin. No, if Diana Hunter was playing him, she wouldn’t be hiding evidence in her apartment. But she was definitely hiding something.
He parked outside his precinct and walked in. He had to talk to his superintendent. He needed a second opinion on the whole situation. No one came up to talk to him as he walked through the bullpen. Most of his colleagues gave him a wide berth when he had what they called his intense face on. They knew that talking was pointless and avoiding him was in their best interests.
Superintendent Donaldson’s door was open as usual, but Peter still knocked. He stuck his head in his superior’s office. When the man looked up, he asked, “Can I have a word, sir?”
Donaldson nodded and waved him inside. Peter closed the door behind him and hesitated for a moment. Was he doing the right thing? He was going to be admitting he’d broken the rules.
“Out with it, boy,” Donaldson barked. The man was in his early fifties and a great police officer. Only problem was he’d stuck his neck out for his team once too often and had angered the powers that be, which was why
he’d never got the promotion to Chief everyone knew he deserved.
Peter sat down, drew a deep breath, and took the plunge. He told his superintendent everything about Diana Hunter and what had happened from the moment he’d met her to just now, when he’d left her not fifteen minutes earlier.
“I just can’t help the feeling that she’s hiding something,” Peter confessed. “I mean, it almost felt like she was the detective and I was the civvie.”
Donaldson scratched his chin. “We’ll discuss the fact that you shared information with a civilian later,” he said with a pointed glare. Great. And just when Peter thought he’d got away with it. “But what I want to know is whether you really think she’s hiding something or you’re just pissed that she’s smarter than you are?”
Peter stared. “Sir, you know me! I just want to close the case. And fast. Maybe she can help —“
“But you say you suspect she’s not being truthful,” Donaldson probed further.
“I don’t know what it is. Yeah, she seems to know a lot about the case, but I keep getting the feeling she is holding something back. I don’t know, sir, maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
Donaldson glared at him. “What have I always told you?”
“Listen to my gut until it’s proven wrong,” Peter replied automatically.
“Precisely. Dig into the woman. Find out if she is who she says she is.”
Peter stood. “Thanks, sir.” He left Donaldson’s office and headed to his desk and, more importantly, his computer. It was time to find out who Diana Hunter really was.
Two hours later, after reading more articles she had edited or written than he would ever care to admit, Peter stared at his screen and contemplated his next move. There was a file on her in their database. Ms. Hunter was hiding something. Significant parts of her personnel file were classified. Every time he’d tried to access her data, he’d come up against the same wall. He thought for a moment. He picked up the phone and put a call through to his former military commanding officer. If anyone could get him into that file, he could.
Another hour and a lot of bitching later, he’d finally gotten his answer. At least, part of an answer. He knew why Ms. Hunter’s file was classified, but his CO had said that he couldn’t get him any more information. Now, he had to decide what he should do next.
* * *
Now that she had gotten involved in the case, Diana decided that taking another look at “the tree” couldn’t hurt. Maybe she’d find something she had overlooked earlier. After all, she would have missed the keycard if she hadn’t been crawling around on all fours.
Ever since she’d found that piece of plastic, she’d had the nagging suspicion someone had left it there on purpose. That someone had hidden the keycard. It was starting to seem more and more as if whoever had left it was trying to leave clues for the police to find. Clearly, Leonardo Perez couldn’t have been the one to drop it there. Maybe it was someone who had been forced into this awful scheme and wanted out. And maybe she was getting ahead of herself. She needed to go down and have another look around.
She left her apartment, making sure to lock the door. She gave Max an apologetic look. “Sorry, boy, promise we’ll go out a bit later.” She couldn’t take Max down to the crime scene because he’d contaminate everything with his need to mark every tree and piece of dirt in his vicinity.
She rode the elevator down, nodding to the doorman as she passed through the lobby, and strode out of her building moments later. She walked over to the crime scene and paced it back and forth. Getting back down on all fours, she crawled around. Her hand knocked against something hard. It was a Swiss Army knife, mostly hidden among the scrub. She extended her hand but froze, remembering Detective Hopkinson’s admonition about contaminating evidence. She growled in annoyance. She was going to have to call him.
Just as she reached for her phone to do just that, she got a strange feeling she was being watched. She glanced around surreptitiously. And that’s when she saw her. The woman she had seen this morning. She was still sitting on that bench. And she was still holding the magazine. No one spent more than six hours sitting on the exact same bench, reading the exact same magazine.
Diana palmed the knife quickly, deciding it was better to pick it up, evidence tampering and all, than it was to leave it there. She got to her feet and brushed herself off. Her instincts were screaming at her to get going while she could. And she planned on listening to those inner voices. As she took a step toward her building, the woman saw her and got up, heading in her direction.
In response, Diana turned and walked the opposite way. The Starbucks on the corner. People knew her there and the crowd would make it difficult for anything to go down without witnesses. But before she managed more than a dozen steps, the woman cut her off.
“So, did you find anything else, Ms. Hunter?”
CHAPTER FIVE
UP CLOSE, DIANA realized the woman was much younger than she had at first thought. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, but she had a look about her that said she had been through a lot in life and most of it unpleasant.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.” Diana was going to play it safe. Better act ignorant than give the game away.
The woman snorted. “I think you know perfectly well what I mean, Ms. Hunter. I’m referring to the dead body that was discovered here yesterday. Leonardo Perez.”
“Why would you think I have anything to do with that?” Diana asked. She had started walking again, forcing the woman to follow her. She was getting to that Starbucks if it was the last thing she did.
“Come on, Ms. Hunter. It’s okay. You can tell me the truth. My name is Sergeant Brodeur, and I’m working with Detective Hopkinson on this case.”
“I see.” Diana wasn’t going to say anything else on the subject. Hopkinson would have never sent someone else to see her. He’d been so freaked out about breaking the rule of not talking to civilians she was pretty sure he’d never send anyone else to see her ever again. Plus, she’d seen the woman on the bench that morning. Had she been who she said she was, Hopkinson would have made the introductions. He had said nothing about any sergeant.
“Look, I’d like to go over some more details we’ve uncovered about the case. Would you mind having a cup of coffee with me?” the woman asked, nodding in the direction of Starbucks.
And that’s when Diana’s self-preservation instinct decided to exit stage right. Instead of politely refusing and high-tailing it out of there, Diana did the exact opposite. She agreed. This woman had to be connected to Leonardo Perez’s murder. Otherwise, why would she be digging around for information about the case and seemingly impersonating a police officer while doing so? This would be a golden opportunity for her to discover more about what was going on. It could take days before Hopkinson found this woman again. She’d disappear into the woodwork and they might never find her.
They walked into the Starbucks together, and Diana waved at the baristas she’d known for a couple of years. They waved back. Jenny was one of those working behind the counter. She was taking orders today. Jenny had been her barista – if one could have a barista – ever since Diana had started coming to the coffee shop on a regular basis. She was a sweet girl and always went out of her way to make Diana’s coffee special, even if it was just a more elaborate design in the milk foam of her drink. Diana always made sure to leave her a nice tip.
Sergeant Brodeur indicated an empty table in the corner of the crowded coffee shop. “Have a seat. I’ll get the coffee.”
Diana nodded. She didn’t even bother to tell the other woman what she wanted to drink. She had something else to do. She sat down and quickly slipped her phone out of her pocket. Since she rarely jumped to conclusions, she had to verify that she wasn’t being paranoid. She took a quick picture of the woman as she stood at the counter and sent it to Hopkinson along with a message.
Is this your Sergeant? Goes by Brodeur. Asking a lot of questions about
Perez. At Starbucks around corner from my place.
She quickly hit send and, a few taps and swipes later, had turned her phone into a recording device. Now, Sergeant Brodeur’s every word would be caught on tape.
“Who were you talking to?” the so-called Sergeant asked, nodding at the phone. She set their coffees on the table and looked at her strangely. Diana did not like that look.
“No one. It was just an email from work about an article that needs to be published on Monday. They needed my input.” Damn it, she was babbling. She always babbled when she was nervous. And she’d give herself away if she didn’t calm down.
Brodeur gave her a critical look and nodded, relaxing. She took a seat opposite Diana.
“So, I’ll ask you again. What else did you find at the crime scene?” Apparently, Brodeur wasn’t one for small talk.
Diana gave a small shrug. “Actually, I didn’t find anything except the body.” She was praying the woman hadn’t noticed her pick up the Swiss Army knife.
“Then why were you nosing around the crime scene again today? Twice.” Brodeur was definitely suspicious.
“Because I was curious,” Diana replied with a shrug. “I’m a magazine editor, and I used to be a reporter. It’s in my nature to scrutinize things.”
“Maybe this time your curiosity has done more harm than good,” Brodeur said cryptically.
“Let me guess,” Diana said with a sigh, “you’re going to throw the old cliché about curiosity and cats at me, right?”
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