by Lori Ryan
“What have we got?” Cal asked as they walked up to the uniformed officer standing at the red tape inside the yellow tape. People failed to realize there were two crime scene tapes at every scene. They didn’t show that in the movies. If you went inside the outer yellow tape, you might get called into court. Might not.
If you stepped past that red tape, on the other hand, you were testifying. No two ways about it. She and Cal were definitely stepping past the red tape on this one. As soon as the report of another sniper shot had come in, Cal’s Captain had tagged them to take the case, despite the fact it should have been on someone else’s desk. The chances of two snipers being active in a U.S. city at the same time? Much less a city with New Haven’s low homicide rate? Well, those odds weren’t good.
Of course, if you read the papers or watched the news nowadays, you would think New Haven’s crime rate was higher than it was. The press was swarming, news vans with their spiraling towers filling the street in front of the bar where the man had been shot.
There was no body, but the battle put up by the EMTs was evident on the sidewalk outside the bar. They’d been told the victim had been taken to the hospital three blocks away, but judging by the amount of blood spilled out into the gutter, Eve wasn’t holding her breath.
The uniformed officer seemed to be a veteran. In his forties, he spoke low and ducked his head to the side to keep their conversation as private as he could. She liked that. “The victim is Guy Duerte, that asshole that walked on the rape charge.”
Well, that hadn’t been expected.
Eve’s attention went to the woman sitting in a chair just inside the bar’s open door. She studied the woman’s careful presentation. She was sobbing into her hands, but looked up from time-to-time as if to see if she had an audience. She wiped mascara from her cheeks. It wasn’t the waterproof kind, but somehow this girl had that vampish look where she could pull off the raccoon-eyed look. That’s when it hit Eve. The woman was Amber Browning, Guy Duerte’s girlfriend. The one who had provided him with an alibi for the time of the rape.
She was New Haven’s version of Paris Hilton. Wealthy, focused on fashion and appearance, and always looking to be in the limelight. She didn’t need to work, but she likely had some sort of income connected to all the blogging she did. Whether it was income from ads, free merchandise from companies who wanted to be on her radar, or some combination of both, Eve couldn’t say.
“Didn’t the guy just walk today?” Cal asked, also speaking under his breath.
“Yeah” said the officer. “They let him out when the jury came back hung. Was released four hours ago.”
Cal swore under his breath as Eve turned and scanned the area.
“What are you thinking?” Cal asked her when she didn’t speak.
“Wondering if this was random or if our shooter was waiting for Guy to come out of the bar.” She looked at the surrounding buildings up and down the street.
Cal frowned. “How would the shooter know Guy was here?”
Eve gave him a look then pulled out her phone. She scrolled to a Snapchat account and typed in Amber Browning’s name. Sure enough, Guy’s girlfriend had posted a picture of them entering the bar. She smiled for the camera while Guy licked her cheek, the sign showing the name of the bar clear as day behind them. The caption said it all: “Celebrating Guy’s freedom!”
Eve shook her head. “She broadcasts everywhere they go.”
“I forgot about that.” Her Snapchat habits had played a role in the trial. “I still don’t understand it. Why would anyone care where this woman is? I mean, why do people follow that crap?”
Eve had to laugh at the puzzled look on Cal’s face. There was no way he’d get it. “Her notoriety is really all she has. She’s sort of famous for being famous. She’s bankrolled that with her blog, reviewing fashion trends and stuff, but people mostly follow her because she’s who she is. The daughter of very wealthy parents who doesn’t need to worry about a thing in the world.”
“That makes no sense.” He shook his head, like maybe he could shake away the confusion.
“Yeah, preachin’ to the choir, my friend.” She said, looking back at her phone. “This was posted at ten forty-five. That gave our shooter over an hour to get down here and get in place somewhere for the shot. That’s not a lot of time at all.”
“No,” Cal agreed, “it’s not.” He scrolled through his phone to the Shotspotter report that had come in seconds after the shot. “Only one shot in the timeframe we’re looking at. Half mile to the southwest.” He didn’t point, but they both turned that way and scanned the area. One building stuck out.
Chapter Ten
Cal finished talking to his Captain by phone and turned to fill in Eve. “He’s getting canvas teams down there.” The only building that looked promising in the area of the shot was a parking garage going in near downtown New Haven. The building’s frame was up, but there wasn’t much for walls yet. Their sniper could have fired from anywhere that suited him on the side of the building facing the bar. It was the perfect spot for the shot.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll have video.” Eve didn’t sound at all convinced.
“Probably not on a half-built parking garage.”
He had to bite back a smile at the look she gave him. It told him in no uncertain terms that he shouldn’t burst her bubble until he had actual proof she was wrong.
They approached Amber Browning, nodding to the patrolman standing with her. “Ms. Browning,” Eve said. “I’m FBI Agent Eve Sands, this is Detective Cal Rylan with the New Haven Police. We need to ask you about what happened here tonight.”
Cal liked Eve’s approach. She was gentle, but there was a firmness to her tone. She didn’t ask if the witness could talk. She told her they needed to talk. It was subtle, but he liked the tactic.
The woman continued looking at her phone. She’d been pouting as she held the phone above her and to the right a bit and she hit some keys before looking up at them. Cal found himself scowling. “Did you just post a picture, Ms. Browning?”
She looked affronted. “Yes. People will want to know I’m okay.”
He swore under his breath and looked at the area behind the woman. If she’d ended up catching anything important in her picture…he scanned. Nothing but empty bar stools would have been likely to show up in her shot.
Still, he had the urge to confiscate her phone, if for no other reason than to mess with her. He could justify it. He shoved aside the thought and focused on Amber.
The woman was a piece of work. He didn’t know much about the couple, but he knew she came from money. Duerte, on the other hand, did not. He was the lead singer in a band that had had one hit about five years back, and the small amount of fame had turned into a modeling deal when the music didn’t really pan out. He mostly modeled underwear and guitars. The guitar ads were usually of him in his underwear, holding a guitar. That part never really made sense to Cal, since the man was a singer not a guitarist, but what did Cal know?
Maybe he played guitar, too.
“Did you post your whereabouts tonight, Ms. Browning?” They knew the answer to that, but Cal wanted to see what the woman would say.
She brushed at her eyes, but Cal got the sense the motion was for effect more than anything else. “Of course I did. We were celebrating.”
“Celebrating his release?” Eve prodded.
“Yes.” Amber’s lips creased in a flat line. “That bitch is probably behind this,” she spat and Cal thought she would probably like to be spitting literal instead of figurative venom if she could. “She was livid when the jury cleared him.”
“Can you tell us which bitch you’re referring to?”
She narrowed her raccoon eyes as if they were complete idiots. Sometimes it helped if the people they were talking to made the assumption. They could learn a lot when people became frustrated and had to break things down for them. “Valentina,” she bit out.
“The jury didn’t cle
ar Mr. Duerte,” Eve said before Cal could. “The jury was hung. It means some of them thought he was guilty.”
“Same thing,” Amber said waving the objection away with both a hand and her words. “It means not enough people were willing to convict him for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“And you know this because you were with him the night he was accused of raping Valentina Perez?” Cal pressed.
She tilted her head, as if daring him to challenge her. “Yes. And because I know he would never do what she said he did. It’s ridiculous.” She shifted her tone to syrupy sweet sex appeal. “Why would he rape some girl when he has me at home to take care of his needs?”
Cal ignored it. He also didn’t bother to explain that rape wasn’t about sex.
“So, you think Ms. Perez is behind the shooting tonight?” Cal continued to push. He was familiar enough with the case against Duerte to know that the night she said she was with him, she hadn’t Snapchatted or tweeted out any locations. The jury had been presented with that information, given Ms. Browning’s propensity for alerting the world to the couple’s whereabouts.
“We were having a private night at home. We do that, you know. We need to pull back sometimes, from all the eyes.” Her voice cracked, but Cal couldn’t get a sense for whether the effect was planned or natural. “It gets to be overwhelming, having everyone watch your every move.”
He didn’t point out she was the one feeding into that by posting her whereabouts continuously.
“Can you think of anyone else who would have wanted to hurt Mr. Duerte?” Cal knew the guy wasn’t universally liked. In fact, he’d bet the guy might have more enemies than friends. He was known for his temper as much as for how hard he liked to party. He often turned on his friends and said or did whatever would catch the news cycle that day. It wouldn’t surprise Cal to know someone else would have a reason to go after him. Hell, he’d heard his former bandmates had a reason to want the guy dead. Something about selling some rights to a song without their consent. It was part of the reason the band had broken up.
“I’m telling you, it was that bitch. You need to be talking to her. You need to get out there and arrest her.” Amber threw her arm toward the door. They had closed it before they began questioning her. She might be happy to have the press’s eyes on her, but they were not.
“We’ll look into her, Ms. Browning, but we also need to follow up on every possible lead.” Cal kept his voice calm, even though the woman just rubbed him the wrong way. She seemed too damned empty, and he cringed when he thought this might be what all people her age were like. Were they headed for a world where all anyone cared about was having the right color lipstick on or whatever it was she worried about?
“If for no other reason, then to tie up all avenues of investigation, Amber,” Eve added gently, playing into Amber’s angle of focusing on Valentina. “To have a strong case, we need to rule out all possible suspects. It’s what will help us convict when we make an arrest.” She had a lot more patience than he did.
A dramatic sigh preceded it, but Amber went on to give them a list. There was the guy Duerte was suing. An old bandmate alleging he’d stolen a song and brought it to his new band. The song had made them some money and Duerte wanted his cut.
“I thought the band was suing Guy over song rights, not the other way around?” Cal didn’t miss the humor in Eve’s face at his question.
Amber blew her nose. “They are. And he’s countersuing. They stole from him, they just don’t want to admit it.”
There were two women Amber claimed were stalking Duerte. Two of his exes that showed up wherever the couple went. Cal felt like telling her she might think about the Snapchat routine if that was the case, but he kept his mouth shut. He wanted to get to the hospital to see if Duerte had survived and lecturing her on her Snapchat use wasn’t really pertinent to his case.
She threw up her hands, as though listing people who might have it out for Guy was too much to ask of her. “I don’t know. There are a lot more people out there. When you’re as successful as Guy, people tend to hate, you know?”
No, he didn’t. He nodded anyway. “Anyone who went out of their way to let him know they had a bone to pick? Any hate mail or threats? Anyone show up at his home?”
She sniffed. “No.”
They gave Amber the call-if-you-think-of-anything routine and had an officer drive her to the hospital. It would be too late by the time she got there. They received word just after the patrol car pulled away from the curb. Guy Duerte died on the operating table.
Chapter Eleven
“Does that always happen?” Cal asked Eve as they walked to the car. She was almost as tall as he was, even in the flat boots she wore with her all-business suit. He liked that there was a little flash of bright blue blouse peeking out from her buttoned-up suit coat. She somehow looked a lot more put together than he did for a midnight murder call out.
“What?” She asked, glancing sideways at him.
“The bartender. The way he asked you out after we interviewed him?” The pig had waited until they’d finished asking questions, then leaned on the bar and leered as he tried the How ‘bout I give you a call sometime line. Lame.
She shrugged a shoulder. “Often enough. You get used to it and then you get over it.”
Cal glowered and she laughed.
“You shouldn’t have to get used to that,” he said. He wanted to walk back there and deck the guy. Eve had simply declined the invitation like it was no big deal. “Seriously, we’re there to investigate a shooting and he’s trying to get in your pants. It’s not right.”
Of course, he was beginning to see the irony. He wanted the same thing. But at least he was controlling himself. He should get points for that, right? Maybe.
“Yup. Like I said, you get over it.”
He shook his head, but dropped it as they got into the car.
“What was your take on Amber?” She asked as Cal drove them toward the precinct. It was going to be a long night of writing up reports.
He shook his head and let out a whistle. “She’s a piece of work all right.”
“Do you think she was lying at the trial? About his alibi?”
There was no hesitation in Cal’s answer. “I think she would have done anything to cover for him, and that definitely includes lying about where he was. I’m not sure if she thought he really was innocent so there was no harm in lying for him, or if she thought he was good for the rape but didn’t care.”
“Well, whatever she said at the trial, she planted doubt in at least one of the jury’s minds.”
They were quiet as he drove for a long minute.
“Seriously?” He said, again. “Guys just ask you out on cases like that all the time?”
She laughed in response, and it was deep and honest and seemed to wash right over him. He liked Special Agent Eve Sands. Maybe a little too much.
Chapter Twelve
Scout pulled at the tufts of grass growing out of the headstone. The General stood to one side glowering. Coming here was a waste of time in his book. He didn’t approve of unsanctioned distractions, and there certainly wasn’t room for sentiment or emotion in his world.
It was like a stab in the heart to always have the General inside Scout’s head. Why weren’t the boys there? Why didn’t they visit?
Scout had thought that maybe coming to the cemetery would help, but there didn’t seem to be any way to get back to them. There was no going backward, apparently. Only forward. Only putting one foot in front of the other and moving on, no matter how hard doing that had become. No matter how alone that road ahead looked to be.
Ghosts. Visits from ghosts. Would there be other ghosts coming? Maybe Preiss and Duerte would show up soon. They could tag along with the General as Scout carried out the mission. That could lead to a lot more ghosts before this was over.
Scout stood and turned toward the General, nodding. It was time to go. There was more work to be done. The ghosts would hav
e to wait for another day. It was time for action. Time to see that the job was done.
Chapter Thirteen
Cal turned the car away from the curb and glanced at the woman next to him. He’d picked Eve up at the FBI building since it was easier for the two of them to be in one car for the interviews they planned to do that day. First up would be Valentina Perez. But he had to make one stop before they went there.
“Hey, uh, is it okay if I make a quick stop? I just have to drop some groceries by my sister’s place. It’s not far from here.” He was used to riding with Jarrod and hadn’t really thought through bringing Eve along to his sister’s. He should have dropped the groceries before he picked up Eve.
But there was no getting out of it now. His sister’s Rocky Road wouldn’t hold ’til the end of the day. Especially not with the length of time they were likely to put in that day. It was hard to deny the two sniper cases were related, though of course, they were waiting for official word on that.
A sniper loose in the city was going to make for a lot of very long days.
“Sure.” Eve didn’t ask why he’d be delivering groceries to his sister and he was glad. He hated when people asked questions about Joy.
He pulled to a stop two minutes later in front of the small house his sister owned just north of downtown New Haven. It was a quiet neighborhood in a safe area. Reaching in the back of the sedan, he lifted four of the six bags. He’d decided to load her up for a while given the likelihood he wouldn’t be able to get back for at least a week or more.
Eve grabbed the remaining two bags, but he came around to her side of the car and held his arms out toward the brown bags. “Just stick those on top.”
