by Lori Ryan
She gave him a look like he’d lost his mind and gestured toward the house. “I’ll get them.”
He gave a shrug and went up the walk. His sister was used to Jarrod coming by to help, but he’d never brought anyone else. Since Eve was a woman, it likely wouldn’t be a huge deal. He hoped.
He unlocked the door, but called out to Joyce as soon as he opened it. “Joy, it’s me. I’ve got your groceries and I have a friend with me.” He stopped then and stood in the entranceway until Joy appeared. She poked her head around the corner from the kitchen, looking first to him, then to Eve, then back to him. A small smile played on her lips. She wore one of the large shapeless men’s button down shirts she typically wore when painting, and had the telltale smudges of blues and purples on her hands and cheek. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail and her bright eyes sparkled as she smiled at them. Joy always had the ability to make him smile.
“Joyce, this is Eve Sands. Special Agent Eve Sands. She’s with the FBI.” He added the credentials, hoping to set Joy at ease.
Joyce nodded slightly. “Hello.”
Eve returned the greeting, then moved forward with the grocery bags. “Where should I put these?”
Joyce moved into the kitchen, back-peddling away from Eve before gesturing to the counter. “You can pop them there. I’ll put them away in a minute.”
Eve looked around as she did as Joyce had asked, and Cal had to grin at the expression on her face. He looked at the room through a stranger’s eyes and had to admit, it was impressive. His sister had had the whole back half of the kitchen converted when she’d moved in. It was one enormous wall of windows that bowed out in a half circle. Light poured in. His sister’s easel sat in the center of it, and stacked along the base of the wall on either side were works she had ready to go to one of the galleries that carried her pieces.
Anyone looking at the room or her paintings would never know she didn’t leave the house very much. The yard out back was closed in by a tall stone wall. Without it, Joy wouldn’t have been able to handle the exposure of those windows. The thought of being on the other side of that wall sent her into such sheer panic, she’d hyperventilate and need medication to settle herself. Well, that wasn’t completely true. She could go to his mom’s house as long as he drove her, and she’d been making other small improvements lately with the help of a new therapist.
Her house, their mom’s house, and Cal himself seemed to be safe zones for her, but they were working on adding to those. It would be a long process, though. She’d been battling this anxiety for years, and it didn’t stem from thin air. She had very valid reasons for not feeling safe outside.
The paintings Eve looked at depicted ruins in Ancient Greece, mountainside villas in Italy, and crumbling castles in the Irish countryside. But they were more than that. They were his sister’s interpretations of those places. She painted what she saw and it came out a swirl of color blending into color. He was a rugged cop who had managed to dull his emotions a long time ago, yet Joy somehow still managed to pull emotion from him with her paintings.
“These are incredible,” Eve breathed, moving toward the paintings, and he could see by the look on her face, she meant it. She looked up at Joy, and he was glad to see his sister smiling. “May I?” Eve asked, gesturing toward the easel.
She moved forward when Joyce nodded. Cal grinned and began to unpack the bags, tossing the frozen items into the freezer first. He could hear snippets of the conversation and froze when Eve asked if Joyce had been to all of the places she painted. He waited for the inevitable questions when Joy answered.
They didn’t come. Eve accepted Joyce’s answer that she painted from what she’d seen in photographs and videos online. She didn’t press her to explain why she wouldn’t want to travel and see things with her own eyes. Smell them, taste the food, listen to the people. In fact, Eve marveled all the more at Joyce’s talent for her having never seen the places she painted.
“We should get going,” Cal said quietly.
Joyce looked up and smiled as she realized he’d put away all the groceries. “You didn’t have to do all that.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t mind. I probably won’t be back this week, but I’ll check in by phone.”
She gave him one of those brows raised looks and waved him off. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need you babysitting me.”
He knew that was true. She could have her groceries delivered and let the driver leave them at the door for her to collect. But he always felt better knowing she had some company.
Eve followed him out and he started them on the route to see Valentina Perez.
“I like your sister.” Eve said this simply and he knew she wasn’t fishing for the story. Most people either flat out asked or fished. Not that he brought people around to Joyce’s all the time. He was a little protective of her. Maybe it was because Eve didn’t ask that he found himself offering the information.
“She doesn’t leave her house so I bring her groceries.”
Eve nodded. “She said that. I still can’t believe she brings such life to her paintings when she’s only working from photos. It’s incredible. Does she sell her work?”
He nodded. “Yes. she’s got galleries in a few cities that show them for her, or whatever it is they call it. She also does commissioned pieces sometimes, but she doesn’t like that as much. Says it makes her feel too boxed in.”
Eve murmured her understanding, but was otherwise quiet, staring out the windshield as he drove.
“She was gang raped when she was nineteen. Her first year at college in upstate New York. She never recovered from it.” Hell, he still hadn’t recovered from it.
He could feel Eve’s eyes on him, but when he looked, there wasn’t that typical look of pity or the look that said he shouldn’t have shared such an ugly fact with her. No, her eyes burned with anger.
“Did they get them?” She asked quietly. She knew as well as he did that not every case was closed. Sometimes, there just wasn’t anything to go on.
He shook his head. “No. She couldn’t identify them. She was asleep when they broke in. They threw a pillowcase over her head and tied her arms to the bed so there were no scrapings under her nails. She wasn’t able to give the police anything, and the attackers used condoms.”
He paused a minute. “I always thought the guys would strike again, you know? That the M.O. would show up again and they’d eventually catch a break. Find a lead.”
“They didn’t?” Her surprise came through in her voice. It was the type of crime that seemed like it would be repeated. And in all likelihood, it probably wasn’t the first time the men had done it.
“Not in New York City or any of the other places I’ve run through the system since I made the force. I always wonder if the group is moving around. Maybe in jurisdictions where they wouldn’t end up in a computerized system.” That was a serial criminal’s best hope of going undetected. Traveling to small towns and jurisdictions where the crimes wouldn’t be tied together. Which made it odd that they’d hit in New York.
She nodded. “Possible. Seems unlikely that it would be a one-time thing.”
“That’s what I’ve always thought.” There was a someday undertone to his voice. Something that said someday he’d get them. That he hadn’t given up hope after all this time.
“Is that when you decided to join the force?”
He nodded.
“So you still believed you could make a difference as a cop even after the police weren’t able to bring your sister justice?”
He tossed her a grin. “What can I say? I’m an idiot that way.”
“Ha!”
“What does that mean?” He changed lanes and moved toward their exit.
“It means you’re no idiot. I checked you out when we were partnered up. Your record is solid. More than solid. And people respect you.”
He ignored the compliments. He hated compliments. “Yeah, well.” He looked in the rearview mirror, probably f
ocusing a little more than he needed to on the road. “I thought I’d head to New York when I graduated. Join the force there and go after the guys that took her life from her. Then,” he shrugged, “turns out, I couldn’t leave her. And there were no leads anyway, so it would have been foolish. She needs me here.”
“A lot of guys would have done the easier thing and headed to New York to chase ghosts, whether for pride or because it was too hard to continue to face your sister here. You did the strong thing and stayed by her side.”
They rode in silence the rest of the way. When they got out of the car, he stopped her, one hand resting on her arm. He had to ignore the spark of attraction that brought out. Neither the time nor the place. “Hey, take the lead in there, okay?”
She nodded at him and he knew she got it. She got a lot of shit without him having to explain his thinking to her. He liked that. A lot.
Chapter Fourteen
Eve led the way to Valentina Perez’s apartment and knocked on the door. Cal was at her back, and she took the minute that gave her to collect her thoughts. He’d thrown her off balance more than once so far that morning and they’d only been together for an hour.
Her first impression of him had been that he was a good cop. Not a by-the-book guy exactly, but good nonetheless. Or maybe good because of that.
Regardless, she had thought him a bit of a hothead the day before. Today, her assessment had gone down the drain. A hothead would have gone after her sister’s rapists no matter the cost to his sister. A hothead would have gone in and questioned Valentina Perez without concern for the woman, because hell, they had a sniper to catch.
She knew he wanted to catch this sniper as badly as she did, but he’d stepped up and let Eve lead the questioning with Valentina and she knew why. She knew he was stepping back so Valentina wouldn’t have to answer hard questions from a man after what she’d been through. Because they had to ask this woman some hard questions. It was their job.
Cal was acknowledging they didn’t have to do it in a way that didn’t give at least a little thought and respect to what she’d been through.
There was no doubting this woman had been the victim of a brutal rape. That had never been contested. What was at issue was whether she’d properly identified her attacker. It was her word against that of their sniper victim, Guy Duerte. And maybe, just maybe, when the court had let him walk free, she’d decided she couldn’t handle that. Couldn’t watch him walk away.
Eve knocked on the door and then held her badge up in front of the peephole and called out through the door. “Valentina Perez, I’m Special Agent Eve Sands with the FBI. I need to ask you some questions.” She knew the poor woman had probably been fielding calls and visits from the media all day. In fact, Eve was pretty sure the only reason there was no one here right now was because the shooting of Duerte had taken center stage. She would bet Valentina had her phone unplugged.
It took a minute, but Eve held her badge up the entire time, waiting until she heard a lock slide back and the door open. Defiant angry eyes met her, and Eve was almost relieved to see it. If Valentina was angry, that meant she was healing. Unless of course, she’d been the one responsible for Guy Duerte’s death. But Eve was pulling for this girl. She wanted her to be innocent and she wanted her to rise from the ashes of the hell her life had likely been turned into.
“Hello, Ms. Perez. I’m Special Agent Eve Sands,” Eve said again, “and this is Detective Cal Rylan with the New Haven Police Department.”
Cal stood back away from the door a bit and held his credentials up for Valentina to read.
“We need to speak with you about Guy Duerte,” Eve said.
“Is he really dead?” She chewed at her lower lip as she asked this.
“He is.”
If Eve wasn’t mistaken, Valentina seemed to take a deep, slow breath, as though her chest had just gained some freedom it hadn’t had for a long time.
Valentina stepped back and let them into the apartment, moving toward a couch and two chairs in the small living space. The apartment was cluttered, but neat.
Eve took the chair across from Valentina, who took the couch. Cal took the chair slightly to the left.
“Can you tell us when you heard about Duerte’s death?” Eve began.
Valentina shrugged. “A friend from a rape survivors group texted me about seven this morning after she saw it on the news. A few other people called or texted throughout the day to tell me. And, of course, the press started calling right away.”
“Have any of them shown up here?” Cal asked.
“The press? Yes, a few, but I don’t answer the door.”
“How did you feel about Duerte’s release yesterday? About the jury?” Eve asked.
Anger flashed again in those deep brown eyes. “How did I feel? Pissed off. Sick to my stomach.” Her tone quieted. “Desperate.”
Eve tilted her head. “Desperate enough to do something about it?”
A rough laugh came from Valentina. “Yeah. I Googled how to be a sniper and got myself a gun. I’d say I did pretty good for my first time out. What do you think?”
“You could have hired someone to do it for you.” Eve pressed. “You have to feel safer now that he’s not out there on the streets.”
Tears pooled behind those eyes now, and there was sorrow there, where anger had been moments before. This woman had to be on a roller coaster ride of emotion the likes of which Eve had never been through.
Valentina’s chin came up. “I do feel safer. And I’m not sorry he’s dead. The man didn’t deserve to walk free. He was sick and he was dangerous.” She swallowed. “I’m not a killer, though. I didn’t do this and I didn’t have it done.”
“Can you tell us where you were last night between ten and one?” Eve asked for the details they would need for their report. What she’d said to Duerte’s girlfriend before had been the truth. Part of building a good case meant ruling out all potential suspects, so when you did make an arrest, your suspect couldn’t paint someone else as the guilty party. Reasonable doubt would kill your conviction.
“I was here. Sleeping.”
“Can anyone confirm that?”
“No. I was alone. My neighbor saw me come in about eight o’clock. I haven’t been out yet today, but of course, there’s no one that can testify to that.” She made a face. “I don’t have a girlfriend willing to lie in court to get me off.”
Eve looked to Cal and he gave a small shake of his head. There was nothing here. They’d talk to some of her neighbors, see if anyone had seen her leave her apartment the night before, but his gut was telling him this woman wasn’t their killer.
The sad thing was, his gut also told him Guy’s girlfriend had been lying to cover for him. He had a bad feeling the justice system had let this woman down in a big way yesterday.
Chapter Fifteen
“What do you think?” Cal asked as they got into the car. They’d talked to several of Valentina’s neighbors. The woman next door confirmed that she saw Valentina come in “an hour or two after dinner” but she couldn’t say whether Valentina stayed in or not. No one reported seeing her leave either last night or the night before.
“She’s not completely in the clear, but I don’t like her for this. She was a student before the rape. She left school. I don’t see her having the money for a hitman. I ran her financials. There’s nothing there. Her parents don’t have the money to make this happen.” Eve was listing what Cal already knew.
“Yeah. I think you’re right. Can’t clear her officially, but I don’t feel like this is the right lead for us to be chasing.”
“So where to next?” Eve asked.
Cal hadn’t pulled out of the spot in Valentina’s apartment complex yet. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger and shook his head. “The guy wasn’t a nice guy. It’s entirely possible someone took advantage of the fact that everyone would assume Valentina was guilty after the hung jury.”
“Which still points us towa
rd a gun for hire in town,” Eve said.
“If it is, business is booming.”
“Yeah. I don’t like the timing.”
Cal gave her a look, and voiced what they were both thinking. “Vigilante?”
“Possible, but how would they have gotten word about Preiss being taken over to the FBI to talk about a deal? Everyone knew about Duerte’s release, and I get that a vigilante shooter could have tracked Duerte through his girlfriend’s social media postings, but a witness being brought over to the FBI? How would our killer get that?”
The headache that had started behind Cal’s eyes wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon. He didn’t want to look at the possibility of an inside job here. “Could be a copycat. Your guy gets taken out by a shooter for the Genesio family, and then someone takes advantage of that to take out Duerte? Two different killers.”
Eve gave him a look that said it was a stretch. He was used to working with Jarrod. They had a pattern when they worked a case. They each had to offer two other possible explanations for the evidence they were collecting. It kept them from getting tunnel vision.
“Are you going to stick around? Keep working the case? It’s looking like this might not be connected to the Genesios. Could be harder to justify sticking with it to your boss,” he said, and found he really didn’t want her to leave. His reaction surprised him.
“If I can convince your boss and mine, I will. As long as there’s a possibility Genesio might have hired this hit or been tied to it, I’ll keep working it. Is that a problem for you?”
He raised his hands. “Not for me. Can’t see why my boss would turn down the help. Jarrod’s out at least a week. FBI resources might help us bring this guy down faster.”
Eve nodded, but he got the sense there was something she wasn’t saying.
“You’re not eager to get back to Genesio?” Cal gave her a sideways glance. There was definitely something she wasn’t saying.
She wasn’t going to share with him. She made that clear when she shrugged off his question. “You never know, maybe this does lead back to him.”
