“It’s a suspicious ‘shit.’”
“What?” Mark asked.
“Agent Miles made five nine-thousand-nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine-dollar deposits into his account last year. Two were the same month the Sala case went bad. Before that, his account was overdrawn.”
“That is suspicious,” Connor said. “Isn’t ten thousand the number that requires monies be reported to the Treasury Department?”
“Yup,” Juan answered.
“Damn,” Mark said. “We need to delve deeper into Agent Miles. Look into his family, make sure he doesn’t have a rich mama, or hasn’t inherited anything lately.”
At almost five that afternoon, they hadn’t found any departed family members who could have left Agent Miles money, but he did have a rich mama. Unfortunately, Mrs. Miles was on a cruise ship and couldn’t be reached. They left a message and emailed her.
“Should we confront Miles?”
“No,” Mark said. “Let’s wait to talk to his mother. If we accuse him first, he might convince her to lie for him.”
“Someone owes me a steak dinner.” Mildred stormed into the office.
“You found something?” Mark asked.
“Tell me this doesn’t look like the same woman.” She put two pictures on Mark’s desk.
Mark leaned forward. Connor and Juan jumped up to check themselves.
Connor stared at the images. The same dark brown eye color, the same facial features. “Looks like it to me,” Connor said. “Who is this?”
“Linda Kramer. That’s the name she went by when the police interviewed her about Brie’s missing sister. But this”—she pointed to the mug shot from a file—“claims her name is Regina Berger.” Mildred’s smile beamed with pride. “I swear, if I keep helping you guys solve your cases, you’re going to have to give me a badge.”
“Wasn’t Kramer the roommate?” Mark asked.
Connor nodded and plopped down on his desk chair to type “Regina Berger” into the database. While it searched, he looked up at Mildred. “If I find her, you can order lobster with that steak.”
“Yum. I love lobster. And if I find another one, I expect someone to treat me to a pedicure. I want my toes to look pretty while I’m eating my fancy dinner.”
* * *
Connor pulled into the parking lot of a new upscale apartment complex on the swanky side of town, while Juan and Mark went back to studying the Sala case files. Mildred was searching for restaurants that served steak and lobster and had agreed to take home the rest of the files in hopes of getting pretty toes.
As Connor walked past a new Lexus and an array of other expensive cars in the parking lot, he realized whatever work Regina was doing these days, it paid a lot better than being a detective. Not only were the cars in the lot high-end, but the apartment had to cost upward of two thousand a month.
Definitely a step up, considering Regina Berger had priors that included shoplifting and a three-year-old warrant for a Class B misdemeanor for weed. Which is probably why she’d used an alias while working at the Black Diamond. But thanks to a routine traffic stop three months ago, her car registration had revealed her real name, and she was arrested.
She’d immediately hired a fancy lawyer and got off with a fine and a slap on the wrist.
Connor headed to apartment 106 and rang the bell. He could hear music inside, but no one answered.
A man in his early forties walked up to the apartment next door.
“Excuse me?” Connor asked. “Does Regina Berger live here?”
The man offered a noncommittal shrug. “A woman and her daughter live there.”
“Is she in her twenties, brunette?”
“Yeah. The mom’s got dark hair and eyes, and as you can hear, she likes her music way too loud.”
“Thanks.” Connor watched the guy walk into his apartment.
He poked the doorbell again. When that didn’t get him anywhere, he knocked. The loud music stopped. He knocked again.
“Alright already,” someone called.
The door opened and the young woman holding a phone to her ear and a wine cooler in her hand was indeed Regina Berger. Granted, the woman wearing a black skirt, red blouse, and a frown, looked a hell of a lot better than either of her mug shots.
Her eyes lifted and her frown turned to a smile.
“Regina Berger?” he asked.
“Just a minute,” she said into her phone, “I’ve got a very hot guy standing at my door.” She lowered the phone to her cheek and gave him a slow once-over, then grinned widely. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m Detective Pierce with APD.” He pulled back his jacket to show his badge. It never failed. Within two seconds of showing his ID, he always knew how the talk was going to go. From her sudden loss of color, his gut said this one wasn’t going to go easy. His gut also said he’d just lost his hot status.
Damn, he hated when that happened.
He continued to stare at her, but over her shoulder he saw a few toy dolls and a baby bottle scattered on the floor.
She hung up the phone. “I took care of that warrant.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know. I’m here about another matter. Do you mind if I come in?”
“What matter?” She stayed poised in the doorway.
“A Linda Kramer matter?”
Her olive coloring paled some more.
“Because”—he pulled the mug shot from his front pocket—“she looks a lot like you.”
Her mouth thinned. “Look, I’ve got…I don’t have time for games. If you need to talk to me, you can contact my lawyer.”
“Wow. I’m here to ask a few questions and you’re wanting a lawyer. That’s not a good sign.”
“I’m not…Fine. Ask your questions and leave.”
“Did you ever use that name, Ms. Berger?”
“If there are any warrants under that name, they aren’t mine.”
“So you admit to using a fake name and Social Security card.”
“I’ll pay the taxes, if that’s what this is about.”
“Why did you lie about who you were?”
“Because I had a warrant—which I’ve since taken care of—and there was a bartender at the Black Diamond who could get you a new ID for three hundred dollars.”
“Did you share an apartment with an Alma Ronan?”
Her eyes widened. “I already spoke to the police about her disappearance.”
“We have a few more questions.”
“Well, I don’t have any more answers.”
“Can I please come in? We can talk here, or you can come down to the station.”
She still hesitated before pushing open the door. “You only have a minute. My baby needs a bottle.”
As he walked in, he almost stepped on a stuffed pink dinosaur. As nice as the place was, it could really have used a cleaning. He sat at the dining room table right off the entrance. Trying to focus on her and not on the plate of half-eaten food, which appeared to have been there for a while, he frowned.
“Care to join me?” He waited until she sat down before he spoke again. “Thank you.”
She rubbed her palms on her black skirt, as if they were sweating. What did she have to sweat about? Did she know something about Alma Ronan’s murder?
He pulled his notebook out of his coat pocket. “How long did you know Alma Ronan?”
“Not long. We worked at the Black Diamond at the same time. We were both having a hard time making ends meet so we moved in together.”
“Looks like you’re doing okay now.”
“Is that a crime?”
Her attitude was beginning to grate on him. “Depends. What kind of work do you do?”
“I work at a maid service.”
“You’re a maid?”
“I work there. I’m not a maid.”
“I see.” His gaze went back to the plates on the table.
He looked down at the pad again. “When was the last time you saw Alma?”
“
I don’t know. Sometime in May. She just disappeared one day.”
He met her nervous gaze. “That’s odd.”
“What’s odd?” She rubbed her hands on the black skirt again.
“Back in June, you told the detective that she moved out.”
“She did.” She fidgeted in her seat. “That’s what I mean by disappeared.”
Regina Berger sucked at lying. “Have you spoken with her?”
She hesitated. It was a baited question. Would she bite? “Yeah. She called not too long ago.”
“When was this?”
“A few weeks ago. I don’t remember exactly.”
Right then the sound of a child crying came from the back.
“My baby. I need to get her.”
He nodded. As soon as she took off down the hall, he phoned his office. Mark answered.
“What’s up?”
“The roommate is lying through her teeth. I’m going to bring her in.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“No. And she has a baby. So I’ll need someone there to handle that.”
“I’ll get someone.”
He hung up. The crying continued. Louder. Then louder. One, two, three minutes passed. He stood up. “Regina?” he called out.
She didn’t answer.
He walked down the hall. The door at the end was open, but the crying kid appeared to be behind the closed door to his right. He moved to the door at the end and saw there was a back patio and the door was open. “Dammit!” She’d taken off. He started to run after her, but he heard the baby again. He couldn’t leave the child.
“Shit!”
Chapter Eighteen
What do I do? It keeps crying.” Connor gripped the phone, staring at the baby, now red-faced, nose running, sitting up in the crib. He had called in a BOLO for Regina Berger and had Juan and Mark researching what kind of car she drove.
“It? Is it a girl or boy?” Mildred asked, and Connor struggled to hear what she said over the baby’s screams.
“I don’t know. Can’t you come here?” Juan and Mark were supposed to be on the way, but Connor suspected they weren’t any more equipped to take care of a baby than he was. When he called the office, he’d discovered Mildred had left the precinct, so he’d called her cell.
“I told you, I’m babysitting for my neighbor. I’m supposed to be there in five minutes. Poor thing, I can hear the screaming. Are you holding it?”
“No.”
“Well, pick it up.”
“I don’t know how!”
“How old is the baby?”
“I don’t know.”
“Men,” she snapped. “How big is he or she?”
“Bigger than a puppy,” he answered.
“Is the baby sitting up? Standing up?”
“It was standing, now it’s sitting.”
“Then you can’t break it. Just pick it up.”
He walked over to the crib. The baby screamed harder. “It doesn’t like me.”
“Pick the baby up!”
He put the phone between his shoulder and his ear, and reaching under the child’s arms, he picked it up. It squirmed, but he held on tight.
“Okay, I got it. He held the child up a few feet away from his body. “But it’s still screaming.”
“Does it have a dirty diaper?”
“How can I tell?”
He could swear she laughed. “Smell it. Or stick your finger inside the diaper. The latter one is kind of dangerous.”
He lifted the child closer and sniffed. “Oh gawd, it stinks.”
She laughed, and this time he heard it clear as day. “Are there any diapers around? A changing table?”
Connor looked around. “I see diapers. I don’t know what a changing table is.”
“A table with a flat surface where you can lay the baby. But don’t let the baby roll off.”
“I can’t do this,” he said.
“Connor, this isn’t disarming a bomb. You can do this. I’ll walk you through it.”
Ten minutes later, he’d managed to change the diaper and was pacing with the baby in his arms. It, or rather she, had curled against his shoulder and was breathing in shaky breaths.
The doorbell rang and he hurried to answer it.
Mark and Juan both stood on the other side of the door.
“Did you find her?” Connor asked.
“No,” Juan said, then both of his partners burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny.”
“I don’t know, Mildred called us, and if you could have heard her tell the story it was hilarious,” Mark said, laughing so hard he could barely talk. “I heard you gagged changing the diaper.”
“Take her.” He pulled the child off his chest. The baby screamed.
“No!” Both guys backed up like he’d offered them a poisonous snake.
Connor brought the crying child back to his chest. She buried her face against him, and the crying at least lowered in volume.
“If she were five or older, I could do it,” Juan said. “I’m an expert with five-year-olds. But I have no experience with them any younger.”
“Don’t you have nephews?” Connor asked Mark.
“Yeah, but I never babysat them.”
“Did you check and see if Regina had any family?” Connor began bouncing the baby when she started crying harder. He’d found she stopped crying when he did that.
Mark shook his head. “Regina grew up in foster care. But I called CPS. Unfortunately, they probably won’t be here for several hours.”
“Damn,” Connor said. “Mildred said we needed to feed her. I found some formula in the kitchen. But all the bottles are dirty. Can one of you wash a bottle and fill it with formula?”
“I think I can handle that,” Mark said.
Connor tried to put the baby back in her bed, but she started screaming again.
An hour later, Connor was holding a fed and sleeping child against his chest when the CPS worker, Mary Stanley, showed up. She was a middle-aged woman who looked crumpled, exhausted, and at wit’s end. Connor continued to hold the baby while the woman filled out paperwork.
“Do you know the child’s father?”
“No,” Connor said. “We came to ask her mom some questions about a case and she fled. We have nothing.”
“And the mother has no family?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard what Connor said.
“Our records show she grew up in foster care,” Mark answered.
“Great,” the woman said and sighed. “First, we take care of them and then their kids.”
For some reason that annoyed Connor. It sounded as if she blamed the baby for her mother’s abandonment.
“Does the mother work? Who cares for the child during the day?”
“We don’t know,” Connor answered, this time frustration sounded in his voice. “Like I said, we just came to ask her some questions.” Then he remembered. “She said she worked at a maid service?”
The woman made a note of that. “Is the child sick?”
Connor looked at the baby. “I…I don’t know.”
She came over and examined the child quickly. “She doesn’t look it.”
Connor almost asked where she’d gotten her medical degree, but bit it back.
Then Ms. Stanley haphazardly packed a bag with some diapers, clothes, bottles, baby wipes, and formula.
When she took the baby from Connor’s arms, the child screamed.
“Bounce her,” Connor said. “She’ll stop crying.”
The woman frowned. “I got this.”
But she didn’t. She didn’t start bouncing. The child screamed harder and held her hands out to Connor.
Connor’s arms suddenly felt empty. “Bounce her,” he repeated. The woman frowned at him and started out. He followed her to the door. “Where are you taking her?”
“To a temporary foster home. If you find her mom, call CPS.”
Connor wanted to lash out at the woman for her incompeten
ce. Instead, he targeted the real villain. “What kind of mother leaves her child with a stranger?” he spat out the question to Mark and Juan.
“A piss-poor one,” Juan said.
“Fuck! I can’t believe I let her get away.”
“That’s not on you. You didn’t know she’d run,” Juan said.
Connor looked at his partners. “You think the kid is okay?”
Before they could answer, Connor’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket.
He looked at Juan. “It’s Detective Quarrels from Vice.”
* * *
The doorbell woke Brie up from a dead sleep. She jackknifed up, causing Psycho to bolt off the mattress. She caught her breath and looked at the clock. It was nine p.m.
She’d come home from the hospital around three and started going over her sister’s file. When she couldn’t keep her eyes open, she’d decided to grab a power nap. So powerful, she’d slept five hours.
Brushing her hair off her face, she scooted off the bed. A knock now sounded at her door.
Remembering her place had been broken into, and the only thing protecting her from an intruder was the old-fashioned slide lock Connor had attached, she grabbed her gun off the bedside table.
Connor had left a message that the perp she’d caught on her nanny cam had been arrested, and Dunn had been given the cover story, but considering she seldom had visitors…better safe than sorry.
She went to the front window and pulled back the curtain. Connor stood perched on her doorstep, looking unhappy. His frown said something bad had happened. Her first thought was Carlos, but surely someone would have called her. Still, she hurried and opened the door.
“What is it?” She stepped back as he walked in.
“Were you asleep?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We found Regina Berger.”
“Who?”
“Linda Kramer. Her real name is Regina Berger. Your sister’s roommate.”
Wasn’t this good news? He didn’t look happy. “Does she know anything?”
“She’s definitely hiding something.”
“What’s she saying?” She shut the door.
“Nothing now. She got away.”
Brie pulled her hair back. “Then how do you know she’s hiding something?”
Don't Look Back Page 17
