Traffic was heavy with the after-lunch crowds on their way back to work, and every stoplight seemed to detect her vehicle and switch to red. If Haley wasn’t at either of the boys’ homes, should she go back by the girl’s house before heading to Eugenia Coleman’s? If she didn’t, she’d spend the rest of the day thinking she should have, so might as well. Driving around San Antonio all afternoon wasn’t exactly productive, but it was a diversion from thoughts of tonight’s dinner at Mama’s.
She eased past Matias’s street, slowing enough to see if any cars were parked out front. Her pulse pounded as she saw Liam’s SUV behind Haley’s truck. All three were here. Amara drove a large loop around the area but couldn’t find a place that offered a view without also exposing herself to being seen. The subdivision had two exits onto a main thoroughfare, and she backed into a spot at a convenience store about halfway between them. Couldn’t see Matias’s house, but she’d be able to see when Haley left.
She’d barely shifted the car into park when the black pickup pulled onto the street and passed in front of her. Haley was driving and seemed to be alone in the vehicle. Amara watched to make sure neither Liam’s SUV nor Matias’s Prius followed the girl, then accelerated and tailed her from a safe distance. Better to wait until they were far away from the other two teens before trying to talk to her.
If she was headed home, they could talk there. If not, Amara could flick on her lights and initiate a routine traffic stop or have a marked unit do it for her. Ahead, the truck’s right blinker flashed as Haley turned into a shopping center parking lot. Amara slowed, checked her rearview, and followed.
The girl parked at the rear of the lot, away from other cars. Amara veered off, pulled into a spot near the stores where she could observe, and opened the camera app on her phone. She zoomed in on Haley’s truck and made out the girl’s silhouette through the tinted windows. She appeared to be just sitting there staring out her windshield. Was she waiting for someone?
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Amara’s muscles twitched. If it got to fifteen minutes, she’d go over. Make sure Haley was okay and try to talk or at least get her phone number. Hopefully whatever happened at Matias’s house hadn’t affected the girl’s desire to speak.
The seconds ticked past with no change. Fourteen minutes. One more and . . . nope. She’d seen enough movies to know something bad happens in the last minute to derail everything. Not a hunch. Paranoia, plain and simple. She drove toward Haley and pulled alongside so their driver windows were next to each other.
Amara lowered hers and smiled up at the teen.
The truck window went down and Haley frowned at her. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. I got your call but I don’t have your cell number. You wanted to talk?”
“No. That was a mistake.” Her puffy eyes and red nose stood out on her face.
“Haley, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. You need to leave. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“What did they do? I know you were with Matias and Liam just now. Did they threaten you? Do they know you called me?”
She peeked out the back window. “No clue what you’re talking about. Don’t contact me again. I have a lawyer.”
Sure you do. “Understood. What’s your attorney’s name? I’ll give them a call.”
Haley waved her hand. “I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”
“I’m trying to help you.” She stared behind the girl at the reverse Haley decal. A thin, green strap hung from a hook, splitting the name in half. A dog leash. “Where’s Dexter?”
“What?”
“Dexter. Your dog. He wasn’t at your house. I knocked on the door several times and never heard a sound.”
“He’s, uh, he’s not here.”
No kidding. The beast’s yapping would’ve overpowered any attempt at conversation. “So where is he? Is that why you’ve been crying? Has something happened to your dog?”
“I have to go.”
“Haley, did Liam and Matias do something to Dexter? Why?”
The truck window started to go up but stopped halfway. The girl’s nostrils flared and she swallowed hard. “Get away from me.”
Amara clenched her jaw. Was this her fault? Because she’d tried to bluff Liam by telling him one of his friends had already called? “I can protect you.”
Haley laughed. “This is where I say you can’t even protect yourself, right? It’s true though.”
The truck window finished its upward path and Amara stared in her mirror as the vehicle drove off. Haley wasn’t going to talk. Not now. The girl feared for her safety. And using that knowledge to threaten either Liam or Matias would only make the situation worse. At this point, her best move was to wait and give the boys’ parents time to react. Hold off until tomorrow to see if any of them phoned. Gaps were beginning to appear in the teenagers’ relationships. All she needed to do was jam a crowbar in the cracks and pry them open.
She checked the clock. Still plenty of time to swing by Eugenia Coleman’s. If nothing else, the visit would allow Amara some low-stress minutes before the avalanche of emotions came tonight. She called the woman and asked if she could stop by for a few minutes.
“That would be wonderful, dear,” Ms. Coleman said. “I’ll put on a pot of decaf and get some cookies from the freezer. Would you prefer vanilla wafers or Fig Newtons? Or perhaps both?”
Decaf and thawed cookies. Why not? Her stomach had already taken a beating at lunch. Might as well make a day of it. “Your choice, but please don’t go to any trouble. Give me about, um, twenty minutes maybe? Would that be okay?”
“I have to run out later this afternoon, but I’ll be here for at least another hour.”
“No problem. Oh, and remember, I won’t be able to answer many questions. This is more to give you a chance to tell me about your grandson. I hope you understand.”
“Of course. Drive safely, dear.”
“You too.” What? “I mean, see you soon.”
She hung up and dropped the phone in a cup holder. Haley’s parting words still hovered in the air. You can’t even protect yourself. Was she referring to past events or future dangers? Both? Safe bet she knows who’s messing with my bank accounts and utilities. Amara checked her surroundings as she left the parking lot and headed for Ms. Coleman’s home. No sign that Liam or Matias was nearby.
Meet with the grandmother, then head home and check on Larry before dinner at Mama’s. It’d be a late, draining night.
But tomorrow morning, if none of the parents had called, she’d find the sledgehammer that would drive the crowbar deep into the gaps that divided the teens.
28
Eugenia Coleman’s home sat among dozens of cottages in the retirement community, each nearly identical to her own and differentiated primarily by the door decorations and whatever statuettes or knick-knacks the owner had spread around their manicured minuscule lawns. Ms. Coleman’s door displayed a red, white, and blue wreath with a pair of small American flags sticking proudly from the top at two and ten o’clock.
Amara studied it for a moment. Appropriate for July. She probably has a different one for every month. What would August’s wreath be? Dead grass and heat lamps? She knocked and stepped back as the click of the deadbolt sounded and the door swung open.
“Hello, Detective.” Ms. Coleman stood aside. “Won’t you please come in?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” To the left, a newish-looking small sofa and pair of fabric recliners were angled toward a TV. Unmatched end tables, their surface areas covered with framed photos, sat on either side of the recliners. A hallway straight ahead probably led to a bathroom and one or two bedrooms. The tiny kitchen to the right, complete with a wooden dining table not much bigger than the serving tray atop it, was immaculate.
“Have a seat,” the woman said. “Would you like some coffee?”
“That’d be wonderful.” Amara sat on the sofa as Ms. Coleman
poured the brew into a china cup, set it on a saucer, and strategically placed two fig newtons on a matching dessert plate. She repeated the process, then put everything on the wooden tray and brought it into the living room.
“Here you are, dear.” She bent forward and smiled.
Amara took hers and nodded. “Thank you.” She glanced to either side. No place to set these down. She balanced the plate in her lap and sipped the coffee. Weak. Very weak. “This is delicious.”
“I’m glad you like it.” She eased into a recliner and adjusted the tray in her lap. “I need something to catch the drips and crumbs.”
“Yes, ma’am. I wonder if you could tell me a bit about your grandson? I understand he visited quite often?”
“Yes, he did.” Her eyes moistened and the skin on her face sagged. “At least once or twice a week. We’d always been close. Paul is my only child, and when Zachary came along, well, you can imagine how excited I was.” Her hands shook and she steadied them on the armrests.
Amara pretend-sipped her coffee, nodded twice, and waited.
Just as the silence approached awkwardness, Ms. Coleman reached beside her and lifted one of the photos from the table. “This is Zachary when he was a baby.” She turned the picture so Amara could see. “His daddy always called him Zach. Not me. I liked the sound of the full name. So proper, don’t you think?”
“He was a beautiful baby.” Got to keep her focused. “I wonder if you could tell me about the last several months? Did he seem distracted or worried?”
The woman lifted her cup and saucer and blew across the coffee, then slurped a few drops. “Not at all. He was a bright boy. I could tell he was really going to be a fine young man. We sometimes talked about his future. College, of course. He wanted to study computers. Most of his chatter about that stuff went over my head, but Zachary did love to talk about it.”
Amara’s heartbeat quickened. “Can you remember anything specific? Things he might have said about his friends or what he did online?”
“Not really. I know he played video games though. Does that help?”
Not a bit. “Yes, ma’am. I wonder if you noticed any changes in him as far as his spending habits. We, uh, found some things that—”
“I know about the money.” She nibbled on a fig newton and brushed a crumb off her bottom lip. “Paul told me about it. Zachary was never a big spender. I can’t remember him ever asking to borrow money. But I’m not naive, Detective. Nobody saves that kind of money working part-time at Target. I can tell you this though. However Zachary obtained it, he didn’t do anything illegal. I’m certain of that. He would never do anything to hurt anyone.”
Would any grandmother say anything different? “I understand, but you can see our concern and why that would make his death suspicious.” She bit into her not-completely-thawed cookie. Dry and crumbly. She chased the fig newton with cold coffee. “If your grandson didn’t die of, um, natural causes, the money may point us to a suspect.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you there.” She raised her chin. “I believe Zachary’s death was related to the heat and possibly some alcohol. When the blood work comes back, you’ll see.”
That was one question answered. Did it matter to a grieving relative how their loved one died? It did to Ms. Coleman. Even if she was right, the money still needed to be explained. “Yes, ma’am.”
“But if my grandson was killed, I would want to know. Now, tell me about your investigation.”
Amara stalled by nibbling on her cookie. “I’m afraid I can’t go into the details. We remain”—confident? skeptical? optimistic?—“curious about his death.”
“Because of the money?”
“Primarily, yes.”
The woman bent forward and placed her tray on the carpet, then slid it to the side with her foot. “Primarily. What else makes you think his passing was no accident?”
“Again, I can’t go into those details at this time. I will say there are other reasons we suspect Mr. Coleman’s death may be more than it appears.”
“Other reasons.” Her voice softened. “His name was Zachary. It’s all right if you call him that.”
Her heart sank. Remember. Sympathy, not empathy. She stood and placed her dinnerware on the tray, then half squatted so she was at eye level with the elderly woman. “Ms. Coleman, I’m very sorry about Zachary.”
“Thank you, dear.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “I miss him terribly.”
Voices filtered through the front door, followed by a sturdy knock.
“That’s my ride,” Ms. Coleman said. “We’re going to pick up some flowers and go visit a friend’s grave. Dorothy Engers. Lovely lady. Seems I do a lot of that these days. Visiting cemeteries, I mean.”
Amara squeezed the woman’s hand, careful not to apply too much pressure, then picked up the tray and carried it to the kitchen. “I try to go on the eighteenth of every month to see my dad. Make sure the tombstone is clean, take a marigold, stuff like that.” She placed the dishes in the sink. “It helps me remember him. Not that I could ever forget.”
“I understand completely.” The grandmother pushed herself out of the chair and opened the front door. “Come in, ladies. I’ll be ready in just a moment.”
Two women stepped into the coolness of the home and nodded to Amara.
“Oh,” Ms. Coleman said. “Forgive my manners. This is Amara Alvarez. Amara, this is Patricia and Mary Ann. Give me just a moment to use the restroom and get my purse and I’ll be ready to go.” She wandered down the hallway out of sight.
The two visitors maintained their positions by the door and stared as Amara squirted some blue dishwashing liquid onto a wet rag and cleaned the tableware. Patricia and Mary Ann, but which was which?
After a few uneasy moments of silence, one of the women spoke. “If I may ask, how do you know Eugenia?”
Amara kept a noncommittal expression. Twenty bucks says they think I’m her new maid. “Friend of the family,” she said. “Stopped by to check on Ms. Coleman.”
“That’s sweet of you,” the other woman said. “We’ve all been worried about her. Eugenia’s had a rough few weeks.”
“Yes, she has,” Amara said. A toilet flushed in the back of the house. No secrets in a small home. “Was she good friends with, um, Ms. Engers, was it?”
“Yes,” the first woman said. “Dorothy Engers. We really only met her recently. She had no other family, at least none that we knew of. When she fell and broke her hip, we went to see her at the hospital several times. And when she came back here to do her rehab, we would go sit with her regularly. Her death was quite a shock.”
“Mmm,” the other lady said. “She fell again. Hit her head this time and bled out, they say.”
The first woman frowned. “Tact was never your strong suit, Mary Ann. Dorothy was on blood thinners and took a tumble during the night on the way to the restroom. When they found her several hours later, it was too late.”
Amara used a dishtowel to dry the dinnerware and wipe her hands. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Ms. Coleman walked into the room and glanced into the kitchen. “Oh, dearie, you didn’t have to do that. Thank you.” She clutched her purse in front of her. “Ladies, shall we go?”
“I’ll follow you out,” Amara said. “Don’t stay in the sun too long. This heat is dangerous.” The for people your age remained unspoken.
“Nonsense,” Mary Ann said. “We’ve been visiting for six or seven weeks. A few minutes in the sun never hurt anyone.”
Patricia clucked her tongue and lowered her voice. “Could you be less sensitive? Heatstroke?” She nodded toward Ms. Coleman. “Her grandson? And besides, it’s only been five weeks since Dorothy passed.”
Mary Ann’s eyes widened. “I am so sorry, Eugenia. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Ms. Coleman flicked her hand. “You didn’t. Five weeks? Are you certain, Patricia?”
“Of course I am. My memory’s as good as it’s ever been.”
Mary
Ann giggled. “That’s not saying much.”
A tinge of pink appeared in Patricia’s cheeks. “I remember it well. It was the night the phones and air-conditioning and everything else quit working.”
Amara crinkled her forehead. “Quit working? What do you mean?”
“Computer hiccup,” Ms. Coleman said. “That’s the way it is these days. Everything all tied together. Zachary tried to explain it to me, but at my age, why bother trying to remember things like that?”
A glitch in the computers? She ran a finger across the sweat beading on her upper lip. Had the retirement community been hacked too? She checked her watch. No time to follow up on it today. Couldn’t be late to Mama’s. “Pleasure to meet you ladies.”
She waited until they were all in their car and the air-conditioning was running before striding toward her vehicle. If this place had been hacked, would their IT people know that? Was the death of Dorothy Engers somehow related to the outage? And what did all that mean to her investigation?
Her mind whirred with the possibilities. Finally, another route forward. Maybe.
But that was for tomorrow.
Tonight was about family.
29
Amara was the last to arrive at her mother’s house, not because she was late, but because her brothers and sisters were early. Wylie was there too, of course, smiling and making small talk. Heat or not, dinners at Mama’s were outside unless the rain, or on even rarer occasions, the cold interrupted. She grabbed an icy drink from the cooler, dragged a lawn chair beside Wylie, and sat.
The normal joviality of the family had given way to nervous laughs and somber voices. Even the kids seemed subdued as they half-heartedly chased each other around the yard. She ran her palm along the condensation of the drink can and glanced at Wylie. His eyes told her what his relaxed countenance didn’t. This wasn’t good.
Network of Deceit Page 15
