by Jenifer Ruff
Before she’d accomplished much, Rivera stopped outside her door. “Come with me to the ME’s office?” He twirled a set of keys in his hand.
“Because you don’t want to be alone with Rebecca?” Victoria laughed. “Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed she has a thing for you.”
Rivera grunted. “I’ve noticed.”
“She reminds me of a young Oprah. She’s been divorced at least two years now. Not sure why you don’t ask her out.”
“So, are you coming or not?”
“Sure. Just giving you a hard time. I was thinking the same anyway.” Victoria closed her laptop and stood up. “Let’s see what Rebecca has to say about the last two victims. I’ll meet you in the parking garage. What car number?”
“Number three. But I’ll wait for you.”
She stopped. “Rivera, you know I can take care of myself. I don’t need a personal escort.”
“Maybe I don’t want to walk out there alone. You think of that?”
She laughed. “Fine. Give me a minute.”
# # #
An accident on the highway had traffic at a standstill. Victoria pulled a protein bar from a pocket in her backpack. “In case of emergency.” She held it up. “Want half?”
“No, thanks. But I’ve got to eat something. You mind stopping somewhere?”
“No. I’m hungry, too.” She dropped the bar back into her bag. “When you get to the next exit, there’s a little Mexican place on South Boulevard. I know the owners. We used to do spin classes together.”
“Sounds great.” His stomach growled. “Told you.”
“You shouldn’t skip breakfast.” Victoria laughed. “We’re almost there.”
Inside The Cantina, the Monday lunch crowd was sparse and they had their pick of the red vinyl booths. Both agents ordered tacos and Rivera ordered a Coke. The waiter delivered waters and a basket of chips with salsa. Rivera dug in to them without hesitating while Victoria turned on her tablet and opened her notes. She had to lean toward Rivera to be heard over the music. “What do we still need to follow up on in our search for a connection?”
Rivera dipped two chips into the bowl of salsa and spoke between bites. “Our background checks covered their previous locations, work histories, insurance agents, gym memberships. There’s nothing. It’s like you said—she’s getting revenge for something they did to her.”
“Wish we had a crystal ball right now. Okay. We need to dig deeper on this. And let’s go back to the Sonesta Hotel after the ME’s office.”
“You think the detectives are holding back on us?”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just, we need to go back.”
Rivera grabbed another handful of chips. “What would make you angry enough to go after people like that?”
“Hmm. Well, if I was crazy and disturbed enough to have a hit list, anyone who tortures animals would be at the top of it.”
“Ahh. That was too easy. I should have guessed it.”
“How about you?”
He drained most of his water and set it down. “Pedophiles? Yeah, that’s it. Perverts that victimize children.”
“So if you saw someone assaulting a child, you would go after them?”
“Absolutely.”
“So what did our killer see them do?”
Rivera shook his head. “Or maybe we’re looking at it in reverse. Maybe the question is—what did they see her do?”
Victoria shook her head and dropped it into her hands. “I don’t have any idea.”
Rivera stood up. “Be right back. Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine.” She tapped the top of her almost full glass of water. “Thanks.”
Rivera returned at the same time the food arrived. He stood next to the booth while the waiter placed their platters on the table. He took his seat once the waiter left. “No work-talk while we eat. Let’s see if we can do it.”
Victoria smiled and powered off her tablet. “So, are you and Renee still good friends?”
“We’re friends. We don’t talk much. She’s seeing someone.”
Victoria lifted her taco for a first bite. “Is it serious?”
Rivera shrugged and dug into his own food.
Victoria took his limited response as a lack of interest in the topic. She dabbed at her lip with her napkin. “I like this song.”
Pretending his fork was a microphone, Rivera closed his eyes. He began to sing a Dave Matthews ballad.
Victoria’s mouth dropped. “Wow! You’re really good.”
He opened his eyes and stopped singing. “Damn straight I am.”
She laughed. “Keep going. I like it.”
“If you insist.” He finished out the refrain in a smooth, low voice, adding a twang. “How about you sing a few verses?”
“You do not want to hear me sing. I promise.” She laughed.
“Come on. Can’t be that bad.” He took a gulp of his soda.
“Nope.” She smiled from ear to ear. “But . . . how about this . . . I’ll save my singing for when you’re really down and need cheering up, because I promise you will laugh your ass off.”
Rivera extended his hand across the table and Victoria shook it. “It’s a deal.” He grinned and finished the last of his drink. “I know you don’t go out much when you’re not working, but maybe we should do this for real sometime. Go out to eat, but not under the auspices of work and catching a crazed killer.”
Victoria smiled. “That might be fun.”
Rivera cleared his throat and touched his ear. “Hey, uh, there’s something I should tell you.”
“Yeah?” Whatever was coming, she had a feeling it was going to be interesting. “What’s that look for?”
“What look?” Rivera cocked his head.
“Like you just . . . I don’t know. Like maybe for once you’re not entirely sure of what you’re going to say.”
Rivera smiled. His gaze never wavered.
“Have I got something on my chin?” She raised her napkin, hovering it near her mouth.
Rivera chuckled. “Your chin is fine.”
“What is it then?” Unsure if she should be frowning or laughing, Victoria settled for an uneasy half-smile.
“I just . . .” He crossed his forearms on the table and leaned in. “The reason we’ve been working together a lot is because . . .”
“Because?”
“I might have been requesting it.”
A smile slowly built on her lips. Her stomach fluttered, although she didn’t know what would follow his confession. “You have?” She uncrossed her legs and shifted her weight, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Well . . . that’s interesting. I can’t wait for you to tell me why. Or do I want to know?” She placed her hand against her cheek. “I mean, I know I’m a lot more pleasant than Agent Poloski . . . and I never have to leave to pick up my kids or watch their recitals like—Oh, dear—Oh, crap.” She shook her head.
“What?”
“Talking about picking up kids—you know, my dogs are sort of like my kids and I forgot to call Ned again. Hold on. This will only take a second.” She took out her phone and tapped her contacts. She held up one finger, waiting for the call to connect.
“Victoria?”
“Ned, hey.”
“Ah!” Ned exclaimed. His laughter was joined by a young woman’s voice.
“Oh, dear! Oops!” The woman laughed again in the background.
Victoria’s muscles tensed. She twisted her napkin. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” The pitch of her voice had risen.
“I was pouring wine when you called. Apparently, I can’t multi-task as well as I thought. Just spilled it.” He chuckled, and so did whoever was with him, a light flirty sound.
“But, it’s only . . . it’s just afternoon.” With a flash of anger, Victoria stared intensely at her empty plate.
“Yep. So, what do you need, boss?”
She shoved a stray section of hair away from her face. “Oh, um, I j
ust wanted to make sure you could come back to feed them dinner and hang out there for a while.”
“Sure. Are you going out of town? Did you want me to stay over?”
“No. Actually, you don’t need to go back. Don’t worry about it, I didn’t realize you had plans . . . I mean . . . the dogs will be fine. They’ve got their dog door. They’ll be fine.” She frowned and pressed the red button to end the call.
Rivera lowered his head to meet Victoria’s eyes. “He can’t babysit the dogs tonight?”
“What? No, uh. I guess he’s on a date. In the middle of the day. I mean, he didn’t say it was a date, but it sounded like one.” She rotated her palm toward the ceiling. “I don’t know why I’m so surprised. But . . .” She looked away, grabbed a few chips, and chewed them absentmindedly. “It’s no big deal. The dogs will be fine.”
“Can’t argue with that. If I’m not mistaken, dogs all over the world manage on their own for hours at a time.”
“I know, it’s just—never mind. Anyway.” She sighed and looked past Rivera, over his shoulder. “What were we talking about before I made that call?”
Rivera settled back against the booth. “You know. Work stuff.”
“Right.”
“Ready to get out of here?” He looked around the restaurant.
“Yeah. Okay.”
Rivera spotted their server and signaled to get his attention.
# # #
Inside the medical examiner’s office, gospel music played through the speakers. Dr. Rebecca Boswell, a licensed pathologist, was pushing a gurney with a zipped body bag. A large presence, Rebecca wore hot pink scrubs and black sneakers. Her sleek hair was pulled back in tiny cornrows.
“Hello,” Rivera called.
Rebecca stopped, stared at Rivera, and smiled. “Agents, welcome.” She crossed the room and turned down the music. “I was wondering when I was going to see you.”
“Hi, Rebecca. We were on our way here yesterday when we got the call about Gomez.” Victoria set her hands on the side of a steel gurney as she spoke.
“Someone has been keeping us all busier than usual, haven’t they?” Rebecca shook her head.
“What can you tell us?” Rivera asked.
“Nothing you don’t already know.” She nudged the bridge of her glasses using the heel of her hand. “Same COD for the victims, shot from up close with a small-caliber weapon. The last one, Gomez, took three rounds to the torso. Nothing unusual about how they died, considering.” She shrugged. “I’ve got Gomez’s wallet in the back room still, if you want to examine it. It wasn’t on him. It was in his car and somehow it ended up here.”
“Not exactly protocol, but as long as it’s not lost,” Victoria said. “We’ll go take a look.”
“Follow me.” Rebecca led them into an office and grabbed a key from a drawer. “Gloves in a box on the wall over there. Plastic sheeting next to it.” She unlocked a safe and stood back.
Rivera set a sheet of plastic on a table. Wearing gloves, Victoria scooped up the evidence bag and removed the wallet from inside it. She unfolded the nicked leather sides. She gasped, and her mouth dropped open. Tucked into one of the credit card slots was a blue key card for the Sonesta Hotel. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispered. “I cannot believe we’re just finding this out now.”
“Wow.” Rivera slid the wallet and card back into the evidence bag.
Victoria glared at the wallet. Her mind raced with frustration, mostly targeted at Detective Sullivan. “I told you—How could—"
“There might be an explanation,” Rivera said.
“Whatever it is, better late than never.” Rebecca peered over their shoulders. “Significant?”
“Definitely,” Rivera said. “I think we’ve identified missing Sonesta customer Jim Johnson. And now we know why Johnson hasn’t returned to the hotel. Gomez must have used a fake name.”
With a sigh, Victoria pulled off her gloves and tossed them in the trash. “So far, we’ve got Todd Meiser on the one hand, and on the other—Sonesta Hotel customers being eliminated. That hotel connects all the victims, except for Meiser.”
“We need to get back there now.” Rivera tucked the evidence bag with the wallet into his coat pocket.
Victoria nodded. “I’ll call Sam on the way. I want to see everything he’s got on the hotel staff.”
“We’ve already seen it.” Rivera started walking toward the door.
“Did we?” Victoria followed him, walking next to Rebecca. “We, as in the FBI? Because I can’t believe this happened.”
“Local PD interviewed them all and did background checks, but our agents did, too. I saw the report. Useless. Let’s talk to the staff again.” Rivera stopped in the doorway. “Thanks, Rebecca. You’ve been a huge help.”
“Anytime. Come back and stay longer next time.” She smiled at both agents, but her gaze lingered on Rivera.
“I’m calling Sam.” Victoria called as they left the ME’s building. “Sam, it’s Victoria and Rivera. You’re on speaker phone.”
“Excellent timing, my favorite agents.”
“We know you say that to everyone, Sam,” Rivera said.
“I was about to call you.”
“What’s going on?” Rivera asked, pulling the car keys from his pocket.
“I found the companion Meiser met with. That’s what she calls herself. Her name is Olivia Papaleia. She didn’t know he was dead, by the way. Finally called me back when she heard. She seems young, cooperative, and afraid. I didn’t question her, but she started talking anyway. Said she was in classes all day when he was killed, and she has plenty of witnesses. Said she’s never been to his house. She met him at a hotel, where—”
Every muscle in Victoria’s body tensed with excitement. “Which hotel, Sam?”
“The Vista View Hotel.”
Victoria’s shoulders slumped. “It’s like we were so close to winning the lottery and then the last ball popped up with the wrong number.”
“Sorry. And she has no priors. Doesn’t even have so much as a parking ticket to her name. And that’s her real name, I checked it out.”
“Good to know, but from what these crimes tell us, whoever is doing this, it’s like she recently snapped,” Victoria said. “Five kills in a matter of days. She’s either getting revenge or she just recently went nuts. The fact that she has no prior record may not matter.”
“Give us her address. We’ll try to speak with her right now,” Rivera said, opening his car door.
“She has alibis you can check, so you’ll know soon enough if you like her for any of these murders. Here’s her address.”
# # #
With the escort’s address programmed in their GPS, Rivera took the next exit to get them headed in the right direction. “It’s only a thirty-minute drive, and sort of on the way to the Sonesta Hotel. It will just be a detour.”
“What could have happened to get these people killed?” Victoria said. “Why don’t we know?”
“Maybe Olivia can tell us.” Rivera opened his container of gum with one hand and shook a few into his mouth. “Do you want to call for backup?”
Victoria read the signs and billboards lining the road: Jesus Saves, Fresh Farm Produce Exit 28, Savvy Furniture Mart, Open 365 Days a Year. She shook her head. “There’s two of us. Sounds like she couldn’t have done it. Let’s just call in to Murphy, let him know where we’re going. We’ll be fine.”
Rivera grunted his agreement. “We’ll put our Kevlar on before we go in.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Wearing FBI vests, the agents stood outside the door of the address Sam provided. Their hands hovered by their hips, just above their weapons as they vigilantly watched the doors and paths around them.
“Ready?” Rivera asked.
Victoria nodded and pressed the doorbell. A woman opened the door. The agents quickly scanned her body. She wore a long, fitted sweater, leggings, and dark-rimmed glasses. There was nowhere to hide an easily a
ccessible weapon on her body that would not be detected.
“Olivia Papaleia?” Victoria asked.
“Yes. That’s me.”
Olivia was of Middle-Eastern descent with olive skin and shining black hair that formed a single French braid between her shoulders. No trace of blonde. She was nothing like Victoria expected.
The agents identified themselves. With a tight-lipped smile, Olivia made a sweeping gesture to welcome them inside. “Please come in.” She closed the door and padded away, leading them to a neatly decorated room. On a glass coffee table sat a laptop, a spiral notebook, and a text book—Modern Political Theories. The flickering light of a candle cast a small dancing shadow on the back wall. Victoria caught the light aroma of oranges and cloves, reminding her of Christmas.
“Have a seat.” Olivia indicated two chairs, part of a comfortable arrangement of furniture, and plopped down on a couch with plush pillows and a faux fur throw. She folded her legs to her side.
How had this confident woman made Sam think she was afraid? The fact that she’d fooled him gave Victoria reason to be wary.
Rivera scooted forward on the edge of his chair. “We’re here because you might have been the last person to see Todd Meiser alive. You were with him beginning on Thursday night at the Vista View Hotel, correct?”
“Yes. He wanted company, and that’s what I provide.” She batted her eyes at Rivera. “Just company. It’s all quite legal. He needed a calming presence. I know he was killed in his home. I was never there.”
Rivera’s expression remained placid, even Victoria couldn’t read his thoughts. “When did you part ways?”