He started to connect the dots in his head. “Then what you’re saying is, could Ronald have hated my father enough to kill him?”
Her eyes widened. She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s a long shot for sure. But it’s worth pursuing, isn’t it? I’ll be in my office at eight tomorrow morning. I can start investigating these two names...if you want me to.”
Edward considered his answer. Was he opening a legacy of hate that he’d rather not know about? Would his impression of the man he loved for nineteen years be altered by what he might find? Why had William Smith hidden the information about his own flesh and blood? Would it be better for everyone, himself included, if he never found Ronald Blaine?
Of course, Edward knew his answer from the start. He had to find out the truth. He’d invested so much of his time, energy and love to someone to not uncover the facts about the person. He couldn’t simply ignore what was on this document. It might contain the solution to the judge’s death, the one mystery he’d agonized over.
“I want to know, Monica,” he said. “Please, do what you can to find these people.”
“I’ll copy the important facts before I leave tonight. Then I might know something by the time you return to work on Monday. I hope so, at least.”
Edward hugged her. “No matter what happens, Monica, it’s nice to have you on my team again.”
“I was never not on your team, Edward. Maybe not in the way you wanted, but perhaps in the way it matters most.”
He kissed her, not with the same passion he’d shown earlier, but with a warmth and caring and gratitude that warmed his chest and expanded his heart. “I wish I weren’t leaving tomorrow,” he said. “But I have to.”
“It’s fine. We’ll see each other again.”
“You got that right,” he teased. “Now let’s go warm up those dinners. I’m suddenly very hungry.”
* * *
MONICA HAD NOTHING pressing on her desk when she went to work the next morning. She could devote the first hours of her day to finding Sophie Blaine. The hospital where Ronald was born was in San Diego, California. That made sense because Edward had said his father was in the navy fifty-five years ago. If he was stationed in San Diego, it was likely he could have met a girl there.
The first thing Monica did was run a standard Google search for Sophie in the San Diego area. The search produced no results. She then called the hospital, which thankfully was still in existence, where the birth occurred. A woman in the records department was of no help. They didn’t keep records older than fifty years, even in the hospital’s archives.
Tapping her pencil on a notebook where she’d written all the relevant details, Monica considered her next step. She so wanted to help Edward. She’d felt badly when she’d told him that the investigation into his father’s death was being relegated to the cold-case files. She’d known that most of these cases were likely never to be resolved. Edward deserved better from the Keys sheriff’s department, but she hadn’t been able to convince her superior officer to leave the case open.
Maybe the birth certificate they’d discovered last night would lead to answers that would at least allow Edward to move on from this tragedy. Sophie and Ronald were long shots to be the murderers, after all. It was also highly probable that neither had maintained a relationship with the judge. But a deeper insight into the man he’d loved might give Edward some peace of mind. She didn’t want Edward to be disappointed with this discovery about his father, though knowing the truth might ease his pain.
Seeing no alternative, Monica looked up the phone number for the San Diego Police Department. It was a large department, so she chose a number for the district nearest the hospital. She was connected to an officer in charge of missing persons. “This is Officer Criswell.”
“Hello. Detective Monica Cortez of the Florida Keys Sheriff’s Department.”
“Hello, Detective,” a bright voice responded. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m hoping you can help me locate someone who might have lived in your district more than fifty years ago.”
The California officer asked for her badge number, which was standard protocol to eliminate the possibility of a crank or misleading call. “Okay, Detective, give me a name and whatever info you have on this person.”
Monica gave him the limited information from the birth certificate.
“This isn’t much to go on,” the officer said. “But I’ll run some standard ID protocols and see what I can come up with. You realize this Sophie person might not even be alive. All I might find is a death notice.”
“I’d appreciate anything you can do,” Monica said.
“Might take me a couple of days, but I’ll get back to you.”
“By the way, Sophie had a son. His name is Ronald Carl Blaine, or perhaps Smith. He may have used his mother’s maiden name. He would be fifty-five years old now. Locating him would also be helpful.”
“Got it. Talk to you the first of the week.”
“Thanks, Officer.”
She disconnected without feeling confident. The search probably wouldn’t produce any helpful information. But it was a start.
“Hey, Monica.”
She recognized the voice of the dispatcher in the front office. “What is it, Mack?” she called out to him.
“Someone out here to see you.”
“Okay. I’ll be right there.”
Edward was waiting when she came to the outer office. He appeared in shorts, a T-shirt and sandals, like a man who was ready for a casual drive through the Keys. Yet his expression was serious.
“Edward, I thought you would have been on the road by now,” she said.
“I’m leaving as soon as I’m finished here. Can you step outside with me a moment?”
“Yes, of course.” She told the dispatcher she would be back in a few minutes. “Is something wrong?” she asked when they were outside of the sheriff’s office.
“No. I just had to see you one more time.” He looked across the main road that ran through the Keys and took her hand.
“Walk with me a ways,” he said.
They crossed to the Gulf shore. The morning breeze still held a hint of coolness, but Monica knew the unforgiving sun would soon be scorching.
He stopped behind a palm tree, one of the few in the area that wasn’t part of a hotel or restaurant property. It was private and secluded.
“I suppose you want to know if I’ve discovered any information about your father’s family yet. The answer is no, but I’ve put some feelers out...”
“I have absolute trust in you, Monica,” he said. “But that’s not why I stopped. This is.” He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.
She gulped a gasp of surprise and soon was kissing him back with equal intensity.
He held her close after the kiss. “I know we’re only going to be a couple of hours away from each other, but now that I’m leaving it seems like half a continent. I won’t be able to see you, hold you like this. You have your responsibilities here and I have work to catch up on in Miami. We’ll be busy. But I want you to know I’ll be thinking of you every day, every hour.”
“I feel the same,” she said, looking into his eyes. “But we’ll talk. I’ll contact you with news as I uncover it. I don’t know what we’ll discover, but whatever it is, I hope it gives you peace with what happened here.”
“You have given me peace, Monica,” he said. “There are still questions in my mind, but you aren’t one of them. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve become rather crazy about you.” He stared at her with such pure longing in his eyes that she trembled. No one had ever looked at her like that before. Edward’s eyes held passion, yes, but also honesty and tenderness and a promise so sweet that tears dampened her eyelids.
“I will miss you,” she said.
“I’m hoping for that.” He smiled and kissed
her one more time.
“I should get back.”
“I know. One more thing. If you hear from Miguel, call me. I plan to talk to him soon, but I don’t want him threatening you or Emilio. I think I can get through to him.”
“Be careful around him, Edward. I don’t know what kind of trouble he’s in or what kind of people he’s associating with, but my hunch is that it’s probably serious.”
He walked her back to the station and then got in his car. Through the open window, he said, “Take care of yourself, Detective. Always call for backup and don’t be a hero.”
She smiled. “This is Sweet Pine Key, Edward. I appreciate your concern, but if I stop traffic to help a slow turtle cross the road, I’ll have had a busy day.”
He backed out of the parking lot and drove north. Monica ran her finger over her lips where he had kissed her. She knew her mother worried about her. So did her uncles and aunts and cousins, but never had someone’s concern touched her so deeply as Edward’s had just now.
She wanted to be here when he came back. She wanted him to hold her again. In short, she wanted to do as he said and be safe...for him.
* * *
ON TUESDAY MORNING, Monica got a call from the police officer in San Diego. “Hello, Officer Criswell,” she said. “I hope you have news for me.”
“I do, but I’m not sure it will be of much help. You never gave me details of the case you’re working on, so I wasn’t aware of exactly what type of information you need.”
He was right. She hadn’t told him many specifics and hadn’t mentioned the judge’s death. And Officer Criswell hadn’t asked. Once he’d verified that she was indeed a fellow officer, he was willing to do what he could to help. Monica appreciated such loyalty.
“Anything you can tell me about either person would be helpful,” she said.
“Okay. Let’s start with Sophie Blaine. I know this much. She’s still alive.”
That was a great start. Perhaps she and Edward could get the woman to provide missing information about what happened and the rest of the judge’s background. “Do you know where she is?”
“Sure do. She’s in a nursing home in a small town outside of San Diego. Apparently been there for something like ten years. She’s quite elderly, eighty-five years old.”
So, Sophie was nine years older than the judge. That wasn’t so strange. Age differences like that existed in lots of relationships.
“If you can tell me the name of the nursing home, I’ll contact her directly,” Monica said.
“Okay. It’s Valley View in John’s Ridge, California. But you won’t have much success in getting information from her.”
“Why not?”
“She has advanced dementia. I believe I got as much information as I could.”
Another roadblock. Monica dreaded telling Edward. “Is there a chance her condition will improve?” she asked.
“Not likely. The case manager at Valley View said Sophie’s memory is gone. She barely speaks. There isn’t any more they can do for her unfortunately.”
“But she must have family. I told you about a son born to her fifty-five years ago.”
“Ronald Blaine. Right,” Criswell said.
“Yes. And I’d suggested his last name might be the same as his mother’s, especially if his parents never married.”
“Found him. He’s the one who signed the papers to have Sophie moved into Valley View.”
So Monica still had hope. If she could reach Ronald, she and Edward could fill in the large gap that existed in the judge’s life. “Good work, Officer,” she said. “Can you give me contact information about Ronald? Where can I find him?”
“Hold on to your hat, Monica. Ronald is in the county crematorium.”
“What? He’s dead?”
“Yes. He was shot in what was recorded as a random act of violence. No one claimed his body, so his remains were sent to the closest crematorium, and the county picked up the bill. That’s what happens to a lot of homeless people.”
Homeless? This was horrible news. Two people who had a connection to Judge Smith and neither one of them could help her and Edward.
“Officer Criswell, did the police ever find the person who killed Ronald Blaine?”
“Nope. A thorough investigation was conducted, but there was never enough evidence to charge anyone. The detectives closed the case within weeks of the crime.”
“Weeks? How long ago was Ronald murdered?” she asked.
“Five years ago. That’s when his mother took a bad turn.” Criswell sighed. “Sad case all around,” he said.
Monica thanked the man for his work. “If anything else pops up on this family, you’ll let me know?”
“Of course. Good luck with your case, Detective Cortez.”
Luck—that was all that would help them now. Two leads that couldn’t give them any information, other than neither of them were responsible for murdering a judge in Florida over two weeks ago. Monica would tell Edward what she’d discovered tonight when he called. This information wouldn’t support his belief that his father was murdered, so she would urge him to move on from the search.
The death of Judge William Smith seemed to embody the phrases that had become commonplace, Monica thought. Unsolved mystery, cold case, lack of evidence.
Four days ago, Monica and Edward had found the birth certificate and believed it might prove to be a clue in what had happened to the judge. Now there were no clues and there was nothing more to be done.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ON TUESDAY AFTERNOON, Miguel Cortez came to Edward’s office. Edward stood up from behind his desk, came around it and offered his hand to Miguel, who was dressed in dirty jeans and a grease-stained mechanic’s shirt. As before, Miguel declined to shake hands.
“What’s this about?” Miguel asked, his tone belligerent. His mannerisms were stiff and guarded.
“I could say you missed an appointment with your parole officer,” Edward said. He wanted Miguel to know that he had the upper hand from the start. Missing a parole meeting was a punishable offense and Miguel had missed his latest one. He would hit Miguel with the information and then work on getting the man to open up.
“I couldn’t help it,” Miguel said. “Besides, I called Harry and explained things to him. He was okay with it.”
“That’s lucky for you, Miguel,” Edward said. “But it’s important that you not miss another check-in.”
Miguel glanced around the room. “So this is your fancy office, Eddie? And your name on the door.”
“It is.”
“Can’t imagine a top guy like you following up on somebody’s missed parole appointments.”
“I do a lot for the police department,” Edward said.
“Well, fine, but if all you called me in for was to scold me for an appointment mishap, I’ll go now. I don’t need anybody to analyze me. All I did was screw up one schedule.”
Edward gestured toward a chair. “Please, sit down, Miguel. I didn’t call you in to analyze you. I just want to talk about things, make certain you’re not slipping into old habits.”
“Monica talked you into this? She’s always been one to stick her nose into other people’s business.”
“She knows I’m talking to you, yes, and maybe you shouldn’t say negative things about your sister. She could have had you arrested for child endangerment for that stunt you pulled with Emilio, but she didn’t.”
Edward didn’t really know if that was true, but it was a good enough bluff to get Miguel to listen to him. The truth was, he didn’t want Miguel to talk badly of his sister, period. Edward had to stay calm to accomplish what he intended to today.
Miguel reluctantly slumped into a chair. “So talk, Eddie. Some of us are on the clock, and I’ve got to get back to work.”
Edward asked a number of questions
to put Miguel at ease. He discovered that Miguel was working six days a week repairing cars at a body shop near the Everglades. He was drawing a decent salary. And he had a chance of moving up in the business, perhaps branching out to a larger, busier location.
“I’ve never heard of a body shop out on Seminole Trail. What’s the name of it?”
“Bobby Ray’s Body Shop.”
“How does the owner advertise the business?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Miguel said. He looked at his dirty fingernails. “I’m not exactly in middle management.” He shifted his weight in the chair. “If that’s all, I’m going to go now.”
“No, it’s not all, though I’m glad to hear you’re showing up for work every day. But there’s one more thing, Miguel. I understand you called your mother recently.”
“So? She’s my mother. Don’t you ever call your mother?”
“I don’t have a mother,” Edward said. Not exactly the truth since he’d heard from Brooke that their biological mother was still alive. But since she’d rejected him and his sisters, she was dead to Edward.
“Well, if you did, you should call her.”
“Rosa said you sounded worried. You told her you might be moving back to Sweet Pine Key and you asked her to find you a place to live.”
Miguel shrugged. “Looks like Monica isn’t the only busybody in my family.”
“Did you ever think that maybe your mother is truly worried about you?”
“I suppose she is, so for her sake I’ll just tell you that I don’t know what I’m going to do. Moving back to Sweet Pine is a thought, that’s all.”
Edward leaned back in his chair. “I don’t want to beat around the bush, Miguel. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Everything in my life is great, Eddie. Isn’t a guy allowed to move in this country without cops coming down on him?”
“Sure. But you just told me how well you’re doing at your job, and that leads me to believe that you wouldn’t want to move right now. Yet you asked your mother about finding you somewhere to live in Sweet Pine.” Edward shrugged in turn. “You know, Miguel, I can have that business checked out. All it takes is a few phone calls to see if Bobby Ray’s is licensed and bonded. It’s easy enough to find reviews to see if there are any complaints about the work, or if Bobby Ray’s has legitimate customers. And I can even drive out there myself to inspect the place.”
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