“We discovered her name is Isabella Dagati. She started talking with us this afternoon. Not a great deal, but we did get some basic information,” he said.
“That’s great,” Josie said. “In English?”
“She understood English, but she is traumatized to the point that her verbal communication is almost nonexistent. Given that she spoke with us today, I think there’s great hope for her recovery, but it could take weeks, even months.”
“Still, that’s encouraging,” Josie said.
The doctor’s expression changed, as if he were puzzled. “She spoke two words repeatedly this afternoon. She said the words help and Josie.”
Josie was taken aback for a moment. “I found her hiding at my house. I guess she associates me with helping her.”
He gave her a doubtful look. “I don’t think that was what she was communicating.”
“I don’t understand. I helped get her to the hospital. I imagine that’s what she means.”
He pressed his lips together for a moment, seeming to consider her comment. “I definitely think she sees you as helping her. But when posed a series of questions, I came to understand that she arrived at your house looking for help.”
Josie furrowed her eyebrows.
“She repeated your name like a talisman, like she saw you as her savior.”
Josie shook her head, not liking the term. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Keep in mind, I’m basing my hypothesis on limited conversation, gauging her facial responses and body language and so on. But when asked questions about why she came to the United States, and why she came to Artemis, her response was always, Josie. Help.”
She wasn’t sure why the information was so unsettling, but Josie wanted no part of being a savior to anyone. “I think we should hold off on this line of thinking until we’ve had more time to talk with her.”
“I understand. I’m only trying to provide you with information that may be useful to your investigation.”
She nodded then, embarrassed by her reaction. “You’re right. It’s just an uncomfortable thing to hear. I can’t imagine how this woman would know my name, as well as where I live. She clearly isn’t from this area, so how could she have found me?”
“That I can’t answer. I wasn’t able to get a feel for her native language either. I suspect she speaks Spanish along with limited English.” He held out his hand and Josie shook it. “I’m headed back to Odessa. I would suggest getting Isabella out of the trauma center and into a safe place where she can rest and recover. Meanwhile, I’ll be available by phone if you have follow-up questions.”
“I appreciate it. Just one more quick question?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“Since I can’t question Isabella directly right now, can you tell me if she was sexually molested?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Gray. Confidentiality laws prevent me from sharing information like that.”
He handed Josie a business card and left the center.
* * *
Mark raised an eyebrow at Josie. “What do you think about all that? Thinking you’re her savior?”
She choked out a laugh. “Actually, I’m a bit stunned. I should be happy, from an investigative point. Information like that can lead to a break in a case.”
“But you’d prefer the break in the case not to involve you,” he said.
“Exactly.”
* * *
Otto stood next to Cowan, pretending to look down at the dead body while instead gazing directly above the body and across the room to a poster of the periodic table. He suspected that Cowan knew he had a weak stomach, and that’s why Cowan delighted in discussing the case over the top of a cold stitched-up cadaver. There was no need for Otto to see the body. Cowan could have easily explained his findings without the theatrics, but Otto couldn’t figure out a way to tell Cowan he didn’t want to see the body without feeling incompetent.
“You’ll notice the bruising and lacerations on her inner thighs and pubis area.…” Cowan went on and on, finally stating what he could have said initially without the poor dead woman being laid out on the steel gurney. “The victim was most definitely raped multiple times before she was shot and killed.”
“What’s the time frame on the rapes?”
“Recent. A matter of a week or two.”
“Was she killed instantly?”
“The gunshot wound would have killed her within minutes.”
“Does it look as if there was any tampering with the body after she was shot?” Otto asked.
“No. Other than insects and animals, I didn’t see evidence the body was moved or touched.”
“How long before we receive toxicology reports?”
“I’d expect two to four weeks.”
“Was there anything exceptional about the bullet wound?” Otto asked.
Cowan reached out to turn the body over and Otto put a hand out to stop him. “That’s not necessary. Just tell me your findings.”
Cowan smiled slightly and began pulling the plastic covering over the body. If Otto had been three decades younger, he would have thrown a punch at the man’s smirk. He couldn’t understand why Josie seemed to think so highly of Cowan. Otto found him arrogant and intolerable.
Once Cowan had replaced the body and washed up, he returned and opened his notes on the lab table. He described the time of death as the same as his initial assessment. “The bullet has been logged as evidence and it’s available for you to take. Same with her clothing and jewelry. Regarding the wound, it was just as expected. The trajectory was straight, and the wound is consistent with what you would expect from a shot fired from twenty-three feet away.” He paused and looked up at Otto. “Correct? The casing found at the scene was about that distance from the body?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, then. I’ve got the finger- and palm prints, dental X-rays, photographs, hair specimens, and so on. I’ll post a photograph of the victim’s face on the missing persons database and we’ll hope for a hit. For now, I’ll keep her in the freezer.” Cowan clasped his hands in front of him. “In my years here working in Arroyo County, we’ve only utilized the potter’s field a few times to bury an unidentified body. I certainly hope that won’t be the case with this young woman.”
* * *
When Otto left the coroner’s office at the county jail, he called Josie from the jeep. For late October, the temperature was still running hot, so he cranked the air conditioner. It had reached ninety-eight that afternoon and the relentless sun was making him irritable.
“You had supper yet?” he asked.
“Nope. But I could use some. I’m just leaving the hospital. Want to meet at the Hot Tamale?”
“I do.” Otto paused, knowing he was going to piss her off. “You want to swing by and grab your mother for dinner?”
She sighed into the phone. “It’s after six. She’s probably eaten.”
“Josie. She’s your mother.”
“Otto. I know that.”
Otto waited out the silence.
“Damn it. All right. I’ll stop by the motel. See you in a few.”
* * *
Manny’s Motel was a six-room establishment shaped like a strip mall, with all six doors opening toward the street. Manny’s office was located in the center of the building, with a green neon sign that hung crooked from the window. One afternoon Josie had stopped by with a question about an investigation and she’d asked him, “You want me to straighten up your sign for you?”
Manny had replied, “No, I like it that way. It’s not pretentious. It lets people know, Here’s a comfortable place where I can put my feet up and relax.”
Since then the crooked sign made her smile every time she noticed it. She thought how awkward it would look hanging straight in his window.
She found Manny sitting in a recliner behind the front desk reading a book. When he looked up, his expression was distraught. “What timing! She’s ten feet from opening
the door and ruining the rest of her life. You couldn’t give me five more minutes?”
Josie laughed. “Then you’d need five more after that. Just get this over with and you can get back to your book.”
Manny groaned as he got up out of the chair and smiled when he reached the counter. “For you? I would toss the book into the trash. What can I do for you?”
“I’m here to check on my mom. Can you tell me what room she’s in?”
His lips drew down in a frown. “Did you have to ask? You know I will always put your mother in the best room in the motel. Right next to me, where I can make sure everything is to her complete satisfaction.”
“Room One?”
“You know it.”
“You’re the best,” she said, and walked out of the office, leaving Manny to his paperback.
Josie headed down the concrete walkway and knocked on the door to Room 1. Beverly Gray answered wearing three-inch-thick wedges, cutoff jean shorts, and a tight white low-cut scoop-necked T-shirt that Josie thought would look more appropriate on a teenager.
“Well, hey, darlin’! Did you come to take your mom to dinner?”
Josie recognized her mother’s exaggerated hillbilly drawl from her childhood, but after so many years away from home it sounded foreign.
“I’m still on duty, but Otto and I thought we’d buy you supper at the Hot Tamale.”
Her eyes lit up like she’d been invited to a special event, and Josie felt a twinge of guilt.
“Hang on. I’ll get my purse.”
Josie watched her mom take dainty steps back to the bathroom to check her makeup and her hair. Her high-heeled tiny steps had always looked completely ridiculous to Josie. There was nothing dainty about Josie; she walked tall and with purpose. At moments like this, Josie’s longing for her dad caused a deep ache. She was eight when he died, and now she could only imagine what kind of physical presence he had when walking into a room.
Beverly walked out of the bathroom, grabbed her purse off the motel room desk, and headed straight for the door.
* * *
Located across from the courthouse, the Hot Tamale was a popular diner for most everyone in Artemis. The service was quick, and the owner, Lucy Ramone, made everyone who entered feel like a friend. She also served up local gossip like it was her job.
At six-thirty the diner was still hopping, with tables and chairs scattered across the place in a haphazard manner that would drive Josie crazy if she were a waitress there. Lucy made it clear to her diners that talking came first, and so people were given free rein to arrange the tables to best suit their needs.
They wove their way through and sat in a corner by the window where Otto had pulled up chairs for them. Josie and her mom sat across from Otto.
“Are you rested up from your trip, Beverly?”
“Oh, my, yes. It doesn’t take much for me to liven up. Life’s too short for naps.”
“Do you have plans for your stay out here?” he asked.
Josie stared at the menu and listened intently.
“I guess that mostly depends on my daughter. Whether she can stand me here or not.”
“Oh, I know she could stand you. I think it’s more whether you could stand her schedule. I can attest to the fact that she’s not around much. The job is a killer.”
“Well, I don’t want to marry her, I just want to visit!”
Otto laughed as Lucy hustled up to the table. “How’s my two favorite cops in all of Arroyo County?”
“We’re just fine,” Josie said. “You doing okay?”
“Never better. Business is good.”
“Lucy, this is my mom, Beverly. All the way here from Indiana.”
Lucy bent down and hugged Beverly, who laughed and squeezed back. The two women chatted for a moment until Lucy finally wrote down their order and took off for the kitchen.
Otto picked up the conversation. “You were married to a police officer, weren’t you, Beverly?”
“Best man that ever walked the earth,” she said, and then sat her drink down to look at Otto. “Excluding present company, of course.”
“Understood.”
“He was a road trooper. Died in a line-of-duty accident. Ripped our lives right into two when he passed away.”
“Josie said he was a great cop and a great dad. That’s quite a combination.”
“She’s just like him. He was quiet and serious, always thinking about things. That’s why we were such a good match. I made him laugh. That’s just what Josie needs in her life. A man to make her laugh.”
Josie felt the heat seep into her cheeks at her mom’s comparison of Josie to her dad. After he died, her mom rarely talked about him. And as much as Josie would have liked to have discussed her dad, she wasn’t ready to talk about her private life in the Hot Tamale with Otto while on duty.
Josie pulled the conversation back to the present. “I have some bad news regarding your visit. It may be a while before I get a normal shift so we can spend some time together. A woman was found murdered, and in a small town like this, we throw everything we have on an investigation, meaning long hours away from home.”
“Meaning, you won’t be taking me to the mayor’s fund-raising dinner tomorrow?”
“It’s actually his wife’s fund-raising dinner for her mission work. And we’ll still plan on going unless something comes up with the investigation to keep me from it. But I probably won’t see you between now and tomorrow evening. I get off work tonight at midnight, and I’m back in at eight in the morning.”
Her mom took the news well and after dinner they walked her back to the motel with no complaints. Either her mother had mellowed considerably, or she wanted something and was choosing her battles.
* * *
“Thanks,” Josie said as she and Otto reached the top of the stairs at the police department.
“For what?”
“For having dinner with my mom. I know you’re anxious to review the case.”
Otto unlocked the office door and Josie flipped on the fluorescent lights. As he walked to his desk he said, “You know I try to stay out of your personal life as much as I can.” He turned his head and grinned.
“Oh, really?”
“But I’m going to give you a bit of friendly advice tonight. This job is a tricky one. There’s a fine line between devotion to your job and sacrificing your family. And I’m not really talking about your mom. I just mean in general. You’re a young woman who deserves a family and a happy place to go home to at night. But if you’ve always got the job on your mind, you’ll never find that.”
Josie poured herself a cup of burnt coffee and held the pot up to Otto. He grimaced.
“I get what you’re saying, but it’s hard to turn it off. A woman is lying in our morgue because some monster shot her in the back. Her friend is too terrified to talk. How do I not make that my top priority?”
“Of course it’s your top priority. At work. But you have other priorities at home. You have to find a way to leave it at night or it’s going to eat you up. You have to develop that on-off switch in your head. I’ve been telling you this for years and you don’t seem to get it.”
“Honestly, the only way I know how to lose those visions at night is a glass full of bourbon.” She knew Otto never used alcohol as a coping mechanism, but she figured he wanted candor, so she gave it to him.
“You’re not listening. That’s what your family is for. That’s why you have to make your family and your loved ones, your man friend Nick, priorities too. They’ll keep you strong enough to keep doing this insane job. They’ll help you clear your head instead of filling it up with bourbon. Even if it’s only a few hours at the end of your shift, you have to shut your brain down. You can’t be in that fight-or-flight mode twenty-four/seven or you’ll be joining that woman in the morgue all too soon.”
Josie glanced up at him, surprised at the anger in his voice.
Otto sighed. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you. Somebody
has to.”
“You’re a good friend, Otto. I appreciate your advice, and I’ll give it some serious thought.”
“Good enough.”
“Okay, grab your notes,” she said. “Let’s get down to business.”
As they were sitting down at the conference table they heard someone coming up the stairs, two at a time. Marta walked into the office looking like she’d waded through a mud pit. Her uniform was mud-streaked, as were her face and arms.
“We got that son of a bitch!” she called.
“Who?” Josie asked, grinning at her excitement.
“Slick Fish is in custody. I’d heard rumors that he was going to transport a large group this evening around dusk. I set up an observation point on the river along with two Border Patrol agents who knew all about him. Slick had seventeen people ready to cross, and we nabbed him with the very first one.”
“Did you mud-wrestle him to the ground?” Otto asked, pointing to her muddy pants.
“That’s exactly what it was. He might have been wet and naked, but he couldn’t slip by three officers. And, best of all, it’s BP’s case. No paperwork for Marta.” She grinned and brushed her hands together.
“You smell like dead fish,” Otto said.
“You know I hate that river. Next time you get the river detail.”
“Well done,” Josie said. “And good timing. We’re just about to debrief on the murder.”
* * *
Marta washed up in the office bathroom and sat down with her notebook.
Josie started with Otto. “What did you find out on the autopsy?”
“No surprise with the bullet wound. Cowan said the wound was consistent with being shot from behind at twenty-three feet. The body wasn’t moved or tampered with after the gunshot. The biggest news was that Cowan said she had been raped multiple times before her death.”
“Recently?”
“That’s what he said. Recent multiple lacerations around her groin and thighs.”
Midnight Crossing: A Mystery Page 7