The Gamble and the Grave (Veronica Barry Book 4)
Page 21
“Wyatt,” Miguel said, “do you know what name Ariana used for the safe deposit box she kept the evidence in?”
“I do, but I can do you one better,” Williams said with a grin. “She gave me copies of everything.”
Chapter 11
That night Miguel, Daniel and Veronica gathered in the latter’s room to go through the manila envelope Wyatt Williams had handed over to them.
“I still don’t see why he didn’t give this to the cops once he realized Ariana was dead,” Miguel said as they each took a spot around the edge of the bed to sit.
“He said he’s scared of Thad Bayer,” Veronica said.
Miguel gave a half shrug. “Okay, but if these are as bad as he says they are, Bayer wouldn’t be able to do anything to him, right? He’d be in prison.”
“Don’t underestimate what people in prison can make happen on the outside,” Daniel said.
Veronica stared at the envelope, which Daniel held in his hands. It was large, with a string-tie. She didn’t really know how she felt about it. On the one hand, it was extremely important and valuable—evidence of Thad Bayer’s assaults against young girls, and if it could be used to put him away, that would mean protecting potential victims in the future. On the other hand, she already had a hard time living with what Ariana had shown her. She didn’t want to add more awful images to those she saw when she closed her eyes at night.
Daniel met her gaze. “You don’t have to look at these, you know. I can look at them myself. If they’re solid I’ll notify the chief and open a case.”
“Shouldn’t we give them to the local PD?” Miguel asked.
“Unless there’s a clear indication that the crimes Ariana photographed happened here in Reno, I don’t see any reason why the photos have to remain here,” Daniel said. “I’d rather turn them over to the Sac PD so I can run the investigation.”
Miguel nodded, and Daniel turned back to Veronica.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”
Daniel gave a short nod and opened the envelope, unraveling the string. He pulled out several sheets of photocopied paper, stapled together, and then half a dozen glossy color photos.
Miguel reached out hesitantly toward the pictures and then withdrew his hand without touching them. Daniel spread them out after a moment. They did, indeed, implicate Thad Bayer in no uncertain terms in the rape of three different girls.
“What’re those pages?” Miguel asked after they all remained silent for a time. Daniel pushed the pictures into a stack and turned it over face down. He handed the stapled photocopies to Miguel.
“It’s a copy of some sort of journal Ariana kept,” Daniel said.
Miguel held the pages as if they were fragile. Veronica noticed that his hands had begun to shake. Gazing at the pages, he carefully flipped through them, his eyes scanning the copied handwritten notes.
“She’s recorded when and where each incident took place, and she even found out the name of one of the girls,” he said.
“Well, that’s helpful,” Daniel said. “If the girl is willing to testify against Bayer, the case would be a lot stronger.”
“Do you think we could track down the other girls somehow?” Miguel asked.
With a sigh, Veronica reached for the stack of photos. “You do have a psychic on retainer,” she said.
She took the photos in her hands, closed her eyes, and shuffled through them.
~~~
“It’s true, Papa,” Veronica said with Ariana’s voice. She was standing in the living room of the Santiago family home. Her voice sounded young, and her body felt tense. She held her hands in fists at her sides.
Hector Santiago was sitting on the couch, hunched forward as though he might rise at any moment. “Ariana, I have had quite enough of your games—your—your lies—”
“I’m not lying, Papa!” she exclaimed. Her next words came out as a whisper, however. “He—he hurt me. I—he did—he raped me.”
“Thad Bayer has been a friend of mine for years! I’ve known him—”
“What does it matter how long you’ve known him?” Ariana demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and backing up a step. “I’m your daughter. Why can’t you just believe me?”
“It is reprehensible to accuse someone of—of such a crime! Ariana! You will never say anything like this about Thad again!”
~~~
The images shifted. She was no longer standing in the Santiago living room. It was dark and she could smell cut grass. She was crouching.
Veronica recognized this memory. This was the one Ariana had shown her before, of when she took photos of one girl’s assault. Sure enough, she pushed herself up and held her phone to the window, snapping a photo. If Veronica could have closed her eyes and ears to the scene inside, she would.
Ariana, I understand these are your memories. Can’t some other spirit show me this girl at another time in her life? So I can learn her name?
Ariana didn’t answer, but Veronica felt something—it was almost a smell, actually—a reminder of the memory Ariana had shared just before, of Hector’s unwillingness to believe her.
You took the photos—at least, these—were these the first?—You took them, because you wanted to make your father believe you?
The vision swirled.
For a moment, it remained indistinct. It was like looking out of the window of an airplane and seeing only clouds. There was no sound. Veronica strained to hear anything, but the silence was complete in a way she had never experienced before—she couldn’t even hear herself breathing. All she could see was grayish white nothingness.
~~~
At last the grayness parted to reveal a room wallpapered in pink gingham. A twin bed was made up with a white bedspread. Two pink throw pillows adorned it, as well as a doll with a yellow dress and white stuffed pony. Veronica floated as her perspective veered around the room. Stopping as she faced a desk, she drifted toward it. She had no legs—no body. It was like being the camera in a movie, and moving in for a close up.
The desk had a framed photo—it was the girl Ariana had photographed through the window, hugging another girl. They were both dressed in costumes—it had probably been Halloween. The girl from the photos was wearing a headband around her forehead with a spray of blue feathers—she was a flapper. The other girl had a cat mask. They were mid-laugh, looking joyous and full of life.
Veronica’s vision moved from the photo to the desk itself. A green notebook lay there, and “Math, Period 2, Emily Caden” was scrawled on one corner of the cover.
The vision dispersed.
~~~
Veronica came back to herself, sitting on the bed in the room at the Silver Star. She looked at Miguel and Daniel.
“Emily Caden,” she said, finding two photos in the pile. “This is Emily Caden.”
Producing the notebook he carried with him from the inside pocket of his jacket, Daniel noted down the name. “Any idea where she lives?”
“Either San Jose or Phoenix, Arizona,” Miguel said, laying down the pages he was looking at and pointing to two different entries. “Kaitlin Sullivan—she’s the one Ari found the name of—she was in Sacramento. The locations of the other two assaults, Ari talks about them here and here. One was in San Jose and the other was in Phoenix.”
“Did she just follow Thad around?” Daniel asked.
“Best as I can tell, she knew he was going to be in certain places based on stuff he said he was going to do on his show. He wrote a book and announced he’d be doing book signings in Phoenix. She wrote, ‘Book signings, check bookstores in Phoenix,’ here, and then the next entry says, ‘Brought a girl to Sheraton. Ground floor room—score! Three good photos.’”
“This is the only girl we have three photos for,” Daniel said, pulling out different pictures than the ones Veronica had identified for Emily Caden.
“So that’s not Emily,” Veronica said. “She must be in San Jose.”
Miguel tapped the remaining
two. “Then those are Kaitlyn. She was in Sac. So the only one we don’t have a name for is the girl in Phoenix.”
“I could try again,” Veronica said, though she felt reluctant.
Daniel shook his head. “We have two names. That’s enough. If we end up needing more down the line, you can try.”
“So what happens now?” Miguel asked.
“It’s late to get back on the road,” Daniel said. “I think we should spend the night here and leave first thing in the morning. I’ll take the photos and notes to Sac, and I’ll have to contact someone at the San Jose Police Department. I know a detective there. With the girls living in different cities we may get the feds involved. It’s going to be interesting, tracking down Emily Caden and Kaitlyn Sullivan.”
~~~
“You know, I really don’t think you’re high maintenance,” Daniel said.
Dressed in a large tee and pajama bottoms, Veronica was folding up the clothes she’d worn that day to pack in the overnight bag. She pulled out a denim skirt, stockings, and turtleneck to hang them up for the next day.
Glancing over her shoulder as she did, she said, “Daniel, you don’t have to say that. How can I not qualify as high maintenance? Look where we are.”
“Veronica, the only difference between being here and being somewhere in Sac investigating a case is the location. And here, I have inside information, via the psychic on retainer. How can I complain?”
“This case isn’t one of your cases, and today is your day off.”
Leaning against the wall that separated the bedroom from the bathroom, Daniel’s trim body looked deceptively relaxed. Veronica could tell from his voice and the tightness around his eyes that he was tense, however.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to sugar coat it.”
“Ronnie,” Daniel said, pushing off from the wall and stepping toward her. “Will you please listen to me? I’m exactly where I want to be.”
Sighing, she gazed at him. “Okay,” she said. “I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”
“Good,” he said. “You should. I’ve never lied to you, and I’m not going to start now.”
Veronica forced a smile. “I know that, Daniel.”
They went to bed and Veronica wondered if Daniel would initiate anything. He didn’t, which confirmed her secret conviction that while he might believe what he was saying on the surface, underneath, there was resentment.
But I’m going to be better about not taking him for granted in the future, she promised herself. Making that commitment to herself was the only way she’d relax enough to go to sleep. She really didn’t want to screw things up with Daniel.
The next day they woke early and drove back to Sac after picking up some pastries and drinks—coffees for the men, a chai tea for Veronica—from a stand in the atrium where the branches of the Y-shaped building converged. As the car wound up into the trees again, Veronica considered the information they had gleaned in Reno.
Ariana had used an alias when depositing the money she got from Thad Bayer, and she’d told Wyatt Williams she thought she was in danger, and that Bayer had threatened her father. Veronica wondered whether Bayer would really resort to violence. With his fame and the kind of money he made he would have plenty of power without threatening physical harm on anyone, wouldn’t he?
The other information they’d uncovered, disturbing as it was, qualified as a real break in the case. Veronica hoped that Daniel’s colleagues would be successful in recruiting the two California girls in testifying against Bayer. Would the FBI get involved, she wondered?
Veronica sighed as she watched the landscape pass by. When had helping Miguel find the deed to the house become an investigation into Thad Bayer’s serial sexual assaults? It had seemed like a pretty low-key job in the beginning, though she supposed it had always been complicated, what with the turmoil in Miguel’s family. Well, at least now they’d be turning over the information to official law enforcement and it was out of her hands. Maybe she’d finally manage to find the deed and let Miguel and his mother work out their differences without getting in the middle of it all.
Not that finishing up her job with Miguel meant she was off the hook, psychically speaking. She still had one more job to do for a ghost that helped her identify Ariana’s grave robbers. It would require at least an overnight stay hours away, so she was going to have to ask that spirit to be patient a while longer. After all, Mount Shasta wasn’t exactly the city next door to Sacramento.
Veronica narrowed her eyes. There was something else she’d decided to do, though it had been a half-formed thought percolating in the back of her mind since Wednesday afternoon. Eric Huette had shown her his true colors and she was done using her crush on him as an escapist fantasy. Oh, it had been lovely to see him again, to feel his regard for her, to flirt, to ride in his convertible and let him buy her expensive presents—but she acted strange one time, and he wrote her off, listening to what her worst enemy had to say about her. Her worst enemy, for pity’s sake. He’d chosen to listen to Felsen, and he’d decided Veronica was crazy or a con artist or whatever—and, let’s face it, she’d finally realized what an ass he was in general after the way he talked to Khalilah—it just tainted everything about him, including the presents he’d given her.
Paying Daniel back for his help with her debts was top of the list in terms of not taking him for granted anymore. Veronica still didn’t know what she was going to charge Miguel for her services—she felt weird charging anything, honestly. But there was another way for her to get the money she needed to square herself with Daniel. She could sell the dress.
When he first moved to Sacramento, Eric invited Veronica to a party he had to attend for business reasons, and he’d bought her an eleven thousand dollar Oscar de la Renta dress for the occasion, along with Kate Spade pumps and some jewelry that wasn’t made of real gemstones, but still managed to be quite expensive nonetheless. The dress made Veronica feel so beautiful—it was based on a Givenchy design famous in the Audrey Hepburn movie Sabrina. But even if she had a reason to wear the dress again, she’d never be able to enjoy it. Eric’s disappointing choices had ruined the dress for Veronica. With that being the case, at least she could find a way to make use of it. It pleased her to think that the person who would end up benefitting from the sale of the dress would be Daniel, in the end. The dress had almost come between them, at the time. Now, Veronica would sell it and pay Daniel back all the money he’d spent to get her out of debt. She would show him that she wasn’t taking him for granted anymore, and they’d be that much stronger as a couple.
So that meant something else to address when she got home: taking the necessary steps to sell the dress, probably on eBay.
Add to that her never-diminishing pile of grading, and she had plenty to keep her occupied for the next couple of days, at least.
~~~
Daniel parked at the curb outside Miguel’s studio.
“Miguel, how do you see us proceeding with the search for the deed?” Veronica asked before Miguel opened the door to leave the car.
Miguel frowned. “Thanks for reminding me. Do you think you could come inside for a minute? I got together a few things of my father’s. I thought if you handled them…”
“Sure,” Veronica said.
The three of them exited the car and entered Miguel’s studio. He jogged to the back, leaving Veronica and Daniel to gaze at the paintings.
This time, she was going to get a proper look at the track runner painting, she decided. Making her way toward it, she felt the pull she’d noticed before. What was it about this painting? The figure in it was a man, but you could only get a rough sense of his face. Miguel had blurred his features and limbs to suggest speed. What was so important about this picture?
With a small cardboard box held in his hands, Miguel reappeared and approached Veronica where she stood. “Do you like that one?” he asked.
Veronica smiled. “It’s very good.”
“You take photos as a basis for your paintings?” Veronica asked.
“Sometimes. When I’m feeling less confident about an idea, I guess.”
“Is this a real person?” she asked.
Miguel nodded. “Yeah. I was really inspired by him, actually. I used to walk by the track every couple of days when I’d go pick my dad up from physical therapy after he had a fall last year. The track belongs to Sierra College, their Roseville Gateway campus. It’s only a couple of blocks from the house, you know. We’d walk home together. Anyway, this guy was always there. I thought he must spend all his time at the track, but turns out he just goes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, which is when my dad’s appointments were.”
“He inspired you because…?” Veronica said. So far, she still had no idea why she felt so drawn to this painting.
“Well, he just seemed so dedicated. And as far as I could tell, he was all on his own, just showing up and running around the track for an hour without anyone pushing him or anything. That’s dedication,” Miguel said. He gazed at the painting with a smile. “So I asked if I could sketch him and take his picture. I mean, I offered to pay him a little, and he accepted. It was cool. But like I said, I’m not happy with the painting. I hope he still runs at that track cause I’d like to use him as my model for the new version.”
“What’s his name?” Veronica asked.
“Gerry Wallace,” Miguel said.
Veronica frowned deeply. She knew that name. Where did she know that name from?
“And you said he runs Monday, Wednesday, and Friday?” she asked as she racked her brain.
“Well, he did, from five thirty to six thirty. I hope he still does,” Miguel said. “Why?”
“His name is so familiar,” she said, glancing at Daniel, who shrugged. “And I just have been getting this feeling about this painting… I don’t know why.”