A Steep Price (The Tracy Crosswhite Series Book 6)

by Robert Dugoni

  He got out of the car and spotted the wheelbarrow along the side of the house. It contained a bag of potting soil and Vera’s bucket of gardening tools. He looked at the rhododendron Vera had asked him to move the prior week. He’d begged out of her request, saying that the digging and lifting would hurt his back. That had been just an excuse. He saw a vacant spot in the foliage where the plant had been.

  “Damn,” he said.

  Atop the porch steps he reached to insert the key in the lock, then pulled back his hand. What if this were to be his life, coming home late to a dark and empty house? What if Vera wasn’t here when Antonio got married or when he opened his new restaurant? The thoughts spun like dust devils, forcing him to step back. He chastised himself. Now was not the time to fall apart or to panic. Vera was going to need him, whether she was willing to admit it or not. He needed to hold his shit together.

  Faz took several deep breaths and stepped into the kitchen. The stove light shined down on several pans of banana bread emitting an intoxicating odor. “Vera?”

  He pulled his tie from around his neck, clicked off the stove light, and touched the bread. Still warm. She’d been busy.

  He walked into the darkened dining room and heard water running through the pipes in the walls—Vera in the shower. At the top of the stairs he came to Antonio’s bedroom. It still had Mariners baseball pennants on the walls, and the drapes and bedcovers matched the team’s blue-and-turquoise color scheme. Vera had insisted they not change it, saying that when Antonio had children they could spend the night in his room. Faz closed his eyes, wondering if Vera would be here to experience it.

  The lamp on Vera’s dresser illuminated the room in a soft light. He heard the shower shut off and, not wanting to alarm Vera when she walked into the bedroom, he called out her name.

  “Vera?”

  “Hey. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  He hung his suit coat on the valet stand and wrapped his tie around the knob. He discarded his shirt in the hamper and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his loafers.

  Vera stepped from the bathroom followed by a rolling wave of steam. She wore her light-blue bathrobe, a towel wrapped atop her head. “Hey,” she said, bending to kiss him. “How did it go?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, Latents is going to jump on it first thing in the morning, after we get the search warrant,” he said. He didn’t tell her that he’d gone out to South Park to talk with Little Jimmy; it only would cause her concern.

  “Did you ever find out what motivated the wife to try to wipe down the car?”

  “No,” Faz said. “Not really our business.” He stood and slid his shoes into the rack in his closet. “Del thinks it’s drugs. I think she’s cheating on her husband. Drugs are something you can at least explain to your spouse, maybe even earn a little sympathy. She wasn’t saying anything. We’ll probably never know.”

  “Are you hungry? I could heat up some ravioli and that chicken from the other night? Or I could cut up some banana bread with butter.”

  “Smelled terrific when I walked in, but I’ll wait until morning,” he said. “I ate at work.” He hadn’t. He hadn’t been hungry and wasn’t at present. “How was your day? Looks like you got a little gardening in.”

  She smiled and shrugged. “It was okay. I kept busy.”

  “You got some color. Or is that just from the steam?” Nobody took hotter showers than Vera. Her face looked flushed, even in the dull light.

  She went to her dresser, opened a bottle of cream, and spread the lotion across her forehead and beneath her eyes. She was still young, but in that light Faz saw that she’d aged. They both had. He looked in the mirror some mornings and didn’t recognize the guy looking back at him. He still felt like he was thirty.

  “I got done some much-needed weeding and replanted that rhododendron along the back fence.”

  “I saw that. I’m sorry. I should have done that for you,” Faz said.

  She waved him off and rubbed cream on her neck and arms.

  “I’m sorry, Vera. I shouldn’t have bitched about it.”

  “Don’t start apologizing,” she said.

  “No, I mean it—”

  “So do I!” Her voice snapped.

  Faz froze. He watched her reflection in the mirror. She looked down at the dresser. After a moment she said, “Just . . . don’t start apologizing for everything like . . . like I’m not going to be here, or like I’m some invalid you have to walk around on eggshells.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just know it was a lot of work moving it.”

  Vera nodded. “I got the biopsy results back.”

  “What?” Faz said, suddenly alarmed. “I thought he said Friday.”

  “Well, his office called and wanted me to schedule an appointment to come in Friday for the results, but I told them I didn’t want to waste any more time and to just tell me over the phone.”

  Faz felt a lump in his throat. He almost couldn’t get the words out. “What did he say?”

  “I have a grade two tumor in my right breast.”

  “What does that mean, grade two? Is that good?”

  “He said that tumors vary from one to three so it’s not as bad as it could be, but not as good either.”

  Two out of three, Faz thought. Shit.

  “Forty percent of the breast is involved. He said it started in the milk duct, then broke through the duct wall and spread to the fatty tissue and to my lymphatic system. My lymph nodes.”

  Faz felt as though his entire body had been set on fire. “So what do we do now?”

  “I contacted an oncologist at Seattle Cancer Care that he recommended, and I got an appointment. The nurse said it was likely we’d discuss a lumpectomy or mastectomy with either radiation or chemotherapy. Possibly both.”

  “We’ll just have them take it off, right? No sense screwing with it. Take the breast off and then either chemo or radiation.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I assume they’ll provide me with options. Maybe they can save it.”

  “Screw that. Then you worry that it might come back. Take it off. Take the left off too.”

  She shook her head and turned to face him. “How would you feel if you had testicular cancer and they wanted to cut off your balls?”

  Faz felt as if she’d punched him in the gut. “Hey, I didn’t . . . I’m just saying it isn’t important to—”

  “It’s important to me! Okay? It’s important to me. I don’t want to be disfigured.” She started to cry. “And I don’t want this, Vic. Not now. Not now. Not at this time in my life. I don’t want this.”

  He went to her and hugged her tight. “I know,” he said. “And I don’t want you to have it either, Vera.” And in that moment he realized that the cancer wasn’t about him, and never would be. It would impact his life, and maybe his future, but this was about Vera and, for one of the few times in her life, she was afraid. “You just hold on to me, now, Vera. Okay?” he said. “You just hold on.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Thursday, July 12, 2018

  Thursday morning, Faz stood in his bedroom sliding his belt through the loops of his slacks and thinking about the previous night. It had been one of the few times in his life that he’d seen Vera scared, truly afraid of what was to come, and that frightened him as much as the doctor’s pronouncement that Vera had cancer.

  His cell phone buzzed on his dresser. Del. He didn’t sound good. “I threw my back out last night after I left Park 95.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “It was stupid. I met Celia and we took a hot yoga class—”

  “You did hot yoga?” Faz asked, disbelieving.

  “I know I’m going to regret telling you this, but I sweat like a bull in a wool coat. After we got home I needed to get Sonny out for his walk. He’d been inside the entire day. Anyway, he got his leash caught up and when I turned to get him untangled, my back seized. I almost didn’t make it home.”

  “You
didn’t slip a disk, did you?”

  “Nah. I’ve had this happen before. It’s muscle spasms. It happens if I work out, then go out into the cold and turn too quickly. I’m hoping it’s just spasms. But at present I can’t get out of bed, let alone walk. I’m on muscle relaxants, which make me too loopy to drive. I’m hoping I can get in this afternoon but I’m not so certain I’ll make it. Can you call me if Latents gets a hit?”

  “Yeah, no worries, but it will likely be this afternoon. I’m taking the morning off to go in with Vera to see an oncology specialist.” Faz lowered his voice so Vera would not hear him downstairs. He could smell the aroma of fresh coffee and banana bread. “Vera got the results back last night from her follow-up visit. She has cancer, Del. Stage two.” Faz explained what that meant. “It’s invaded her lymph nodes.”

  “Shit, Faz, I’m sorry, man. I was hoping for better news.”

  “So was I. I just feel so bad for her, Del, so bad that she has to go through this.”

  “What’s the plan?” Del asked. “With Vera, I mean. What’s the treatment?”

  “We’ll find out more this morning. I assume she’ll have to decide whether to get a mastectomy, and then a course of radiation or chemo, maybe both.”

  “Hell, just cut it off. Don’t screw around with it coming back.”

  Faz again looked to the door to make sure Vera was not coming up the stairs. He lowered his voice. “That’s what I said, but it isn’t that simple. Vera asked how I’d feel if I had testicular cancer and they wanted to cut off my balls.”

  Del laughed. “She said that?”

  “Her emotions are all crazy. I’m learning it’s best to just sit and not say nothing.”

  “Well, you can do that.”

  Faz sighed. “I owe her a lot more, I know. She talked to me last night for an hour. I didn’t know what to do or to say. I just nodded and held her hand.”

  “Maybe that’s all she wants, Faz.”

  “Maybe. She’s scared, Del. So am I.”

  “Listen, take all the time you need. Take the whole day. I’ll find a way to get in and if I can’t, I’ll work from here.”

  “That’s just it—I can’t stay home. Vera doesn’t want me hanging around feeling sorry for her. I’m lucky she’s letting me go with her to the doctor this morning.”

  “She may be saying one thing but wanting something else. Just don’t feel like you have to rush into the office.”

  “I’ll let you know first thing I hear from Latents. You do the same if you hear before me,” Faz said.

  “Yeah. Will do,” Del said. “Have you told Tracy or Kins yet, about Vera, I mean?”

  “No, not yet. Vera wants to wait to tell anyone until after we see the oncologist,” he said. “Then I’ll let everyone know the lay of the land, including Billy; in case I need to take some time.”

  “Maybe it’s good we have Andrea,” Del said. “She can take some of the pressure off both of us.”

  “Can’t hurt,” Faz said.

  CHAPTER 21

  Tracy arrived at her cubicle later than she had intended. She’d dropped off Kavita Mukherjee’s computer at the computer forensic division inside the Vice ICAC, which stood for Internet Crimes Against Children. She’d asked a friend within the unit to break the password and put the e-mails on a flash drive for Katie Pryor, since technically Tracy was not yet working the case. Pryor would secure search warrants for the computer and to obtain Mukherjee’s bank statements and ATM activity. Pryor would also fill out paperwork for Verizon that she had “exigent circumstances,” which were the key words needed to get the service provider to trace Mukherjee’s phone and send Pryor the phone’s last registered latitude and longitude.

  The Violent Crimes Section was in full swing when Tracy arrived, phone conversations and the clatter from computer keyboards mixing with ambient noise from the television. Tracy noticed her computer had not been activated since she turned it off.

  Kins sat at his desk with his back to her, talking on the telephone. Faz and Del were both out, though Faz’s computer was on. Andrea Gonzalez was not seated at any of the desks, which was good because Tracy hadn’t had the opportunity to fill Kins in on Kavita Mukherjee.

  “Hey,” Kins said, hanging up his phone and rotating his chair. He checked his watch. “I thought you might be in court; I’m assuming we didn’t get a verdict yet.”

  Tracy shook her head. “Hoetig said he’d call when the jury sends word.” She walked over to his cubicle and looked over the top to make sure no one was on the other side. “I have something to talk with you about. Let’s grab a cup of coffee.”

  “Does it have anything to do with the reason why Nolasco came in here asking for you?”

  Tracy suspected she knew the reason for Nolasco’s visit. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “No. He just said he wanted to see you as soon as you got in. I told him you were waiting on a verdict in Stephenson. What did you do to piss him off this time?”

  “Me?” Tracy said, smiling. “I’ve been on my best behavior.”

  “Yeah,” Kins said. “Sure.”

  She looked at the two empty chairs. “Del and Faz get a hit on that print?”

  “Not sure. Last I heard the car is over at VPR,” Kins said, meaning the vehicle processing room. “Del’s at home though; he called in and said he threw out his back. I’m not sure where Faz is, maybe Park 95. Del said he was going to deliver search warrants to Latents.”

  “How bad is Del’s back?”

  Kins shrugged. “He said it’s sore and stiff. He’s on muscle relaxants so he can’t drive.”

  “How early did Gonzalez get in?”

  Kins shook his head. “Don’t know. I haven’t seen her yet. What’s going on between the two of you? What do you have against her?”

  “I don’t like the way Nolasco hired her.”

  “That sounds a little petty, don’t you think? She doesn’t have control over how she got hired.”

  Tracy looked over the top of the cubicle wall a second time, then moved closer to Kins’s desk and lowered her voice. “I ran into Ron yesterday afternoon on my way back from court. I asked him why he left the A Team. He said he didn’t have a choice. He said Nolasco assigned him to the C Team.”

  Kins gave an unconvinced frown. “Well, he’s the captain, Tracy. He can do that. C Team is losing Arroyo. I like Ron, but this seems like a better career decision for him too.”

  Tracy nodded. “It probably is, but Nolasco told Ron to take the job because the A Team was a dead end, that none of us were retiring or leaving anytime soon.”

  “Again, that’s true; isn’t it?” Kins said.

  “Yeah, but Nolasco doesn’t know that.”

  “Know what?”

  “He doesn’t know I’m coming back.”

  Kins shook his head. “I’m not following. He doesn’t know you’re pregnant, does he?”

  “I haven’t said anything to him. But assume he does know—Ron suspected as much, so that’s not far-fetched—and assume that’s why he hired Gonzalez and moved Ron to C Team.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “It’s a heck of a lot easier to force me out if he’s hiring another woman to take my place—a Hispanic woman as opposed to a middle-aged white male. It would make a discrimination charge almost impossible to prove.”

  Kins wasn’t buying it. “You do realize you sound a bit paranoid, don’t you? You really think Nolasco has thought that far in advance?”

  “We both know Nolasco has wanted me gone ever since I started here.”

  “Well, now that’s true. You’re like the wad of gum on the bottom of his shoe.”

  “And when’s the last time somebody just started in Violent Crimes? How’d Gonzalez jump the wait list?”

  Kins started to speak, then paused. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I also don’t like the fact that Gonzalez has been at my desk—using my computer to log in to the system.”

  Kins looked at
Tracy’s computer. “Do you think she did anything?”

  “I don’t know. She said in LA they used whatever desk was available.”

  Kins shrugged. “Then don’t worry about it.”

  Tracy changed subjects. “Listen, before I go looking for Nolasco, I need to run something by you.” Tracy told him the details of her call from Katie Pryor and what she’d learned about Kavita Mukherjee’s disappearance.

  “With everything we have going on, you’re not going to convince Nolasco to give us that one. He’ll tell you a missing person is exactly what missing persons is for.”

  “I know,” Tracy said. “But he also can’t sit on his hands and wait until we start finding body parts in Dumpsters again.”

  She left Kins and walked to Nolasco’s office. Between the high-rises of downtown Seattle she could see the clear blue waters of Elliott Bay against a pale, cloud-free sky. Nolasco’s office door was open. Tracy knocked. The captain sat at his desk, talking on the phone. He gestured for her to enter and she sat in one of two chairs. One of the women in another unit once said Nolasco looked like an aging porn star—thin, with a thick mustache and hair parted down the middle that extended over the tops of his ears.

  His problem with Tracy stemmed from an altercation they’d had when she’d been a student at the police academy and Nolasco one of her instructors. Nolasco had made the mistake of grabbing her breast during a demonstration on how to frisk a suspect. He suffered a broken nose and severe groin pain, and he developed a sincere dislike of Tracy.

  When Nolasco hung up the phone, Tracy said, “You were looking for me?”

  Nolasco always looked like he was squinting into bright sunlight, or fighting a headache. “Kins said you were in court waiting on a verdict.”

  “Still waiting.”

  “I understand you have a problem with Gonzalez.”

  He was too easy to read, but Tracy tried not to smile or say something sarcastic, knowing she’d need Nolasco’s approval to look into Mukherjee. “No, I had a problem with her using my computer.”