A Steep Price (The Tracy Crosswhite Series Book 6)

by Robert Dugoni

  They identified themselves and were told that Aditi and Rashesh had been held in a conference room, and that Rashesh was not happy about it.

  Not happy was an understatement. Rashesh paced the small room, stopping when Tracy and Kins entered to vent his anger. “What is the meaning of this? Why have we missed our flight to London?”

  Aditi sat in a chair at the conference room table, looking bewildered. Tracy asked to speak to Aditi alone, which spurred further protests from Rashesh about their missed flight.

  “Our luggage is on that flight.”

  Tracy looked to the Port of Seattle officer. “The bags were pulled off the flight,” he said. “They’re being brought here.”

  “What about—” Rashesh started, but Aditi cut him off.

  “Rashesh, please.” She turned to Tracy. “Is this about Kavita?”

  Tracy nodded. “Yes.”

  Aditi looked at her husband. “Then I must speak to them, Rashesh.” She stood and went to her husband, trying to appease him. “If it is about Kavita, then it is important. Please.”

  Rashesh hesitated before finally departing, accompanied by two Port Authority police officers. After he had left the room, Tracy and Kins took chairs at the table. Tracy pulled a document from the inside pocket of her jacket, unfolded it, and slid it across the table. She’d had Margo Paige, the park ranger, e-mail it to her after they’d spoken on the telephone.

  “The park ranger for Bridle Trails State Park called me this evening,” Tracy said. “She found this report in their storage at Sand Point. It was filed nine years ago—a young girl was riding her horse when it fell into a well.”

  “That was me,” Aditi said without hesitation and without considering the document. “I was fifteen. My horse died. I was fortunate to get off just before it fell into the hole.”

  “Kavita was with you?” Tracy asked.

  “Yes. She was behind me or she would have been the one who fell into the hole.”

  Tracy looked at Kins before reengaging Aditi. “You knew there were open wells in the park.”

  “That one, certainly.” Her gaze shifted between Tracy and Kins. “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with Kavita’s death?”

  Tracy and Kins had not revealed to Aditi, to the Mukherjees, or to the media, the circumstances of Kavita’s death.

  “You and Kavita shared an iCloud account?” Tracy said.

  “I told you that we did.”

  “You could trace her phone, determine her location.”

  “I suppose. You told me that it could be done.” Aditi’s gaze narrowed, as if she had a sudden headache.

  “Did you trace her phone that night, Aditi? Did you trace it and find out Kavita was going to the state park?”

  “Or did you call and ask Kavita to meet you there?” Kins said.

  For a moment Aditi did not react. She considered each of them with the same anguished and confused look. Then, slowly, her eyes widened and she sat up, pulling away from the table. “Oh my God,” she said. “You think I killed Vita?” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Why would you think that? Why? Vita was my friend. She was like a sister to me.” She started to cry.

  Aditi looked and sounded sincere, but Tracy had cases in which the killer did not even recall the murder, had even passed a lie detector test. “It must have hurt a lot, Aditi, to realize that you were leaving that sister, that she was going to have the life you wanted—become a doctor, remain independent.”

  “Of course it hurt to be leaving her,” Aditi said, finding her voice. “I loved Vita. But I chose this life.”

  “Did you?” Tracy asked.

  “What?”

  “Did you choose it, Aditi, or was it chosen for you?”

  “I don’t understand.” She looked between Tracy and Kins. “I told you. I went to India, to my cousin’s wedding, and I met Rashesh there.”

  “Your parents were there also?” Tracy said.

  “Of course.”

  “Did they pressure you into marrying Rashesh?”

  Aditi gave a short laugh, more a burst of air. She sat back in her chair. “Of course they pressured me; it’s what they wanted for me. It’s what they’ve always wanted for me.”

  “Is it what you wanted, Aditi?”

  “No. No, I didn’t. Not up until that moment. I told you that. Rashesh is a good man. He’s a good man and I believe he will love me if he does not already.”

  “What about your plans, Aditi?” Tracy asked. “What about your plans of attending medical school and becoming a doctor?”

  “Someday, maybe I still will,” she said. “Rashesh and I have discussed it. He does not want me to be unhappy.”

  “Are you unhappy?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No.” She paused a moment. Then she said, “I want to be a mother. I want to raise a family.” She blew out a burst of air, seemingly very tired. “I’m not expecting you to understand, Detective, but when I asked myself what I wanted more in my life, the answer was obvious and not difficult. I want to be a mother, to have children. I want to be a wife and I want to have a family. Maybe I can be a doctor someday as well, but if you asked me which would I give up, there isn’t even an issue. I’d give up being a doctor.”

  And in that moment, Tracy knew that Aditi was telling the truth, because she also felt that way. Aditi had not told them of the time her horse fell into an abandoned well because they had not told her where they had found Kavita’s body. She looked at Kins and shook her head. “She didn’t follow her.”

  “Kavita? No. Of course not,” Aditi said. “Why would I follow her? I could just call her. I wanted to. I wanted to see her very badly and now . . .” More tears. “But I thought it best to give her time to process everything I had thrown at her.”

  Something tickled the back of Tracy’s mind and she asked, “Who knew of your accident in the park, when your horse fell into the well?”

  “Our parents, certainly,” Aditi said. “The park ranger. Maybe Kavita’s brothers. Yes, Vita’s brothers knew, though Sam would have been very young at the time, a baby.”

  Now something else clicked, things falling into place, like when you found a key piece to a puzzle and it led to the other pieces connecting. “Sam shared the same iCloud account, didn’t he? You said he shared music and movies with Kavita?”

  “Sam and Kavita were very close,” Aditi said. “He missed her very much. This was a way for them to stay in contact with each other. It was all the same account.”

  Tracy looked to Kins, but inside she was chastising herself. How could she have missed it? It was all right there, on Kavita’s phone.

  CHAPTER 50

  Johnny Nolasco had confirmed Jeffrey Blackmon’s credentials, and also that Andrea Gonzalez had been working for the DEA for the better part of three years. Nolasco said that the DEA had a large bust in play up and down the West Coast, including Seattle, and Gonzalez was the agent in charge and needed a cover. That information was not for public dissemination and had been orchestrated at a level above Nolasco. That answered one question, but not the most pressing question. Where the hell was Faz?

  When he’d disconnected with Nolasco, Del had again called Faz but again his call went to voice mail. He was about to call Faz’s home number when the phone rang in his hand. Caller ID indicated the call was from Faz’s home line.

  “Hey,” Del said, answering quickly. “Glad you called. There’s some bizarre shit going on. Did Nolasco get ahold of you?”

  “Del?”

  Del was momentarily confused by the female voice. Then he said, “Vera?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry about that. I thought it was Faz.”

  “He’s not with you?”

  “No. No, he’s not with me. You haven’t heard from him?”

  “Not since he left the house early this morning. I can’t reach his cell and he’s not at the office.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing, Vera. Maybe he stopped for a bite to eat on his w
ay home.” But Del didn’t believe that to have been the case. Something was wrong.

  “Then why isn’t he picking up his phone?”

  Del didn’t know.

  After assuring Vera that he’d call as soon as he heard anything, Del hung up and punched in Faz’s cell phone number. His call again went immediately to voice mail, leaving Del with a haunting feeling. He paced the back room with the view of downtown Seattle. The windows in the high-rises sparkled with a golden light. The approaching darkness brought its own foreboding sense of dread.

  Del called Billy Williams’s cell phone. Williams answered and Del explained the circumstances for the call. He told Billy, “He was going to sit on Gonzalez, try to determine where she went, if she met with anyone to cause any suspicion.”

  “When’s the last time you heard from him?” Billy asked.

  “I talked to him this morning, before Gonzalez went anywhere. He was sitting outside her apartment.”

  “And you haven’t heard from him? Not a call, text, e-mail?”

  “Nothing,” Del said.

  Williams listened intently, then said he knew nothing about any task force, but that he’d go up the chain of command and call Del back if he heard anything.

  Del wasn’t about to wait for Billy. He grabbed his coat and stepped out the front door. He knew Gonzalez’s home address, which was close by. He slid into the Impala and the engine roared to life. On the drive, he punched in Faz’s number yet again, but as before, his call went directly to voice mail.

  At Gonzalez’s apartment complex, he parked on the street and approached the front door, looking for the register of tenants, not finding one. More and more apartment buildings and condominium complexes were leaving tenant names off the register to discourage solicitors and to provide security, especially for the elderly. This building wasn’t huge, but Del estimated it contained at least twelve different units. He pushed a button, waited. A male voice answered and Del asked for Andrea Gonzalez.

  “You have the wrong apartment.”

  “I’m sorry. I must have written it down wrong. Do you happen to know her apartment number?”

  “No, sorry.”

  Del tried another apartment but got no answer. He pushed buttons for a third and then a fourth apartment. The tenants who answered either didn’t know Gonzalez or hesitated enough for Del to know they weren’t about to give out her apartment to a stranger, even if they knew it. He tried several more but either got no answer or no information.

  Frustrated, he stepped back to the walk, feeling just the hint of a breeze on his neck, trying to focus, coming up with nothing. He called Faz’s cell phone once again, and again it went to voice mail. He swore under his breath as he made his way back to his Impala.

  Inside his car, he called into the night shift and asked for Ron Mayweather. “I need you to fill out a form to get the last known longitude and latitude for Faz’s cell phone.”

  “What’s going on, Del?”

  “I don’t know. He isn’t home and he isn’t at work and he isn’t answering his cell. Can you run it down?”

  “Yeah, I’m on it. I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

  CHAPTER 51

  Sam Mukherjee stood in the cul-de-sac of his family’s home, staring somberly at Kins and Tracy. He wore a helmet, T-shirt, and shorts and held one end of a skateboard, the other end beneath his tennis shoe.

  Tracy pushed out of the car door and approached. “Hey, Sam.”

  Sam flipped the board and caught it. “Hey.” He sounded and looked uncertain. “My parents aren’t home.”

  “Do you know where they are?” Tracy asked.

  “My father is out making arrangements for Kavita’s funeral, I think. My mother went for a walk and hasn’t come back.” His chin tilted up as if to consider the darkening night sky. Crickets clicked, a chorus coming from the park.

  “Do you know where she walked?” Tracy asked.

  Sam pointed over his shoulder to the trees. “She usually walks in the park, but she’s also usually home by now so . . .”

  “Every night?” Tracy said.

  “Pretty much,” Sam said. “Sometimes my dad goes with her, but not always.”

  “And your brother, Nikhil, where is he?” Kins asked.

  “He’s inside.” Sam gestured vaguely. “I don’t know what he’s doing.”

  “Do you have your phone on you, Sam?” Tracy asked.

  Sam pointed to his shirt on the concrete steps of the narrow porch. “Yeah,” he said, tentatively.

  “I’m going to need to take it, Sam.”

  “Why?”

  Tracy did not want to blow up the young boy’s world, but that was inevitable now. “Your mother said she takes your phone at night. Is that right?”

  “Yeah. Usually, but . . . she isn’t here and it’s summer so . . . She hasn’t been taking it. Sometimes she forgets. I think with everything that has happened . . . Why do you want it?”

  “Did you give your mother your phone Monday night?” Tracy asked.

  He shook his head. “No. I had a soccer game and stayed at my friend’s.”

  “But you sent Kavita a text Monday night, right?”

  “Yeah. I was worried about her. I heard my mom and dad talking about Aditi getting married in India. My mom was upset about it. I knew Vita would be upset too. I just wanted to find out how she was doing, if she was okay.”

  “And she told you she couldn’t go to your game because she had a date, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did she tell you about other times she’d had dates?”

  “Yeah.”

  “More than once?”

  “Couple of times, I think.”

  “And these were text messages?”

  “Usually. Sometimes I called her.”

  Tracy looked to Kins. They’d discussed the likelihood that if Kavita had told Sam about one date, they’d discussed others, and that information would have been readily available on the boy’s phone. “Did you ever track your sister’s cell phone, Sam?”

  “What?” His confusion sounded sincere.

  “Did you ever track Kavita’s cell phone to determine where she was?”

  “I wouldn’t even know how you’d do that. I mean, maybe I would, I guess. But . . . I didn’t ever do that. Why would I?”

  “Do you know, Sam, if your parents read the text messages you shared with Kavita?”

  He shook his head, emphatic. “I deleted those.”

  “What about other messages to friends? Did your parents read those?”

  “My mom did. Sometimes, I mean. It was kind of BS, you know, but she said that since they were paying for my phone I didn’t really have a choice.”

  “You’re on your parents’ cell phone account, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Did your parents put any parental safeguards on your phone, safeguards that allowed them to read your text messages? Even the ones you might have deleted?”

  Sam was about to respond, but then paused, as if a thought had come to him and it had taken the words out of his mouth. His eyes lost focus and his gaze dipped to the ground. When he reengaged with Tracy, he’d figured out that answer—just as Tracy had figured it out, though he did not yet know the full consequences.

  Andrei Vilkotski had confirmed what Tracy suspected as she and Kins drove from the airport to Bellevue. She’d called and asked him about apps parents could use to read their children’s phone messages even without having the phone. Vilkotski had said that the number of spyware apps that allowed parents to read their children’s e-mails and text messages, even those texts and messages the child thought he had deleted, were too numerous to list. Vilkotski had also confirmed that because Sam shared an Apple account with his sister, his parents could also use his telephone number to track Kavita’s cell phone.

  So if Sam and Kavita had discussed Kavita dating, then his mother had also known, for some time, and she’d had the ability to track Kavita’s phon
e to determine where she’d been. If she had done so, she would have determined a routine—Kavita’s and Dr. Charles Shea’s routine—every Monday night, ending in a hotel room in Kirkland.

  “I’ll handle the older brother,” Kins said, moving toward the front door. “Can you handle the mother?”

  CHAPTER 52

  Faz opened his eyes, or thought he did. The room remained dark. It took another moment for his other senses to come online. When they did, he wished they hadn’t. His head pounded—deep, agonizing thumps that beat with his pulse. He realized he was only seeing out of his right eye. His left eye had swollen nearly shut, his field of vision just a slit. When he attempted to sit up, to relieve the pressure of the handcuffs cutting into his wrists, he winced and grimaced from the pain in his ribs, bad enough that he almost cried out. He had to move in stages, mentally preparing himself for the pain before each movement. His shoulders and arms ached where boots and fists had pummeled him, and his ribs burned as though on fire. He was having difficulty catching his breath. Each time he inhaled it brought a searing pain in his side and caused him to cough, which only further intensified that pain.

  He lowered his head to his hands and explored his face. His fingers touched warm, sticky fluid trickling from his head down his neck and behind his ears. Blood. A lot of it. Little Jimmy and his minions had beaten Faz like a piñata. He tasted the iron flavor in his mouth, his tongue exploring the insides of his cheeks for cuts and broken teeth. After his quick physical assessment, he went to work on his surroundings and his circumstances. He remained handcuffed to the pipe in the room and, for all intents and purposes, he was seriously screwed.

  The beating, however, had worse implications than the physical damage. It indicated Little Jimmy really didn’t care whether Faz lived or died. In fact, the beating indicated that Faz’s bluff of a police firestorm if they killed him hadn’t worked. Little Jimmy was more concerned with losing tens of millions of dollars of the cartel’s product. The cartel would kill Little Jimmy if that happened, which meant Jimmy had no other option but to kill Faz.

  Faz realized that he’d been stupid. He should have insisted that his presence was only related to his investigation into the death of Monique Rodgers. Instead, he’d given Little Jimmy another reason to kill him, as if Jimmy needed another reason.