by Alexi Venice
As they stood gazing on the serene setting, a female patient suddenly threw her book on the floor in a huff and jumped up. She jerked her head around, ostensibly looking for someone or something, then bolted to the bank of windows and frantically searched for the cord to pull the blinds. “We have to shut these! They can see us! They’re controlling us! Where’s the cord?! Where’s the cord?!” Her hands worked frantically, as they moved over and around the edges of the blinds.
Tommy, Frank and Amanda were riveted to the patient’s plight, as they watched a staff member calmly approach her. “Sure, Sally Anne, we can close the blinds, but no one is watching you.”
“The FBI is watching me from the rooftops! Those cameras on the building over there are pointed directly at us! They’re recording everything I do!”
The staff member pulled down the cordless blinds. “You’re safe in here. The FBI isn’t watching you or looking for you. You’re safe with me, Sally Anne.”
Tommy whispered to Amanda under his breath. “Actually, the police are standing only 30 feet away, and we are watching you, but we don’t care about you.”
“Shush!” she whispered back.
Charlene rejoined them. “Sorry you had to see that. I should’ve suggested you stay in the conference room.”
“No problem,” Tommy said. “Not like we don’t deal with stuff like that every day.”
“I suppose,” Charlene said. “I spoke to Security. They’ll look through the video and email it to me. They have to get it approved for release from the Legal Department. I can forward the attachment to you if you give me an email address.”
“Perfect. Here’s my card. My email is on there.” Tommy handed her his business card.
She tapped it against her fingertips. “Thanks. Hopefully, I’ll have the video later today.”
“Thank you for making this so easy. I look forward to hearing from you,” Tommy said.
Everyone shook hands, and Charlene escorted them to the exit. As they passed through the common room, Sally Anne said loud enough for Amanda to hear, “Bye, Felicia! Uh-huh. That’s you. Um, bye now.”
Amanda did a doubletake, wondering if she heard correctly. When she saw Charlene shaking her head, Amanda knew she had. I can’t blame her. I’m one of the people she’s afraid of.
Chapter 29
Palo Alto
Once they were outside the hospital, Tommy said, “I’m pretty sure Sally Anne said, ‘Bye, Felicia’ to you, Amanda.”
“Either me or Charlene,” Amanda said. “I’m honored.”
Frank laughed. “Typical day on the Unit. When I was a rookie, I can’t tell you how many people I brought to San Francisco Community Hospital every weekend who were just like her.”
“Me, too,” Tommy said.
Amanda felt her phone vibrate as she got in the car. Once she was settled in the back seat, she read a text from Jen.
Hey. Did u recover from our engagement photo shoot?
Amanda replied, Barely. Sorry it wasn’t more romantic.
No worries. It was worth it, considering the pic I initially received of you. Sexy as hell.
Stop.
Makes me hot every time I look at it, which I’m doing right now.
Ur embarrassing me.
U love it. What are you doing after work?
Don’t know yet. I was hoping to hit Happy Hour yoga at 6pm.
That sounds fun. Want me to save some dinner for you?
Amanda responded with a smiley emoji wearing spectacles, followed by xxxooo.
Jen replied with a heart.
Amanda glanced up and saw Tommy was on his iPhone as well, so she used the opportunity to text Chance Greyson.
What did you think of the engagement pics?
There’s one of Jen kissing you on the forehead that I really like. He texted her the pic.
Amanda liked it too. Her eyes were closed but the corners of her mouth were turned up slightly. Jen’s kiss looked like she was forgiving Amanda for the nude photo being plastered all over the Internet. The tender mood blossomed with love.
She replied to Chance. Yeah. I like that one, too. Let’s use it.
I’ll plan to attach it to the media statement I’ve drafted in the event the nude pic goes public.
She thought a minute before replying to him. About that. I discussed the situation with Jack, and he suggested that we release the nude pic on a busy news day, so it would be out there on our own terms but not the top story.
Why? Chance asked.
So we control the timing. Otherwise, we risk its release when I announce I’m running for Governor or something like that.
Get out. R u considering?
No. It’s just an example.
Oh. You’d hire me on ur team, tho, right?
Of course.
Back to the preemptive release. What if the blackmailers are bluffing???
They’re not bluffing. When they don’t get their money, they’ll release it when they think it will do the most damage to me.
I’m good with a preemptive strike if you are. I can just float it out there when you give me the word.
Okay. Let’s stay in touch. We need some big news to drop.
Indeed. Later.
***
As they pulled into the Hall of Justice parking lot, Tommy said, “I’m going to see Navarro.”
“I thought we were going to meet with Ryan?” she asked.
“I gotta give Navarro these devices. We promised Kara to return her phone tomorrow.”
“You’re right. Maybe we can hit up Ryan afterward.”
When they entered Navarro’s workspace, he looked up from his monitor. “Hey guys. What’s up?”
“We have some devices we need you to search.” Tommy dropped the Montiago cache of cell phones, iPads and laptops on a table next to Navarro’s desk.
“Where did these come from? Navarro asked.
“Kara Montiago. They’re part of the Carlisle murder investigation,” Tommy said. “Could you scan and copy everything on this phone, first? We promised Kara we’d return it to her tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Navarro said.
“I think she deleted everything she could. I’d be surprised if you found anything on it.”
“I can get past the initial deletion. We’ll see how good a job she did.”
“She runs a tech company,” Amanda said.
“I have my ways,” Navarro said.
“If you say so.”
“Anything specific you want me to look for? Texts? Emails? Photos? Videos?”
“All of the above,” Tommy said. “Anything suspicious that might implicate them in the murder. Carlos was at home that night with his kids going in and out. Kara was in the city at a hotel.”
“Got it.”
“Also, could your team review the security footage of the street outside Goat Hill Pizza and look for one of these cars parked there?” Tommy showed Navarro the pics he took of Carlos Montiago’s cars.
“Nice cars. All vintage and in good shape. Should be easy to spot on security video. Can you email those pics to me?” Navarro asked.
“Coming your way,” Tommy said as he typed on his phone.
“Did I already tell you that we couldn’t find any video from the security system at Carlisle’s house?” Navarro asked.
“I thought you were going to work with a couple of guys at Tyche who helped Carlisle set it up.”
“We did. Either it was turned off, or someone knew how to erase the footage. There isn’t a footprint at all. That’s the trouble with these web-based programs.” Navarro shrugged and waved his hand at Carlisle’s computer system.
“Nothing, huh?” Tommy asked.
“Nothing.”
“Shit. That would’ve made it too easy, though, right? Video of the killer coming and going from Carlisle’s house?” Tommy asked.
“Gotta make you do your job, Vietti,” Navarro said.
“The old-fashioned way. I’ve come to rely on you guys too m
uch,” Tommy said.
“Not possible,” Navarro said.
“Well, those devices should keep you busy for a while.”
“A couple of hours, at least.”
“Wanna meet with Ryan now?” Tommy asked Amanda.
“No time like the present.”
They took the dingy stairwell from Navarro’s floor up to Ryan’s, where the entire force of detectives was located. On their way to Ryan’s, Tommy swung into the cubicle farm where a junior detective was working on tracking down Kara Montiago’s stable of ex-lovers.
“Find anything interesting yet?” Tommy asked.
The detective looked up. “Nothing new to report. One of Mrs. Montiago’s ex-lovers, Chris Galindez, is still MIA.”
“You searched his home?”
“The local police in Half Moon Bay did. Nothing but stale garbage. Didn’t look like a planned departure for a trip or anything. Just sudden.”
“Let’s issue a missing person alert for the Half Moon Bay area,” Tommy said.
“You got it,” the detective said. “One of them grabbed a few photos from the house that we’ve confirmed with his Facebook page, so we should be good to go with the identity.”
“Anything else?” Tommy asked.
“Nope.”
“Text me if you learn anything,” Tommy said.
“Will do.”
Amanda followed Tommy down the hall to Ryan’s office. She could see him through the glass window as they approached. He was reading something on his flat screen, his auburn-grey brows furrowed above his half-glasses.
Tommy knocked on the door but didn’t bother waiting for permission. He opened and held it for Amanda to enter first.
Ryan looked up, his blue eyes startled.
“Hey Cuz,” Tommy said. “Got a minute?”
Ryan removed his half-glasses. “I suppose. Hi, Amanda.”
“Hi,” she said, but didn’t sit down. While Tommy took a seat across from Ryan’s desk, Amanda lingered by a set of bookshelves, allowing her eyes to roam over the personal items displayed there. There was the usual—an award, several treatises on evidence-gathering, crime scene manuals, family photos, a photo of a dog.
A photo of Ryan as a young boy standing next to an older gentleman in uniform caught her eye. She picked it up. “Is this Grandpa Cy?”
Tommy and Ryan looked at her. “Yeah. That was Uncle Cy when he was still on the force,” Ryan said.
“Handsome man,” she said. “And, you had such bright, red hair back then, Ryan.”
“Whatever,” he said.
“And, blue eyes,” she said, almost to herself, drawing out the words, as if they were meant to trigger a connection in her mind to something she should know. The freckles. The nose. The broad forehead and wide eyes of a teenager. She set the photo back on the shelf and picked up another—a recent holiday photo of Ryan, his wife, Rebecca, and their three children.
“Okay, enough of going down memory lane,” Tommy said impatiently. He wheeled around to face Ryan, his back to Amanda.
“What can I do for you?” Ryan asked, focusing his attention on Tommy, but casting an occasional eye in Amanda’s direction.
“Amanda and I are wondering why you’re being a helicopter parent on this case,” Tommy blurted.
She looked up in time to see Ryan blanche. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on!” Tommy said. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Calling Kara Montiago before we get there, tipping her off that we’d confiscate her electronic devices. I mean, Jesus, Ryan!”
Despite the accusation, Ryan’s expression relaxed.
That’s strange, Amanda thought as she scrutinized Ryan from her angle. Did he think Tommy was going to accuse him of something worse? As she studied him, she was less sure than she’d ever been about who he really was.
“Cool down, Tommy. I told you we’re good friends. You’d do the same thing,” Ryan said.
“You said you went to high school together, and that was it! You never said you were ‘good friends.’ How good of friends are you, anyway?” Tommy asked.
“What the fuck are you insinuating?” Ryan bellowed.
Amanda didn’t think Tommy was insinuating anything, but now that Ryan brought it up, maybe there was something there. Something he felt embarrassed about. Something he was ashamed of. Something he was trying to hide. She looked down at the family photo in her hands, and clarity struck her like a bolt of lightning. It couldn’t be. Am I imagining this?
She ignored Tommy and Ryan’s angry banter as she googled Kara Montiago on her cell phone. She scrolled through photos until she found a recent one of the Montiago family. She pinched the screen until she had a closeup of Lindsay Montiago, the lovely teenager they had met earlier that afternoon.
Amanda studied Lindsay’s image. Genes didn’t lie. It wasn’t Carlos or Kara Montiago who put that auburn hair above those bright blue eyes against that alabaster skin with a few freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. It had to have been Ryan Delmastro. The familial likeness was stunning. Amanda clenched her jaw to prevent it from falling to the floor, as she compared Lindsay’s photo to Ryan’s other three children. Lindsay most resembled one of Ryan’s sons. They could be twins.
Lindsay is 17, though, well before Carlos lost his prostate. And Ryan married Rebecca more than 17 years ago. An extramarital affair for both of them. This is horrible. Do I jump in here or not? Fuck. Should I come back later and speak to Ryan in private?
Amanda kept Ryan’s family photo in one hand and her cell phone in the other as she considered her options. None of them were good. However, she had to uphold the values of her office by exploring Ryan’s role in their current investigation. She practically tiptoed over to Ryan’s desk and took a seat next to Tommy.
Tommy seemed to have forgotten she was even there. “What do you have to say about Ryan’s meddling in this file, Amanda?”
Amanda looked up from the photo in her lap and met Ryan’s troubled blue eyes. She appreciated his terrified look even though he was putting up a good front. She hoped to hell the look on her face was filled with the compassion she felt in her heart. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I understand why you’re protective of Kara. We’ll do what we can to protect you and Rebecca, and your children, from the truth, but it goes to motive, don’t you agree?”
Ryan’s face fell as he held Amanda’s eyes. He knew that she—but not Tommy—knew the truth. Instead of angry, he looked relieved. “Maybe. Probably.”
“Why don’t you tell us—especially Tommy—what you know?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tommy asked, volleying his eyes between Ryan and Amanda.
“Go ahead,” she said to Ryan, urging him on by tipping her chin up.
Ryan cleared his throat.
Chapter 30
“I don’t,” he choked, “know if I can.”
“Come on, if I figured it out, other people are going to as well,” Amanda said.
“Figured what out? What does this have to do with Rebecca and the kids?” Tommy asked, staring at the framed family photo in Amanda’s lap.
Amanda furrowed her eyebrows, piercing Ryan with her badious eyes.
He didn’t budge.
Out of respect, but no less deterred for that, she asked, “Are you going to tell Tommy, or should I?”
“Go for it.” Ryan’s quick consent was corrupted by his sarcastic tone. He bored holes into Amanda, reminding her of the two favors she owed him.
“Don’t give me that look, Ryan. There’s no way I can save you, whether I owe you or not. You’re in so deep that not even the Coast Guard could drag you to the surface. You’d be better off revealing the truth yourself—getting ahead of it—than being held hostage by Carlos Montiago.”
“He won’t breathe a word. The truth would hurt Lindsay too much, and she’s his daughter.” Ryan’s voice caught on the last word, so he coughed, the way men do when they’re trying to hold back a sob.
/> “Would someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Tommy asked.
Amanda’s eyes remained unwavering, waiting for Ryan’s acquiescence.
He covered his face. “Go ahead. Tell him what you figured out.”
She turned to Tommy. “Lindsay Montiago is Ryan’s daughter.” She held up Lindsay’s photo on her cell phone and the Delmastro family photo for Tommy to compare.
“Holy shit!” he breathed. “I see the resemblance.”
“Right, Ryan?” she said in a dangerously low voice.
“Yes.” Behind his hands, Ryan’s voice cracked as if he were in puberty. He gave into the silent sobs that shook his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” Tommy said. “No wonder you’ve been trying to protect Kara.”
“I’ve been trying to protect Lindsay,” Ryan mumbled from behind his hands. “Kara is capable of protecting herself.”
“How did Carlos figure it out?” Amanda asked.
Ryan let his hands fall to the desk. He aged a decade before their eyes, the lines on his face deepening as tears found them. “Lindsay’s school had a Red Cross blood drive several months ago. She and Carlos, her presumed father, went to the drive to donate. Kara had no idea they intended to go, or she would’ve stopped them. When the Red Cross printed out Lindsay’s blood type—O—Carlos read the page. He knew his own type—AB—and was smart enough to know that she couldn’t be O if he was AB, if she was his child, that is. Just to be sure, he researched it. Then he confronted Kara, and she confessed. I mean, how could she not in the face of scientific evidence?”
“Did she tell him Lindsay was yours?” Amanda asked.
“No. He learned that later.”
“How much later?” Amanda asked.
“I don’t know. A month or two. He’s been making her life a living hell ever since, but she won’t divorce him.”
“The campaign,” Amanda said.
“That, half her assets, and control of her company.”
“I’m really sorry, man,” Tommy said.
“Thanks,” Ryan said.
“Rebecca doesn’t know?” Tommy asked.
“No.”