Time of Death rb-2

by Alex Barclay

  54

  The warehouse floor echoed as it had when Ren Bryce crossed it to find the dead body of Javier Luis. Catherine Sarvas walked past the same door, glancing inside, recoiling at the blood stains, the twisted crime-scene tape, the grim sense of decay. She was dressed in a long, padded cream coat, clutching her black leather purse strap, moving through the cold white air of her breath. Further down the hallway, she stopped and took a right into a large room with gray walls and gray floors that carried the faint markings of a basketball court.

  Domenica Val Pando sat on a chair in the far right-hand corner, one leg crossed over the other, a lit cigarette and a cardboard coffee cup gripped in her right hand. She stood up and sat against the edge of the table.

  Catherine walked across to her. They shook hands.

  ‘Gregory told me you were unaware of his…position…with us,’ said Domenica.

  ‘He was my husband,’ said Catherine. ‘He told me everything.’

  Domenica smiled; a slow smile, held too long to be genuine. ‘You must have had a difficult time with the FBI.’

  ‘I knew that Gregory had hidden everything well,’ said Catherine. ‘I knew that they couldn’t trace anything to him. And if they could find my sons for me…’

  ‘Well, that’s my job now, I believe. I have something you want, you have something I want.’

  Outside, the wind was building. Catherine glanced up at the row of rectangular windows that stretched across the wall above Domenica. The snow was hitting the windows at an angle and had gathered halfway up the panes at the corner, bright white, untouched.

  Ren Bryce sat alone in the darkness on a battered steel bench. The room stank. The floor was filthy, the walls shedding flakes of paint. It was rotting from the inside out. Ren’s mind was racing. She had barely slept in three days.

  Helen’s voice came back to her: ‘Ren, you need to be aware of your triggers for mania: you need to avoid stress, get a lot of rest, reduce your caffeine intake…’

  Uh-oh – if you know your triggers, you don’t just know how to avoid them…you know how to seek them out.

  This time, the mania had slowly built – late nights, fear, stress, travel, caffeine…and then, she knew. Her mind sharpened, her thoughts sped. Connections jumped off the page, her fingers worked quicker on the keyboard, she drove faster, she got everywhere quicker. She got here quicker.

  This is the end. It’s all over.

  Domenica dropped the cigarette butt into her coffee cup and pushed it out of her way.

  ‘You can hand your husband’s files over,’ she said to Catherine. ‘I will organize to have your son returned to you and…and then we can say our goodbyes.’

  Catherine felt a surge of anger that lit up her eyes. ‘You were responsible for that…man…raping me.’

  ‘He was not meant to rape you,’ said Domenica. ‘He was meant to intimidate you, he was meant to wait until you and your husband were in the house together…without your children. He was sent to get a message across to your husband, to warn him how unwise it would be to co-operate with the authorities. Oh yes, I knew as soon as he made his first move in that direction, but I was giving him a chance to rethink. But Erubiel Diaz acted like an animal. You were never going to forget the face of the man who raped you. And it would be easy for you to ID him when his face appeared on a Most Wanted list. If Diaz had done as he was told, your husband might still be alive, you and your sons would not have been harmed, I would not be in this position. No one would be any the wiser. Erubiel paid for that error with his life. Your error was to call in the FBI. You complicated everything for yourself, getting involved with Agent Ren Bryce.’

  ‘I needed to find out what happened to my family.’

  ‘The sequel to that message.’ Domenica’s face was impassive. She shrugged. ‘After Diaz’ visit, we expected your husband to change his ways. When he made his next move, it seemed he was defying us. How were we to know that Erubiel Diaz had failed to deliver the message? He didn’t tell us that he raped you, that he never even saw your husband.’

  ‘Where is my son, Michael?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Yes, you do. Of course you do.’

  ‘I’m not in that…world.’

  ‘Of course you are!’

  ‘I meant that low down,’ said Domenica. ‘I could maybe get people to see if anybody knows anything.’

  ‘Why would that be good enough for me?’

  ‘Good enough for you? If you give me what I want, nothing more will happen to you – that is as good as it gets for you.’

  ‘Do you think there is anything more that can happen to me?’ said Catherine. ‘After what you’ve done already, what’s left?’

  ‘You want to be here for Michael, if he shows up. You’re that kind of mother.’

  ‘Every mother is that kind of mother.’

  Domenica said nothing.

  ‘You can’t even promise me Michael,’ said Catherine. ‘Why would I give you anything of Gregory’s?’

  ‘But what if I do find Michael?’ said Domenica. ‘I am the only one in a position to locate your son. You certainly can’t. The FBI wouldn’t know the first place to look. So you will give me what I want. Because, if I do find Michael, what might I do then?’

  Catherine’s heart pounded. But she had nothing to say. There were no words for a woman like Domenica.

  The door beside Ren opened without a sound, without a crack of light. Ren could make out Gary Dettling’s face in the darkness. Then Colin. Then Cliff. Then Robbie. Then the rest of Safe Streets. They were all there. She held a finger up to them. Not a word. She sat back on the bench and pulled off the headphones she was wearing. She handed them to Gary. He nodded.

  Ren smiled. Her heart was soaring. The world was beautiful. Everything was under control. She was as controlled and focused as she had ever been. She stood up and walked past everyone. They all nodded to her. Robbie squeezed her arm.

  She smiled wider. I love you guys. I love my job. I love the whole fucking world right now.

  Ren knew she was wired…and she wouldn’t have it any other way. She got to the door. God bless stress, coffee, starvation, Red Bull, the white light coursing through her brain, making everything clear…

  I’m sorry, Helen. But this one’s for you.

  Domenica stared at Catherine. ‘Here’s what I need to know.’ She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a gun.

  Catherine’s legs went weak. She thought she was going to pass out. ‘Please, don’t,’ she managed to say.

  ‘I need to know,’ said Domenica, ‘exactly how your husband was co-operating with the Mexican authorities. I need to find out exactly when his betrayal began and how much they know.’

  Catherine felt as if her heart was about to explode. She didn’t know anything about betrayal. She didn’t know that her husband had spoken with the Mexican authorities. She hadn’t got all the facts. She was in a room with this crazy woman and she hadn’t all the facts.

  ‘Shit,’ said Gary. The Safe Streets team looked at each other. No one had known this part. No one had any idea that Sarvas had made contact with the Mexican authorities. Catherine Sarvas would never have been sent in if they’d known Gregory Sarvas had committed the ultimate sin as far as Val Pando was concerned: betrayal. And, thanks to them, Catherine Sarvas had managed to convince Val Pando that she knew about everything her husband did.

  ‘Go, go, go,’ said Gary.

  Ren burst through the door into the room where Catherine Sarvas and Domenica stood.

  Domenica’s face went through a series of readjustments.

  ‘Drop your weapon,’ said Ren. ‘Drop it.’

  Domenica glanced back and forth between the two of them.

  ‘Drop it,’ said Ren.

  Domenica did as she asked.

  ‘Catherine,’ said Ren. ‘Please leave.’

  ‘I want to know where Michael is,’ she screamed at Domenica.

  ‘Let me take care of that,’
said Ren.

  ‘No she won’t,’ said Domenica. ‘She doesn’t give a shit.’

  ‘Catherine, go,’ said Ren. ‘Please.’

  ‘Ask her,’ said Domenica. She jerked her head at Ren: ‘Why don’t you tell Mrs Panzón your little history—’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’ Ren turned to Catherine, her eyes pleading.

  Catherine looked at her. Don’t screw this up. She had the courage to walk away from the only two people who could help her find her youngest son.

  Ren waited until Catherine was gone before asking: ‘Tell me where Michael Sarvas is.’

  ‘I presume you heard me say that I don’t know,’ said Domenica.

  ‘Who killed Helen Wheeler?’ said Ren.

  Domenica smiled. ‘I don’t know who Helen Wheeler is.’

  ‘Whether it was Javier Luis or James Laker or Erubiel Diaz, the answer, ultimately, is: you,’ said Ren.

  Domenica shrugged.

  ‘Fuck you,’ said Ren. ‘You didn’t need to go near Helen.’

  ‘But I didn’t.’

  ‘You fucking bitch!’

  ‘You slept with James Laker and Javier Luis,’ said Domenica. ‘You let Luis escape to commit all the crimes you wanted to arrest him for. So you had to kill him. And you had to kill Douglas Hammond to stop your files being accessed. And then you killed Peter Everett—’

  ‘Who is Peter Everett, Domenica?’ said Ren.

  Domenica smiled slowly. ‘Everyone knows who Peter Everett is.’

  ‘But not everyone knows what you saw him do, that you were the illegal Mexican nanny who gave Mia Hammond a little too much cough syrup to make sure she went back to sleep after all that commotion her daddy and Peter Everett made when they killed her mother.’

  Domenica frowned. ‘What the—’

  ‘I know, Domenica. I know you gave Gavino cough syrup to make him sleep and keep him out of your way. And I know your first little kick of leverage was walking in on Douglas Hammond and Peter Everett. That was how you got them to do what you wanted all these years later. Peter Everett could doctor Helen’s files to make me look unstable, to make everything I ever had on you look like fiction. Douglas Hammond was roped in to make sure it all had the legal seal of approval. That didn’t quite work, though, did it? You were underestimating his guilt at what he had done to his wife. I’m betting he didn’t want any more blood on his hands. He knew what your next step would have been if my files weren’t released. He was trying to do me a favor.’

  ‘You are mentally ill,’ said Domenica. ‘You don’t know what you are saying, you are insane, you are paranoid. I have never even heard of these people.’

  Ren moved toward her.

  ‘You came into my home, my life, my son’s life…’ shouted Domenica.

  ‘Which is more than you did.’

  ‘Oh, now look who is the little nanny.’

  ‘I was doing the job I was employed to do,’ said Ren. ‘What about you?’

  ‘He was my son.’ Domenica sobbed the last part. Domenica slammed a hand on to the table. ‘My son, you bitch. You broke the heart of a six-year-old boy.’

  You have to be fucking kidding me. ‘You’re the one who’s insane,’ said Ren. ‘Did you not know that I was there in the woods when you ran from the compound with Gavino in your arms? I was there, you delusional bitch. I saw you look him in the eye…your seven-year-old son…and you tried to leave him behind. Alone. Alone.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Ren. ‘This is unbelievable. Do you really believe that? Do you? Have you re-written his entire childhood? At one point, you told me that he was the biggest mistake you ever made.’

  ‘I never said that.’

  ‘Then I’ve clearly come back late enough into your life for the edited version to have over-ridden the truth,’ said Ren. ‘Does Gavino even believe that shit?’ Ren walked away. ‘Why do I care?’

  ‘A little part of you loves my son,’ said Domenica.

  Ren turned again. She was about to deny it but changed her mind. ‘And what if I did, Domenica? What if I did? Do you think we’re the same? Is that it? You are so fucked up.’

  Domenica’s eyes shone with anger. ‘I won, Ren. You lost.’ She shrugged. ‘You lost your mind.’

  Ren punched her – hard, fast relief. Domenica’s head snapped back and hit the wall behind her. She half-staggered to her feet, but collapsed on the floor. Blood was streaming from the split skin under her right eye.

  And I do not care. Ren stood over her. Blood was dripping on to Domenica’s shirt, running from the back of Ren’s hand. And I do not care.

  Ren was transfixed. Domenica locked eyes with her. They were streaming. No emotion, just salt water. Domenica didn’t speak. She struggled to her feet.

  Ren turned briefly away. I can’t stand watching weakened people.

  ‘How pathetic it is that you have no control over your emotions,’ said Domenica.

  Ren smiled. ‘The rollercoaster always has the longest lines.’

  ‘And the most dramatic drops.’

  ‘Oh, I think you had the most dramatic drop, Domenica.’

  ‘You have nothing, Ren. No one. You are wired for a lifetime of pain. You will always be discontent. And every day, you are aware of that. And every day for the rest of your life you will be aware of that.’

  ‘You have no clue,’ said Ren. ‘None.’

  ‘I read your file,’ said Domenica.

  ‘Do you know one thing psychiatrists always say?’ said Ren. ‘That they are not mind readers. They know only as much as the patient tells them. And with someone like me? Half an hour every few weeks? When what I say depends on the mood I’m in? You know nothing, Domenica.’

  ‘You took away the father of my child,’ said Domenica.

  ‘“Father of your child” – you make it sound so worthy. And…well, untrue.’

  ‘James loved me,’ said Domenica.

  Insane. ‘Domenica,’ said Ren, leaning forward, ‘James Laker was raped.’

  Domenica went to slap a fat hand across Ren’s face. Ren blocked it.

  ‘James Laker loved me,’ said Domenica.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ said Ren. ‘You haven’t got a clue. James Laker feared you. He couldn’t leave the compound. You were the warden he was your prisoner – that was your relationship. I helped him leave, so he could at some stage be a proper father to Gavino and have a chance at a decent life once you were put away.’

  ‘You did all that, yet you didn’t love Gavino?’

  ‘James Laker wanted to get as far away as possible from you,’ said Ren. ‘Can you understand that, Domenica? You crossed the border to get what you wanted, didn’t you? You understand what it’s like to do that to get what you want? Well, he did the same. He got the fuck away. Maybe you should have learned from yourself; maybe you should have patrolled your own borders a little better.’

  55

  A door opened to the right of Domenica and Gavino Val Pando walked in. The task force had gone through the building earlier, but no one had been assigned to cover that door, because it appeared to lead into a locked room.

  Ren remembered the building plans. The skylight. There was a skylight.

  The last time Ren had seen Gavino Val Pando, one year earlier, he was as handsome as she had always known he would become. He’d worn his hair short, he’d been fit, tanned, dressed well. He’d looked as if he’d stepped straight from an Abercrombie doorway.

  Oh my God. What happened to you?

  Gavino looked unwell. Mentally. Ren and Domenica glanced at each other and for a moment, shared something human. Gavino stood there, his hands by his side, his eyes moving back and forth between the women.

  What is going through your head right now?

  ‘How fucking dare you,’ he roared at Domenica.

  Domenica recoiled with the volume, the force of his anger. ‘What do you mean?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, Jesus. What do I mean?’ said Gavino. ‘What d
o I mean? You, you lying bitch! I mean you. How fucking dare you?’

  Domenica raised her hands. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘That’s because there are so many things I could be talking about,’ said Gavino. ‘That’s how screwed up this all is. You have no idea what I’m talking about because it could be any number of millions of things you have done to me over my whole short life.’

  Ren watched him. He looked medicated.

  ‘Is he on medication?’ said Ren, without turning directly to Domenica. She kept her voice low. But not low enough.

  ‘What?’ said Gavino. ‘What did you say to her?’

  ‘I asked your mother if you were on medication.’ Ren kept her tone even.

  Gavino stared up at the ceiling and started laughing. ‘Yeah, like she’d have a clue. Ask her what my favorite TV show is. What music I listen to. Who my best friend is. Oh, hold on, I don’t have any.’ He looked at Ren. ‘Funny, isn’t it – she is my mother. Yet you’re the one who worked out that I’m on medication and it took you, oh…’ he checked his watch, ‘thirty seconds. Well done.’ He turned to Domenica. ‘See that, Mother? She’s good. Yes, Special Agent. I am medicated. Because of that bitch.’ He pointed at Domenica.

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Why do kids always blame their parents for everything?’

  Shut the fuck up, you stupid, stupid woman.

  Gavino’s eyes flared. He looked at Ren. She shook her head, tried to plead in some way, but not quite sure what she was pleading for.

  ‘Here is why,’ said Gavino, continuing his own train of thought, as if Domenica’s comment had not been said. ‘All my life, I had a cold, heartless mother and an asshole father.’

  Domenica rolled her eyes again and looked away. Ren was mesmerized by her ignorance as to what was unfolding.

  ‘Augusto was a prize prick,’ said Gavino. ‘And my mother was clearly insane. And violent. Who has a violent mother, for Christ’s sake? Probably point zero five per cent of the population. Lucky fucking me. Anyway, blah blah, I was a kid, I was unhappy, blah blah. Then I got a little older and something really screwed up happened. My father began to notice I was alive—’