Killing Season

by Faye Kellerman

  “Dad, if it’s Katie, do you realize what this will mean for the Doogans?”

  “Don’t you lecture me—”

  “I’m sorry. I really have to go now.”

  “Ben, don’t say a word, okay?”

  “I get it.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” He hung up the phone. “Call your dad. He’s going to be furious with me. He may even forbid you to see me again.”

  “I can handle my dad.” But the minute he came on the line, Ro burst into tears. She handed Ben the phone. There was no getting around the truth, so he didn’t even try. Ben explained as concisely as he could why he was needed in Albuquerque.

  Andrew Majors, Esq., was shouting into the phone. “You went with my daughter to search for a body? How could you do that to her, Ben? What is wrong with you?”

  “Sir, I’m very sorry—”

  “So damn irresponsible as well as creepy!”

  Ro pulled her cell from his hand. “He didn’t want me to come. I insisted.”

  “Stop defending him!”

  “I’m telling you the truth. Ask his mom. He didn’t even know I was showing up this morning. He told me not to come. It was totally my idea, okay, so stop screaming at him.”

  A long pause. Then Ben heard her father say, “Why did you do this?”

  “Because I like being with Ben. He lost a sister and I lost a sister, and for the first time since it happened, I could talk to someone about Gretchen without feeling like I was revealing something shameful. God, do you know how horrible it is keeping her death bottled up inside? Like her dying was a criminal act?”

  Another pause. Her father shouted, “What in the hell does that have to do with looking for a body?”

  “He knows the family of this missing girl, Daddy. This was important to him. And he’s important to me.”

  “He’s not even your boyfriend!”

  “He’s better than my boyfriend. He’s a friend. And if you don’t want to help me, I’ll find someone who will.”

  “Dorothy, will you please stop being so dramatic?” A pause. “I know lots of people in Albuquerque. I’ll make some calls. Don’t talk to the police until I get there. Understand?”

  “We’ve been over this before. I get it.”

  “How can you get it if I just told you what to do?”

  “Ben told me the same thing. Not to talk to anyone until you get here.”

  “Wait. Just hold on, okay? Does Ben need any help?”

  Her eyes started watering. “No, he’s already called up his dad.” A pause. “Thank you, Daddy. I’ll see you later.” She hung up. “Okay. Call the police.”

  “You know, this is just the tip of the iceberg.”

  “I’m not made of spun sugar. I won’t melt. Call the police.”

  This was a call he truly didn’t want to make. To stall, he gave her a black-humor grin. “Now this would make a great college essay.”

  She hit him.

  “You have some time before January applications are due.”

  She hit him again.

  “I guarantee you, you have undergone a unique experience. No one else will be writing about it. It’s even better than a dead sister.”

  She hit him a third time . . . hard. “Only you can say that without my hating you.”

  “Don’t lose a golden opportunity, Ro. It’ll get you in anywhere you want to go.”

  “Maybe.” A pause. “As long as I can leave out the part about peeing myself.”

  Chapter 17

  Ben hid the gun and ammo under the backseat. He said, “Unless they take apart the car, they won’t find it. If they do, I’ll tell them I hid it so you won’t get into trouble. Originally, I was going to drive my mom’s car. The gun wouldn’t be a problem. It’s registered and my parents have a concealed weapons permit.”

  “So why are you hiding it now?”

  “Because the law says I need to be nineteen to use it without an adult present except in certain circumstances. Since I was using it for protection on a hike, I think I’d be okay. But right now, I don’t want to explain away another issue. Do you mind?”

  “Whatever you need.”

  When that was done, he started scanning his contact numbers. “Here we go . . . Milton Ortiz.”

  “He’s the one on the Katie Doogan case?”

  “The lead detective.” He punched in the numbers. “He isn’t going to be in on Sunday unless—uh, hi, Detective Ortiz?” What luck! He gave Ro a thumbs-up. “This is Benjamin Vicksburg. I met you last year at Katie . . . yeah, yeah, that’s right . . . I’m fine . . . they’re fine, thanks. Um, I really don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to come right out with it. I was hiking with a friend in the Sandias and we found something that looks suspicious . . . no, no remains. It’s sunken ground that looks like a grave . . . yeah, really regular . . . no, I didn’t touch anything. But I did note where I found . . . no, not on the trail. We were off-trail . . . yeah, I know . . . I know . . . um, I’m about a half hour away from the Master’s Park trailhead. This is the first place I got reception. But I can meet you there and show you what we saw . . . okay . . . okay . . . bye.”

  Ben blew out air. “That was fortuitous. He’s meeting us at the trailhead. Much better than some random patrol-car officer. You stay warm in the car. I’ll take him down.”

  “Uh, no way I’m going to be alone, Vicks.”

  “Okay. How about this? Take the car and meet your parents at the Albuquerque PD. I think Ortiz works at headquarters on Southeast. Let me find you the address—”

  “I’m not driving in this area by myself. Are you crazy?”

  “Ro, if you’re going to hike down, you’ll have to change back into hiking boots.”

  “Ugh. They’re disgusting.”

  “I’ll put them on for you so you don’t have to get your hands dirty, little Miss Princess.” He started the car. “Call your dad while we have reception and tell him to meet you at the division on Southeast. I’m almost positive that’s where Ortiz works.”

  Ro did as she was told. When she was done, she said, “How well do you know him? Ortiz.”

  “Not well. He didn’t approve of my hiking in the backcountry. The only people who do that are mountain men, hermits, vets with PTSS, misfits growing MJ, tweakers with meth stills, fugitives who are hiding from the law, and killers dumping bodies. Dorothy, you really need to disassociate yourself from me.”

  She was staring out the passenger window. “When I’m with you, I don’t have to be on.”

  “Ro, you know what’s going to happen. Your parents are going to forbid you to see me. I’m a little creepy. Even my own father thinks what I do is a little creepy. I’ve got this plan next semester—I really do think about my future—but until the monster is found, nothing else matters to me.”

  She was quiet. “How about if you had a girlfriend? Would that matter to you?”

  Ben shook his head. “I am so not boyfriend material. Ro, people like you make others happy; people like me make others squirm. I am definitely an acquired taste.”

  She changed the subject. “What do you know about Ortiz?”

  “I met him a few times during some of the searches for Katie. He was at one of the vigils. I know he’s part Acoma. My grandpa Ed has some distant cousins who are Acoma.”

  “The Jewish grandpa?” When he nodded, she said, “How did that happen?”

  “In the 1800s, the tribe had a Jewish chief named Silverman. He was a cousin of my great-grandfather Abe, Ed’s father. I think the Silvermans were related to the Weils.”

  “So you might be related to this dude?”

  “If you stay here long enough, you’re going to be related to everyone.”

  She exhaled. “How long do you think this will take?”

  “To get back to the trailhead? Fifteen minutes.”

  “No. The interviewing.”

  “Right. For me, it’ll take a while depending on what kind of mood Ortiz is
in. You’ll be out in no time. Once they get wind that your father works for the attorney general, they’ll let you go. My state has honed the fine art of back-scratching.”

  Ben was trying to act casual, but his stomach was churning. He didn’t want to talk, so he turned on the music and Ro took the hint. The next twenty minutes passed in tense silence until they reached the trailhead. It was almost two in the afternoon and both of them hadn’t really eaten since eight in the morning. Plus, Ro had upchucked whatever she had eaten. “You need to get something in your stomach.”

  “Not baloney and cheese. What else do you have?”

  Ben went through his backpack. “I have cheese sandwiches, PBJ—”

  “PBJ is fine.”

  He doled out the sandwiches. The peanut butter tasted like glue and the jelly was sickeningly sweet. But he ate anyway. Fueling up before the battle.

  It took a half hour to reach the suspected spot and the only reason it took that long was Ro. She was deliberate in every step and needed to be. There were lots of hidden roots and rocks, ways to twist an ankle. Ortiz was dressed in slacks and a dress shirt and tie, but he had on a parka and hiking shoes. He was around five eight, with a weathered face and broad shoulders. He had mocha skin, black eyes, and a mop of black hair combed straight back. When the trio reached the clearing, it was Ro who spoke first.

  “Right there.”

  Ortiz’s eyes fell on the spot. For the next minute, he stared at the spot, arms folded across his chest. “How’d you come across this?”

  Ben said, “I’ll answer any question that you want, Detective, but I’ve called my dad and he’s instructed me not to talk until he’s with me. Ro’s been told to do the same.”

  Ortiz stared at the kid. “You need your dad to talk to me, Ben?”

  He shrugged.

  Ortiz kept gazing at the sunken ground. “That does look like something.”

  “I found it,” Ro said. When Ortiz looked at her, she said, “I found it. Not Vicks . . . Ben.”

  “Was it your idea to hike in this area?” Ortiz asked.

  “Sorry,” Ben interrupted. “She isn’t talking until her dad gets here.”

  “I didn’t ask you, I asked her.”

  Ro said, “The answer is still the same.”

  “How old were you when Katie Doogan was abducted, Ben?” Ortiz smiled in a cop’s way. It was supposed to encourage him to be relaxed. “It’s a simple question. Surely you can answer that.”

  “Fifteen.”

  “I know it’s been a long time, Ben, but do you remember where you were when you learned about her abduction?”

  “Clear as a bell. I was with my cousin Henry Naranjo at Santa Clara. He had the TV on. I even remember the broadcasters—Adrianne Jamison and Frank Peoples.”

  “Pretty good memory.”

  “At the time my sister was still missing. It hit a nerve.”

  “Do you remember where you were the day before the announcement?”

  He thought hard. “That’s the day she was abducted, right?” Ortiz didn’t answer. He said, “Nothing’s coming to mind.”

  “Anywhere near Albuquerque?”

  “No, I was in River Remez.”

  “Positive?”

  “Not a hundred percent, but I was fifteen. I didn’t drive. I can’t imagine why I’d be in Albuquerque unless I was with my parents and we went in for dinner or something.”

  “Then there is a possibility that you were here?”

  “Ninety-nine percent sure I was in River Remez . . . unless I was taking a class at UNM. But that wouldn’t happen because Katie was abducted on Saturday and there wouldn’t be any school. There was no reason for me to be in Albuquerque unless I was with my parents.”

  Then it dawned on him.

  “Henry’s daughter’s birthday was on that Saturday. My family and I spent the entire afternoon at Santa Clara. I didn’t want to go home with my parents—the less time I spent with them, the better. Henry let me sleep over. He took me home the next day.”

  “You were fighting with your parents?”

  “Just the opposite. No one talked. Home wasn’t a happy place.”

  “How about now?”

  “Better. My little sister’s fourteen now. She’s a live wire. It’s a pleasure to have some energy.”

  “Do you remember what time Henry took you home?”

  “No, but it had to be after the TV announcement. Since I remember the names of the news anchors, you can backtrack.” A forced smile to Ortiz. “How’s that for being cooperative?” When the detective didn’t answer, Ben said, “Look, sir, I don’t care about answering your questions, but my old man does. I don’t want to rile him. He has enough to contend with.”

  Ortiz turned his attention to Ro. “You mind telling me why you two went hiking here? Off-trail?”

  “I’m a respectful daughter.”

  “Detective Ortiz, we’re on your side.” Ben’s eyes went back to the grave. “I don’t know anything more about that than you do.”

  “Wait here.” Ortiz trod up to the perimeter.

  For the ground to sink that deeply and that uniformly, it was clear that the area hadn’t been disturbed in years. Deep down, Ben knew that Ortiz didn’t really suspect him. But finding the grave automatically made him a “person of interest.”

  The detective walked back to the kids. “Okay. Let’s get some reception so I can call it in. You said you’d be willing to talk to me when your father gets here?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Willing to give me a DNA sample, Ben?”

  “Yep.”

  “What about taking a polygraph?”

  “Tell me when and where.”

  “Not that I suspect you.” But of course he did. “Do you still see Detective Shanks?”

  “All the time.”

  “You should know the drill. Let’s go back.” As they were walking, Ortiz turned his attention to Ro. “Are you Ben’s girlfriend? Or won’t you answer that?”

  “Just friends.”

  “Your clothes are a little thin for hiking.”

  Ro turned red. “My hiking clothes got dirty. This is a change that I brought along.”

  Ortiz nodded. “Ben, how extensively were you questioned about your sister’s death? I mean, you are protecting your butt here. You do see that.”

  “Of course I’m protecting my butt. My father would kill me if I talked to you alone. He’s an attorney.”

  “Could you answer the question or won’t you do that?”

  “Informational questions. ‘Who’d your sister hang out with? What’s the talk in the school? Did your sister ever talk about someone bothering her?’”

  “There was a guy for a while, right?”

  “Tim Sanchez. He’s in Missoula. Nothing came of him. He didn’t do it.”

  “You found your sister’s remains if I recall.”

  “Yes, I did.” Ben tripped over a tree root but caught himself. “That’s public record. I’m not going to talk anymore, Detective. I seem to have trouble speaking and walking at the same time.”

  “I’m not talking either,” Ro said.

  The lack of conversation helped Ben think. The depression could be anything—from a dog or horse grave to a hiding place for human remains. Ortiz was intense and solemn. Ro still looked vaguely ill. Ben, on the other hand, felt a range of emotions—from dread and agitation to anticipation. Now that the cop was here, the fear had worn off. All that was left was the adrenaline rush of discovery.

  Chapter 18

  As soon as Ben pulled into the parking lot of the Albuquerque PD station house, he said, “You know they’re going to separate us.”

  “That’s okay,” Ro said. “One thing that I have is a big mouth. I’m not easily intimidated.”

  “I know. Wait for your dad and then just tell them the truth.”

  “Got it.” She gave him a forced smile, and then reached out. He intercepted her arms in a big bear hug. Ro said, “I’ll be fine.”
/>   “I know you will.”

  Time to face the music.

  The building, like most of those in New Mexico, was dun-colored, low profile, and architecturally in sync with its brown surroundings. The Albuquerque PD had six divisions and Ortiz had worked the southeast part of the city for a number of years. The Doogan family lived in the district. Ben and Ro sat like two displaced people in reception; Ortiz was still at the trailhead waiting for the Scientific Evidence Division. A half hour later, a woman came in, introduced herself as Detective McLaren, and escorted Ben into an interview room—a small windowless cell consisting of a table, several chairs, and a video camera. Detective McLaren was short with black hair and dark eyes. “Detective Ortiz is on his way. Do you need anything in the meantime?”

  “Just my father.”

  “Yeah, Detective Ortiz said something about you wanting your father.” McLaren peered at him. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “You don’t need your father to answer questions, you know.”

  “He’s my father and he’s also my lawyer.”

  “Okay. Got it. I’ll be back.”

  “Thank you.” He sat upright even though he wanted to put his head on the table and go to sleep. But that behavior was typical of criminals. Innocent people were supposed to be too nervous for sleep. Twenty minutes later his family charged into the room: Mom, Dad, and Haley, along with Lilly. Mom’s eyes were smoking. Dad seemed more sympathetic. “You okay?”

  Ben gave them a practiced smile. “Fine.”

  Detective McLaren came in. “We’re going to have to clear a few people out.”

  Mom said, “I need a moment with my son.”

  “Uh . . . sure,” McLaren said. “Call me when you’re done.”

  Mom was dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans with heavy boots on her feet. She looked ready to do some logging. “William, take the girls out. I need a few moments.”

  “Just a few, Laura.”

  “I get it.” Once they were gone, she turned to her son. “You lied to me, Ben.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Ben, if something had happened to you or Ro—an animal attack or a busted leg or a fall—we would have been looking in Mount Baldy instead of where you actually were. Don’t ever, ever do that again.”