“Yeah, I know. A cougar did it. And has anyone found the big cat that supposedly did this? Have we authenticated the photos? Maybe someone Photoshopped them? What if these were in fact murders? Some sick satanic ritual or sacrifice… something.”
The chief rubbed his face with both of his hands. He then stepped around his desk and leaned back on it. “Aaron, we’ve been friends for a long time. Take my advice. Por favor, let this go. Robert Smith’s suit against you is flimsy, at best. Don’s autopsy will prove that, before it even goes to a grand jury. Going on the offensive is not the answer.”
“Have you even seen Jackson’s autopsy photos? His heart looked burned, as if due to some problem with the defibrillation. I kept hitting him with the paddles. It doesn’t look good.”
“He’d already coded, Aaron.” The chief stepped back around his desk. “Is this why you want me to re-open the case? To redirect the attention to Robert Smith? Because I guarantee that won’t help you at all.”
“You know me better than that, David. You have to trust me on this.” I looked at him with pleading eyes. “When have my instincts ever been wrong?”
The chief sat back down and rested his chin in one hand.
“Never,” I stated with confidence. “I’m telling you, there’s something about this guy that doesn’t feel right. Just give me a chance to prove my case. If I’m wrong, you can send me off on a long vacation, suspend me, or fire me. Whatever. I don’t care. Just let me pursue this.”
The chief pursed his lips and eyed me for a good thirty seconds. “All right,” he said, “but Riley is taking the lead on this.”
“Oh, hell no,” I protested. “He’ll just screw everything up.”
“Do you want my approval or not?”
I gazed upward and let out a heavy sigh.
“Give Riley all the information he needs, and let him take the lead on this. This isn’t a negotiation.”
“If he wants to tag along, fine, but I’m not giving him the lead. Come on, David. Seriously?”
“Think about it, Aaron.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. “Considering the fact that Jackson’s parents have just filed a lawsuit against you, we have a conflict of interest. Riley is a neutral party in this. He’ll question Smith about his relationship with Cody Sumner. Not you.”
He was right, but I still didn’t trust Riley. However, if we were going to have a chance at finding out if Cody was telling the truth, and placing Robert Smith at the cemetery, then I had to trust the chief’s confidence in a rookie detective. I agreed, reluctantly. But that did not mean I wouldn’t suggest alternative solutions.
“I want Riley to wear a wire and a two-way earpiece so I can—”
“No, Aaron.”
“Why not?”
“This case is still officially closed, so take what you can get. Let Riley handle it. Trust others for a change, okay?”
“All right, fine, but what about Joseph Michaels? You still releasing him?”
“Not only that, but you’re going to transport him back to Saint Hedwig.” He was clearly punishing me. “Don’t look at it as a free pass, Aaron. You need to trust that Saint Hedwig can handle their own problems.”
“It was an assault, David.”
“And should we lock up every kid in Austin that gets into a fight at school? Saint Hedwig isn’t even in our jurisdiction, so you’re lucky Hadley hasn’t slapped that across your face.”
I couldn’t argue with that. He had a good point. “And when am I supposed to transport this kid back?”
“We’ll keep him locked up until eleven. Then we’ll release him.”
“Tonight?” So much for letting the kid sweat it out. “I thought we were keeping him there for three days?”
“I changed my mind.”
“At least let him spend one night in Juvie. Release him in the morning.”
The chief pointed a stern finger at me. “You’re the one who screwed up, Aaron. So, deal with it.”
“I screwed up? I was just trying to help a kid out. How is that a screw up?”
He picked up his phone, ignoring my question. He dialed and waited for whomever he called to answer. He glanced up at me and said into the phone, “We have an assignment for you. Sanders will fill you in on the details.”
†
Detective Riley was the last person I wanted questioning Robert Smith. After briefing my so-called partner, I had Jackson Smith’s phone dusted for fingerprints, which resulted in five unique sets of prints. One of them belonged to Jackson, two of them were unidentifiable child-sized prints, one print belonged to an unidentified adult, and the final print matched Robert Smith. He also had a record.
Smith had served a year on probation for a DWI charge in 1998, and had been charged with assault the following year. The assault charge hadn’t stuck, but I had seen enough domestic abuse cases to suspect the victim had dropped the charges.
While the crime lab had found Robert Smith’s prints on the phone, the fact that it had three other unidentifiable prints was problematic. I couldn’t prove Smith had taken the photos at the cemetery at the time of the deaths. I accepted the likelihood that the other adult print belonged to Jackson’s mother, one of the child’s prints belonged to Jackson’s brother, and the remaining child print belonged to one of the other boys at the cemetery, possibly even Cody.
I passed the information along to Riley via text message. Cody had claimed that he hadn’t been at the cemetery at the time of the attack, but I’d never specifically asked him if he knew who had taken the photos. I called Maria but received her voicemail.
She returned my call within a minute of my leaving her a message. “I’m sorry. I was on the phone with Mr. Hadley. Is there a problem?”
“Could you do me a favor?” I asked. “I’m probably on Hadley’s black list again, so I figured it’d be best that I not show up there until I take Joseph back tonight.”
“Chief Hernandez called me about that. That’s what I was talking to Mr. Hadley about.”
I grabbed a peppermint out of a small glass bowl on my desk and asked, “So, on a scale from one to ten, how pissed is he?”
“Mr. Hadley?”
“Yeah.”
“Believe it or not, he’s actually in a forgiving mood.”
“Forgiving?” I twisted away the peppermint wrapping and tossed it in the trashcan under my desk. With the peppermint in my mouth, I slurred, “Did he actually say that he forgave me?”
“Not in so many words. Are you eating something?”
“Sorry. Peppermint.” I moved the mint around in my mouth and asked, “So, what did he say?”
“He understands why you handled Joseph the way you did. On the other hand, he’s glad to know you’re releasing him tonight.”
“Does Cody know?”
“Yes. Mr. Hadley told him a while ago. He’s planning a counseling session with them tomorrow after lunch. I’ll be there.”
“Could you do me a favor when you see Cody?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“I need to know who took the photos at the cemetery.”
“Pardon me for saying, but I think that’s something you need to ask Cody yourself. I don’t feel comfortable getting involved in that capacity. I’d like to stick to my responsibility for Cody’s well-being and helping find him a good home.”
“I understand.” The problem was I wasn’t allowed anywhere near Saint Hedwig. “I’m sorry I asked.”
“Just out of curiosity, why did you want me to ask him that?”
“I think Jackson’s dad took the photos, but I don’t have any evidence to prove it. Cody told me some pretty disturbing things about the man regarding the occult. Some of the things he taught Cody make me more suspicious about—”
“Wait a minute,” Maria interrupted. “What was that man teaching him?”
“According to Cody, he showed him how to summon demons for protection. He claims Robert Smith is a Satanist.”
Silence.
“So, what do you think?”
“I think I’ll do you that favor after all,” she said. “I may have some questions of my own.”
“Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.” It was already seven-thirty and I was getting hungry. I also figured that maybe I could convince Maria to join me. “So, um… I don’t want to sound too forward, but… You never did answer me this morning about dinner.”
More silence. That wasn’t a good sign.
“I’m sorry, Aaron.” And struck down again. “I already ate. And I promised to take my daughter to the movies tonight.”
“Your… daughter?” I nearly choked on the mint. How hadn’t I noticed whether or not Maria had a wedding ring? I had only made the assumption. “If you’re married, I’m going to feel like a total ass.”
“Don’t worry,” she laughed. “I’m divorced. Not that it’s really any of your business.”
Idiot. My clumsy mission to score a more personal relationship with an attractive Latina was heading towards the impossible. Then she said something that made my heart skip a beat. “Would you like to join us?”
“Really?” After all the planning in my head and the not-so-subtle advances, I found myself flabbergasted. My heart screamed ‘Hell yeah, I’ll join you!’ but my vocal chords tightened up on me, and the mint dropped out of my mouth and onto my lap.
“Yes, really. And before you think otherwise, this isn’t a date.”
“Date?” Suddenly I got my voice back, albeit cracked and slightly higher-pitched. “Oh, of course not! Why would you think I would think that, um… that we were… that I was uh—”
Maria’s laughter filled my ear. My stomach twisted and turned. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so embarrassed.
“The movie starts a quarter after eight. Tinseltown in Pflugerville. You think you can make it on time?”
“I guess I’m eating popcorn and soda for dinner tonight. I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Mark
Watching a Disney cartoon in 3D, with a beautiful divorced woman and her ten-year-old daughter, made for a bit of an awkward evening. While we sat in the dark theater with a large bucket of popcorn between us, all I could think of was her perfume and the occasional instances in which we both dipped our hands into the bucket, brushing our fingers together. My heart froze every time that happened. But it didn’t seem to affect Maria at all.
Regardless of the state of our relationship, I enjoyed the time of relaxation and laughter with Maria and her daughter. For a brief moment in time, the anxiety and stress from my job as a homicide detective hadn’t interfered with my personal life.
“I know this wasn’t a date,” I said as we stepped outside after the movie, “but I really enjoyed spending time with you and Samantha tonight.”
Maria smiled. “Me too.”
“So… do you think we could do it again sometime?”
“It depends.”
“It depends?” I laughed. “On what?”
“If you’re asking me out on a date.”
How was I supposed to respond to that? She had just stressed that our movie date was not a date. I was afraid to tell her what I really felt, because I did, in fact, want to ask her out. If I said it wasn’t a date, I’d be lying. I didn’t want to just hang out with her like old friends. I wanted to get to know her on a personal level, and I couldn’t deny how much I was attracted to her physically.
“Well?” Maria said with raised eyebrows. “Are you asking me out on a date or do you want to schedule a lunch meeting to talk business?”
Samantha eyed me with anticipation. I caved. “Um… I guess maybe a lunch meeting would be more appropriate.”
Apparently disappointed with my response, Samantha rolled her eyes and walked away.
“Actually, on second thought,” I said, watching Samantha heading towards the parking lot, “I would like to ask you out on a date.”
Samantha turned around and revealed a hint of a smile. Her mother, on the other hand, remained expressionless. She either enjoyed playing ‘hard-to-get’ with me, or simply didn’t trust me.
“I’ll let you know,” she said, coyly.
A simple yes or no would have been nice, I thought. That woman was determined to drive me nuts. Why couldn’t she just give me a straight answer? Either reject me flat out, or leap into my arms. Was it that difficult? Since it felt like a rejection, I changed the subject.
“So, will… um… Will you be there when I take our resident bully back to Saint Hedwig?”
“I don’t have anyone to watch Samantha tonight, so one of my colleagues will be there. I’m sure Mr. Hadley will be there, though.”
“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to that.”
“I’m sure you are,” Maria said with a slight sympathetic smile. We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before she broke away. “I have to get Samantha home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I breathed in the warm air and sighed in disappointment as my phone chimed. “Okay, we’ll talk tomorrow.” I waved at Maria’s daughter and said, “Nice meeting you, Samantha.”
She returned the gesture and grabbed her mother’s hand, “Let’s go, Mom.”
“Good night, Aaron.”
“Good night.”
I watched Maria and her daughter head towards their car and then checked the message on my phone. It came from Chief Hernandez.
Don’t forget to pick up Joseph Michaels from juvenile detention. They’re expecting you at 11.
I haven’t forgotten, I replied. I’ll be there.
DON’T BE LATE!!!
I put my phone away without a response and thought how I should’ve just let Hadley handle this crap.
†
“I’m here to pick up Joseph Michaels.” I showed the detention officer my badge.
Officer Ramirez handed me a clipboard. “Sign here,” he instructed me.
I signed the document with a pen attached to the clipboard by a string. “Have you had any problems with him?” I asked the officer.
“No, sir. He’s just been sitting in his cell, praying and reading the Bible.” He took the clipboard from me and set it on the counter. “He doesn’t seem like the type to assault another kid.”
“Really?” I huffed. “Why do you say that?”
“He’s polite, courteous. You know, doesn’t act like most of the kids who end up here.” Ramirez removed the signed document from the clipboard and placed it in a file folder. “Usually, they’re disrespectful, and have attitudes.”
“Yeah, well, not every delinquent shows his true colors when you lock him up.” I glanced at the round clock hanging on the wall behind the officer. “I’d like to get him back to Saint Hedwig before midnight, so…”
“Oh, sorry, Detective.” Ramirez picked up the phone in front of him and pressed a couple of digits on the keypad. “APD is here to transport Michaels… Okay, good.” He hung up the phone and said, “It’ll be a few minutes.”
Five minutes later, a tall and husky officer, with arms full of tattoos, led Joseph to the front counter, keeping a firm grip on the boy’s right arm. “He’s all yours, man.”
As soon as the beast of a detention officer released his grip from Joseph’s arm, the boy stepped in front of me and turned around with his hands behind his back. I placed my hand on his shoulder and pulled him around. “I’m not cuffing you. I’m here to take you back home. Now let’s go, so I can get some shut-eye.”
I gave Joseph a slight shove towards the door and told the detention officers to have a nice evening. When we got to the car parked in front of the southeast side of the building, Joseph stood by the rear passenger side door and waited for me to open it.
“You can sit up front. We have a good forty-minute drive ahead of us, so we’ll have plenty of time to chat.”
“Okay.”
“Get in,” I said, opening the front passenger door. “And buckle up.”
I didn�
��t say anything else until we got onto the interstate. Joseph seemed nervous. He kept one hand over the other on his lap and scoped out the car dealerships as we drove by the Motor Mile in south Austin.
“You into cars?” I asked him, breaking the silence.
He shrugged.
“I’ve got an ’81 Corvette in the shop right now. Damn transmission went out on it.”
“You have a Stingray?” he said, facing me. “Really?”
“Technically, a Corvette Coupe. Chevy stopped calling them Stingrays in ’76, but yeah, it has the Stingray body.”
“What’s it got under the hood?”
“350 small block V-8 retrofitted to about three hundred horses. All chromed out under the hood, too.”
“Wow! Didn’t the ’81 come with a hundred ninety horses?” I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Joseph. “Yeah, that’s right. How’d you know that?”
“I want an old ‘Vette when I grow up. I’ve done a lot of reading on the Internet about them. You have the three-speed auto or the four-speed manual?”
“Duh!” I cocked my head. “Manual, of course. I can’t imagine driving a ‘Vette with an automatic. My mechanic wants me to upgrade the transmission with six hundred pound-feet of torque.”
“Wow! That’s a lot!”
“Yeah, no kidding. But at five grand on a cop’s salary… ain’t gonna happen.”
Joseph smiled and asked, “What color is it?”
“Black on black.”
“Cool. I think the black ‘Vettes with the red interiors look pretty lame.”
“I don’t know, man. It all depends.” I checked my mirrors and changed lanes, passing up an old station wagon with a muffler barely hanging from the chassis. “If you do a two-tone black interior with red accents, it could look kind of cool. I actually thought of doing that with mine.”
“No way, dude! You gotta keep it all black.”
Rain drops sprinkled onto the windshield. You’d think we lived in the tropics with all the rain we’ve gotten lately. I turned on the windshield wipers and said, “I need to ask you something.”
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