“An Amarillo connection?” I breathed. Snowflake snorted and rolled over in her sleep. Yes, Spike’s friend Harvey was from Amarillo.
My phone chimed, interrupting me, and I jumped a little, bouncing my chair and jarring Snowflake. She yipped and rearranged herself.
Collin: Sorry slow response. Traveling. I’m good. How are you?
I smiled. It’s always nice to hear from good-looking men who like you. I couldn’t revel in it long, though. I was onto something with my research, no matter how oogie it was.
Neither Spike nor Harvey spent more than five years inside prison, which shocked me. How could child molesters get out so fast? Wouldn’t they be the same people with the same tendencies doing the same thing, just to new victims? God, I hoped Jack didn’t represent that type of defendant. I wanted no part of defending child molesters.
I starting running Harvey Dulles through all my favorite databases. After his release, he’d returned to Amarillo—according to his voter’s registration information—and he owned a house here, per the property records, which it appeared he’d inherited from his mother. Spike’s connection to Harvey was too significant to ignore. Was Spike really in Amarillo on business, or was he hanging out with his old buddy? Or both? I printed out pictures of each man and put them in my file. Neither one was going to win any beauty contests, but Harvey was especially ugly with a smashed-in nose and shaved head.
A thought chilled me. What if Sofia had taken her daughter to work with her? What if this child molester, Spike, had exposed himself to Valentina, or worse? That would be enough to make a mother grab a gun and blow a man’s head off.
My phone rang. Another number I didn’t recognize. I answered. “Emily speaking.”
The male voice that answered transported me back to Oak Lawn in Dallas. “This is Wallace Gray. I’m the CPS investigator working on the case of Valentina Perez. You called about her.”
I straightened my posture. Excellent! “Hi, Wallace. Yes, I did. I’m Emily Bernal, the legal assistant for Jack Holden. He’s representing Sofia Perez, Valentina’s mother. We met with Sofia yesterday, and she was really worried about her daughter. I was hoping you had some good news about her that you could share with me.”
“Nooooo, I wish I did.” His voice dropped. “You’re not tape recording me, are you?”
That got my attention. “No, why?”
“Because I am not granting permission to be recorded, and I don’t want what I say on the news. So, this is all off the record.”
“I’m not a reporter. I’m just a paralegal looking for our client’s daughter.”
“Good.” Now he flat out whispered. “Then may I speak frankly?”
I tucked my phone tighter toward my shoulder and dropped my voice, too. “Yes, please.” I almost laughed at myself. We were acting like two kids telling secrets on the playground.
“We can’t find anyone that has ever seen or heard of Valentina.”
I stood up, accidentally knocking my chair back, its rollers not responding on the carpeted floor. Snowflake raised her head. She looked like she was starting to get annoyed with me.
“No one?” I asked.
“No one. Not neighbors, not your client’s co-workers. She’s not enrolled in school or day care. The police haven’t found anything, either.” He pitched his voice even lower and softer.
I cupped my hand over my non-phone ear to block out other sounds as he spoke.
“Is it possible your client’s, you know, nuts?” He asked.
Was it? I thought about the woman I’d talked to the day before. “Hmmm. I’ve only met her once. She didn’t seem crazy.”
Nausea came over me again, and I slipped the last saltine from my baggie and nibbled it silently. Snowflake smacked her lips. I fished some broken pieces out of the bag and tossed them to her. She licked them daintily, then swallowed them whole.
“There was no evidence whatsoever that a child lived in that apartment. None. Not clothes, a toothbrush, toys, nothing. Wait, I take that back. There was one picture on the refrigerator—an odd drawing of a brown person in a skirt. But that was it.”
“That sounds promising, at least as evidence of a child. Did you get anything else from it?”
Snack completed, Snowflake stood up and stretched, then whined. I shot her a look. What did the whine mean?
“Yeah, it was interesting. The guy in the picture wore a skirt and no shirt, and he had a big thing on his head—feathers or horns or something. He was dancing or hopping, too. There were two letters in the bottom right corner, an E and a P.”
“Where little artists usually sign their pictures. Those aren’t her initials, though.”
The P could be for Perez, but the E didn’t fit Sofia or Valentina. Snowflake’s whines had increased in the last minute and now she walked to the door and started howling.
“Nope. But it did look like it was drawn by a child, a young child, although I can’t say whether it was a boy or a girl, if that would even mean anything. But there were no pictures of a girl in the apartment. The police said there were none in Sofia’s purse or on her phone either.”
I shook my head. “That’s just odd. What kind of mother doesn’t have pictures of her kid?”
“The kind that doesn’t have one, maybe.” He clucked.
Snowflake’s howls changed to glass-shattering yips.
“What’s that noise?”
“The office mascot, Jack’s dog.”
I decided Snowflake must be asking for a potty break, which wasn’t a bad idea for me, either. Yesterday afternoon Jack had set me up to take her out every few hours. I snapped my fingers and she leapt over to me as I pulled her leash from my left hand drawer. I clipped it on, then grabbed a doody bag before returning to the subject at hand.
“But Sofia was genuinely upset, to the extent she wasn’t acting in her own best interests. She seemed sincere to me.”
I opened the door and Snowflake lunged against the leash like a five-pound sled dog.
“As she would, if she was delusional.”
“She said she wasn’t crazy. Of course, she could be delusional about being sane.”
Delusions of sanity. I could relate to that. I pressed the elevator call button.
“Have you ever had a murder defendant that didn’t want to claim they were crazy?” Wallace asked. “That’s crazy right there, to say you’re not crazy.”
I laughed. “Would you believe this is my first murder defendant? My first criminal case, even. I just started yesterday. I’ve been a civil litigation paralegal for nearly ten years. In Dallas.”
Ding. We entered the elevator and Snowflake paced and whined. I prayed the call wouldn’t drop and that the dog could hold it until we got outside. The doors closed and we descended.
The connection held up, and Wallace continued. “So you don’t know the first thing about anything, do you, girl? Of course not. You just moved to Amarillo. The real question is why do a damn fool thing like that?”
The elevator doors opened at the ground floor, and we exited—me calmly, and Snowflake like the place was on fire.
“I can’t say I didn’t know better. I grew up here.” Snowflake all but came unhinged as we walked outside to the Maxor courtyard. A huge outdoor kitchen area on the far side of a stone patio dominated the space, but the whole square area was surrounded by grass and mature oak trees nestled against the building’s L-shape. Outside a black metal fence, downtown buzzed by us on two sides.
Wallace laughed once, loud, like a bark. “I’m so sorry.”
I unclipped Snowflake. Her tags jingled as she bounded into the grass and got down to her business. Atta girl. She looked at me with something like relief on her little features.
“Yeah, I know, but waddaya gonna do?”
“Tell me about it. I got transferred here from Houston. Well, I’d be happy to help you in any way I can. You just say the word and Wallace is on the way.”
“I’ll take you up on it, and soon. But let me j
ust ask you: Are the police and CPS still actively looking for Valentina?”
His tone darkened. “Absolutely. This mama may be crazy as a June bug, but if there’s even the slightest chance some little six-year-old girl is out there alone with all the predators there are in this world, I simply will not give up until I find her.”
His words filled me like helium, and it was so real I imagined I’d sound like Minnie Mouse when I spoke. He was one of the truly good guys. I bagged up Snowflake’s leave-behind and tossed it in the trash before we reentered the building. The dog pranced like she owned the place now.
“Good. Did Sofia tell you anything about bad men she was afraid of?” I asked. “Afraid would get Valentina? She hinted at this with us and then clammed up.”
“Huh-uh,” he said. “And that would be weird, since she told me she just let the girl stay at home with the door locked while she was at work.”
That felt wrong. Sofia didn’t seem like the kind of mother to leave her six-year-old at home alone, especially if she was scared of bad men. We hopped an elevator going up.
“Nothing about the father?” I asked.
“She said he was dead.”
“Okay, she didn’t give you much more than she gave us, then.”
The doors parted at our floor. Snowflake lunged against the leash, panting and straining toward the office. I tugged her gently in the other direction and she looked up at me, confused.
“Well, your bad guy angle is new to me,” Wallace said. “Listen, the police are still going door-to-door and talking to informants, checking in with homeless shelters, and rousting people in all the usual types of places kids go in that area. We’ll keep looking for her. And you let me know if you guys learn anything, okay?”
I pushed the bathroom door open and let Snowflake walk in first.
“I will,” I said.
Then I had a thought—I didn’t want to go alone to the shady areas I’d have to visit as I searched for information on Sofia.
“I’m going to visit witnesses that may have information about Valentina on Monday,” I said. “Some you may have already talked to, but sometimes people decide to open up when you circle back to them. One of them you didn’t mention, though. The woman whose identity Sofia used to get a job.”
I’d positioned myself in a stall.
“Could you hang on a second?” I pressed mute.
“Sure.”
Snowflake stood in front of me, staring. It gave me stage fright. I closed my eyes. Better.
When I was done, I ended mute and said, “I’m back. I was telling you about going to talk to witnesses. If you’d like to come with me, to any or all of them, you’re welcome to. Strength in numbers.”
“Would I ever. Who’s driving?”
I washed my hands at the creamy tan marble sink. I wasn’t sure when Rich would have my car delivered.
“I don’t have a car here. Yet.” Yeah, that made me sound like a loser. “I’m getting mine shipped to me soon,” I added quickly.
I turned to look for a blower. None. I eyed the towel dispenser. Empty. Okay. I fanned my hands, which basically did nothing. I wiped them on my navy pants.
“How about I pick you up at nine thirty? If we have time, I can take you to lunch at the GoldenLight Café. Great burgers and, Lord, the Frito pie! You’ll probably go into cardiac arrest after your first bite, but it’ll be worth it.”
I pulled the door open to Williams & Associates, unclipping Snowflake to let her run free. She sprinted back to Jack’s office like white lightning. I decided not to tell Wallace that I was a vegetarian—yet. I lowered myself into my chair and leaned my head back.
“Perfect,” I said, before giving him the address.
I ended the call smiling. Not that I wasn’t going to worry about that little girl—whether she was real or not—but at least Wallace was on the case.
The door swung inward, and my boss followed. My heart did a little acrobatic number in my chest, which annoyed the pee-waddlin’-squat out of me. He had a longer list of bad qualities than Rich, and I went through them in my mind: eccentric, annoying, cryptic, and pushy. Snowflake careened down the hall and launched herself at him full speed. He crouched and caught her in one arm, mid-flight. She set upon him with kisses and yips.
“Well? Did you break Sofia’s case wide open yet?” Jack asked. He set the dog down and she ran circles around the office, jumping on and off the couch during each loop.
“I keep learning less instead of more,” I said. “But the police and CPS think she’s dreaming up the daughter. They’re still looking, but—”
“What?”
He put one arm over his head and one at his waist and did a little mariachi dance. Snowflake stood on her hind legs in front of him then started hopping and spinning.
“We’ll plead insanity,” he said. “And the APD and CPS will testify on our behalf. That’s the best news I’ve heard all day!”
I raised my brows as my mouth fell open. I didn’t know about Sofia’s mental health, but I was pretty sure my boss was nuts.
Chapter Five
When Jack told me we were going to New Mexico on Saturday, I assumed he meant on Southwest Airlines. I knew things were amiss when he directed me to meet him at the Tradewind Airport. I hadn’t ever heard of it, and I was pretty sure that Southwest hadn’t either. It turned out that the little airport was only ten minutes south of downtown. Emphasis on the little part. It had a convenient location going for it, but nothing else that I could see. Mother drove me, and she pulled into the tree-lined lot, right up behind Jack’s car. He emerged from the driver’s seat, and I waved at him. He waved back.
I got out and pulled my luggage from the backseat.
Jack, with Snowflake on a pink leash at his heels, came around to stand beside me, facing my mother and her open window.
“Agatha, I hope you’re having a blessed Saturday,” he said.
I heard the teasing note in his voice, but it didn’t seem she did.
“You too, Jack.”
Then she bit her lip and my heart sank to my stomach. Here we go.
“This trip doesn’t have anything to do with that illegal alien client of yours, does it?” my mother asked.
I cringed. I could only thank God that she hadn’t added “or her little brown girl” like she had with me last night, as she explained how messed up it was that not only were we paying for that woman’s defense but for the girl’s schooling and health care. Maybe she’d forgotten I’d married a brown man (notwithstanding that it didn’t end well)? My God, if she was that upset about Valentina, I’d hate to see how she’d act if she learned I was pro-choice.
Jack ignored the implications of her comment. I realized I didn’t know how he felt about these issues himself.
“No, nothing at all,” he said. “We’re on a different case entirely.”
Which I wished we weren’t. I had ended yesterday energized, engaged, and determined. I would have rather visited the witnesses in Sofia’s case today, and maybe I could have turned up some leads on Valentina’s whereabouts. A cloudy vision of the little girl I’d never seen had haunted my dreams again last night. In them, we were at a rodeo. I had on my bright red-and-yellow clown uniform and was in the ring, protecting the cowboys when she ran in, a tiny wisp of girl in pink Barbie pajamas. A bull charged toward her and, before I could distract it, I woke up. I wasn’t sure it was Valentina, but who else would it be after a day of researching her mother and her?
“Oh good. Well, take good care of Emily. She’s been through a lot lately, what with—”
I stepped up to her window, blocking her access to Jack. I leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Goodbye, Mother.”
She took the hint and rolled up her window. When I was sure I’d seen the last of her taillights, I turned and started wheeling my suitcase toward a pint-sized terminal. My little bag bounced and hopped across the pockmarked parking lot. It appeared it had last been resurfaced after the Second World War. Jack—and
the ever-jingly Snowflake—caught up to me.
He tugged on the sleeve of my turquoise tunic and said, “This way.”
He pointed toward a large sheet-metal hangar—not unlike the county jail where we’d met with Sofia—then took off at breakneck speed. Snowflake’s legs churned to keep up with him. All she needed was a little buggy behind her and she’d look just like a thimble-sized harness racing horse.
After a few minutes, I’d fallen a hundred feet behind them. A white-hot feeling rose up in my insides and I thought about chucking a rock at him to remind him I was back here. Dear God, what was it with me and all of these felonious urges lately? I scowled, at myself and at my boss.
“’Scuse me, Jack, hold up.”
Jack turned back. The morning sun made him look like a young John Wayne on the big screen. “Sorry.”
He waited for me, then slowed down enough that I could trot beside him. That worked for about fifteen seconds. The weather was crisp and football-ready, but I was sweaty and lightheaded. I fell behind again, so I reached out to grasp his arm.
“Stop, please.”
He did, turning quite abruptly, and my forward momentum plowed me (and my suitcase) into him. He caught me by an elbow on one side and my waist on the other. Even in his grasp I kept going until my face landed against his chest. Somehow, Jack managed to keep us both upright. The impact sent shockwaves of sex-starved pregnancy hormones rushing through my body. With only my knit tunic and leggings separating me from him and his cowboy wear, he felt good. Darn good. Snowflake yelped at our feet, but I tried to block her out and linger in the unexpectedly nice moment.
Heaven to Betsy (Emily #1) Page 7