by Peg Brantley
Bohnert put his elbows on the table and laced his fingers. “Detective Waters, even a benign group such as a witches’ coven must keep a low profile to keep our members safe. Not only from physical threat but from emotional and professional threat as well.”
Chase figured that parental threat had to factor in there somewhere but he continued to hold his tongue.
“Can you imagine the lengths a group of people who actually caused harm to others would go to in order to remain private?”
“I admit, Mr. Bohnert, that I am ignorant of much of your practices and beliefs, and I appreciate the time you’re taking to share some of it with me. However, you or your members are much more likely to have a fix on a possible cult than I am, wouldn’t you agree?”
The self-assured college kid’s right eye twitched and Chase saw a flicker of uncertainty shadow his face. “I suppose that might be true.”
Chase handed him his card. “If you hear any whisper of cult activity, particularly if it involves any kind of sacrifice or mutilation, please contact me. Day or night.”
He slipped Chase’s card in a pocket without looking at it.
“May I ask another question?”
“I’m not stopping you,” Bohnert said.
“Do your parents know what you’re involved in?”
Bohnert went back to silent mode and Chase wondered if he’d lost him as a resource.
“My parents are dead.
Chapter Eighteen
The Waters Home
Friday, September 21
Chase took the piece of paper Bond handed him and glanced at the kitchen table where Angela and Stephanie were busy writing their private messages to David. Stephanie’s apparently required crayons. He looked back at his wife.
Balloons were so much simpler.
“Have you written yours yet?” Chase asked. Maybe he could just sign his name to whatever Bond had come up with.
She nodded toward the countertop where Chase saw a sealed envelope. Damn.
“Why don’t you go to your study and take a few minutes?”
Chase cleared his throat. “Uh… yeah, sounds good.”
He felt as if he were walking through a dimly lit tunnel. His study loomed both familiar and foreign. On one hand Chase applauded his family’s social conscience. On the other hand he wondered exactly how bad a few balloons could be.
He sat at his desk and waited. What the hell was he supposed to write on this piece of paper?
Images of his son floated into his mind. David calling him “Dada” for the first time and reaching chubby arms out to be held. First steps when he would fall into Bond’s arms, and then fall into his—and oh, the laughter when he did. The night his normal spit-ups took on a wild element, he hit a raging fever, and they sat in the ER afraid they might lose him. T-ball and two-wheelers.
David. Working with him on the roadster. Listening to jazz together and beginning to talk about girls.
His son.
And all too soon, the day they lost him. Long QT Syndrome. A whacked-out electrical function in his heart. Inherited. A complete surprise to both of them. Chase would never forget that day. All the paperwork at the hospital. All the things he and Bond had to sign while their son lay dying. The consent forms for tests and more tests and finally to discontinue life support, when all he wanted to do was take his son and run. The terrible finality of their situation when they agreed to donate David’s organs. He and Bond signing that last authorization.
Guilt and recrimination came later—blame too. And finally, after a long time, understanding and acceptance came because they had no other choice. If they were to survive intact as a family, they had to figure out a way to get through each day.
What could he write on this paper that would even come close to the loss? What would David want to hear? A tear fell on the paper before Chase even knew his eyes had filled.
He swiped the sheet and then his face. Picked up a pen and wrote three words:
Chase folded the paper, but didn’t move to rejoin the rest of his family. Suddenly he wanted to spend a little more time with David.
A few minutes later Chase heard a soft knock at his door.
“Are you ready?” Bond asked. “Do you need a little more time? The girls are getting anxious.”
I’m never ready for this, Chase thought. How could a person ever be ready for this? Bond had tried so hard, come so far from those first dark days. He didn’t want to say anything to drag her back down.
The four of them sat outside in front of the stone fire-pit, nobody saying anything. Each burned their message to David, beginning with Stephanie and ending with Chase. Stephanie read hers aloud, word by word. Angela, tears streaming down her face, choked out a happy birthday sentiment to her brother—one of the rare times their dramatic daughter didn’t have a lot of words. Or drama.
Chase watched as his wife—the mother of his children—knelt before the fire pit. She closed her eyes, then focused her attention on each of them as she spoke.
“David Robert Waters, we love you. We mourn you. We mark you in our hearts today. You enriched our lives, and our love for you will keep you alive forever. Each of our lives will continue with grace and optimism, richer because you were, and are, a part of them. We will live strong and we will live fully, not only to honor our own lives, but to honor yours.”
Chase moved to his wife, added his envelope to the fire, and held her close.
Later, as he got in his car to go back to the station, Bond stopped him.
“Something you should know.”
He’d been married to a cop’s wife long enough to know this could be important. He waited.
“I think someone was watching us when we were at the store,” Bond said.
Chapter Nineteen
Aspen Falls Police Department
Friday, September 21
Daniel and Terri were already in the meeting room when Chase walked in later that afternoon, the murder board standing where they’d left it the last time they’d been together. Had it been only this morning?
“Sorry I’m late. What do you guys have?” Chase was frustrated beyond endurance by the amount of information he didn’t have. Hopefully his team had experienced a better day.
“Not much on either her cell phone or her social network pages,” Terri said. “But I did use them to reconstruct a calendar of sorts over the last thirty days.”
“Good. We’ll get to that,” Chase said. “Daniel, were you able to get anything else off her computer?”
“She’s so clean she’s invisible. Other than her social network pages and sites related to either economics or social work, she only spent significant time on one of those ask-a-doctor sites.”
“Was it before August fifteenth?” Terri asked.
Daniel checked his notes. “Nope. After. August twenty-ninth.”
Terri shook her head. “That’s weird. What I could piece together is that the last month has been completely normal except for a visit to Emergency on the fifteenth of August. She said she either had a cold or the flu.”
“She went to Emergency for the flu?” Chase sipped some bitter coffee and made a face. “No wonder medical costs are so high.”
“Uninsured people use the emergency rooms in hospitals like doctor’s offices. They don’t have a choice,” Terri said.
“Some do and some don’t,” Daniel said. “Illegals are the real abusers of our system. They shouldn’t even be here.”
“Are you saying they have a choice?” Terri asked.
“Damn right. They chose to be here illegally. They can choose to go back where they came from. Leave our resources to people who have a right to them. To people who actually pay for them.”
“Okay guys,” Chase said. “We’re getting off track. Can you tell us what pages she specifically went to on that ask-a-doctor site?”
“She searched all over the place but most of her time seemed to be spent on the pages for kidney function and vaginal infections,”
Daniel said. “Nothing useful.” He looked at Chase. “What did you find?”
“Not as much as you did. I’m thinking cults are not the answer but if you want to join a coven, I have a contact.”
All three detectives refocused on the murder board.
“I have an idea,” Terri said.
“Go.”
“If our victims aren’t being eviscerated for a cult, there must be another reason.”
Silence, then a trio of voices said, “Money.”
“That has potential, Terri,” Chase smiled. “It explains why the bodies were dumped.”
Daniel nodded. “I’m supposed to be the money guy and it never occurred to me.”
Chase looked at the board. “We need to make some connections between black market organs and the Hispanic community.”
A knock at the door and Chief Whitman entered the room.
“We’ve found Rachelle Benavides.” He didn’t smile when he said it. “Actually, we didn’t find her.”
Chase’s chest tightened. He swallowed.
“Elizabeth Benavides found the corpse of her mutilated sister fifteen minutes ago.” The chief’s voice came across tight and measured. His gaze pinned Chase. “Elizabeth Benavides is downstairs and wants to see you. See her and then fix this.”
Damn! Chase wanted to get to the scene. See for himself. Check around for possible witnesses.
“Where did Elizabeth find her sister?” Chase asked.
“Inside an abandoned mine.” The chief handed a slip of paper to him with directions.
Chase nodded toward Daniel and Terri. “You two head out now.” Daniel reached for the paper. “Hold the scene for me. I’ll be there as soon as I talk to Ms. Benavides.”
Chapter Twenty
Aspen Falls Police Department
Friday, September 21
Chase prepared himself to handle whatever he found when he walked into the room. Family members—loved ones—could respond in bizarre ways under this kind of stress. His first impression was that Elizabeth Benavides’s eyes were red and swollen, and her hair was disheveled. She looked small and sad. But when he walked toward her she stood, hands on hips, and watched him walk toward her. She looked like she was accusing him. Daring him.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Benavides. We’ll do everything we can to find your sister’s murderer.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I understand how you—”
“You understand nothing.”
Chase pulled out his notebook. “I know you’ve already given your statement, but do you feel up to telling me what happened?”
“That’s why I’m here, Detective.”
Elizabeth Benavides sat down, back straight, hands folded in her lap. “I got a call on my cell phone. A man told me I could find my sister at the old abandoned silver mine on the west side of town. Actually, the asshole called it “Spic Town.”
She fell silent and Chase gave her time to collect her thoughts. Elizabeth began to massage her thumbs, took a breath and continued, “When I arrived my cell phone rang again. Same guy. He said I would find myself in a similar position if I continued to talk to the police.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. “That’s when I saw her, Detective. Rachelle . . . she was lying on her side, her back to me. She didn’t move. The nude body of my sister. I ran to her to save her. To bring her back to me. But before I even got close I knew . . .” Tears ran unstopped down her face and fell into her lap. Elizabeth didn’t seem to notice.
The young woman took a great breath. Exhaled. “And then I saw her. Oh, God. I saw the butchered body of my baby sister.”
“I’m so sorry, Miss Benavides.”
The young woman nodded, opened her eyes and slapped the tears off her face. “Someone murdered my sister. He thinks he can threaten me and scare me off. Mierda! He thinks he will control me as easily as he controls my neighbors. He is a culero. That asshole picked the wrong chicana to murder.”
“You’re very brave.”
“I’m not brave. I’m enojada. An angry person doesn’t need bravery.”
“I promise I’ll keep you updated during the investigation,” Chase said.
“As I said before, that’s not good enough.”
Uh-oh. “What is it you would like me to do?”
“I want to be involved in the investigation.”
“Ms. Benavides—”
“Elizabeth.”
“This is not a game. There are dangers and we’re equipped to deal with those dangers. You need to let us do our job.”
“With your supervision or without it, I’m going after the son-of-a-bitch who killed my sister. I just thought maybe you could figure out a way to use me.”
“Okay, I appreciate your position. I’ll run your request by the chief of police. It will be up to him.” Give her some space and maybe she would see reason. “Go home for now. I’m heading out to the scene and you don’t need to be there again.”
“Wrong. I’m coming. I figure you can either have a hope of controlling me or you can count on a rogue investigator out there who could potentially mess everything up for you.”
“Messing things up for us messes them up for you as well.”
“Not necessarily. I don’t operate under your constraints.”
Chase felt the familiar tension building in his neck and shoulders. There wasn’t anything routine about the murder of Rachelle Benavides. And her sister had significantly upped the ante.
“Ms. Benavides—Elizabeth—you need to back off and let us do what we’re trained to do.”
“Detective, I’ll back off and let you do what you’re trained to do whenever I see you doing something I can’t. But in the meantime, I can get information for you from my community you’re unlikely to get from any other source. I can bring you things from Rachelle’s experience. Do you get that? Without me you may as well send in RoboCop—one that only speaks Russian.”
Chase’s chest constricted. Punching someone in the face would help. She’s not even thirty. She makes a lot of good points, but hell. She’s a civilian. His instinct wanted him to tie her to the very chair she sat in and make her sit there until they solved this case. Somehow he knew—experience maybe?—attorneys would get involved and make a huge mess of his intentions. He had to kick his paternal attitude to the curb.
He didn’t want her but he needed her. He considered his options and made a decision.
Chase walked to the door. “Well, come on then. I don’t have all night.”
At least this way he’d be in control.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sloan Enterprises
Friday, September 21
Edward Sloan sat at his desk. The elegant-looking man sitting across the expanse bothered him but he couldn’t say why. Edward just knew he was disgusted by him. Repulsed.
In the long run though, it didn’t matter. Edward cleared his throat. “Name your price.”
Long, pale fingers steepled and paused, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. Edward could see the man’s crossed knee, draped and situated so as not to create a wrinkle in his hand-tailored suit. Edward Sloan saw men every day who needed to make themselves appear better than the next man. One-upmanship. He had always refused to have any dealings with those men. It irked him that this time he didn’t have a choice.
“We have already begun the process on your behalf. Up until now we’ve used our own resources, gratis. To continue could be quite expensive.” The smooth delivery matched up well with the slippery shallowness Edward sensed in the man. Liquid. Like an oil slick on water.
“Name it.” Anything to save his wife. Hell, saving Diana would save him. Two for the price of one.
“Mr. Sloan, you understand that this is somewhat beyond our normal scope of operation.” The man brought his hands down and folded them in his lap. “That is not to say we don’t have the means to accomplish the task. But there are additional risks involved.”
Edward Sloan pulled himself t
ight against the desk and leaned forward. “I’m not in a position to negotiate. And you must understand, I will not be putting all of my faith in you. I will continue exploring the other areas available to me—and my money.”
“I would do the same in your position. I assume that means you will continue seeking assistance overseas?”
“That, and within certain quasi-legal organizations in this country.”
“You must love your wife very much.”
Edward swallowed the bile in his throat. “That’s the first thing you’ve said with which I don’t have a problem.”
The visitor pulled a card from his inside pocket. “These are the wiring instructions for my offshore account. I have noted the amount to be deposited. Once we have acquired the item you have stipulated, you will deposit a matching sum before we relinquish it.” He handed the card to Edward.
“That’s a lot of money.”
“It is. But then I was under the impression that your wife’s life was priceless.”
Alone after his visitor left, Edward Sloan picked up the phone.
“Get my banker on the line.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Honey Silver Mine
Friday, September 21
Chase pulled up his SUV and turned off the ignition. Maintenance crews were setting up Klieg lights and hooking them up to a generator as the sun was about to set. Elizabeth Benavides sat in the passenger seat, not moving.
“You can wait here if you’d like.” Please wait here. Don’t make me have to think of anything other than the scene.
She shoved the door open and pulled herself from the vehicle. She turned to look him in the eyes, daring him to question her strength or purpose or right to be there.
“Fine. Then stay behind me. Don’t move or do anything unless I tell you.” He skewered her with a look. “Are we on the same page?”