Antón made a gesture of surprise, which did not escape Eva’s attention:
“Don’t worry, I’ll answer to Míguez. I want the information to be all over the news tomorrow: La Región, La Voz de Galicia and, if possible, in El Faro de Ourense as well. Three murders in three days: I think that’s sufficient enough for us to draw some reliable conclusions.”
Antón jotted down the orders as she carried on speaking:
“She has the advantage over us. We need to regain some ground, and we need to do it with our intuition. If we wait the normal time period for an investigation then we’ll never catch her. We need to start taking risks, even if we make mistakes. Up until now, we’ve allowed her to act in considerable comfort. I’m going to the station now to call the people in Vigo and speak with the boss. I’m taking the car,” she told him as she walked away.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get a ride from a patrol car after this is done. It shouldn’t be too long now.”
When she was already on her way to her car, the victim’s mobile began to ring from inside his trouser pocket. Eva, retracing her steps, followed the sound and took the phone out. She looked at the screen: ‘Call from Miguel’. She answered it:
“Marc, where the hell have you got to?” she heard on the other end of the line.
A silence followed, which was only broken by the speaker:
“I’ve been half an hour waiting for you. Didn’t I tell you that I needed to see you?”
Eva finally responded:
“Miguel?”
This time the silence came from the other end of the line.
“This is Inspector Santiago. Whom am I speaking to, please?”
He hung up. Eva did not try to call back. She simply put the phone away in a pocket and left.
On the way back to the station, Eva stopped off for something to eat. Somewhere anonymous, where nobody would know who she was, and she could be alone. She needed to recover her strength and, most importantly, put her thoughts in order. She ordered a small ham baguette, which she devoured in only a few minutes, and a strong coffee, followed by another: the previous night had been a long one.
Whilst she ate, she mentally went over all of the details of the three cases. She didn’t know how much time the murderer had invested in preparing the murders, but she felt intuitively that she had been planning them for a long time: days, weeks, even months. She needed to regain ground and catch this woman in just one week. She was convinced that she had no longer than that.
She was back at the station as soon as possible. The minute she set foot in the building, she wanted to confirm that Miguel was still on the afternoon shift. She asked the officer in the entrance and, to her surprise, the previous day he had requested four days leave: from Thursday to Sunday. Not only that, but just a few short minutes ago, he had called asking to take that very afternoon off as well. In any case, he still had to go to the superintendent’s office to have this latest request for leave signed.
Eva gave the order to the officer that, as soon as he arrived, to make sure that Miguel called in at her office. She was not about to let him go off on leave without giving her any kind of explanation.
She was still in the foyer when a voice made her jump:
“Santiago! Have you completely lost it, or did you just not sleep well last night?” shouted Superintendent Míguez from his office door.
“Well yes, what little sleep I got last night was not good, but I don’t think I’ve completely lost it just yet.”
“Come into my office,” he interrupted.
Eva obeyed.
“Didn’t I tell you not to inform the press about this case?”
“I haven’t forgotten, believe me.”
“Then can you explain to me why every single journalist in Ourense knows that there is a killer running around leaving golf balls next to their victims?”
“Sir, I think you forget sometimes that our mission is not just arresting suspects but protecting innocent people. And the two don’t always coincide. Our suspect comes into the victims’ lives, gains their confidence, and kills them when their guard is down and an opportunity arises. For the sake of our own comfort, we are handing the game over to her. I suspect that the victims are already chosen. There’s something linking them together, I still don’t know what, but I want to give them the opportunity of being warned. Besides, you never know, we might hit lucky and someone will turn up who can explain to us what’s happening.”
“The editing chief of La Región has just called me asking for more information, asking if we’re planning on holding a press-conference.”
“Don’t give them any more details. This is very big news, and the press has moved quickly, but it already has all the necessary information. I’ve told Antón what should go out to the papers: each of the victims’ full name, the fact that a golf ball always appears by the bodies, and that each one of the cases would seem like an accident if it weren’t for the fact that the deceased had prior contact with an unknown, dark-haired woman. It’s normal for them to want more information but for the moment, this is enough for them to be getting on with. Besides, I’ve no doubt that you’re well-seasoned enough to be able to manage this situation.”
The superintendent did not seem entirely convinced. She insisted:
“I even feel that, for some reason, she’s counting on us not giving details. All of the murders looked like accidents, with the exception of the first one, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, in my opinion, there’s only one reason for that: Javi was a student, and he was going back to Lugo. Look at the situation. She kills all of them in Ourense, but he was leaving: she had to improvise, and disguised it as a crime of passion. The rest are staged as accidents. I don’t think she plans an almost perfect crime on the day itself and, if she does indeed have them planned out in advance, she’ll have to change strategy as we become wise to her. Think about it: if the first one had been made public, to carry out the following two she would have needed to act differently. I don’t know, but perhaps we can disconcert her and she’ll slip up. As you said so yourself, you’ve given me the case because I am a woman, and will know how the murderer thinks, remember? Well, that’s what I’m doing. So you carry out your own role.”
“Alright,” said the superintendent. “But keep me informed.”
“One more thing, sir. I believe Miguel will be passing by your office to have a permission sheet signed.”
“Yes, he’s due to come in now,” confirmed Míguez.
“Could you make sure that he doesn’t leave without speaking with me first? I want to ask him about something in relation to Sebas’ case, and if he goes, I won’t see him again until next week.”
Míguez made a gesture of agreement. That was enough. In spite of his habitual bad mood, and notoriously impulsive nature, he was a man who, when it came to it, supported and defended his subordinates at all times, and against anything. Eva had no doubt about that.
As soon as she left the superintendent’s office, she went directly to her own, leaving the door open. She checked the display screen on her phone to make sure she had no missed calls, and set to reviewing the reports of the previous two murders. Three murders in three days, and each one carried out almost to perfection. She paused to think for a moment: of course there had to be a reason that would drive the woman to act this way, and of course there would be something that linked the victims together. Surely, here was the key that would allow them to anticipate her actions in order to trap her.
Antón’s voice from the end of the corridor brought her back into reality. From the office, she listened as he gave instructions regarding the tests and spoke informally with Míguez. Shortly after he arrived at her office. Eva greeted him with a wave, asking him to be silent. The two of them listened: now, in the distance, they heard Míguez giving orders to Miguel, in his own idiosyncratic way: sign the sheet, and go straight to Santiago’s office, without fail. Don’t even think about leaving the bu
ilding without speaking with her first. Have a good journey.
The officer had to take a moment to sign, and perhaps also to prepare himself for a conversation which, at that time, he was not looking forward to having. After a little while, the two police officers heard as he approached. Antón sat down in front of a computer to search the fingerprint database and Eva focussed on the documents in front of her.
“Inspector...” said the officer, presenting himself.
“Sit down.”
Eva put on her serious face, and looked at the reports for Sebas and Javi for the umpteenth time. Once the officer was sitting, she looked up and fixed her eyes onto Miguel’s.
“I don’t think that this is the first time we have spoken today,” she said brusquely, without any hint of tact.
Upon hearing this, the young man bowed his head.
“No,” he answered. “Marc was a friend of mine, and when you answered my call earlier, I suspected the worst.”
“Were you also friends with Javier and Sebas?”
“No, I didn’t know them.”
“Look at me,” Eva raised her voice, and then began adopting a more approachable, friendly tone. “I’m going to ask you directly, officer to officer, alright?”
The officer nodded, looking at the inspector.
“Can you give me any explanation for what’s going on?”
“No. I don’t know why they killed Marc,” he stuttered. “I don’t know everything he got up to.”
Eva took a breath. Then she continued:
“Why would you want to see Marc so urgently today?”
“Because I’m going on holiday for a few days, and he owed me some money. Not much, but it would have been good if he could have paid me back today.”
“You’re going on holiday?”
“Yes, to Cuba. For just a few days.”
“Cuba? And you’ve just suddenly decided?” Something wasn’t adding up for her. “From what I understood, you didn’t ask for the four days off until yesterday...”
“I hadn’t done it before, because I was waiting to get a good deal. It was only yesterday that the travel agency contacted me and I booked it. I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon. Then I thought to ask for today off as well, as I need time to pack my luggage.”
“Time to pack your luggage...” repeated Eva, instinctively.
A perfectly coherent story... and pre-prepared, she thought. She took a breath, and then decided to put an end to the simulation interview, convinced that she was not going to get anything from Miguel that they could go on.
“Alright, constable. That is all,” she said, as a means of dismissing him, resuming her cold, professional tone. “Enjoy your holiday.”
The officer stood up quickly and left the office without looking back, or even saying goodbye. His seat in front of Eva’s desk was then immediately occupied by Antón, who had not missed a single detail of the conversation from the other end of the office:
“What do you think?” he asked, just as he was sitting down.
“That he’s lying. I don’t know why, but he’s lying.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because he’s a police officer. If he were telling the truth, he wouldn’t put up with being under suspicion like that. I mean, he didn’t even get angry.”
“Any theories?”
“Yes, one,” she paused, “although I hope I’m wrong.”
She did not want to say any more, and wasn’t able to anyway. At that moment the phone rang, which Eva did not hesitate in answering once she saw who the call was from:
“Inspector Santiago? This is Inspector Lago, from Vigo.”
“Hello, yes this is Santiago.”
“I’m calling you about the case regarding Aurora Santiso. Yesterday I agreed to send you the report first thing, but preferred to finish up the investigation before doing so. I’m going to fax it to you now, but I also want to speak with you about the case, because I think that you’ll find it useful.”
“Thank you, inspector.”
“We can talk frankly, I’m sure.”
“Yes, of course. I’m listening.”
“Alright, let’s see. Yesterday, I told you that at first glance it looked like a suicide, and today, even without the definitive post-mortem results, I have to say that I am still of that opinion. Firstly, there’s nothing that makes me suspect otherwise: there were no signs of violence, nobody in the building heard any strange noises, and everything in the apartment fits in with your typical suicide.”
“But for me, it still seems like an awfully timely suicide,” Eva interrupted. “Don’t you find it strange?”
“Yes, and I’ve always been mistrustful of coincidences. I’m all up to date on your case and believe me; I’ve kept it in mind whilst investigating Aurora’s death. But I’m just telling you now that, for the moment at least,” he wanted to emphasize that element of it, “we have to think of it as a suicide.”
Eva’s face reflected her devastation in watching as her main lead faded away right before her eyes. In any case, Sara had just arrived at the station, ready to make the computer generated image of the woman she had crossed paths with at the pub. For now, they would have to just go along with it, Eva thought.
“Well, alright. We’ve collected a lot of information from the neighbours, both today and yesterday,” continued inspector Lago, on the other end of the line.
“Anything that might be of interest to us?”
“Yes, I think so. That’s why I wanted to call you. You’re looking for a murderer, and I want you to know that Aurora lived with a daughter, Emma, whom we have been unable to locate. We have also searched the home for the telephone number you sent us and neither the victim nor the daughter have that number. There is no trace of it, nobody recognises it, and it doesn’t appear in any address book. In any case, if you want my opinion, you have a lot of work ahead of you.”
“You don’t say...” noted Eva, an ironic tone to her voice.
“Well yes, I do say. From what the neighbours have told us, Aurora’s daughter was in a car accident five or six years ago. Furthermore, it was during this time of year, during Holy Week. Emma was travelling at night with her husband, and her eighteen-month-old son, when they veered off the road. The version that everybody tells is that it was the husband who was driving, and he fell asleep at the wheel. He lost control of the vehicle and crashed into a tree, and then fell down a steep incline. Nobody saw the accident, or came to their aid, until a resident of the area found them the following morning. Everything up to that point seems normal. But it’s what happens next that seems peculiar to me.”
“Go on.”
“Let’s see,” began the inspector, in the tone of a man preparing himself for a lengthy exposé. “Firstly, it’s thought that they were coming back from Lugo, from having dinner at his parents’ home, but nobody could tell me why they were returning so late, especially during the winter and with such a small child. Secondly, to look at, it is an impressive incline. It’s in the area of O Carballiño or Cea, you’ll know better than me. One person who saw it assured me that if anyone were to fall down it, it’s hard to imagine them surviving. So, effectively, Emma’s husband and son died, but she survived. They found her the following morning wedged in the space between the seats. They think that she had been asleep in the back, not wearing a seatbelt, and the impact against the tree flung her to the floor. Her face was destroyed, and she had multiple fractures. She had multiple operations, one of them cosmetic, spent months recuperating, although none of her injuries had been life threatening. Now of course, as you’ll know, these things always have to be dealt with carefully, but the accident turned out to be very profitable for Emma. Between the husband’s life insurance, which was a large sum and, it would seem, recently taken out, and the different insurances and the rest of it, the gossiping tongues in the building assure that it was enough for her to never have to work again in her life. However, neither Aurora nor her late husband ever got
over their grandson’s death and in fact believe that that was the cause of the heart attack that killed him two years ago.”
“An interesting story. Do you think that Emma could be the woman we are looking for?”
“I really couldn’t say, but you have a witness, don’t you?”
“Yes, she’s here to simulate a digital portrait.”
“Well chances are you won’t need it. I’ve just sent a fax of the report complete with a photo of all of the family members: of Emma and her parents.”
Antón had already stood up as soon as he heard the fax arrive, and he approached carrying one of the sheets in his hand. Eva signalled for him to show it to Sara, who was now in the office, and her eyes lit up as soon as she saw it. The inspector on the other end of the line continued speaking:
“I don’t know if they’re recent because they were in the living room,” he said, “but I imagine that if it’s her, that’ll be enough for the witness to recognise her.”
“Yes, good idea,” Eva paused. “Would you just hold on for a moment?”
The man waited. Sara had pointed out something in the photo to Antón, who then put it in front of Eva. The girl approached from behind him and pointed out to the inspector one of the women in the photo.
“It’s her, I’m certain,” confirmed Sara. “She’s changed a lot. I don’t know, her face is different now. But I’m sure that’s the woman,” the girl concluded, as she went back to pointing at the woman in the photo.
Eva looked intently at the photo, due to the girl’s insistence. Then she turned her attention back to the phone:
“Inspector, is Emma the one in the photo in the blue blouse, on the left?”
“Yes.”
“Well it’s her. Our witness has just identified her.”
Inspector Lago let out a deep sigh on the other end of the line:
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