“I’ll inform you of any updates,” said Waring. “In the meantime, keep thorough records and don’t divulge your situation or our discussions to anyone inside or outside of this department.”
Vega stared at the phone after Captain Waring hung up.
He was in this alone.
* * *
Vega had band practice that evening—one of the few things these days that made him happy. That, and the fact that tomorrow was Saturday. He had the day off. He drove home after work and changed into jeans, then walked and fed Diablo. He ate a plate of fried eggs and grilled cheese as he checked in with Adele. Then he texted Joy to remind her that her next tuition payment was due and he hadn’t yet seen the bill.
I’ll give it to you next time I see you, she texted back. Guess what? Dr. Langstrom’s going to pay me a stipend. $200 a semester! I’m the first undergrad he’s awarded a stipend to!
Vega stared at the text. He wanted to be happy for his daughter. Despite what she’d said the other day, he really did value her intellect and ambitions. He just wished she’d found this passion with some other professor. Still, he didn’t want to become a parent who greeted every high point in his child’s life with negativity. So he typed back: Congratu lations, chispita. I’m so proud of you. Hope you get a chance to celebrate.
Thanks, Dad. I will, she texted back. Going to see 5’N’10 tonight on campus. At the bottom, she added a smiley face emoji. She was happy. She was doing work she loved. She was going to a concert with friends. Maybe he just needed to cut her a little slack.
He threw his dishes into the dishwasher and then loaded his guitar, amps, and pedals into his truck for the drive down to Danny Molina’s house in Port Carroll. He was on the road before he realized it was his turn to bring drinks and snacks to practice. He remembered right near the turnoff for the Safeway, just north of Lake Holly. He pulled off the exit, parked, and ran inside, scouring the aisles for stuff Danny’s wife wouldn’t ban (no doughnuts, no sugary sodas). Danny was trying to lose weight, but it was always a losing battle.
Vega settled on beer (they practiced so long, it always washed out of their systems), baked potato chips, and air-popped popcorn. He stood in the express checkout aisle, which had seven people on it, so it didn’t look very express.
“I can help someone over here,” said a cashier in the next aisle. Vega dashed over. He was so busy putting his stuff on the conveyor belt that it took him a minute before he looked up and saw the young woman ringing up his purchase. Short purple hair, razor-cut on one side, flipped on the other. A gold ring through her nose.
“Zoe.”
She blinked at him. “It’s me, Jimmy Vega. Joy Vega’s dad?” The cop, he wanted to say, but didn’t.
“Sure.” She offered a shy smile and rang up his order.
“I, uh, spoke to your mom the other day.”
“I know,” she said. She kept her head down. “I got your message.”
Vega pulled a plastic bag from the rack and bagged the beer and chips. “Listen, Zoe. I’m here if you want to talk. I know you’ve been through a lot, what with Catherine and everything.”
She kept her gaze on the register and punched in a code. It seemed to be taking all of her effort.
“I need to see ID,” she said.
“Huh?”
“For the beer. I need to see your driver’s license.”
“Oh. Sure. Sorry.” He pulled out his wallet and held his license up to her. She keyed in his date of birth.
Vega tried again. “So, like . . . if you ever want to discuss things with me. It doesn’t have to go anywhere . . .” His words hung in the air, mixed with the sound of clerks bagging groceries and someone asking for a price check. The line was long. Vega couldn’t hold the girl up at her job.
“Thank you,” said Zoe. “I appreciate your concern. Maybe some other time.”
“Okay.” Vega fished out his credit card and ran it through the machine. “I’m sure Joy would like to speak to you anyway.” He caught her shocked expression. “Not about that. Don’t worry—I’d never divulge a confidence. I’m talking about your internship. With that professor? Langstrom? Joy’s got it now. Maybe you can—I don’t know—give her some pointers?”
Vega picked up the electronic pen to sign his receipt. He forgot he was holding it when he saw Zoe Beck’s face. All the color had drained from it, until her skin looked like some washed-out version of her hair.
“I say something wrong?”
“That’s him,” said Zoe.
“Him, who?”
“The one who took the video of me.”
“Wait.” Vega reared back. “Your mom told me it was a college student. At a fraternity.”
“I lied to her. I had to.” Her voice turned high and choked. “No one would have believed me if I’d said it was Dr. Jeff.”
* * *
Zoe couldn’t talk in the Safeway, not even in the break room. Vega waited in his truck until she could meet him outside. In the meantime, he called Joy. Her phone went to voice mail. He left her a message: “Call me, chispita. It’s important.” He did the same on a text. No answer. He tried to calm down and remind himself that his daughter was going to that 5’N’10 concert on campus tonight. She wouldn’t hear the phone or the ding of a text over the music. There was no imminent threat to her well-being.
He couldn’t get his gut to agree with him.
No way could he go to band practice now. He called Molina and apologized for having to “work late” this evening. The guys would have to go on without him—raid Danny’s refrigerator and let their bassist, Brandon Cruz, fill in the gaps as best he could.
By the time Zoe stepped into Vega’s truck, they were both a bundle of nerves. Zoe, for all that had happened. And Vega, for all he feared might.
“Please, Mr. Vega. I’ll tell you what you need to know for Joy’s sake. But I don’t want to press charges. I don’t want that video all over the Internet. It will ruin my life. I’ll never break free of it.”
“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” Vega promised. “But I need answers. As a father, if not a cop. Did Jeffrey Langstrom sexually assault you?”
Zoe let out a long, rattled sigh. “I don’t know. That sounds crazy, doesn’t it? You probably think I’m such a skank.”
“I don’t think anything of the sort,” said Vega. He always tried to keep his judgment neutral when it came to sexual assaults. It was so easy to get caught up in stereotypes and miss the truth completely. So he waited, keeping his mind blank, while their breath fogged up the windows of his truck.
“It wasn’t . . . I never intended . . .” Zoe settled her gaze on her hands. She had pretty, delicate hands, but her nails were bitten to the quick. Vega wondered if she’d always been a nail biter or whether that started after the assault. “We were working on a research paper together,” she began. “Dr. Jeff promised me a publishing credit. That’s a big deal—especially for an underclassman. I was so excited. It seemed like my big break.”
“Where were you working on this paper?” asked Vega.
“Mostly in POW’s campus office,” said Zoe. “On the third floor of the Neumann Sciences Building. I worked late a lot for him. He said he felt bad that he always made me miss dinner.”
Vega thought about Joy missing dinner the other night when Vega visited her. Something curdled in his gut.
“One night,” Zoe continued, “Dr. Jeff suggested I come over to his house for dinner. He said he wanted to make it up to me for all the dinners he’d made me miss.” Zoe ran two hands down her square face. “I’m not beautiful, Mr. Vega. Boys don’t fall at my feet—not the nice ones anyway. So it’s not like I had any reason to doubt Dr. Jeff’s sincerity. It just seemed like a really thoughtful gesture.”
“When did this happen?”
“Over the December break. Classes weren’t in session. Dr. Jeff made pasta with some sort of cream sauce. He opened a bottle of red wine. At first, I begged off the wine. I know you probably
think I’m lying, but I’m not much of a drinker. I don’t use drugs. My mom was sort of wild when she was young. I never wanted to go the same route.”
“So . . . he insisted you drink the wine?”
“Not insisted, exactly. Just—I don’t know. We were having these deep, important discussions about greenhouse gases and the rate of attrition of the polar cap. No one had ever treated me this way before—made me feel like I was smart. Like I was going places. He was drinking the wine. It felt sophisticated to join him.”
“So you had three glasses? Four? More?”
“Just one.”
“Just one?” Vega raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t think I even finished it. And then, like ten hours later, I woke up naked on his bed.”
Either Zoe was lying—which didn’t seem likely, given the smoothness of her narrative—or Langstrom had spiked her wine. Vega was betting he’d used Rohypnol—a powerful sedative and easy to obtain on the Internet. It was a common date-rape drug.
“Did you leave your wine unattended?” Vega asked her.
“I probably used the bathroom at some point. I don’t remember. I know that when I woke up the next morning, Dr. Jeff made it seem as if I’d gotten drunk and come on to him. I was humiliated. I took my clothes. I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Not your friend Lydia? Or maybe Catherine?”
“No.” At the mention of Catherine, Zoe turned away. Vega noticed her bring a bitten nail to her lips. “Not then anyway.”
“But later you mentioned it?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you know at the time that he’d made that video of you?”
“No. I kind of thought Dr. Jeff and I could put it all behind us. But after that, he started pressuring me for sex. Violent, kinky stuff. I refused, but he started groping me. He was very insistent. I told him I was going to report him to the school. And that’s when he showed me the video.”
“So in other words, he blackmailed you,” said Vega.
“He said if I didn’t do everything he asked of me, he’d make sure that video circulated all over campus and the Internet.” Vega heard the quake in her voice. She was fighting hard not to break down. “He pointed out that since he’s not on it, he wouldn’t be implicated.”
“Did you file a complaint with the police?”
“I’m the Goth-looking, tattooed daughter of a single mom who lives above a nail salon and drives a car held together with duct tape. Do you really think anyone’s going to believe my word against a man like Dr. Jeff?”
Vega didn’t try to contradict her. Rape cases were hard enough to investigate and prosecute. One that pitted a victim like Zoe Beck against an assailant like Langstrom would have been an uphill battle.
“So you quit the internship and dropped out of school,” said Vega. “But he still sent you that video?”
“Yes. But he didn’t spread it around. He didn’t post it on the Internet.”
“Why did he send it at all? Was it some kind of warning to keep your mouth shut? You’re gone from the college now, I don’t see the point.”
Zoe toyed with a grimy-looking rope bracelet on her wrist. “Catherine made this for me.”
“Your mom said you two were very close.”
“Best friends forever. That’s what she always said.” Her breath came out choked. “When this wears out, I’m going to get a tattoo just like this in her honor.”
Vega felt like the conversation had veered off on a tangent. But maybe not. If he’d learned anything from being the father of a teenage daughter, it was this: What a girl doesn’t say is far more important than what she does.
“Zoe.” Vega turned to face her. “Did Catherine’s murder have anything to do with why Dr. Langstrom didn’t post that video to the Internet?”
“I can’t . . . He’ll kill me if I say anything.”
Vega couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Do you mean to tell me that Jeffrey Langstrom sent you that video as a warning not to talk to the police about Catherine’s murder? Why?”
“It’s complicated, Mr. Vega.”
“Uncomplicate it for me.”
Zoe stared out the side window. A cold and antiseptic light emanated from the Safeway across the parking lot, reflecting back in the puddles of melted snow. People passed the truck with their shopping carts, checking their cell phones and grocery lists. Vega wanted to be in their shoes at the moment, worrying about what to cook for dinner or whether they’d bought enough milk. Anywhere but in this cab, dragging out a seedy story to spare his daughter the same fate.
“Catherine was trying to help me,” said Zoe.
“Help you how?”
“Get Dr. Jeff to leave me alone.”
“She was a high-school girl,” said Vega. “What power would she have to compel that?”
“She had something of her dad’s Dr. Jeff wanted. Some sort of video.” Zoe exhaled. “I don’t even know what was on it or why Dr. Jeff wanted it so much. Not that it matters now. She got cold feet and backed out.”
“Where’s the video?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you come forward and tell all of this to the police?”
“I got scared. And besides, it has nothing to do with Catherine’s murder. That illegal from La Casa killed her. Mike Carp said so himself.”
Vega winced at the girl’s words. At his own mistakes. At the town’s rush to judgment. People always wanted the police to solve crimes quickly. And here was the result. A dead man who was likely innocent. A guilty one still walking the streets. And a witness who assumed the case was over, when, in truth, it had never really begun.
Vega had so many questions. But as he sat in the cab of his truck, his pulse quickening like he’d run wind sprints, he knew the biggest question of all was the one he was afraid to ask.
“Zoe, is there any chance that Catherine met with Dr. Langstrom on the night of her murder?”
“I don’t know,” said Zoe. “It’s possible. I mean, she wanted to help me and all . . .” Zoe looked ready to cry. It seemed to be dawning on the girl what Vega was asking.
All this time, Vega’s chief worry had been that Jeffrey Langstrom might take advantage of his daughter. But now a whole new level of fear invaded his being. Maybe Zoe Beck’s life was no longer in this man’s hands.
But Joy’s was.
Chapter 41
Vega escorted Zoe back into the grocery store. His mind was racing. He wanted Langstrom picked up and questioned as soon as possible. But even more, he wanted to get ahold of Joy. He dialed her cell again and texted her, but she still didn’t respond. He called his ex-wife and forced himself to sound relaxed.
“She went to see 5’N’10,” said Wendy. “Do you really think she’s going to respond from a hip-hop concert?”
“But if she does? Can you have her call me right away?”
“Is something wrong?”
Vega wanted to pour out his fears to the one person who’d understand and share them. But he couldn’t. It was a breach of Zoe’s confidentiality. And besides, it would worry Wendy for no reason.
“Everything’s fine,” Vega lied. “I just need to ask her a question about her tuition bill.”
“You’re calling all over creation on a Friday night for that?” She laughed. “You really are too controlling with her sometimes.”
Vega’s next call was to the Lake Holly Police. If he couldn’t get to Joy, at the very least, he could get the cops to pick up Langstrom. Vega asked the desk sergeant if Greco was around.
“He’s out on a call with Jankowski.”
“How about Detective Sanchez?” He was on desk duty since the shooting. He probably never went anywhere.
“Hold on. I’ll get him.”
Vega waited on the line for what seemed like hours, but was probably only two minutes.
“Everybody’s in a meeting here,” Sanchez grumbled when he picked up. “What do you need?”
Vega told him as succinctly as
possible why Jeffrey Langstrom needed to be questioned in the murder of Catherine Archer.
“You’re talking about that water activist?” asked Sanchez. “The ‘Pied Pisser’ of the county?”
Vega smiled. Sanchez had been spending too much time around Greco.
“That’s the one.” Vega walked him through the connections between Catherine, Langstrom, Zoe, and the missing video that belonged to John Archer—a video that seemed to be cropping up in a host of different witness statements, including Jocelyn’s story about Alex Romero.
Vega didn’t mention Zoe by name, a fact Sanchez picked up on right away.
“So this witness—is she planning to come forward?”
“Not yet,” said Vega. “But I’m working on it.”
“Can she place Langstrom with Catherine the Friday night of her disappearance?”
“No. But there’s no reason your department can’t question him right away and check his alibi.”
“Did you just get promoted to chief here, Vega? Because last I heard from Greco, you were pumping gas for our county exec—who happens to be with us this evening.”
“Mike Carp is at the station?”
“With a couple of his associates,” said Sanchez. “That’s what the meeting’s about. They’re putting pressure on our department to close the Archer case. So I’ll tell you right now, your boss and mine aren’t going to share your enthusiasm for interviewing a respected county professor on the say-so of a witness who won’t come forward.”
“It’s more than that,” said Vega. He knew he had to. “The witness Langstrom allegedly assaulted? The one who won’t come forward? She was the professor’s intern. And now? That intern’s my daughter.”
Vega could hear a slow breath of air leave Sanchez’s lungs. He had daughters too.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll do a little digging and let Greco and Jankowski know when they get back. Maybe they can visit the guy tomorrow. He’s a tenured professor, so he’s not going anywhere. And your daughter’s not in any immediate danger, I’m assuming.”
A Place in the Wind Page 29