The waitress moseyed from the kitchen with a plate of hash browns in her hand. “You want me to . . .”
Amara was out the door before the woman finished her sentence.
Three a.m. or not, it was time to go to work.
18
Starsky dropped Amara at her apartment and checked the place again for any sign of intruders. Once he was satisfied, he waited outside until she clicked her deadbolt.
“I’m heading out,” he said. “Keep your phone and gun nearby.”
She rested her palm against the door. “Will do. Go get a shower. Please.”
She hurried through her morning routine, opting not to wait for the hot water to wind its way to her bathroom. Saved a few minutes at the cost of around half her body temperature, it seemed. After checking on Larry and apologizing for spending so little time with him lately, an apology he appeared not to accept, she hustled to her car and sped to the office.
The few detectives there that early mumbled their greetings, and she used her forearm to clear a swath through the crumbs on her card table desk, then plugged in her laptop.
“Alvarez. You want coffee?”
She smiled and turned to face Starsky. “How old is it?”
“Made it fresh about twenty minutes ago.”
He’d beaten her here? “Half a cup. Thanks.”
He grabbed a chair and headed her way with the drinks. “Mind if I join you?”
Both sat and she logged into the PD network. “You didn’t go by your apartment, did you?” she asked.
“No need. Showered a few days ago. A little deodorant and I’m good.”
“So you say.” She sipped the coffee and let it sit on her tongue for a moment before swallowing. “Starsky, I appreciate your help last night. I do. But I’m okay. I can handle the case.”
He shrugged. “Never thought you couldn’t.”
“I guess what I mean is, well, I want to do this by myself.”
“No problem there. We’ve all got enough of our own work.” He glanced around the room and lowered his voice. “I’m not saying this is happening, but don’t let your pride get in the way of the investigation.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand.
“Not accusing,” he said. “If you need help, ask for it. And tell the LT about the call.”
Lieutenant Segura could decide the case had become too personal. He might assign someone else to take over. “I’ll think about it,” she said.
“No. You tell him or I will. And before you say anything, I’d do the same for any other detective. Things that could affect the prosecution of a suspect need to be out in the open as soon as you know. It has to be that way.”
“What if he pulls me off the investigation?”
“He’ll do whatever he thinks is best. Not for you, for the case. That’s his job, and like him or not, he’s good at it.”
She crossed her arms across her chest and frowned. “Fine.”
He nodded and stood. “What’s your plan?”
“Track down the two boys and—”
“Not what I meant. About your mother.”
What could she possibly plan? “Wait. Pray. Cry. All of the above. Until I know for sure how bad things are and what treatments are available, I can’t do anything else except stay busy.”
He stared at the floor. “I’m sorry about all this, Amara.”
She reached over and placed her hand on top of his. “I know you are. But Mama’s strong. She’ll get through this.”
He wandered off and she stared at her reflection in the laptop screen. Mama is strong. She’ll beat the cancer. Fight through it and come out a survivor.
But the truth was a lot of people didn’t beat it. Not because they weren’t strong or didn’t try hard enough or any reason other than cancer was a disease and people died from diseases. Even strong people.
She shook her head violently to chase away the thoughts. All she could do was all she could do. And until she had more details, sitting around fretting about what might happen didn’t accomplish anything. She resisted the urge to search for cancer treatments and instead opened the Zachary Coleman files.
Still two hours or so before the LT would arrive at work. Enough time to begin piecing together her notes into something resembling a theory. The call from last night would have to be included, but she’d play down the personal factor. Stress to Lieutenant Segura the caller wasn’t threatening anyone, merely proving his point that he had access to data that was supposed to be secure.
What were they—Sanchez or the three friends or whoever—doing with that knowledge? So what if you could control the camera system at the Cannonball? Seemed like an extravagant waste of time and energy if the only goal was to hide your tracks when you killed someone. Far easier to take them out to a field somewhere and leave them where they’d never be found.
Unless Coleman’s death really was a message to the others. One that said there was no place safe. The murderer had taken huge risks by doing it in such a public location, cameras or not. There had to be an easier way to accomplish the same goal.
A notification popped up in the bottom right corner of her display and alerted her to a new email. She clicked over and reviewed her inbox. Starsky had sent over the recording from earlier this morning when she’d recounted the phone call. It’d have to be typed up and included as part of the case file.
Segura would want the crime lab to dump the data from her cell and take a look at it, but that would be futile. The caller wasn’t stupid. The LT might even want someone to go to her apartment and review her network configuration or check again for hidden electronics. If he did, she’d let them, but they wouldn’t find anything.
The guy was smart. Too smart to leave an obvious trail. If he’d broken into her network, finding his footprints would take more than a quick once-over by the PD’s IT gurus.
She plugged in her earbuds, closed her eyes, and counted her breaths. Silence crept through her brain and she pictured herself going through her close-combat workout routine. Each punch chased and scattered thoughts into a corner. Every kick brought clarity. Her muscles begged for the reality of the Muay Thai bag’s worn leather surface.
The caller had seemed older. His words and mannerisms spoke of an adult. A professional. Sanchez?
Her right shoulder twitched as she visualized two quick jabs to the bag.
Not one of the teenagers. Probably. Couldn’t rule them out. Either way, they were involved. They knew something.
She tightened her left gluteal muscles as she followed up the punches with an imaginary roundhouse kick.
Zach and Haley had stacks of money. Liam and Matias most likely did too. The source of the cash was illegal and online.
Her torso swiveled as a left jab led to a knee strike and a right uppercut.
A boy was dead. He must have been a threat to someone. If she applied pressure to the other three friends, would it put them in danger? And the biggest question of all. Was the caller Zachary Coleman’s killer?
She opened her eyes, unclenched her jaw, and sighed. Imaginary workouts sucked. No sweat, no exertion, no pain. None of the distractions that truly allowed her to escape from the world. A couple of hours was plenty of time to hit the gym, pummel the bag, and return to the station before the LT arrived.
She drummed her fingers on the table. It was also enough time to get ahead of her paperwork, type up the transcript of Starsky’s recording, and lay out her day.
Priorities.
She stretched her arms high overhead and lifted her straightened legs off the floor for a thirty-count, then clicked the play button on the audio file.
Lieutenant Segura arrived on schedule and Amara hurried into his office before he had a chance to start his paperwork-signing ritual.
“Morning, sir,” she said. “I need to advise you of a situation that’s come up in the Coleman case.”
He loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top collar of his shirt, sat, and surveyed
his desktop. “Go ahead.”
“Last night I received a phone call from someone claiming to have, um, personal information about a member of my family.”
His face tilted upward. “Personal information?”
“The caller claimed he had the details of my mother’s medical situation. Details that she doesn’t even have yet.”
“And did he?”
“Don’t know. I should be able to verify later this morning. He also knew what I was watching on TV when he called.”
Segura leaned back in his chair. “Maybe he heard it through the phone?”
She shook her head. “TV was muted.”
“And you think there’s a connection between this call and your investigation?”
She chose her words carefully. “I think that’s a possibility, but I can’t be certain. My prior involvement in Cotulla could be a motive as well. And there’s also the chance this was nothing more than a prank call.”
“Were you threatened?”
“Not directly, no, sir.”
He opened his desk drawer, pulled out today’s cigar, and jammed it in his mouth. “That’s a yes then.”
This conversation was not going as planned. “Honestly, sir, it was more of an informational call. Something to show he could do what he said. I, um, I never felt like there was any real danger to me.” She held her chin high and maintained eye contact, hoping he believed her lie.
“Want the techs to look at your phone? Might be able to track the origin of the call if nothing else.”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I didn’t get the impression this guy would make such an obvious mistake. He hid the number, so I’m certain he knows how to protect his location too.”
“Maybe. Any chance your work laptop was compromised?”
“I didn’t even have it turned on when the call came in. But I have used it at home before, always with the VPN on.”
Segura grunted and worked the cigar side to side in his mouth. “Stop by IT and swap yours out for a new computer. Tell them your old one might have been attacked and to tag it in case we need to check it later. You don’t leave the office until I see the report, got it? And whatever this situation is with your mother, if there is a connection to the investigation, you’re to inform me immediately. Failure to do so would not be a good career move, understood?”
“Yes, sir. As of now, I believe the connection to be nothing more than ancillary. If there’s more to it than that, you’ll know about it.”
He dragged the stack of unsigned paperwork in front of him and clicked his pen. She leaned forward in an attempt to see if the requisition for her desk had made it to the top of the pile again.
“Something else, Detective?”
“No, sir. Have a good day.”
19
Amara checked the car’s clock as she pulled to a stop in front of Matias Lucero’s home. 9:14. A later start than she wanted, but swapping out her laptop plus typing up the report for the LT, which included a transcript of her late-night interview with Starsky, took a while. She’d hustled out of the office after laying the file on Segura’s desk. Once he discovered Starsky had come over, that might open a whole new can of worms. Best case was the LT would realize she felt at least a little threatened and want more details. Worst case was he’d pull her off the investigation. No point in rolling the dice before she had to. Give him time to review the report and move on to something else.
She stepped out of her car and strode along the walkway leading to the two-story brick-and-vinyl home. This neighborhood had their driveways at the back of the houses, and she’d cruised through the alley first and confirmed a single vehicle was parked there. An older model Prius, nothing extravagant like Haley’s monster truck. No guarantee the small car belonged to Matias, but at this time on a Wednesday morning, most adults would be at work. Most teenagers, especially a soon-to-be senior in high school, would still be in bed.
She banged on the door and pressed the bell several times. Down the street, a landscaping crew unloaded their mower, Weed eaters, and blower. Four guys swarmed the postage-stamp yard. Couldn’t be more than a ten-minute job. Fifteen tops.
The deadbolt clicked and a groggy face leaned around the door. Matias Lucero looking like he’d either just rolled out of bed or decided to skip sleeping altogether. The kid’s license had said he was five ten. On tiptoes maybe, but she wasn’t one to talk.
“Yes?” he said.
She showed her identification. “Detective Amara Alvarez. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions?”
“About Zachary?”
Haley must have told him. “Yes. I’m trying to finalize a few things.”
He pulled the door open and yawned. “Sure. Come on in.”
“Thanks.” She tapped her elbow on her weapon to ensure it was in the hip holster. There’d never been an occasion when it wasn’t, but she’d developed the habit long ago. One she had no intention of trying to break. “Lead the way.”
He plodded into the living room, his bare feet slapping the hardwood floor, and slumped onto the sofa. An empty bag of chips and a couple of soda cans sat beside him on a table, with a blanket shoved to the far end against a few throw pillows. Someone spent a late night there. Maybe calling her apartment.
She sat on the edge of a leather high-back chair and opened her notepad. “Can you tell me how you and Zachary knew each other?”
“Same way we all did. Through video games. Haley told you yesterday.”
Wonderful. Not surprising that Haley called him, but it certainly made things more difficult. She maintained an even expression. Let’s see how he deals with pressure. “Got it. Were you with Zachary when he was murdered?”
His hands vibrated on his thighs and he glanced around the room. “Murdered? Who said he was—”
“Spare me the drama,” she said. “You and I both know someone killed Zachary, and I’m going to find that person. You and Haley and Liam can rehearse your stories all you want. I don’t care. Know why? Because you’re wasting your time. One of you will break. Guaranteed. That little seed of doubt that’s festering in the back of your brain there. The idea that someone could cut a deal or conspire against you or, I don’t know, see that you end up like Zachary. Your friends have the same thoughts. That seed will grow until one of you can’t take it anymore. And when it does, that person will be beating on my door to talk.”
He stared at her for a moment. “Are you finished? I have no idea what you’re talking about. As far as I know, Zach died of heatstroke or alcohol. End of story.”
“You’re seventeen. A minor. You and Liam both. No guarantee you won’t be tried as an adult though. Think about that. A little bit of cooperation can make a huge difference when the DA’s deciding what to do. Unfortunately for you, it works both ways. Refuse to share what you know, hide things from the police, not gonna look good. Not to the DA, the judge, or a Texas jury.”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
“Yeah? What can you tell me then?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me I need a lawyer or something?”
“You’re not under arrest. What was in the water bottles? The ones you carried into the park the day Zachary died.”
“Water.”
She flipped her notepad shut. “Fair enough. I won’t take up any more of your time.” She stood and headed for the front door.
Matias scooted off the sofa and trailed behind her. “You going to see Liam next?” he asked.
“So now you get to ask questions?” She turned to face him. “I’ll see Liam soon enough. Whatever this is you three have, it’s not falling apart.”
He swallowed but remained silent.
“Want to know why it’s not falling apart? Because it’s not getting a chance to. I’m ripping it down, and when I do, you’ll wish you’d talked to me this morning. Murder doesn’t ever go away.” She cocked her head and smiled. “Neither do I.”
The boy shifted his stan
ce and leaned against the wall, doing his best to appear casual. “You believe what you want to believe, but we didn’t have anything to do with Zach’s death. If you think someone killed him, then you’re wasting your time on us.”
She stepped closer, narrowed her eyes, and stared until he looked away. “No, I don’t think so. Want to know a little secret? My money’s on you. You’re the one who’s going to talk. Know why? I saw the video.”
He crinkled his forehead and peered at her. “What video?”
“At the water park. You three are standing there while they do CPR on your friend. Haley’s pretty upset and Liam’s trying to calm her down. But you . . .” She jabbed her finger toward him. “You’re scanning the crowd. Looking for someone. Someone who terrifies you.”
He shook his head. “That’s not—”
“And that look on your face in the video? The one that says you’re scared out of your mind?” She turned for the door. “That’s the same look you had when I asked if you were with Zachary when he was murdered.”
She stepped onto the porch as he closed and locked the door behind her. Once in her car, she pulled up Liam Walker’s address in her phone. A twenty-minute drive. By the time she got there, Matias would’ve talked to him. Nothing she could do about that, but it likely wouldn’t make much difference. Until she had more evidence, something pointing in the right direction, she couldn’t apply enough pressure to any of them.
Her cell rang before she could pull away from the house, and she glanced at the display. Wylie.
Her heart raced and the back of her neck tingled. “Hey there.”
His voice was a whisper. “We, uh, your mom and I are about to head to the doctor’s office. He called and wanted to meet with her.”
Her throat tightened. “Did he say anything?”
“No, just that we needed to come in today.”
“How’s Mama?”
“She’s okay. Getting her things together now. Didn’t want me to call anyone until we knew more.”
She rested her forehead on the steering wheel. “I’ll meet you there.”
Network of Deceit Page 10