Chapter 3 #2
He stares down at me, unblinking, as if I’ve just admitted to being involved in a terrorist plot.
Then, taking me by surprise, he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug.
He moves so fast I can’t even take my hands out of my pockets, so I’m awkwardly standing against him as he squeezes me like a bear.
“You’re family, Sloane. You don’t even have to ask.
” His words come out tight and unsteady.
“You can stay as long as you like. Just because Cara is gone… I hope you’ll always think of me as your brother.
And the girls need you now.” He doesn’t look at me when he steps away and gets into the SUV, but I see the wetness on his cheeks.
Which is just as well, because I don’t want to make eye contact with him or anyone right now. I just want to sit in my car alone.
As I stalk across the parking lot toward the nearby sidewalk, Alex is standing outside her Mercedes, Rose bundled up inside. And that’s when I notice Detective Garcia sitting in an unmarked vehicle across the street from the church, his head turned my way.
“Don’t look, but the detective on my sister’s case is here,” I say to Alex.
“Yeah, I saw him. Detective Hector Garcia.” She pulls out a vape pen, and on instinct I snatch it away, toss it to the ground.
She gives me a dry look. “Seriously?”
“Sorry,” I mutter even though I’m not sorry at all. I used to toss my mom’s cigarettes when she was passed out, and I’ve done the same to Alex for years. She went from actual cigarettes to vape pens. My “antics” annoy her to no end.
To my surprise she picks it up and tucks it out of sight into one of her jacket pockets.
“Who even still smokes today?” I find myself asking her even though I know the answer. “It’s poison and gross and—”
“I’m not having this conversation again. I’m a grown—”
“Woman who makes her own choices. Yeah, yeah. It’s shit, you know that.” I see Rose through the windshield giving me a thumbs-up and I flash her a ghost of a smile. “Your pregnant wife agrees,” I mutter, like a petulant child.
“I’m trying to quit,” Alex grits out.
This is a surprise, but I don’t respond because something she said before clicks into place.
I’m off my game and it’s no surprise why.
I haven’t slept in days, haven’t been able to close my eyes without replaying that final conversation with Cara in my mind.
I should have pushed her more, made her tell me what was wrong.
“How do you know who the detective is on my sister’s case?
And how did you know he was here?” Because she’d have to know his face to place him.
He’s not in any sort of uniform and his vehicle just looks like any other Ford Explorer on the streets.
“Because Fallon knows his boss and we’ve all looked into him.
We’re all watching this case and ready to step in if they don’t handle things properly.
Garcia is a good detective by all accounts.
Moved over here from Seattle a few years ago for a slower pace of life.
Looks like he got a little burned out, but his closure rate is more than solid. ”
I blink once. Twice. Three times. I know all of this because of course I looked into him. I know his family history too. I just hadn’t expected Alex or the others to know all this.
Alex lets out a low curse and yanks out her vape pen likely out of habit before she growls, then shoves it back in her pocket with another curse.
“I know you’re grieving so I’m trying not to be an asshole, but it pisses me off that you’re actually surprised we’re following this case.
That we care. Jesus,” she mutters. “I don’t want to say something I’ll regret so I’m getting in my car.
I’ll see you in a little bit. Fallon and the others will be there too.
” She slams the door behind her with more force than needed.
Fallon is our boss, a smart woman in her fifties who’s spent her life helping people. She’s one of the most decent people I’ve ever met and is the main reason my life took a positive detour years ago.
I head south on the sidewalk, my boots making quiet clicking sounds as I make my way to my car. I’m even colder now, so when Detective Garcia pulls up next to me and says, “Need a lift?” I actually get inside.
“I’m only a few blocks away.” My teeth chatter against the cold. With the sky overcast it’s making everything miserable and icy. “Did you see anything useful today?” I ask, because why beat around the bush. He’s here for a reason.
To solve my sister’s murder.
I’m stupidly hopeful he saw something important.
Something that will give him a lead. He has a good reputation and track record; Alex wasn’t wrong about that.
At the beginning of the funeral, I was watching people in the irrational hope that someone would give something away, but all their faces started to blur after a while and I’d needed to be there for my nieces anyway.
“And why did your officers stop canvassing my sister’s street?
” I should wait for him to answer my first question, but I can’t seem to stop myself from demanding answers.
They were walking around asking people for copies of security and doorbell videos, and to my knowledge, everyone provided what they had.
But it’s been a few days and the canvassing has stopped.
His sigh is tempered as he cranks up the heat. “We’re still talking to people, still creating timelines of all her neighbors and the people who work in the neighborhood. We’re just not as visually present as before.” He has a tone I’m pretty sure I read correctly.
The muckety-mucks in Emerald Queen Gardens wouldn’t want a constant police presence, a reminder of the violence and darkness that touched their street. They wanted to put Cara’s murder behind them and move on.
But I don’t. I can’t.
I won’t.
“What about her work? Have you—”
“Sloane.”
I force myself to take a deep breath. “Sorry, I know you don’t answer to me.
” The truth is, I’m surprised he’s talking to me at all.
In my experience, cops in general—but definitely detectives—don’t share anything with outsiders.
To him I’m just some random pilot. A witness who heard her sister’s murder.
“You don’t have to be sorry. She was your sister. And thank you for the recording. Everything you said matched up with your testimony.”
“I’m there.” I point to my dusty car with a sticker of a plane on the back, and for the first time that I can remember, I’m a little embarrassed by it. The girls are right, I need something new. Or newer than this mess.
The detective pulls up behind me and idles. “Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t be talking to you at all like this, but I’d like to ask for a favor.”
I stare at his hard profile and he turns to look at me. “What kind of favor?” I can hear the suspicion in my voice, know he must hear it too. In my experience, most people suck. They lie, cheat and steal just because they can, and are only sorry when they get caught.
“My boss and your boss apparently go way back.” His jaw is tight as he’s talking, and it’s clear he doesn’t want to tell me any of this.
The boss thing is a big surprise, but I keep my expression neutral, act like I already know this.
I’m also realizing I should have called Fallon back, but I haven’t wanted to talk to anyone the last few days.
Ethan and the girls stayed with his parents until the crime scene techs released the house, then I handled getting the kitchen professionally cleaned and made most of the funeral arrangements.
I know Ethan could have handled it, but I hate feeling useless and his girls need him.
Garcia is watching me for a reaction, but I just lift an eyebrow.
It’s weird to have someone know what my actual job is.
My cover as a pilot extends to the rest of my life too—the majority of people think that’s all I do.
They have no clue that I use my skills to spy on the rich, to find out if they’re stealing pensions from their employees or even worse.
That I’ve helped lock up a whole lot of assholes, and if they knew that me or my firm was involved…
Let’s just say my enemy count would be high.
“So I have carte blanche to share some things with you,” he continues when I don’t say anything.
“So I’m officially not a suspect?” I don’t know why I’m pushing like this. Okay, that’s a lie, I’m angry and want to take my rage out on someone. And he’s close.
He just shakes his head at me, which isn’t an answer, but I’ll take it. “We found the weapon that was used to…” He clears his throat. “A Beretta. The ballistics are a match and the owner is someone your sister fired a few months ago.”
My heart rate kicks up. I want a name so badly I can taste it, but know better than to ask him. He won’t give me that kind of information no matter how much leeway he’s been handed. But Ethan will know anyone Cara fired, so I’ll just ask him. “Has he or she been brought in?”
“He. And no. We can’t find him.”
“Were his prints on the weapon?” I ask carefully because there’s something he’s holding back. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to me at all, but because of his boss, he feels obligated. He still hasn’t gotten to the whole favor thing yet.
“Good question. And no, and that’s what’s bothering me. That and a few other things.”
“Have you found him on any camera feeds from the neighbors?”
“Nope. So this guy was smart enough to sneak into Queen Emerald Gardens, somehow avoid all cameras, turn off the ones at Cara’s place, and not leave behind any prints or forensic evidence, but then he dumps his registered weapon in the bushes for us to find.
” Garcia’s jaw is tight as he shakes his head.
“So you don’t think it’s him.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m not making any hard decisions about anything. I’m just following the evidence. And the guy did make some violent threats to the vic— To Cara. He’s a suspect, but I find the circumstances of the weapon being found so quickly interesting.”
Yeah, interesting is one word for it. “So what’s this favor you want?” I need to get to the memorial because I promised my nieces.
“Even in your state of shock, you gave a detailed response of your last conversation with your sister. I compared it to the recording and it was damn near a mirror.”
I already know that, so I’m not sure why he’s rehashing it.
“Eyewitness testimony is often unreliable, but with yours, and what I know from my boss…” He grinds his teeth like he’s chewing on glass.
So here comes the favor. “It would be a big help if you could keep an eye on people at the memorial. I’m assuming all or most of Cara’s neighbors will be there as well as people from her work. And some of those overlap.”
“They will.” A handful of Cara and Ethan’s neighbors also worked with them. “You want me to record everyone around me? Is that what you’re asking?” Because just come out and say it already.
“I can’t legally ask you to do that.”
“In Washington State, if someone is in a public or common space with no expectation of privacy—”
“I know the law.” His tone is even drier now. “And a memorial isn’t exactly a public space.”
“It’s a gray area.” And my job is all about gray areas.
Though the truth is, I’d break a lot of laws to find my sister’s killer.
That’s where he and I likely differ, and probably why he doesn’t like sharing anything with me.
He strikes me as a black-and-white kind of guy.
I live in shades of gray and am more than comfortable with that.
“And fine, point taken. You want me to watch and listen for anything that might be useful.”
“I just want your insight. I have to be careful with these people.” His tone shifts to one of pure frustration. “Because if they even smell that I’m looking at them, they’ll ask for a lawyer. And I’d like to avoid that for now.”
“Anyone in particular you want me to look at?”
He nods slowly, clearly not wanting to give me the names, but Fallon must have really sold me to his boss—or his boss owes Fallon, a definite possibility—because he finally says, “Ava and Ryan Chatelain, Lucy Kowalski, Jordan Hughes, Milo Cole and…Ethan Alexander.”
I know I shouldn’t be surprised at Ethan being on the list, but I still am.
I know all the names—all people who worked with Cara, all people who live in Emerald Queen Gardens.
My heart starts to pound. If any of them are even remotely involved with killing my sister…
“Ethan is a suspect too?” And Ava? That one seems too farfetched, but I keep my thoughts to myself on Ava.
“The probability of the spouse doing it…” He shakes his head slightly.
“It wasn’t Ethan.”
Garcia’s expression is neutral as he looks at me.
There’s no sense in arguing, and really, I know how stupid I sound. “I’ll let you know if I see or hear anything suspicious.” I was also planning to hunt for whatever my sister had made a copy of and hidden.
Because her words still replayed over and over in my head. “I have copies of…everything. I put it all somewhere safe.”
The cops combed over the house looking for anything and I know they were thorough. But they couldn’t find anything.
I’ve tried searching but it’s been damn near impossible with everyone in the house now. I need to find it. Whether it matters to the case or not, it mattered to her.
And it might matter enough that she was killed because of it.
My gut is telling me it’s connected. Because I don’t believe in coincidence.