Chapter 33
“You want to tell me again why you showed up here?” Garcia asks me as I lean against his SUV. It’s dark and freezing out and I’m ready to be anywhere but outside Hannah’s building.
“Pretty sure I already did.”
“Pretty sure you’re on my last nerve.” His expression is hard.
“Those two things can both be true. Fine, I showed up here because I know Hannah lied about her alibi and I wanted to talk to her about it.”
“Instead of calling me?”
I shrug. “You knew Milo Cole was a liar.”
“So?”
“It also means that Ryan Chatelain’s alibi was a lie…” I curse as rain starts trickling down on us. It’s Seattle, of course it’s raining.
“Get in the front seat,” he mutters before he slides into the driver’s side.
It’s a lot warmer in here and I feel like I can finally thaw out. “I talked to Ryan today.” I hold up a hand before he can get angry about that too. “You said I have leeway with this case.” The word case sticks in my throat, but I force it out.
“Not to directly question suspects.”
I just shrug because I’m not sorry. “So what did Cole say to you?”
“Same thing you told me… What did Mr. Chatelain say to you?”
“That he’s a cheating piece of shit… My words, not his. Apparently he steps out on his wife a lot, including with Hannah Brown—which means her alibi was a lie too. So I came here to talk to her about it, but she’s gone and something is off. I think someone took her. Or hurt her.”
He nods, because he’s already got a small forensics team up there going over everything. “You shouldn’t have gone into her place.”
“The door was open and I was worried about her safety. I was doing a wellness check.”
“You sound like you’re preparing an opening statement.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“No, but if we can’t get the guy you saw on any CCTVs around here, I want you to talk to a sketch artist.”
“You guys have one?” They’re a small department.
“No, but Seattle PD has offered us their resources.”
I want to say that’s surprising, but I actually don’t know that it is.
I’ve worked with enough law enforcement agencies (very much on the periphery) and the stuff on TV isn’t quite as accurate as real life.
FBI agents do tend to be blowhards, but for the most part when paired together, local agencies help each other out.
More often than not they’re glad to have extra sets of hands and eyes, plus shared resources.
Because their individual funding is often a joke.
“I can talk to them now while his image is fresh in my mind.” I’m still cursing myself for not having my phone out to take a picture of him.
But if I snapped one, he might have come after me.
I’m fast, but still. “What about the security here?” It’s not great, but maybe they have cameras I didn’t see.
“Their whole system is getting a revamp.” His expression tells me everything I need to know. Then he adds, “Allegedly. They’re just making excuses.”
I’m guessing it’s because the condo association doesn’t want to pay the money to monitor cameras. “You find anything else interesting today?”
His expression is unreadable for a moment, then he closes his eyes. “Do you remember a woman named Renata Garcia? Sometimes goes by Rena.”
I’m thrown by the sudden change in topic, but I slowly nod. “Yeah, Rena…Garcia? Is she your…wife?” I haven’t noticed him wearing a ring, and Rena had never said anything about being married, but that doesn’t mean anything. And I haven’t seen her in years.
He snorts. “No. And I’m not married, for the record. Or seeing anyone,” he adds, and I don’t know why I care one way or another but I don’t hate it. God, he’s annoyingly handsome. “She’s my cousin.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure where this is going and I can’t even guess.
“I picked her up from one of her AA meetings years ago. I’d dropped her off too,” he adds, a touch of something in his voice I can’t decipher.
“She was a mess back then and one of the guys at the meeting was clearly being too ‘friendly’ and you swooped in and told him what was what. I was waiting in the parking lot and had been about to get out of my car when you marched up all smiles and then let him have it.” Now he sounds almost amused.
“I remember that. It’s a problem with some of the meeting places.
Men trying to take advantage of newer female members.
” It was one of my hot-button issues because we were all there to get better, to get sober.
But of course assholes were gonna be assholes everywhere. No way to stop it. So I did my part.
“You got Rena set up with a sponsor and checked in with her for the next year. She still talks about you sometimes.”
“How is she?” I’m still not sure why he’s telling me all this.
“Really good, living in Northern California now. The family is sad she moved, but she’s engaged, has a solid job, and is still going to meetings twice a week. She stayed sober, stuck with the program. Now she sponsors too.”
“I love hearing that.” Rena was so young and lost when I met her. “Why…are you telling me all this?” Because it has nothing to do with my sister’s murder. And it’s incredibly personal. For him.
He scrubs a hand over his face as the rain hits the windshield even harder. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah, you do.” And I’m hoping he’ll fill me in. Maybe…this is his way of telling me why he’s being so open with me about stuff?
He looks at me. “I talked to someone in Emerald Queen Gardens today. Guy was blackmailed years ago for cheating on his wife.”
I’m getting whiplash with the change in subject. “Okay.”
“His house is next to one Hannah Brown used to nanny at.”
I nod at him.
“The blackmail itself wasn’t basic, but it wasn’t high-tech either.”
I listen as he recaps what the man told him, wishing he’d give me the guy’s name. But I’m not asking because I’ve already pushed my luck, and I don’t want Garcia to stop sharing.
When he’s done I sit there for a long moment. “You think there’s a possibility that Hannah is involved in blackmailing people in Emerald Queen Gardens? And maybe…my sister got caught in the crossfire somehow?”
“I don’t know, I’m just laying out what I do know.”
My mind immediately goes to Marcus Chesky. He was friends with Cara, and she mentioned him more than once. He helped her with something that she wouldn’t tell me about. She just told me that he was a real friend when she needed it.
Is it possible that someone was blackmailing Cara?
But no. No. That doesn’t make sense. She would never cheat on Ethan, and never broke a law in her life.
I can’t imagine anyone having dirt on her, let alone something worth blackmailing her with.
She was always relatively open about where we came from, and being poor isn’t a reason to blackmail someone anyway. None of this makes sense.
Just like the conversation we had moments before she was murdered didn’t make sense. “This adds another layer to things,” I finally say, more frustrated than anything. “And you still haven’t explained why you told me about your cousin.”
He glances down at his phone and answers a call instead of responding.
His responses to the caller are mostly one-word, then he looks at me.
“They’ve wrapped up with Hannah’s place and will be having someone sit on her condo tonight at least. You want me to drive you to the station to talk to the sketch artist, or are you parked close to here? ”
“I’m a couple blocks that way.” I point.
He nods and pulls out of his spot, but picks up the thread from before. “I told you about Rena because…I don’t like sharing information with anyone not directly involved in the investigation. Even with my boss ordering me to do so,” he adds.
“But I’m so wonderful that you just can’t help yourself?” I find myself grinning slightly when nothing at all should be able to make me smile right now.
“I saw who you were—are—years ago. And I never forgot. Neither did Renata. She was in a bad place, and if she hadn’t found such a good sponsor early on, I think she’d be dead. She was out of control and…” He shrugs.
But I think I get it. And I don’t know how to respond so I just point to Cara’s vehicle. “That’s me. Are you going to the station?”
He shakes his head and I’m strangely disappointed. “I’m going to follow up with Mr. Chatelain.”
“It’s late.” Well, after dark, and roughly dinner time, but not late.
“He’ll deal.”
I grin at his hard tone and jump out into the rain, hoping he gets more out of Ryan than I did. And as I slide into the driver’s seat, I mull over the blackmail, wondering how many more people Hannah allegedly tried to manipulate.
Maybe she targeted the wrong person. Like…Marcus? And maybe Cara somehow got involved? Saw something she shouldn’t have? Ugh. I’m going around in circles.
I text Foxe with what I’ve learned, then pull out into traffic.
If anyone can find a pattern of blackmail, it’ll be her.