Chapter Nine
For several minutes after the contact info for the victim’s wife arrived by text, Gonzo stared at the screen, hating that he had to call her and change her life forever with the worst-possible news.
Like everyone in their squad, he hated making calls like this one, but it had to be done.
Anxious to get it over with, he put through the call.
A woman answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Carver, this is Detective Sergeant Thomas Gonzales with the Metropolitan Police Department. I received the message you left with our dispatchers about not being able to reach your husband.”
“Yes, he’s not answering his phone, and he never doesn’t answer his phone, especially when it’s me calling. We have young kids, and he’s there for work, and… I don’t know what to do.”
“Can you describe him for me?”
“He… He’s thirty-four and has dark blond hair. He has a scar on his upper lip from a fishing hook when he was a kid.”
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry to have to tell you that a body matching your husband’s description was found deceased in the hotel last night.”
Her piercing scream had him holding the phone away from his ear as he closed his eyes, wishing he’d chosen a different line of work.
“He can’t be dead!” she said between sobs. “He’s my whole world!”
“Is there anyone with you?”
“M-my sister is here. I… I called her when I couldn’t reach Dale.”
Gonzo made a note of his first name.
“Wh-what happened to him?”
“He was found in the ice machine room on the hotel’s sixth floor. He’d been stabbed in the chest.”
“Oh my God! Who would want to kill him? I… I don’t understand.”
As she broke down into fresh sobs, a rustling sound came as the phone was transferred to someone else.
“Dale is really dead?” a woman asked.
“You are?”
“His sister-in-law, Mercy Roth.”
Gonzo wrote down her name and told her what they knew so far, which wasn’t much. “Can you confirm he was a guest at the Vacation Inn and Suites on 10th Street?”
“Yes, he was. What should we do? Should we come there?”
He choked back a yawn and rubbed eyes that’d gone gritty during the long night. “Not yet. We’ll get back to you about next steps. In the meantime, can you tell me what he was doing in DC?”
“He works for an agricultural company here in Spokane and was there for meetings at USDA.”
“Can you get me a point of contact for his company and text it to this number?” He wasn’t sure he’d need the information but wanted to have it anyway.
“Yes, we’ll take care of that. What happens now?”
“Our medical examiner has taken custody of the body and will perform an autopsy, which is standard procedure in a homicide. Once her work is completed, we can coordinate with a funeral home of your choice to transport him home.”
In the background, Gonzo heard a baby crying, and he felt sad for a family torn apart by a senseless murder.
“I can’t believe this has happened. They just had their third child… He’s such a wonderful husband and father.”
“Has he ever been in any kind of trouble?”
After a long pause that had Gonzo standing up a little straighter, she said, “He had some trouble with drugs a few years ago, but he went to rehab and got past that.”
Aw, shit. “How many years ago?”
“Um, I think it’s been four years.”
“What was his drug of choice?”
“Is this really relevant?”
“Everything is relevant in a homicide investigation.”
“He was addicted to heroin and worked very hard to get better for his wife and kids. They’re his everything.” She sniffled. “I can’t believe this has happened to him. What in the world will Trisha and the kids do without him?”
“I’m so sorry for your loss and for hers. We’ll be back in touch with more information later today.”
“Thank you.”
“If you think of anything else that might be relevant to our investigation, even the smallest of things, please be sure to get in touch and pass that request along to your sister as well.”
“I will. I’ll tell her.”
Gonzo ended the call, feeling sad for people he’d never met.
Murder came out of nowhere to upset lives that’d been somewhat ordinary beforehand and changed every single thing about the future for those left behind.
Having to tell family members that their loved ones had been killed was the most devastating part of a heartbreaking job.
Officer Youncy approached him. “We’ve completed the canvass of all the rooms, Sarge, and haven’t found a single witness.”
She looked as exhausted as he felt.
“You can let everyone go home with my thanks for staying all night.”
“Yes, sir.” She glanced toward the closed door to the ice room, which was sealed off with yellow tape. Crime Scene detectives had quickly processed the room overnight and had left until they were able to access the victim’s room. “Do we know who he was?”
“Dale Carver from Spokane, Washington. Married father of three. Here for meetings at USDA.”
“Damn.”
“I know.” As a recovering addict himself, Gonzo decided to keep the info about Dale’s addiction and recovery to himself until he had a chance to delve deeper into the man’s final hours.
He hoped this wasn’t a case of a relapse gone bad.
“Go get some sleep. Appreciate your great work and that of Officer Clare. Tell him to take off, too.”
“I will. Sorry we weren’t able to get you more information.”
“At least we know that no one in the hotel saw anything—or if they did, they’re not talking about it.”
“Right.”
“In an investigation like this, ruling out is as important as ruling in.”
“Good point. See you around campus, Sarge.”
“Take it easy.”
After Youncy walked away, Gonzo called Dr. Lindsey McNamara, the department’s chief medical examiner.
“Hey, Sarge. How’s it going over there?”
“Slow but steady. I spoke to the vic’s wife, Trisha. His name is Dale Carver, here from Spokane, Washington to meet with USDA. I have her number if you want to get in touch when you’re finished with the exam.” He recited the number for her. “I told her you’d call about funeral homes and transport.”
“Will do. What else do we know about him?”
“He’s the father of three young kids, including a new baby.”
“Shit.”
“You said it. What’ve you found so far?”
“The first blow severed his aorta, and it was game over after that. The other five wounds are extraneous.”
“Judging by the amount of blood, I figured there was an artery involved. I’ll be handing off to Cruz soon. I’ll have him get in touch.”
“Got it. Is there any word on Sam’s nephew?”
“Just that the Feds and Marshals are coming in this morning.”
“God, this is just terrifying.”
“Sure is.”
“I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
Gonzo had no sooner stashed his phone in his pocket than it rang with a call from Captain Malone.
“Hey, Cap.”
“I’ve got your warrants for the video and to enter the victim’s room. Sent copies to your email.”
“Great, thanks.”
“Where are you over there?”
Gonzo filled him in on the results of the canvass and the new information he’d gotten from the victim’s family.
“What’s your gut saying?”
“Not getting a reading just yet. I want to get into his room.”
“Go to it and keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
Gonzo girded his loins before he called Wright to request access to the room now that he had the warrant.
“I’ll send Mr. Russell up right away.”
He was surprised by the hotel manager’s quick action. “I’m sending Detective Carlucci down to retrieve the video. Please hand over everything for the entire hotel from yesterday.”
“We have it ready.”
Gonzo wondered if the manager had gotten a talking-to from corporate about the importance of cooperating in a homicide investigation.
He put the call on speaker while he texted Dani to ask her to retrieve the video and get it to Archie’s team for analysis.
Then he asked Detective Cameron Green to join him at the victim’s room.
“Do you know how long the police vehicles will remain outside the building?” Wright asked.
“Until we’re done.”
After a long pause, Wright said, “Very well, then.”
Gonzo pressed the red button to end the call. Even when he was cooperating, the guy irritated him.
Russell came off the elevator five minutes later. He nodded to Gonzo when they met up outside room six thirty-two.
Green came from the other end of the hallway and arrived as Russell used his passkey to open the door.
Gonzo and Green gloved up before entering the room.
“Thank you,” Gonzo said as he used his body to block Russell’s view of the interior. “We’ll take it from here.”
Russell grunted out a reply that Gonzo couldn’t decipher and turned to walk away.
Inside the room, the situation quickly became clear. Gonzo sighed when he saw drug paraphernalia, including hypodermic needles, powder residue and small plastic bags, on the desk.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“Heroin?” Green asked.
“That was his drug of choice. According to the wife’s sister, he’d been clean for four years. Son of a bitch. I so don’t want to have to tell his wife about this.”
“I can handle that for you, Gonzo,” Green said, knowing the discovery would strike close to home for him.
“It’s okay. I’ll do it when the time comes. Let’s take some photos and get Crime Scene in here.” They’d process the evidence that would probably lead to a drug deal gone bad.
While Gonzo took photos on his phone, Green contacted Lieutenant Haggerty to let his team know they’d gained access to the victim’s room.
“Haggerty said they’re on the way.”
As Gonzo looked around at evidence that told the story of a relapse, he felt chilled to the bone, knowing Dale Carver had thrown away years of sobriety—or at least as far as his family knew—while on a work trip across the country, far away from the family that loved him and depended on him.
Addiction was a bitch that way. Just when you thought you had it beat, opportunity knocked, and you walked through that door as if the monumental effort to kick the habit had never happened.
There but for the grace of God go I. Gonzo felt sick to his stomach.
Freddie Cruz came through the door they’d propped open by engaging the security lock. “Heard you guys were in here.”
“Hey, you’re early,” Gonzo said, relieved to see his close friend and colleague an hour earlier than expected.
Freddie’s sharp-eyed gaze took in the drug paraphernalia. “Couldn’t sleep thinking about Ethan and the family, so I figured I may as well come in.”
“Glad to have you,” Gonzo said. “We’re running on fumes after an all-nighter.
” He brought him up to speed on what they knew so far.
He handed Freddie the piece of paper with the wife’s phone number on it.
“Her name is Trisha Carver. I told her sister Mercy that there was no reason for them to come here unless they wanted to. They’ll be waiting to hear from Lindsey with next steps. She has their numbers, too.”
Gonzo rubbed the back of his neck, which was aching from the long night.
“The manager, Wright, was a prick last night, but he’s changed his tune this morning, presumably after being told to by corporate.
Russell’s his assistant and is easier to deal with.
Carlucci is getting the film and taking it to Archie’s team for analysis. ”
“Got it. Go on home. I’ll take it from here.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll catch a few hours and come back in later.”
“Me, too,” Green said as he headed for the door.
“Call if you have any questions,” Gonzo added.
Freddie stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”
Gonzo wasn’t surprised that his friend understood his torment. “Yeah, just… you know… A drug addict relapsed while away from his family. Somehow that probably led to his death.”
“What do you need?”
In a past life, he might’ve lied to his friend and said he was okay.
He’d learned that lying about stuff like that led to the kind of trouble that ruined lives and careers.
“I think I need a meeting.” He’d attended daily Narcotics Anonymous meetings for months after leaving rehab. These days, he attended only as needed.
“Do you want me to find one nearby for you?”
“I can do it, but thank you for offering.”
“I’d go with you if you needed me to.”
“I know, and I appreciate that. Stay here and keep working the scene. That’s what I need from you right now.”
“Will you check in with me after the meeting, so I know you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Don’t forget.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Gonzo gave his friend a tired smile as he left the room.
In the elevator, he put his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, beyond exhausted from the sleepless night and emotionally charged case. What had seemed like a “routine” murder, as those things went, had turned into something much more fraught for him as a recovering addict.
At times, he still couldn’t believe those words applied to him.
Recovering addict. But that’s what he was and what he’d be for the rest of his life.
With a wife and a son counting on him, another baby on the way and coworkers he considered family, Gonzo had many good reasons to protect his hard-won sobriety.
He was lucky to still have a job, and he’d never forget the way his colleagues had stood by him through the epic struggle.
With them and his family in mind, he looked up the closest NA meeting and headed for the exit as he called his wife to say good morning.
“Hey,” Christina said when she answered. “You never made it home. Good thing I know you don’t have time for other women.”
“Haha, as if I’d want anyone else when I’ve got the woman.”
“Good answer on no sleep. Props. Are you on your way home?”
“I’m going to hit a meeting first. Are you working today?” As Nick’s White House spokesperson, it wasn’t unusual for her to work weekends.
“For a few hours. I can work from home if you need me.”
“I always need you, but I’m okay. Just had a somewhat routine case take an unexpected turn that left me a bit shaky.”
“Tommy… Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure, honey. It’s safe to go to work.”
“I’ll stay home anyway. It’s fine.”
Knowing she’d be waiting for him at home immediately lifted his spirits. “Then I guess I’ll see you shortly.”
“I love you.”
“Love you, too. More than you’ll ever know. You’re my reason. You and Alex and the baby…”
“And you’re ours. Don’t ever forget that.”
“I never do. See you soon, love.”
“I’ll be here.”
Gonzo was nearly in tears as he got into his car to leave work behind to tend to his sobriety and his family.
He was so, so lucky that Christina had stood by him through the darkest time in his life.
The murder of his partner—right in front of him—had sent him off a cliff straight into an opioid addiction that’d nearly taken everything that mattered.
For as long as he had breath left in him, he’d continue to fight back.