Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Abundio
Abundio slumped in the large leather chair behind his desk, his second glass of tequila in his hand. He stared at the ultrasound picture on his desk, the printout they’d received only last week.
Why?
That, above all else, was what he could not fathom.
All the priest could say—at gunpoint—was that she’d started to tell him she had an earth-shattering revelation and needed to share it. She started to say something about wolves…
And then she let out a cry and killed herself.
There was no one else in the confessional with her, no way for someone to shoot her from outside it.
The priest hadn’t done it—that much was obvious from the crime scene evidence.
The witnesses inside all said he didn’t emerge until after the shot, and there was no way he could’ve shot her through the partition because it was undamaged.
Plus, the gun was in her hand. Even the gunshot residue was on her, not him.
With every cell in his body, Abundio still believed this was somehow a crime. That Jacinta never would have killed herself of her own volition. Someone—something—must have tainted her mind, driven her insane.
He stood, swaying on his feet, and screamed for his man. He didn’t even know his name at this point.
“I want to go to the office. Immediately.”
“Sir?”
“You heard me!” He lobbed the glass at the fireplace, noting with fleeting satisfaction that the man reflexively flinched. “Get the car!” he screamed. “Now!”
The man raced out of the room.
Over the past few months, between dealing with the cartel and his—okay, yes, excitement—over becoming a father again, and finally to a son this time, he’d let Manuel and Miranda’s fever dream fade into the shadows.
Nothing else had come of it, and why waste his time and money—and energy—on something when he had more than enough to keep him occupied.
Including looking forward to raising his son.
But even that was taken from him, and he needed to know why.
When they were in the car, he called his computer and office security people, as well as Jacinta’s administrative assistant, and ordered them all to the office.
The news had not yet reached them about her death, and they all sounded appropriately horrified and confounded, but only seeing them in person would tell him for sure if there was anyone who might be involved.
Emilita was dressed in a T-shirt and PJs, her hair up and messy, and still crying when she rushed into the office about four minutes after his arrival.
“Sir, please tell me this isn’t true!”
He studied her and immediately drew her in for a hug. Emilita had worked for him for over ten years, and she was never anything but dedicated to them and the company. That’s why he’d assigned her to work with Jacinta, because he knew she’d keep a close eye on his bride.
“Is there anything you can tell me about the day today?” he quietly asked, barely hanging on to his sanity. “Anything at all?”
She blew her nose and shook her head. “She seemed happy! She was smiling and chatted with us all at lunchtime. We were even talking about plans for her baby shower!” She viciously shook her head.
“There is no way I can believe she did this to herself. I’m sorry, but something must have happened. Is it possible the priest did it?”
He braced his hands on Jacinta’s desk, still not able to bring himself to walk around it and sit in her chair. “No,” he quietly said. “It is not possible. There were dozens of witnesses in the church. Was there nothing unusual about her day?”
She pulled another wad of tissues from her pocket and blew her nose. “No, sir. She arrived at her usual time. She was in a very good mood, too, because a friend of hers from university stopped by for a visit.”
He turned. “A friend? Who?”
She looked clueless. “When Jacinta arrived this morning, she said she ran into her here in the building and invited her up for a quick chat. The friend was here to see a dentist, I believe. She was also noticeably pregnant.”
“But you don’t have a name?”
“No, sir. Jacinta breezed right through, all smiles, and told me to show her back immediately as soon as she arrived.”
“How long did she stay?”
She started to answer, then scowled. “I… I don’t know, sir.” She blinked, distressed. “I can’t remember!” Horrified, she looked at him. “Do you think she did this to Jacinta?”
He snapped his fingers at the security and computer techs. “I want security video immediately from today for the whole building. And I don’t care who you have to wake up, I want people from every dentist office in this building called to find out who that woman saw.”
Emilita’s hands twisted, shredding the tissue. “I-I don’t understand why I can’t remember!” She turned to him. “It’s like the morning passed in the blink of an eye! I should be able to remember! She would’ve passed me when she left!”
He rounded the desk and sank into Jacinta’s chair, immediately lowering it because she was—had been—shorter than him. “Is it possible she could’ve left while you were in the restroom?”
“But I had Katrina watch the desk, as I always do. And she would’ve told me if anyone arrived or left.”
He leaned back in the chair. This had been his office; Miranda had not yet ascended into it, but he gave it to Jacinta because he didn’t want even the slightest association with his daughter to taint her aura.
It felt odd sitting at this desk—not the one he’d used—in this strange chair with different furnishings surrounding him.
Including a framed picture of them on their wedding day sitting on the corner of her desk, both of them smiling.
He gently laid it on its face, unable to look at it right now.
“When did the woman arrive?” he quietly asked.
“Only a few minutes after Jacinta. In fact, she’d left her office door standing open, which is unusual.
Normally, she spends the first ten or fifteen minutes with it closed after she arrives.
Once she opens it, then she’s ready for us to speak with her or pass calls through.
That is always what she does, so I thought that slightly unusual. ”
“Best guess?”
“No more than fifteen minutes,” she said.
“And then they closed the door?” he asked.
“Yes. Jacinta told me to hold all calls unless it was you.”
He swiveled the chair around and stared at the nighttime vista spreading out around him.
The city at night was always beautiful, although he did his best not to stay that late when Miranda was younger.
He didn’t truly get to appreciate this view until after she left for university.
Then, he would frequently sit with a glass of tequila or brandy or something and sip while taking it in, because he had no reason to hurry home, and the staff worked around his schedule without a child to take into consideration.
“Please go wait at your desk, Emilita,” he quietly said. “Stop by the bathroom and freshen up.”
“Do you want me to call anyone, sir?”
He shook his head. “Not right now.”
He sensed her exit the office and then heard the washroom door open and shut seconds later, followed by the muffled sounds of her crying.
No, Emilita was blameless in this, of that he felt certain.
Moments later, he heard footsteps approaching and someone knocked on the doorframe. “Sir?” The security tech.
He turned. “Yes?”
He stepped into the office, his laptop in hand. “Security gave me today’s footage, but there was a glitch in the system. There is nothing from 6:00 this morning until 12:00 noon.”
Abundio froze. “What was that?”
The man looked agitated. “I don’t understand it, either. They think it was a hard drive or backup power source issue.”
“There is no video whatsoever? From any camera?”
“Correct, sir. Even the parking garage cameras were impacted. They didn’t even realize it until just now, when I went downstairs and asked for the footage.
It’s all just… gone. The system shut down at 6:00 am and restarted at 12:00 pm.
There’s no data that can be recovered. It’s not like it was deleted; it’s as if the system was completely shut down for six hours. ”
“What about our office cameras?”
He looked grim. “See for yourself, sir.” He brought the laptop over with the feeds queued up, four of them.
Abundio leaned forward as the tech hit play.
The woman wore a black baseball cap and a black hoodie, the hood up and over the cap and casting her face in deep shadows.
She wore large sunglasses and blue jeans, making it impossible to tell anything about her other than her approximate height and build.
She walked down the hall, turning the corner, then there was a flash around her face as she passed a dimly lit corner.
“Stop. What was that?” he asked, pointing.
The tech paused the feed and rolled it back. “She’s wearing what they call a ‘camera-shy hoodie.’” He paused the feed on the flash that obscured the woman’s face.
“What the fuck does that mean?” he barked.
“Our cameras in the office run infrared sensors for nighttime view. Normally, a hoodie like that is only good at night or in the dark. It’s ineffective in daylight or well-lit rooms. In that one space there, the lighting isn’t as bright, and our camera adjusts with IR settings—”
“And caught that flash.”
He nodded. “Correct, sir.”
Abundio sat back. “Continue.”
The woman continued straight on into Jacinta’s office and closed the door. Not once did she look up, as if looking for cameras, but she also seemed unusually attuned to where they would be placed and avoided them, strategically turning her face. He couldn’t even tell what color her hair was.
And, of course, she wore that garment.
Once it played all the way through, he had him go back and roll it again. “What about when she left?”
The tech fast-forwarded the feeds but didn’t have to go far. The visitor left 17.4 minutes after entering.
And she paused at the front desk, extending her hand to Emilita, who shook with her.