Chapter Thirteen
Under other circumstances, Cooper would just as soon have sent Frank Magistretti to speak with Neal Zapponi’s widow, Rachelle Zapponi.
But as his former CI, who was probably killed because of information Zapponi was prepared to divulge to him at the construction site for a shopping center, Cooper felt it was incumbent upon him to question the contractor’s pregnant wife himself.
He knew that Hallie had already paid her a visit, having to notify her of Zapponi’s death in the course of the detective’s investigation of the homicide—and had gotten nothing from the widow, aside from the shock and grief from losing her husband.
I need to see if Zapponi left any clues about what was on his mind before he was killed, Cooper told himself as he drove to Zapponi’s house on West Tamarisk Avenue.
Turning his thoughts to Lexi, Cooper couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his heart for the architect that went beyond anything he could have anticipated in getting to know her.
Their lovemaking was incredible, as they seemed perfectly in sync with each other in bed.
But it was much more than that. Being with Lexi made him want to be with her even more—if that was even possible, given their steady work lives—with feelings that were bordering on love.
He once wondered if he would ever be able to tap into that emotion again after losing Melanie.
Now he felt that it might be all but impossible to turn it off like a faucet that couldn’t seem to stop dripping.
Refocusing on his investigation into public corruption and two homicides that were all but certainly attributable to it, Cooper could only hope that neither victim’s death would go unpunished as the search was on for all of the culprits involved.
He arrived at the ranch-style house and saw a green Subaru Crosstrek in the driveway. Neal Zapponi’s Mazda CX-70 SUV was currently being held by the police department as evidence in the carjacking investigation.
When the front door to the house opened, Cooper laid eyes on a tall African American female in her late thirties, with blond hair in a bowl-cut Afro. He guessed that she was five to six months pregnant.
“Are you Rachelle Zapponi?” Cooper asked assumingly.
“Yeah, that’s me.” She peered at him through sad brown eyes. “And you are?”
Whipping out his identification, he responded, “FBI Special Agent Reid. I’m investigating your husband’s death—along with the police department.”
Rachelle sighed. “Come in.”
Cooper followed her inside to a small living room-dining room area with gray carpeting and contemporary furnishings.
There was a decorated artificial Christmas tree in a corner, with some wrapped gifts underneath it.
“First of all, I’d like to offer my condolences,” he told her sincerely, hating the thought that his former CI seemed to have almost foretold his death as related to the public corruption probe.
“I’m still kind of shocked that Neal is dead,” Rachelle said maudlinly, sitting on a caramel-colored faux leather sofa. “Why did they have to kill him?”
I feel the same way, Cooper told himself as he sat next to her.
The idea that her child would have to grow up without a birth father was a tough pill to swallow.
Especially where it concerned an act of criminality that was avoidable were it not for the unsubs’ deliberate actions.
“That’s what we intend to find out,” he told her firmly, rejecting any assumption that it was a straight carjacking.
“Did Neal say anything to you about what may have led to this?”
“Not that I can think of.” Rachelle sucked in a deep breath. “He never talked much about what he was thinking…outside of our marriage and the baby we’re having—or I guess it’s just me now,” she added sadly.
Cooper was sympathetic to her predicament after losing both parents so young in his life. “So, he never dropped any names of anyone he might have felt threatened by?”
She stared at the question. “Neal did seem a bit stressed about something—or someone—but kept it mostly to himself.” Rachelle paused.
“I think he may have felt that something was going on with a developer, but he didn’t say which one…
When I tried to ask him for more, he simply changed the subject. ”
“I think he was just trying to protect you,” Cooper surmised, and understandably so, all things considered.
“Maybe.” She sighed, frowning. “Now who’s going to protect me—” she rubbed her stomach “—us?”
“No one is going to harm you—or your child,” Cooper tried to reassure Zapponi’s widow. “We’re going to do everything we can to bring his killer to justice.”
Rachelle regarded him with cynicism. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Cooper didn’t blame her for doubting their resolve—especially when she was still in the grieving process. He asked curiously, “Other than the police detective, has anyone else come around asking questions?”
“No,” she said flatly, and stared at him. “Should I expect someone else to show up?”
Cooper responded evenly, “No, you shouldn’t.
” He doubted that the carjackers or whoever might be employing them would have much use for the widow if she wasn’t a threat to them.
Still, after standing, Cooper handed her his card.
“If you do receive any unwanted visitors—or otherwise need to talk about this—feel free to give me a call.”
Rachelle nodded before he showed himself out.
LEXI FELT RELAXED, if not a bit winded, as she jogged home, prepared to feed Pepper and then get back to her latest architecture assignment.
Then maybe she would suggest to Cooper that they go out to dinner—whatever type of food captured his fancy—as another way to be together and explore what was beginning to feel like a real relationship. At least to her.
When she got home, Lexi glanced over at Eleanor’s house, having already decided to stop by and check on her.
Though her neighbor was in remarkably good health for her age, she was still in her eighties.
As such, Lexi liked to know that she was all right, as probably her only true friend on the street and the closest thing she had to a grandmotherly presence in her life.
It was only when she took note of the garage door being open and saw that Eleanor’s white Acura Integra was missing that Lexi felt Eleanor must have gone out.
Guess I’ll catch her when she gets back, Lexi thought. But then she turned to the house and noted that Eleanor’s front door was wide open, as if to invite her in. But since Eleanor was not standing there, Lexi found this strange. Perhaps even alarming.
She might have considered that Eleanor had fallen ill were it not for the fact that her car was missing and her neighbor had no local relatives whom Eleanor might have allowed to drive it.
Lexi headed toward the house while on guard for potential danger. She passed through the courtyard and peeked inside the doorway somewhat tentatively, where she called out, “Eleanor… Are you in here…?”
When there was no answer, Lexi decided to go inside.
Scanning the interior—with exposed ceiling wood beams, rounded corners, rectangular windows and hardwood flooring—she could see that the normally neat and inviting layout with Hawaiian-style rattan furniture and exotic plants, and Christmas decorations, was in complete disarray.
It was obvious to Lexi that there was something very wrong. A home invasion came to mind. But where was Eleanor? She called out to her neighbor again—wondering if she had been hurt. Or maybe even taken against her will.
Though Lexi’s first instinct was to get out of there—fearing that danger may be lurking—instead, she found herself moving through the mess in search of her friend. Then she spotted a leg extending from just behind a wicker sofa.
Moving toward it, Lexi gasped as she saw Eleanor lying awkwardly on the floor, with her glasses still on, fully clothed and unconscious. Or was she dead?
“Eleanor,” Lexi cried out, racing over to her. She knelt down and checked for a pulse. Albeit faint, there was one. But for how long? And who had done this to Eleanor?
Lexi got out her cell phone and called 911—and then called Cooper to share the distressing news.
COOPER DROVE FAST toward the Mayo Clinic Hospital’s Department of Emergency Medicine on East Mayo Boulevard.
He was shocked that Eleanor had been the victim of what appeared to be a home invasion—but had survived, though her condition was unknown.
Lexi had ridden with Eleanor in the ambulance after having discovered her on the floor in the living room of Eleanor’s house.
The thought that someone had targeted Lexi’s next-door neighbor was troubling enough to Cooper. But just as unnerving was that Lexi herself could have been the victim—and left there to die—before they were given a fair chance at staying alive to have a long and fulfilling relationship.
He reached the hospital, parked and ran into the Department of Emergency Medicine and found Lexi in the waiting room.
“How is she?” Cooper asked, ill at ease.
Lexi, looking dazed, responded, “I don’t know. Still waiting for an update.” Her brows knit. “I just can’t believe this happened to Eleanor…and at this stage of her life.”
“Neither can I.” He gave Lexi a comforting hug while thinking that the reality was that the elderly were most susceptible to home invasions because perpetrators tended to consider them as easier marks to victimize.
But this fact didn’t make the news any easier to stomach.
Especially in relation to the proximity of Lexi’s house.
Cooper regarded her. “Did you see anyone coming or going?”
“No one,” she responded. “Whoever did this had already ransacked the house and taken whatever they wanted by the time I found Eleanor.”
“Well, I’m just glad you didn’t encounter anyone, who then would’ve come after you.” Cooper envisioned such a confrontation uncomfortably. “Or decided to break into your house instead for you to have run into—”