Time of Death

‘So,’ said Ren, ‘was Diaz an “innocent victim” caught up in a street war, or was he part of a rival gang or the Puentes cartel or …?’

‘I’ll call the police chief in Nogales,’ said Gary.

‘If this wasn’t a coincidence,’ said Ren, ‘if someone really had wanted Diaz to disappear off the face of the earth, decaffeinating him and throwing him in with a bunch of burning bodies would be a good way to go.’

‘He could have just been wrong place/wrong time,’ said Cliff.

‘I don’t know,’ said Ren. ‘Right now, the Mexican border is permanently the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s like choosing to go to Iraq on vacation. So is it me or could Domenica Val Pando be back sniffing around what she knows best?’

‘She would need some serious connections to break back into that scene,’ said Gary.

‘Domenica is well-connected,’ said Ren. ‘And what if her H

S project was for use along the border by a cartel? I mean, there are billions of drugs dollars at stake. What if, knowing she couldn’t grab a slice of the narcotics action by the direct route, Domenica tried a side-maneuver: offering up a weapon to the people who need it most?’

They all nodded.

‘I’d keep my eyes on the dry-ice machine in that nightclub,’ said Ren. ‘The atmosphere could actually be more toxic than an eighties theme night.’

‘Maybe Domenica could have gotten a high-enough price for the gas itself that she could hold back after she was paid,’ said Colin. ‘Then set herself up quietly when things calmed down. If they ever did …’

‘But, the H

S plant was shut down,’ said Robbie.

‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘But we’re the only ones who know that. The story that made the news was that we shut down a meth lab. All Domenica had to say to whoever her client was – assuming she already had one lined up – was that the guy working for her fucked up, so she had to kill him. And his death could be confirmed, so the story would hold up.’ She shrugged. ‘Diaz’ death right now can’t be a coincidence. I would say that somebody wasn’t happy about all the attention being drawn Diaz’ way.’

‘So,’ said Gary. ‘The breaking of the news to Diaz’ wife …’

‘Do not look at me,’ said Ren. ‘I want to meet the wife when she has a clear head. I don’t want to be there for the weeping. Or the gathering of her bambinos into her arms. I want the emotion gone. Goodbye. I want to walk right in at a later date and get some informazion.’

‘Colin, how about you?’ said Gary.

‘Hold up.’ Ren shook her head. ‘I said that I need her to get her emotion out. She won’t cry in front of him.’

‘All I seem to hear about Diaz,’ said Colin, ‘is rapist, dead-beat dad, dirtbag, blah, blah. Is his wife really going to give a shit?’

‘Maybe not,’ said Ren. ‘But the mother of his children will.’ Ren turned to Cliff. ‘How about you …? Robbie …?’ Everyone looked away.

‘Look, I don’t care,’ said Ren. ‘But I’m not doing it. I’m conserving my feminine conspiratorial thing for the real questions.’

‘What about continuity of care?’ said Gary. ‘You’re the Diaz guy.’

Ren grabbed her bag from the floor. ‘Jesus, fine, then. I’ll go. On my way home. Everyone owes me. Every last one of you.’

10 (#ulink_ce10d0f9-c65b-58c5-8cc2-524bded95822)

The following morning, Ren walked in to the sight and sound of Colin Grabien, hunched over his desk, hammering his keyboard like a man who had learned to type on a typewriter.

Robbie was sitting at his desk with one shirt sleeve rolled up over his elbow and an ice pack pressed against it. A white fluffy bandage was taped to his cheek.

‘Oh, Robbie,’ said Ren. ‘Could you not find a bigger bandage?’

‘It is a massive wound,’ said Robbie. ‘Do you want to see it?’

‘My mind is saying yes, but my stomach’s saying no,’ said Ren. ‘And, as we know, my stomach always wins. What happened? Were you in lukewarm pursuit of a suspect?’

‘Yup,’ said Robbie. ‘Francis Gartman. We got a tip-off he was at his cousin’s house. We got there, he jumped from a window, I got out of the car after him, crossed the parking lot, I was nearly on top of him – then, bam, I slipped on some ice, took myself out of the game.’

‘Ouch,’ said Ren. She moved behind him and gave him a hug. ‘And Gartman, I’m guessing …’

Robbie shook his head. ‘Yup, lives to fight another day.’

Ren let out a breath. ‘Can I get anything for the wounded soldier?’

‘Well, thank you,’ said Robbie. ‘Could you play the role of over-functioning Mormon mom?’

‘I couldn’t think of a role I would be less equipped to play,’ said Ren. ‘Are you missing yo mama?’

‘All the time.’

‘How Bates Motel.’ Ren straightened up and gave his good arm a squeeze.

Colin stopped pounding his keyboard to check his notebook. Ren took advantage of the quiet. ‘And Mr Grabien, you were correct,’ she said. ‘There was little emotion from Mrs Diaz for either her husband or the father of her children when told that his crispy headless body had been found. Her only surprise was that he had been found in Nogales. Apart from showing up in Denver last November, the only place she knew he’d been recently was Juárez. That was the postmark on the letter that came last month with the measly hundred dollars in it that pushed her over the edge and made her rat him out.’

‘So that’s all we’ve got on the whereabouts of Erubiel Diaz,’ said Cliff. ‘Alive: El Paso, July. Alive: Denver in November. Alive: Juárez in February. Dead: Nogales in March.’

Ren slapped the desk. ‘Fuck him for getting killed. We’ll have to wait and see what Gary hears back from Nogales. In the meantime, I’m thinking I’ll turn my attention to Gavino Val Pando. Might be worth putting in a call to Sheriff Gage in Summit County for the files on that bar raid at the Brockton Filly last year. Maybe Gavino was with friends or involved with one of the girls who was there that night? There were at least twelve kids pulled in for under-age drinking …’ She shrugged. ‘It’s worth a try.’

As she reached out to make the call, her cell phone beeped with a text from Matt:

Cnt tlk – at scan. Xpect call frm mom re Louis Parry.

Louis Parry? Oh my God.

The disappearance of Louis Parry was the first case Orenda Bryce hadn’t solved. She was nine years old. Her fifteen-year-old brother, Beau, was Louis Parry’s piano teacher. Ren remembered that summer like a hazy image from a photo shoot; a pretty neighborhood filled with tanned children, frozen under the sun.

The police had returned missing children to their parents already that summer – kids who had stolen money from their mother’s pocketbooks to pay for the amusements in the park. The police thought Louis Parry was just like all the others, even though his mother tried to tell them her son was more thoughtful than that; he was a quiet boy, he liked nature, he liked music … But by the time the police started to listen to her, half of the first, precious forty-eight hours had been lost.

Ren had spent weeks looking for the sweet blond boy who used to call to the door with a shy smile and a folder of piano scores. She searched all the places that scared her – abandoned houses, crawl spaces, the woods, the railroad yard – just in case Louis Parry had wandered in there by mistake and that those places scared him even more.

Ren didn’t realize that someone could have taken Louis. She knew about strangers, never to accept a ride from them, but she never knew why. The world of Ren Bryce was safe and beautiful. And she thought Louis Parry’s was the same. But nothing anyone did brought Louis Parry home.

Until maybe now. The police must have finally found him. Heartbreaking.

Ren slid open her desk drawer and pulled out the deck of cards. She opened it and slid out the top card. It was the Ace of Hearts. At its center was the face of Louis Parry, wide-eyed and fragile. And printed underneath:

MISSING PERSON