Fear No Evil

Chapter 49

After several moments of strategizing, Mahoney called his FBI superiors to work out clear jurisdiction on the case. Sampson and I returned to our car and drove to Falls Church, Virginia, where the late DEA Agent Eddie Hernandez had lived with his wife, Rosella, and their children, ten-year-old Eddie Jr. and seven-year-old Naomi.

The house was in an older neighborhood of split-level ranches and short driveways with basketball hoops mounted above many of the garage doors. I pulled over across the street from the Hernandez residence, where a painting crew was at work scraping and priming the exterior in blistering heat.

We’d no sooner arrived than a tan minivan pulled into the driveway and Rosella Hernandez exited the house with the children behind her, the kids dressed for day camp and carrying knapsacks. She kissed them both, got them into the van, and began talking animatedly with the driver, who appeared to be another mom.

“Jesus,” Sampson said. “She doesn’t know.”

“What the hell is going on? The DEA swarms the scene but doesn’t dispatch someone to inform the superstar’s wife that her husband’s dead?”

“It’s not like we haven’t had this terrible chore before,” Sampson said, opening the car door as the minivan pulled away. Rosella waved to her children and turned to speak to one of the painters.

I steeled myself and then climbed out of the car and walked across the street.

“Mrs. Hernandez?” I said, holding up my credentials. “My name is Alex Cross. I’m an investigative consultant to the FBI. This is Detective John Sampson with DC Metro Police.”

Her head cocked to one side. “Yes? How can I help you?”

“Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Twenty minutes later, we were all sitting in Rosella’s kitchen, and her initial shock had turned to anguish. Her sobs shook her from head to toe. “Eddie said he was going to a training program for a few days. He said he’d be back for Naomi’s birthday.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “What am I going to tell her and little Eddie? It’s going to break his heart. He idolizes his dad.”

“Do you have family around here?”

“No,” she said. “Everyone is back in New Mexico.”

There was a loud knock at the front door. I offered to get it, and the DEA agent’s widow nodded.

I could hear Sampson telling her about Billie as I walked down the hallway to the front screen door to find Supervising Special Agent Jill Hanson standing there with two other DEA agents.

“What are you doing here?” Hanson demanded.

“What you should have been doing instead of tampering with our crime scene,” I said. “Consoling a grieving widow.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Dr. Cross.”

“And I am going to have to refuse, Special Agent in Charge Hanson. Every action you’ve taken today stinks of cover-up.”

“There’s no cover-up,” Hanson shot back. “We just want to talk to... oh, hello, Rosella. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I looked over my shoulder to see the new widow standing about ten feet behind me with Sampson at her back.

“Thank you, Jill,” Rosella said coldly. “I’d have thought you’d be here sooner.”

“It’s been chaotic. May I come in and talk to you? Dr. Cross said he was just leaving.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Hernandez’s widow glanced at me and then back at Hanson. “You’ll have to wait outside, Jill, until I’m done talking to Dr. Cross and Detective Sampson.”

“I would like to hear what you have to say to them as well,” Hanson said.

“Not now,” Rosella said, and she headed back to the kitchen. “Can you shut the door for me, Dr. Cross?”

“With pleasure,” I said and slowly shut the door in the DEA agent’s face.