First Grave on the Right

CHAPTER 16

Thirty minutes and one eerie ride later — Garrett stewed in his ire over my plan the whole way to my Jeep — I sat outside Sussman’s house, watching him through a second-story window. His back was to me, and I realized he was probably watching his wife.

Several cars lined the curb in front of his gorgeously decorated three-story abode. People came and went, talking softly. Unlike the movies, however, they were not all dressed in black and they weren’t all crying. Well, some were. But several were laughing at this or that, making animated conversation with their hands, greeting visitors with arms open wide.

I strode awkwardly to the front door and walked in. Nobody stopped me as I meandered through the crowd to the stairs. Taking them slow, I climbed to the second floor on thick beige carpet and found what looked like the master bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear sobbing coming from inside. I knocked hesitantly. “Mrs. Sussman?” I said, easing inside.

Patrick’s gaze landed on me in surprise. He was leaning on a windowsill, watching his wife. Another woman, large and dressed in true mourning attire, sat beside her, an arm wrapped firmly around Mrs. Sussman’s shoulders.

She raised a viperous glare on me. Uh-oh. Turf war.

“I’d like to talk to Mrs. Sussman, if it’s okay with her,” I said.

The woman shook her head. “Now is not a good time.”

“No, it’s okay, Harriet,” Mrs. Sussman said. She looked up at me, her large brown eyes reddened with sorrow, her blond hair haphazardly brushed back. She was the kind of beautiful that men didn’t notice at first. A soft, honest attractiveness. I had a feeling her smiles were genuine and her laughs were sincere.

“Mrs. Sussman,” I said, leaning forward to take her hand. “My name is Charlotte Davidson. I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” She sniffed into a tissue. “Did you know my husband?”

“We’d met only recently, but he was a great person.” I had to explain my presence somehow.

“Yes, he was.”

Ignoring the caustic stare of the other woman, I continued, “I’m a private investigator. We were working on a case together, and now I’m working with APD, helping to find out who did this.”

“I see,” she said in surprise.

“I hardly think now is the time for this, Ms. Davidson.”

“Not at all,” Mrs. Sussman said. “This is precisely the time. Do the police know anything yet?”

“We have some promising leads,” I said evasively. “I just wanted to let you know that we are working very hard to solve this case and that—” I turned back to Sussman. “—you’re all he talked about.”

The sobs began again, and Harriet went to work consoling her friend. A weak, appreciative smile spread across Sussman’s face.

After handing her my card and saying good-bye, I gestured for Sussman to meet me outside.

“That was awkward.”

We were in front of his house, leaning against Misery, watching the occasional car slide past. The wind had picked up. Its crisp chill gave me goose bumps, and I hugged myself, thankful for the sweater underneath my leather jacket.

“Sorry,” he said. “I meant to go back with the others. I just…”

“Don’t worry about it. You have a lot on your plate. I understand.”

“What have you found out?”

After I filled him in, he seemed to perk up a little. “You think this is about human trafficking?”

“We have a semi-solid plan of action if you want in.”

“Sure do.” Good. He seemed to be doing better. He turned thoughtful a moment, then asked, “In the meantime, can I jump in your body and make out with my wife through you?”

I fought a grin. “It doesn’t really work that way.”

“Then can you just make out with my wife and pretend I’m in your body?”

“No.”

“I can pay. I have money.”

“How much we talking?”

I sneaked back into the law offices of Sussman, Ellery & Barber, dumped the flash drives into Barber’s desk, then did another quick search, just in case I missed one. Nora hadn’t been in, which was good. She couldn’t have realized the flash drives were missing and made a mess for me.

Now on to Reyes’s classmates. Dave’s Diner was a fifties flashback, complete with tin signs and chocolate egg cream sodas, which surprisingly contain neither eggs nor cream. When I walked in, two women sitting in a corner booth waved me over. Wondering how they knew what I’d look like, I strolled to their table.

“Charley?” one asked. She was big and startlingly pretty with a dark brown bob and wide smile.

“That’s me. How did you know?”

The other one smiled, a Latina with curly hair pulled back into a frizzy ponytail and skin to die for. “Your assistant told us that you’d probably be the only girl walking through the door who looked like she could do the name Charley Davidson proud. I’m Louise.”

I shook Louise’s hand, then the other one’s.

“I’m Chrystal,” she said. “We just ordered food, if you’re hungry.”

After sliding into the circular booth, I ordered a burger and a diet soda. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am that you agreed to meet me.”

They laughed at some private joke, then took pity on me and explained. “We jump at any chance to talk about Reyes Farrow.”

“Wow,” I said in surprise, “I do, too. You knew him well?”

After another sideways glance at Chrystal, Louise said, “Nobody knew Reyes Farrow well.”

“I don’t know,” Chrystal said, “Amador.”

“Right. I’d forgotten that he hung out with Amador Sanchez.”

“Amador Sanchez?” I opened my bag and pulled out the file I had on Reyes. “Amador Sanchez was in prison with him. They were cellmates, in fact. Are you telling me they were friends before they met in prison?”

“Amador went to prison?” Chrystal asked, surprised.

“That surprises you?” Louise arched a delicate brow at her friend.

“Kind of. He was a good guy.” She looked at me then. “Reyes mostly kept to himself until he met Amador. They became friends pretty quick.”

“Can you tell me about Reyes?” My heart raced with wanting and anticipation. I’d searched for him for so long, only to have him find me instead, to have him turn out to be the Big Bad. How could I not have known?

Louise studied a napkin she’d folded into a swan. “Every girl on campus was in love with him, but he was so quiet, so … withdrawn.”

“He was really smart, you know?” Chrystal added. “I’d always taken him for a slacker. He wore a lot of layers.”

“Hoodies,” Louise said in agreement. “Always had hoodies on with the hood up. He got in trouble for that constantly. But he kept doing it.”

“Every day in class,” Chrystal said, taking her turn, “he would try to get away with his hood up, and every day in class, the teacher would tell him to put it down.”

Louise leaned into me, a sparkle in her dark brown eyes. “Now, what you have to understand is that even in the short amount of time that he was there, this became a ritual. Not for him, not for the teachers, but for the girls.”

“The girls?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Chrystal said, nodding her head in dreamy remembrance. “There was a moment every day when you could have heard a pin drop. He would raise his hands and push the hood back, and it was like watching heaven reveal itself.”

I could see it in my head. His beautiful face revealed in such a way as to cause hearts to flutter, blood to rush, and young girls to sigh in choreographed unison.

After a bit of reminiscent thought, Louise said, “And he was so smart. He was in the same calculus class as our friend Holly, and he always blew the curve. Aced every test.”

“We had him for English and science. One day, Mr. Stone gave us this assessment,” Chrystal chimed in excitedly, “and Reyes got a hundred, and Mr. Stone accused him of cheating because some of the concepts weren’t even presented until college.”

“Oh, I remember that. Mr. Stone said there’s no way Reyes got a hundred on it. And Reyes was like, ‘Screw you, I didn’t cheat,’ and Mr. Stone was like, ‘Yes, you did,’ and he took Reyes to the principal.”

“Suzy worked as an aide that hour, remember?” Chrystal asked Louise. Louise nodded. “Said they went into the office and Mr. Stone got in trouble because the principal said Reyes gets hundreds on everything, and he had no right to accuse him of cheating.”

“Was he ever given an IQ test?” I asked.

“Yes,” Louise said. “The principal had him tested, and then these men showed up from some educational board wanting to talk to him, but Reyes’s family had moved away.”

Yeah, I was sure they did. Reyes’s father kept them on the move constantly. Dodging the authorities at every turn.

“I still can’t believe he killed his dad,” Chrystal said.

“He didn’t,” I said, wondering if my convictions were more wishful thinking than evidence based.

They looked up at me in surprise. I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I wanted them on my side. On Reyes’s side. I told them about the first night I saw him, about his father beating him senseless, and about the sister he’d left inside.

I paused when our food arrived, waiting for the server to leave before I continued. “That’s why we’re here. I need to find his sister.” I also explained what happened in prison and the fact that he was in a coma, but neither of them could remember very much about the girl. “She’s really the only one who can stop the state from terminating care. Do you know anyone who might have hung out with her?”

“Let me make some calls,” Louise said.

“Me, too. Maybe we can come up with something. How much time do you have?”

I looked at my watch. “Thirty-seven hours.”

On the way home, I called Cookie and told her to find me one Mr. Amador Sanchez. He seemed to be the only person who might know anything substantial about Reyes. It was late, but there were few things Cookie loved more than hunting down a warm-blooded American for me. Give her a name, and she was like a pit bull with a bone.

Right after I hung up, my cell rang. It was Chrystal. She and Louise remembered that her cousin, an eighth grader at the time, used to hang out with a girl who hung out with Reyes’s sister on occasion during lunch. Thin, but more than I had five minutes ago. They’d tried to call the cousin but couldn’t get through, so they left a message with my name and phone number.

After I took down her information and thanked them several thousand times, I ran into a supermarket for the basic essentials of life. Coffee, tortilla chips, and avocados for guacamole. One can never have too much guacamole.

When I stepped out of my Jeep, I heard my name and spun around to see Julio Ontiveros behind me. He was bigger than I remembered from the station.

I closed my door and went around to collect my bags. “You look better without your cuffs,” I said over my shoulder.

He followed me. “You look better without my cuffs, too.”

Uh-oh. Time to fend off amorous advances. I stopped to face him. May as well get this over with.

“Your brother’s medal from Desert Storm is in your aunt’s jewelry box.”

Disappointment flooded him. “Bullshit. I looked there.” He stepped closer, anger and worry that he’d been duped sparkling in his eyes.

“She said you’d say that,” I replied as I opened the back for my bags. “It’s not in that jewelry box. It’s in the one hidden in her basement. Behind the old freezer that doesn’t work.”

He paused and thought a moment. “I didn’t know she had another jewelry box.”

“No one does. She kept it hidden.” I hefted the two bags in one hand and went for the third. “And the diamonds are there, too.”

That bit of info stunned him even more. “She really had diamonds?” he asked.

“Yes, only a few, but she saved them for you.” I stopped and looked him up and down. “Apparently, she thinks there’s hope for you yet.”

He breathed out an astonished breath, like his new knowledge had punched him in the gut, and leaned against Misery. “How do you … how can you possibly…”

“Long story,” I said as I locked up Misery and headed for the front door of my apartment building.

“Wait,” he said, trudging after me. “You said you knew where to find the three things I desired most in life. That’s only two.”

He still had his doubts. His mind was like a hamster on one of those wheels, spinning and spinning, trying to figure out how I knew these things. If I knew these things.

“Oh, right.” I transferred all the bags to one arm and rummaged around the purse hanging from my shoulder with the other. “Oh, no, please,” I said, sarcasm dripping from each word, “don’t help me with the bags or anything.” He folded his arms over his chest and grinned. Why did I even bother? My hand emerged at last with a pen. “Give me your hand.”

He held it out, inching nearer as I wrote a phone number on his palm. And nearer.

His smile turned decidedly wicked after he studied the number with slanted brows, and he stepped even closer. “That’s not what I want most.”

Without missing a beat, I closed the distance between us and looked up into his eyes, throwing him off but widening his grin. “José Ontiveros.”

He paused, his grin fading completely as he reassessed his palm.

“He’s in Corpus Christi, staying at a shelter. But he moves around a lot. It took two hours for my assistant to track him down, even with the information your aunt gave us.”

He stood in stunned disbelief, studying the number on his palm. “Two hours?” he asked at last. “I’ve been looking for my brother for—”

“Two years. I know. Your aunt told me.” I shifted the bags again, their weight making my arm shake. “And just in case there is any doubt whatsoever in your head, yes, your tía Yesenia is watching. She told me to tell you to get your shit together, quit getting into ridiculous situations — I’m paraphrasing here — and go find your brother. You’re all he’s got.”

Having kept up my end of the bargain, I turned and walked into the building before lover boy could reemerge. He had a lot to think about.

When I stepped off the elevator onto my floor, I noticed immediately the darkness of the hall. The manager had been having trouble with the wiring to the light fixtures on this floor since I’d moved in, so my awareness heightened only a notch or two.

Fumbling for my keys, I heard a voice from the darkened corner past my door.

“Ms. Davidson.”

Again? Seriously?

At about eight thirty that morning, my tolerance level for National Kill or Horribly Maim Charley Davidson Week had reached its peak. I’d armed myself soon afterwards. I pulled my Glock and pointed it into the darkness. Whoever stood in the shadows wasn’t dead. I’d have been able to see him despite the dim lighting. Then a kid stepped forward, and my breath caught. Teddy Weir. It was impossible not to recognize him. He looked exactly like his uncle.

Holding up his hands in surrender, he tried to make himself seem as innocuous as possible.

I lowered my gun.

“Ms. Davidson, I didn’t mean to hit you.”

I raised it again and arched my brows in question. I thought about throwing my grocery bags at him and making a run for it, but those avocados were expensive. Damn my love of guacamole.

He paused midstride, lifting his hands higher. Even at sixteen, he topped my best height by at least three inches.

“I thought … I thought you were one of Price’s boys. We were clearing out of there, but I thought he’d found us before we could manage it.”

“You were the one who hit me on the roof?”

He grinned. He had sandy blond hair and light blue eyes. The stuff of movie stars and lifeguards. “I hit you on the jaw. We just happened to be on a roof at the time.”

I leveled a death stare on him and muttered, “Smart-ass.”

He chuckled, then grew serious again. “When you fell through that skylight, I thought my life was over. I figured I’d go to prison forever.”

After holstering my gun, I unlocked my apartment. “You mean like your uncle?”

He gaze darted to the floor. “Carlos was supposed to fix that.”

“Carlos Rivera?” I asked in surprise.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen him in days.”

Teddy strolled in after me, then closed and locked the door. Normally, that would have worried me, especially with the new holiday and all, but I could tell he’d been through a lot. Something had happened to him, and he wasn’t taking any chances.

Also, Reyes was in the room. I almost stumbled when I saw the dark haze of fog by the front window. Then I felt him. His heat, his electricity. The room smelled like a desert storm at midnight.

“Have a seat,” I said to Teddy, gesturing to a stool at my snack bar, pretending nothing was amiss. To disguise the fact that my body was shaking with Reyes’s nearness, I kept moving. First, I put on a pot of coffee, then stuck my perishables in the fridge. After noticing that Teddy’s hands were shaking as well, I took out some ham, turkey, lettuce, and tomatoes. “I’m starved,” I lied. “I was just going to make a sandwich. Want one?”

He shook his head politely.

I hit him with my best scowl. “Clearly, you’ve never had one of my sandwiches.”

The desperate gleam in his eyes testified to his current state of hunger.

“Ham, turkey, or both?” I asked, making him feel like he had a choice in the matter of my feeding him.

“Both, I guess,” he said with a hesitant shrug.

“That sounds good. I think I’ll have the same. Now for the hard part.”

His brows drew together in concern.

“Soda, iced tea, or milk?”

His mouth slid into a grin as his eyes wandered to the coffeepot.

“How about milk with the sandwich. Then you can have coffee.”

Another shrug of confirmation lifted his shoulders.

“We’ve already figured out Benny Price is the bad guy here,” I said while piling a third slice of ham onto his sandwich. “Can you tell me about the night your friend died?”

He lowered his head, reluctant to talk about it.

“Teddy, we have to get your uncle out of prison and get Price into it.”

“I didn’t even know Uncle Mark had been arrested. The thought of him killing anyone is laughable,” he added with a snort. “He’s the calmest person I’ve ever met. Not like my mom, I can tell you that.”

“Have you seen your mom since you’ve been back?”

“No. Father Federico said he would set up a meeting when we got back where she’d be safe, but we haven’t seen him either. I think maybe Price figured out what was going on and got to him, too.”

“What is going on?” I asked after pouring him a tall glass of milk.

He took a huge bite, then washed it down with the ice-cold milk. “Price sends out scouts. You know, people who look for homeless kids and the like. Kids that won’t be missed.”

“Gotcha. But you weren’t homeless.”

“James was, kind of. His mom had kicked him out when she remarried. He didn’t have anywhere to go, so he was staying in Uncle Mark’s shed.”

“And when he got hurt, that’s where he went.”

“Yeah. James got suspicious of this one scout who kept asking questions, wanted to know if James had any family, if he’d go stay with him. So James and I did our own little investigation.” He put his sandwich down. “We figured out who the scout worked for and snuck into one of Price’s warehouses. It was all very James Bond, you know? We had no idea what was really going on.”

“So they caught you, but you got away?”

“Yeah, but James got hurt pretty bad. We were running and just kind of got split up. I had two guys on my ass. Big guys. I’d never been so scared.”

I sat beside Teddy and put an arm on his shoulder.

He took another bite. “I heard about what Father Federico was doing—”

“Doing?”

“Helping runaways and stuff.”

“Right,” I said. “And you went to him?”

“Yeah. Funny thing was, he knew all about Benny Price. He hid me in his warehouse.”

“Wait, the same warehouse—”

“The same one. Sorry about that again, by the way.”

Ah, finally my chance to find out where everyone disappeared to that night. “Okay, there were two guys in the warehouse packing boxes, but when I reached the ground, everyone was gone. Any thoughts?”

Teddy smiled. “That warehouse has a basement with an entrance that’s almost impossible to find. We hid in there till everyone left.”

Smart. “So Father Federico was trying to hide the kids Price wanted?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t he just go to the cops?”

“He did. They said they were building a case against him. In the meantime, kids were still disappearing. You’ve seen the posters.”

I had.

“They said Father Federico didn’t have enough hard evidence to prove Price was behind any of the kidnappings.”

“So, you’ve been in this warehouse for two years?”

He choked on a bite and took a gulp of milk. “No. You have to understand, Father Federico is a take-charge kind of guy. When the cops couldn’t help, he took matters into his own hands. He started a watch, a search-and-rescue team, and an underground railroad of sorts.”

I bit back my surprise and waited for Teddy to continue.

After popping the last piece into his mouth, he said, “We have all kinds of guys working this thing. Me? My end is Panama.”

“Panama?” I asked, taken completely by surprise. This thing was way bigger than I thought. Than anybody thought.

“Yeah. We got shipping records, invoices, and even buyers’ addresses. They’re freaking everywhere. But Price was constantly on the lookout for me, so Father Federico made sure I stayed hidden.”

“So Carlos Rivera worked for Father Federico?”

“Not at first. He was a scout. The scout. The one who tried to pick up James. I guess when James got killed, Carlos decided he’d had enough. He went to the Father, and they worked out a deal. Father Federico can be very persuasive when he wants to be. How ’bout that coffee?”

Right. I couldn’t help but wonder why Carlos didn’t just go to the police. Of course, the big fat target he would have become might have had something to do with his decision. Some people think the police are worse than the criminals. Going to them would be like committing suicide.

“So, you’ve been in Panama?”

“Yes. I’ve saved seven kids, in case you’re wondering,” he said proudly. “Well, I helped save seven kids.”

“And you didn’t know what was going on with your uncle?”

“Yeah, I knew. Father Federico kept me informed, but we just kept thinking they’d drop the charges on Uncle Mark. I mean, he didn’t do anything. I couldn’t imagine he’d actually get convicted. We didn’t want to risk our operation to save Uncle Mark, but when he got convicted, we didn’t have a choice. I still can’t believe it. I mean, how did James’s blood get on Uncle Mark’s shoes?”

“I’ve already got that one covered,” I said. “It had been raining. Your uncle took out the trash that evening and must have stepped in a puddle James’s blood had run into. He didn’t see him behind the shed, but someone must have seen James stumble over the fence and called the police.”

“Of course,” he said, taking a long sip of the piping-hot black coffee.

“Are you old enough to take your coffee black?”

He smiled. In that moment, he looked old enough to drink coffee any color he wanted. His eyes had seen too much. His heart had experienced too much fear and grief. He’d probably aged ten years in the last two.

“Why did you come back?” I asked.

“I had to. I couldn’t let Uncle Mark go to jail for something he didn’t do.”

“Even if it meant risking your life?” I asked, pride nudging my heart.

With a shrug, he said, “That’s all I’ve done for two years. I’m tired of running. If Price wants me, he can come and get me.”

My chest tightened. No way was I letting that happen. “We have to call the police, you know.”

“I know. That’s partly why I’m here. Father Federico has disappeared, and we need to hire you.”