“You hadn’t stopped completely yet when you saw the bike?”
“Well, hell…I guess I was just comin’ to a stop. I was putting on the brakes when I saw it.”
“And where was she?”
Kenderman turned and looked over his right shoulder. “Comin’ that way.”
“So she ran the stop on the east side of the intersection?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“Well,” Kenderman said, “she turned on down this way,” he pivoted in place, looking back down Twelfth Street the way they had come. “Right for the bridge.”
“And that’s when you initiated the chase?”
“Well, I wasn’t pushin’ it too hard,” Kenderman said lamely. He glanced at Chief Mitchell.
“How well do you know Colette Parker?” Torrez asked. He tossed the question out casually, as if he really didn’t want to know.
“I know who she is, all right.”
“But you didn’t know it was her when you started the chase?”
“No.”
“You didn’t recognize her bike, or anything like that?”
“No. The light wasn’t all that good, and she was movin’ kind of fast, anyways.”
“I see,” Torrez said, sounding as if he clearly didn’t see.
Estelle’s telephone chirped. “Guzman.”
“Estelle,” Sergeant Mears’ matter-of-fact voice said. “We’ve got us a little tangle here. I’ve been talking with Marion Archer, and she tells me that she knows Colette Parker. In fact, Colette was one of her students about five years ago.”
“Okay.” She turned her back on her three companions and walked toward the rear of her car.
“The thing is that according to Mrs. Archer, Colette has two little kids.”
Estelle groaned. “Where are they, Tom.”
“With the grandmother, apparently.”
“The grandmother?”
“Colette’s mother. Her name’s Barbara Parker. Lives over on Third Street, north of the park. That’s the address on Colette’s license, too. They all live there together, apparently. Mrs. Archer said that she’s known the Parker woman for years. She’s got some counseling job at the school.”
“You’re going over there now?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How old are the two kids, did Mrs. Archer know?”
“She guessed that the oldest might be four. Something like that. Maybe four. Colette had the first one the spring of her senior year of high school. That’s when she dropped out.”
Estelle sighed. “Small favors.”
“Pardon?”
“I was thinking that at least the kids are with someone right now, Tom. That’s all. Let me know when you’ve talked with Mrs. Parker, all right?”
“Yep. Linda and I are headed that way right now.”
“What’s the street address?”
“Just a second.” After a brief rustling, Mears said, “Seven oh nine Third Street.”
“Thanks.” Estelle switched off the phone. She didn’t turn around immediately but stood silently, leaning against the back fender of the unmarked car. She closed her eyes, allowing the memory of the distant chase to replay. The Third Street address for Barbara and Colette Parker would be in the distance to the north, approximately where car and cycle were when she first heard them.
She turned and walked back toward the other three. “Perry,” she said, “are you sure that’s the version that you want to go with?”
His eyes were both frightened and wary. He glanced sideways at Chief Mitchell, but Mitchell’s gaze was noncommittal.
“It ain’t a version, Undersheriff,” Kenderman said. “It’s what happened. I don’t know why you got such a problem with what I’m tryin’ to tell you.” He gestured up the street. “I was there, she run the sign, I went after her. She dumped it just past the bridge.” He took a short breath, as if a sharp pain had jabbed him in the solar plexus. “Christ, you was on Bustos yourself. You saw.”
“Yes, I did,” Estelle said gently, refusing to rise to the indignation in his tone.
“Tell you what,” Mitchell said easily. “We’ll check in with you tomorrow, Estelle. Give you a little time to talk with some folks. We’ll go from there. Fair enough?”
Estelle nodded.
He reached out a hand as if to take Kenderman by the shoulder but stopped just shy of contact. “I’ll run Perry over to the S.O. so he can make a formal statement and then take him on home. Pasquale is going to take the deposition?”
Estelle nodded. “He’ll be at the office. We’ll be back in a little bit.”
“Nothing else right now, then?”
Estelle shook her head.
“Come on,” Mitchell said, touching Kenderman’s elbow. He managed to sound sympathetic. Estelle watched them leave, and as the taillights faded toward the bridge, shook her head in disgust.
“You’re sure Kenderman’s lying, aren’t you.” Sheriff Torrez moved out of the middle of the street to allow another car to pass. Two elderly faces peered out at them as the sedan shuffled by.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Estelle said. “He’s lying, but I don’t know why.”
“To save his sorry ass, obviously,” Torrez said. “He didn’t follow any kind of procedure, and he forced a fatality.”
“Maybe that’s it.”
Torrez looked askance at her, then grinned. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
Estelle took a deep breath. “I just want to be sure.”
“You are sure. So where do you want to start?”
“Half the people in Posadas either heard what happened tonight or saw a part of it. It shouldn’t be hard to retrace a pretty fair approximation of the chase route.” She glanced at her watch. “I hate to let any of this wait until tomorrow.”
Torrez grunted what passed for a chuckle. “Pasquale and Mears are on until midnight. Jackie’s on after that. It’ll give them something to do. Like I said, where do you want to start?”
Estelle turned and looked across the street. “How about two ten Twelfth,” she said. “They turned out their porch light just after we drove up. That means they’re home.”
“And don’t want to talk to us,” Torrez said.
“All the more reason.” She reached into her car for her clipboard and double-checked the tape inside the microcassette before sliding it into her jacket pocket. She’d taken two steps back toward 210 Twelfth when the phone on her belt awakened once more.
“Guzman.”
“The two kids are home with their grandmother,” Tom Mears said without preamble.
“They’re all right?”
Mears hesitated. “They’re in bed, asleep. I guess they’ll find out in the morning.”
Estelle heard a sound in the background that could have been a yelp of pain, a sob, or both. “Mrs. Parker’s with you?”
“Yes, ma’am. What I wanted to tell you was that she says Kenderman stopped by earlier this evening to see Colette. They’ve been going together for a little while.”
“How long?” She looked across at Torrez and shook her head wearily.
“For about six months, the mother says. Colette wanted to break it off. Kenderman came by this evening, while he was on duty. He wanted to talk to Colette, and she didn’t want to see him.”
Estelle backpedaled as if she’d been shoved and slumped against the side of her car. “Ay,” she murmured.
“Mrs. Parker tells me that sometimes after Colette puts her daughters to bed, she likes to take a short ride on the bike. No traffic, all by herself-that sort of thing. That’s what she did tonight.”
“And Kenderman followed her.”
“Mrs. Parker doesn’t know about that.”
“She didn’t hear anything?”
“Apparently not. She had the television on and wears earphones so the noise doesn’t disturb the kids.”
“Thanks, Tom. You’re going to get a statement from her tonight?”
“If I can. She’s not doing too well.”
“Do what you can. Bobby and I are going to talk to some neighbors at the other end of the racetrack.” She switched off and then pushed the phone’s autodial. “Wow,” she breathed. She looked at Robert Torrez and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Looks like it started as a domestic,” she said. “Nothing’s going to be simple.”