“They want to do the press thing this afternoon,” Harrington said. “I’ll try and stall, what should I say?”
“You love to talk.”
“Only about football.”
“Tell them we have nothing to go on. That there doesn’t seem to be any connection to the other murders. Let him think he’s safe.” Jack left the room in a hurry.
“Hey, you still haven’t explained how you found the body!” Harrington listened to Jack’s footsteps get farther and farther away. He pushed up out of his chair and walked over to Jack’s desk. He’d spotted Jack hiding something behind a book when he first walked in. He moved it and discovered Jack’s pills. He picked them up, squinting to read the prescription. Harrington was no dummy, he knew it was a heavy painkiller. Jack had never complained of pain, never betrayed a wince. But apparently Jack didn’t only look like shit, he felt like it too. Harrington was confused and, at the same time, impressed.
He put the bottle back, careful to lean the book in place just like he found it.
CHAPTER 24
Jack pulled up to a crowded housing complex. The tenants were mostly a cluster of Hispanic groups: Dominican, Ecuadorian, Puerto Rican. He checked his handwritten address, matching it with the street sign across the road. Woods Avenue. Right place.
He took a moment to collect his thoughts. Even though Carmen had disappeared over a decade ago, there was no doubt her family hadn’t enjoyed even one day that wasn’t clouded by the horror of not knowing what became of their sweet daughter. Some things in life you can never move past, never forget. Like Sarah.
Not a day went by he didn’t think about her face, how she felt in his arms. Twelve years, but the pain was still fresh. He would trade every day he had left, and every day he’d spent since, to hold her just once, hear her voice one more time.
The only difference between Carmen’s parents and Jack’s loss was that Jack knew the fate of his wife. Now they were about to learn Carmen’s, or at least half of the story. The other half, the part where Jack brings her killer to justice, was still being written.
He took a deep breath, exhaling hard and loud, and climbed the cracked cement steps that led to apartment 3G. He glanced at the picture of Carmen from the report then tucked it away in his pocket and knocked.
There was loud shouting coming from an apartment upstairs. Jack looked up, waiting for a piece of furniture to burst through an open window and land on him. Jack knocked again. Finally, the door opened.
Hester Muniz, 50 years old, a little heavy, but not unattractive, opened the door. Jack saw the resemblance immediately, and his heart ached.
“Yes?” Hester said with a warm smile.
“Mrs. Muniz?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Detective Jack Ridge.”
Hester sat on the end of a twin bed, wiping her eyes. She had led Jack into Carmen’s old room, which was just as she left it. Jack was taking a brief tour; examining pictures, trophies, keepsakes, there was even a hairbrush, Carmen’s hair still entwined.
“All these years I pray she living her life somewhere,” Hester said, sniffling.
“I’m very sorry for your loss.” Jack turned to admire a painting on the wall. It was a still life of a bowl of fruit, truly breathtaking. There were others, a sunset at the beach, one of a dog, all incredible renderings.
“She love to paint. She was so talented. Her father work himself into the grave to keep us here. She get scholarship for her art, he was so proud.”
Hester’s words made Jack feel even more remorse for the loss of someone so gifted.
“They’re beautiful,” Jack said quietly.
“I see that pretty young girl on TV all the time. They never once mention Carmen when she disappear.”
“I read her report,” Jack said. “What can you remember about the night she went missing?”
Hester shook her head and wiped her eyes again. She stared at the floor. Jack gave her a moment. She sighed softly and collected herself.
“We had a fight. I pray and pray she come home. All these years, I beg Jesus, please, just let me speak to my baby one more time. Tell her how sorry I am.”
“Who else lives here?”
“My husband, he die two year ago.” The levy burst, Hester could no longer contain the tears as the emotion overwhelmed her. She moaned with grief, making the moment even more uncomfortable for Jack.
He noticed a strong smell of perfume, and… wet dog. A large white collie entered the room and went straight for Jack; pawing at his leg, licking him. Jack politely rubbed the dog’s head, glad for the interruption. It sliced through the emotional pall that had engulfed the room, letting the air back in a little. Even Hester turned her attention to the dog.
“Faucet, no!”
She stood up and grabbed the dog by the collar, leading him outside. She returned after a moment and closed the bedroom door tightly. The dog scratched at it a few times.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jack wiped the dog’s slobber off with his handkerchief.
“Carmen name him Faucet, his nose always running.”
Jack approached a dresser across the room. There was a framed photo of Carmen at her high school graduation. He picked it up to take a closer look. Carmen was dressed in her cap and gown, a large gold cross around her neck. She had her arm around a young boy, about ten years old. “That her brother, Francisco. He join the army.”
Jack put down the photograph and picked up another one. This one showed Carmen wearing a white sundress with orange flowers, smiling with a wink, her arm around another young girl her age. Jack had to take a closer look to confirm it, but he was certain the other young girl posing with Carmen was a young Laura Lowell. Jack turned and held the picture up for Hester to see.
“Who’s this?”
Hester squinted. “…Her friend from school, I forget her name.”
Jack studied the picture, half wanting to confiscate it under his jacket. He placed it back down and turned to find Hester standing right behind him.
She leaned over and unhooked something from around Carmen’s framed Communion photo.
She cupped the item in her hands, extending them out towards him. Jack stared into her glassy eyes.
“This was Carmen’s.” She took Jack’s hand and placed a gold cross on a chain into his palm, closing his hand to make sure he couldn’t refuse. It was the same cross Carmen had been wearing in the graduation photo. “Go with God. Bring justice for my daughter.”
CHAPTER 25
Out in the schoolyard was a hidden alcove where Rebecca could sit quietly, hidden from view until recess was over. There were two large silver doors where food deliveries were made each morning, otherwise, no-one went in or out. She could relax undisturbed, out of sight of the other children.
She’d swipe a piece of chalk from the teacher’s board and sit and draw on the cement. Once in a while, an aide would peek around to check if she was okay. They would smile and Rebecca would smile back.
Normally the teacher’s aides would shoo children away from there — they didn’t like it when a student wandered off where they couldn’t see them. But they understood Rebecca was having a hard time adjusting, and that she wasn’t up to any mischief.
Rebecca was on her knees sketching madly today. The dream last night had been one of the worst. She could remember the woods, screams, a girl lying on the ground — a terrifying man with his hands around a girl’s neck, squeezing, his eyes blank like a mannequin’s. She’d tried to run, but couldn’t move, as if rooted to the spot.