Karen Vail 01 - Velocity (4 page)

Vail flushed. “Sorry about that.”

“Not at al . I deserved it.” He shrugged. “Anyway, my point is, I doubt anyone could get the drop on him.”

Vail forced a smile. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

Owens held out a hand. “Anything—you need anything to help find him, you just let me know.”

“Thanks. I wil .”

Owens pul ed open the door. Brix was standing there.

“You need something, Redd?”

Brix’s eyes flicked over to Vail. He seemed to read her expression, then shook his head. “Nope. Al ’s good.”

5

Vail met Dixon in the break room. She was reclined in a yel ow plastic chair, her eyes closed and her mouth open.

Vail gently shoved her foot with a shoe. “Hey. Wake up.”

Dixon rubbed two hands across her face. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.” She pushed herself out of the seat and stretched. “This is gonna suck big time.”

“Yeah. ‘Sorry to wake you, Mrs. Lugo, but your husband’s dead. Oh, and by the way, we think he was working with the serial kil er we just caught.’”

Dixon patted Vail on the back. “I think it’d be better if I do the talking when we get there.” They made their way into the stairwel , then down the two flights.

“Regardless of what Ray was involved in, we owe it to the badge to do it right, so his wife gets news of his death from us rather than some reporter when the story breaks in the morning.”

As they walked to Dixon’s Ford Crown Victoria, Vail pul ed the task force roster from her back pocket and unfolded it. “Can you drive with the light on? I want to enter this stuff into my phone on the way over.”

“Not a bad idea. The light may help keep me awake.”

They arrived at the Lugo home a bit past 2:00 AM. It was a modest but wel -

maintained two-story stucco in a planned development. A kids’ basketbal standard was evident just over the sturdy wood fence.

As they approached the house, bright halogen lights snapped on. “Motion sensors,” Dixon said.

Vail nodded at the eave. “And surveil ance cameras. Designed to come on with the lights.”

“Look at the windows,” Dixon said.

White decorative wire “sculptures” covered the glass.

“I don’t think those were instal ed for their aesthetic value,” Vail said. “If I didn’t know who lived here, I’d say the people who own this house are scared of something.”

“Or someone.”

They stepped up to the front door and stood there, staring at it, both alone with their thoughts. Final y Vail said, “Roxx, we’ve gotta just do it.”

Dixon sighed, then leaned forward and pressed the button beside the door. The deep bark of a large dog started up as if activated by the door-bel . “Ray had security in place, that’s for sure.”

“Goes with what he told us in the van.”

They stood there, waiting, bathed in light with the surveil ance camera rol ing.

Final y, footsteps. A voice spil ed out from a speaker. “Who is it and what do you want?”

“It’s Roxxann Dixon and Karen Vail. We’re friends of Ray’s from the major crimes task force.”

“Where’s Ray?” the voice asked.

“Mrs. Lugo, it’d be real good if you could open the door. We have a message from your husband.”

Vail looked at Dixon. They didn’t truly have anything from Ray other than bad news—but by the time they got finished tel ing her why they were there, Merilynn Lugo wouldn’t be asking what the message was.

“Go ahead. I can hear you just fine.”

Vail heard a child’s voice in the background. It sent a shiver down her back.
Shit,
I hate this. Absolutely hate this.
“Mrs. Lugo,” Vail said, “I’m afraid we’ve got some bad news.”

Dixon looked at her. Vail lifted her hands to say,
She left us no choice.

The door swung open. Merilynn Lugo was a thick Hispanic woman with delicate features. Her mouth had fal en agape and her hands drew up to her cheeks as she searched the faces of the two cops. No doubt hoping she had heard wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Dixon said.

And in that moment of realization, Merilynn Lugo burst into tears. That’s when Vail saw the young boy behind his mother, holding on to her leg. Merilynn reached out—her face had lost al color—and Dixon grabbed her, helping her gently to the floor.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” the boy asked. The dog started barking again.

Merilynn pul ed her son close. “Mommy’s not feeling too good.” She took a deep breath. “But I’l —I’l be okay. You want to go let Bart into the backyard?” She nodded at him and forced a smile. “Go on, Mario.”

When the boy walked out, Merilynn turned back to Vail. Tears streamed down her face. “How,” she final y asked. “How did it happen?”

Vail sat on the floor beside Merilynn. “A gunshot wound,” Vail said. “We’d captured a serial kil er the task force was after. We think it was the guy who kidnapped you and Mario—”

“You—you caught him?”

Vail regarded Merilynn’s face before answering. “We did. And Ray . . . Ray was a big part of that. But while I was interrogating the suspect, Ray . . . Ray came into the room and shot him. One of the rounds ricocheted and hit Ray in the neck. We tried to save him. We rushed him to the hospital, but . . . ” Vail stole a look at Dixon.

“He asked that we make sure to look out for you and your son.”

Merilynn swiped a hand across her wet cheeks, bal ed up her night-gown and used it to blot the tears. Vail and Dixon waited, Vail keeping a hand on Merilynn’s shoulder to support her.

“Ray told us about what happened. With the kidnapping—”

“Is he stil alive?” Merilynn asked. “Did the bastard die?”

Dixon and Vail shared a glance. Dixon said, “Al we know is that he’s out of surgery.”

Merilynn straightened up. “Then I need to get out of here.”

“‘Get out,’” Dixon said. “What do you mean?”

“He’s going to come after us. He wil .”

“Why?” Vail asked.

“We need protection,” Merilynn said. “Or we need to leave.”

“We’l make sure you’re taken care of. Don’t worry about that. But tel us what happened. When you got kidnapped, what—”

“I think you need to leave us alone right now,” Merilynn said. She clumsily pushed herself up from the floor.

Vail and Dixon rose as wel .

“Look,” Vail said, “I know this is a tough time. But we’ve got a lot of unanswered questions, and someone else’s life might depend on those answers.”

“I can’t help you. Sorry.” The dog began barking again.

“A disc,” Vail pressed. “Ray mentioned something about a disc. Do you know what he was talking about?”

Merilynn swung her head toward the yard. The barking continued. “No.” She faced Vail. “I don’t know anything about a disc.”

“But—”

“He’s going to wake the neighbors,” Merilynn said as she hurried out of the room.

“Please let yourself out. And lock the door behind you.”

WALKING TOWARD THEIR CAR, Vail said, “Something’s not right. We need to come back. After the initial shock fades. Tomorrow. We have to find out what the hel ’s going on. What she knows.”

“Meantime, I’l have the Sheriff’s Department post a deputy. Until we know what the deal is. For al we know, Mayfield had an accomplice.”

Vail stopped. Her head swung hard to Dixon. “I hadn’t thought of that. I should have, but I didn’t.”

“None of us considered that possibility. We’ve been going almost 24/7 for days.

Who had the time to step back and think things through?”

Vail rested her head on the Ford’s doorframe. She was exhausted emotional y and physical y drained. Her life the past two months had been bordering on disaster, and she needed a vacation. Badly.

But with Robby missing, she knew a respite to recharge was not going to be coming soon.

6

A
fter the sheriff’s deputy arrived to baby-sit the Lugo household, Dixon headed toward Highway 29, the main drag that worked its way through the various business districts of the Napa Val ey. She turned to Vail, who had gone silent. “Let’s swing by the B&B, pick up your clothes, and head over to my place. We’l get some sleep, eat something, and approach this with a fresh perspective.”

Vail leaned back against the headrest. “Yeah.”

They drove without further discussion until they pul ed into the B&B’s smal compacted gravel parking lot. Dixon shoved the shift into park and got out.

Vail fol owed and met her at the door to the room, fifteen feet away. She reached her hand into the front pocket and pul ed out the key. Stood there staring at it.

“What if we never find him, Roxx? What if Mayfield—”

“Stop,” Dixon said. “We need to keep an open mind; let’s try not to let the negativity creep in. Until we know, it’s al speculation—and that’s not going to find him.” She leaned forward and they embraced.

A long moment later, Vail said, “Thanks, Roxx. I needed that.”

Dixon sniffed back tears. “I needed it, too.”

MORNING CAME and Vail pried open her eyes. She and Dixon had sat on her living room couch and finished a bottle of Peju Cabernet, Dixon lamenting the loss of Eddie Agbayani and Vail . . . trying to be a good friend, listening to the stories of Dixon and Agbayani’s intense but less than smooth relationship.

And trying not to let Robby’s absence consume her. The wine helped with that.

Dixon’s white standard poodle, Margot, lay in her owner’s lap, sensing her emotional void and seeking to fil it as only a dog can do. Her black one, Quinn, stepped gently onto the couch and sidled against Vail’s body.

“They think they’re lap dogs,” Dixon had said as she stroked Margot’s curls of cotton-soft fur.

Vail swal owed a mouthful of Cabernet, set down her glass, and began rubbing Quinn. “But they’re huge.”

“Don’t tel
them
that. But it’s very comforting. I don’t mind.”

“Apparently they don’t, either.”

Margot remained in Dixon’s lap—Quinn had settled his front legs across Vail’s thighs—until Dixon drained the last drop from the bottle and decided they should try to catch whatever sleep either could get.

Vail lay awake until sometime in the early morning hours. And now Dixon was knocking on her door. “Yeah,” Vail said. She swung her legs off the bed. “I’m here.

Sort of. I think.”

Dixon pushed open the door and the usual y head-turning blonde was a disheveled mess. “Slept like shit.”

“Me, too.”

“Can you be ready in twenty? I just got a cal from Matt Aaron. He’s at the B&B, and he found something.”

MATTHEW AARON’S forensic kit was splayed open. A bottle of luminol was on the bathroom vanity and a square of carpet was missing from an area partial y beneath the large overstuffed bed.

Vail and Dixon stood in the doorway.
Oh, shit.
Her mind added it up in mil iseconds:
Luminol. A sample cutout. He found blood. Robby’s blood?

“You want us to put booties on?” Dixon asked.

Aaron waved a hand, welcoming them in. “Maid already cleaned it, right? So forget about it being a useful crime scene. But I vacuumed anyway, did a ful workup, just in case. I’m about ready to close up shop.”

They ventured in, Vail stopping by the conspicuously defiled carpet. “You found something.”

“I did. I covered the place in luminol—the proprietor probably isn’t going to be too happy with me—but I’m glad I did. I got a hit right there.” He nodded to the area beside the bed. “So I cut away the carpet and sprayed again. When you have heavy blood loss, it seeps down into the carpet fibers—”

“And into the pad,” Vail said.

“And into the pad. It lit up like a purple battlefield. So I took the pad, too. We’l run it for DNA and see what it shows.”

Vail’s shoulders slumped. She sat cross-legged on the floor beside the void in the carpet. “It could be from something else. It might not be Robby’s.”

“That’s what the DNA wil tel us. Do you have an exemplar we can use for comparison?”

“I can get you one.” Vail’s eyes remained on the carpet. “Whatever happened here, there was substantial blood loss.”

“Not enough that someone bled out,” Dixon said. “Right?”

“Probably not. But the sooner you can get Detective Hernandez’s DNA—”

“Whoever caused that wound didn’t want anyone finding it,” Dixon said. “They cleaned it pretty good. We didn’t see anything.”

“Nothing,” Aaron said, “until the luminol.”

Vail nodded slowly. She pul ed her BlackBerry and tapped out an email to Bledsoe, asking him to go over to Robby’s house and get some hair from his bathroom, as wel as his toothbrush. She told him to overnight the hair to the Sheriff’s Department, and to bring the other sample to the FBI lab.

“Can you send a section of the carpet pad to the FBI?” Vail asked.

Aaron, who had begun packing his case, froze. His set jaw and narrowed eyes said al that needed to be said.

“I want a second set of eyes looking at this. No offense.”

“You know,” Aaron said, “whenever someone says, ‘No offense,’ it’s usual y preceded or fol owed by an offensive remark. And why shouldn’t I take offense that you don’t trust my work?”

“Matt,” Dixon said. “Please. Just do it.” She tapped Vail on the shoulder and extended a hand. Vail grabbed it and Dixon pul ed her up.

Vail sighed deeply, then looked around the room. She had only stayed there a couple of nights, but they held intense memories of Robby. Her eyes lingered on the bed, where they had spent their last hours together.

No. Not our last. Please, not our last.

7

A
s Dixon drove back to the Sheriff’s Department, Vail left a voice mail for her son Jonathan to cal her when he took his lunch break, or between classes if he had enough time.