No One Heard Her Scream (21 page)

Sonja had special plans for Matt Brogan. And step one had gone off without a hitch.

It took most of the morning for Becca to track down Rudy Marquez. She knew he'd be at work and wanted one-on-one time with him, without having to dodge interference from his brother, Father Victor. All she had was the name of a subcontractor he had worked for years ago. After countless phone calls, she found his current employer and the job site he would be at today. The timing worked. Nearly the lunch hour, the odds were good she might catch him on break.

As she drove, Becca's mind pondered what she remembered about Isabel's brother.

Many questions nagged her, leftovers from her session with him downtown at Central Station. His insinuations directed at Cavanaugh were top of her list. Becca would push him, to see if his finger pointing at Cavanaugh had any merit. Yet she couldn't ignore the murder weapon being consistent with a mason's hammer, a tool of Rudy's trade. And the fact he had an arguable motive to kill his own sister and had worked the renovation project at the Imperial Theatre didn't bode well either. No doubt, Becca had to keep an open mind about Rudy being a viable suspect, but would Cavanaugh make the cut on her "persons of interest" list?

When Becca pulled up to the construction site, a small professional building off Loop 1604, she stayed in her car and scanned the workers for a familiar face. Most sat near the open tailgate of an old blue truck with a worn camper shell, eating their lunches and chatting it up. But Rudy wasn't among them. When she wondered if her trip had been wasted, she spotted a man off by himself, sitting under the shade of an oak tree. She recognized Rudy Marquez and headed his way.

Sitting apart from the others, he wore faded jeans, a white T-shirt under an oversized blue chambray shirt, all of it covered in dust and sweat. His dark hair was mussed and hung over his eyes. Rudy looked lost. A real loner.

She knew how it felt to live in a vacuum—a self-imposed prison. Despite how her heart went out to him, she had to set aside her personal feelings. Becca had made the mistake before, superimposing her own grief onto a young man who might be guilty of murder. She had a job to do. And Isabel deserved justice, even if it came at the expense of her brother.

"I'm not supposed to talk to you," Rudy said, as she walked up.

Sitting on the ground, his back against the tree, he stared at the horizon, barely acknowledging her presence. Although he hadn't greeted her with open arms, at least he hadn't waved an attorney in her face. She took this as a good sign.

"Why not? I'm only trying to find out what happened to Isabel." She knelt beside him, her eyes fixed on Rudy. "Don't you want to know what happened to your sister?"

Becca picked up a clump of caliche and worked it in her fingers while she watched him. The chunk of soil, made white by its lime content, gave the ground a cement quality. With the construction, her jeans and hiking boots would be covered in a layer of its white dust before she left the site. In his own way, Rudy reminded her of caliche. Hard on the outside, but soft and pliable underneath when pressed. At least, in theory. Becca tossed the chunk and wiped her hands, poetic analogies shoved aside.

As she expected, Rudy kept his silence, his eyes dead ahead. His only reaction was the tightening of his jaw. A sign she'd gotten a rise out of him.

"It's just you and me here, talking about Isabel." Becca lowered her voice, made it personal. "Ever since I've taken on this case, Isabel has haunted my thoughts. I can't imagine what you must be going through."

She told Rudy the truth, hoping it would draw him out, make him confide in her. But it all stemmed from raw emotion. After a long moment, Rudy looked into her eyes, a sad, damaged expression on his face. A wounded kid with too much on his shoulders.

"Maybe you do know." Rudy squinted into the sun at her back. "Victor told me about your sister."

When the conversation turned toward her, Becca stopped, unsure how to proceed. Eventually, she decided to take a risk. "Yeah. I bottle it up inside, but that's not the answer. Sometimes . . . sometimes I can't even breathe. The guilt chokes me. You understand what I'm saying. I know you do."

"Guilt?" he asked, turning in her direction. "What guilt do you have?"

"You name it. Guilt I couldn't stop it from happening. Guilt I never found her killer. Guilt I didn't get a chance to tell her how much I loved her. Sound familiar?" She fought the lump wedged in her throat. Becca didn't want to cry. She had to stay focused on the case. "So tell me. Did you ever confront Isabel about her trip out to the estate off I-10? I mean, you were the man of the house, with Victor gone. Did she ever tell you what happened?"

Rudy's lips quivered, and he shut his eyes tight. When he opened them again, he began, "She hated how I pushed her. I only wanted what was best for her, you know? But she didn't see it that way. Isabel wanted to be grown-up, make her own decisions. Me questioning her came off like—" He stopped.

"Like a parent?" she guessed.

"No, like Victor. We never knew our father, but who needed one with
Father Bro
around. When he left home and went off to Houston for seminary school, Isabel and I thought things would be different."

Rudy crossed his legs and fiddled with his lunch sack, one of his knees rocking up and down. Nervous energy with a mind of its own or fidgety guilt, Becca had no idea. Although he sat near her, only a shell of him remained in the present.

"Isabel started to change, spent more time away from home. I saw her that day, getting into a Mercedes, and I lost it. We had a fight, one of many. So when I asked her about the fancy ride, she shut me out. Hard."

"You said Hunter Cavanaugh had been behind the wheel of the car. You admitted it was dark, remember?" Becca pressed, making sure he understood. "The truth, Rudy. If you and I are going to find out what happened to Isabel, you have to tell me the truth, not what you think happened. Did you actually see him driving the Mercedes?"

Rudy's eyes flared in anger, but he held his tongue. His face twisted as he struggled to recall what had really happened. Finally, he answered, "No. I never actually saw him behind the wheel." His shoulders slumped, and he dropped his chin to his chest. "I only recognized the car, nothing else."

Rudy wadded up his lunch sack and threw it in anger. His eyes brimmed with tears. Becca admired him for his honesty, but she had to keep him focused and talking.

"About the necklace. You said Cavanaugh bought it for her. Was that a guess, too, or do you know something for sure?"

By the time he looked up, a tear drained down his cheek. Rudy searched her eyes for relief, but she had none to give. He had to go through this himself. Becca watched him face his demons and knew what it meant. To cut loose Cavanaugh as the culprit behind Isabel's disappearance meant Rudy had to acknowledge the role he'd played, a gut-wrenching realization.

"She wore it for a class photo once. Putting on airs. I tore into her about it, asking all sorts of questions like a damned cop." He stopped and shrugged. "No offense."

"None taken. Now please ... go ahead."

"She told me a friend gave it to her, but I didn't believe her. You don't give away something that expensive, I told her. So she changed her story. Someone loaned it to her. I didn't know what to believe." He wiped his face with a sleeve. "After a while, Isabel refused to talk about it. Said I wouldn't listen anyway. You gotta understand. In my neighborhood, good girls don't get gifts like that. Not unless strings are attached, you know?"

Becca didn't know how to reply. She understood his logic but felt his deep regret even more. She might have taken the same tack with Danielle. At least, the old Becca would have. Once Rudy found out about what really happened to Isabel, his worst fears would be vindicated, but that would mean nothing. He'd be empty. His last words with Isabel came from anger, and no amount of justification would heal the wound. He'd have to live with it.

"So as far as you know, Cavanaugh had nothing to do with the necklace. Is that right?"

She had to get him to admit it, own up to it. If Rudy couldn't tie the necklace to Cavanaugh, another part of the puzzle dropped away. She would have nothing substantial on the wealthy entrepreneur.

"Guess so. I never found out who gave her the necklace." Rudy turned away to wipe his face again, his version of reality crumbling. "She never said."

Hunter Cavanaugh looked squeaky clean on Isabel's unconfirmed ride in the Mercedes and the necklace. At least, according to Rudy. But Becca had to shift to a new tactic, and she wasn't looking forward to it. She had to retrace her steps in the investigation, confirming everything. It had to be done. She'd missed something.

"I got the billings for the renovation project on the Imperial Theatre. How often did Victor work the job? His name didn't show up as many times as yours."

Becca worded her question to sound as if she already knew about Victor working the job. Her training officer, Lieutenant Santiago, had taught her the trick. Maybe Rudy would answer without thinking.

"Victor only worked when he was in town, on breaks from seminary school. Our employer threw him a bone now and then. That's all."

"So it looked like they paid him under the table. Bet that helped your family. Pretty generous of your employer, I'd say."

"Yeah. They were good to Victor.. . and me. Guess they thought my brother would put in a good word for them upstairs." Rudy forced a smile. It didn't last long. "But if Victor is so plugged in to God, why did this happen to Isabel?"

Becca grabbed a few stones off the ground and rolled them in her hand, thinking of what to say. Nothing would give him comfort.

"I can't believe God had anything to do with what happened to my sister Danielle. If I did, the world would be a bleak place, without hope." She swallowed hard, searching her own heart. "And I don't want to believe that. I refuse to. You may be tempted to lash out at your big brother in frustration and anger at what happened. But I'm here to tell ya, don't make that mistake. Now's the time to hang on to each other. Believe me, I know. It's too hard to go it alone."

Her eyes welled in tears, but she didn't care.

"I know this is going to be tough, but can you tell me about the last time you saw Isabel, Rudy?" Becca saw his pain, felt it inside. "Believe me, I understand how hard this is. But you've got an open wound in your heart, just like me. It won't heal if you let it fester. Maybe talking about it will help."

As a cop, Becca knew her job and how to manipulate a guilty suspect into confessing. But if Rudy had nothing to do with Isabel's murder, she would use his grief to get what she wanted. Justice came with a price tag, one she'd been willing to pay until now . . . until Rudy Marquez. Using a broken young man to get at the truth challenged her moral barometer.

"I gotta walk. I can't sit anymore." Rudy stood and headed across the asphalt parking lot toward the property next door, an empty lot filled with mesquite trees and underbrush. He never looked back to see if she followed. Maybe he prayed she wouldn't.

But as Becca jogged to catch up, a thought crossed her mind. Rudy was a potential suspect, one she trailed alone toward a vacant lot. Out of habit, she reached for the weapon in the holster at the small of her back. Her eyes glanced back to the men near the truck. None of them looked up. Would they even remember she'd been there at all? Becca turned back around and stared at Rudy's back. How lucky did she feel?

Her nine-millimeter Glock balanced the scales.

"Rudy. Stop right there," she called out. "I'm not in the mood for a hike."

He slowed his steps and started to wander without direction. Even in his own little world, Rudy looked crushed and beaten. Before he made it to the scrubs, he turned back to face her.

"Isabel came to the theater to pick me up from work. My car was in the shop. That girl, Sonja Garza, was with her." Rudy paced and chewed at a thumbnail. He quit and jammed his hands into his pockets, but that didn't last long either. "She was all dressed up in a blue glittery dress, like a woman, you know? She looked so pretty . . . but older."

"Did she have a date?"

"A date?" He laughed, a hollow sound. Rudy rolled his eyes, no doubt avoiding what he really thought. "I have no idea, but Sonja was dressed up, too, some tight black dress. She looked cheap. Isabel told me they had someplace to be. She tried to rush me, but I wasn't done yet. I mean, my God, my job was feeding the family, you know? She never appreciated that."

"So let me guess. You argued with her."

He nodded and chewed at the corner of his mouth. "Bad. We cleared out the place. Guess we got pretty loud."

"I have to ask, Rudy. Did you hurt Isabel?" She kept her eyes on him, waiting for his reaction.

He stopped dead, his eyes wide and glistening. He raised his voice. "No, I swear to God. I wouldn't hurt her. You have to believe me. At least, not the kind of hurt that leaves bruises."

"What does that mean?" Becca asked.

He shrugged with exasperation, hoping he wouldn't have to explain himself, but no such luck.

"I called her all sorts of names. I'm not proud of it, okay? I've had seven years to kick myself in the butt over this. Think how good I'll be years from now." Rudy raked both hands through his hair, his jaw tense. He kicked a rock with his boot. "I left her there. She had plans, and I was only in her way. But I never looked back. I walked home by myself. What an ass!"

Rudy balled his hands into fists and cried aloud. His sobs choked his words.

"S-Something happened to her that d-day because of me being a jerk. And I c-can't forget it. It replays in my h-head . . . over and over. Isabel n-never came home. She never . . ."

Before Becca mulled the implications over in her mind, he turned on her and pointed a finger. "I g-gotta ask you something n-now. And you have to answer, okay?" Without waiting for her, he pressed, "You ran those t-tests on Victor and me . . . for our DNA. It wasn't just to g-get it on f-file, was it? You f-found her, didn't you? You found Isabel."