Redemption (31 page)

“And that’s when you tried to find the murderers?”

“Yes, I returned to the site after they’d taken her body away to look for clues. I questioned her work colleagues, her friends, and the people who lived around where it must have happened.”

“Did you trust the police?”

“My daughter wasn’t the first to be killed and I knew how they treated the other murders. My daughter’s case was no different.”

“What did you find?”

“People who knew I was her father told me some things, probably out of compassion. They made me promise to never reveal their names. They were scared for their lives and I’ve never revealed who gave me information.

“I understand perfectly. What we’re looking for are leads that might lead us to potential suspects. We believe that some details were omitted from the investigations and that people like you were ignored.”

Armando sighed and stared at the horizon in silence, lost in thought.

“A suspicious man came up several times – a Mexican, about thirty, with a wolf’s face on one arm and a rose on the other. They saw him prowling the area a bit before the kidnappings. My daughter’s, and in other girls’ cases as well. At the time, I was obsessed with finding him. I went to the bars and all the places I thought he could be, but I could never find him. I spoke to many men, you know, and all I figured out was that there’s a group called the Desert Devils…”

“What kind of group is it?” he asked, taking notes.

“Probably hoodlums, who call themselves something like that. They must be in drugs, all that’s illegal. The person who told me all this insisted they were moral-less. He said if there was a group crazy enough to do something like this, it would be them.”

“Then what did you find?”

“Nothing. I have never found proof that they existed. Maybe it was only a rumor, a legend that some Mexican men like to tell over their bottles of tequila. I know nothing, but me… I never succeeded in finding anything. If they exist, they’re very secret, if you can believe it. They must only be recruiting people they know.”

“Did you find anything else?”

“It must not have been one person. It must have been a well-structured group.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Listen close. Like I said, I was there when they found my daughter. She was on her stomach, her face in the sand, like everyone else who had been found. The autopsy showed that she’d been tortured and raped. When I saw my daughter’s body on the side of the road, she was dressed. But they weren’t her clothes. She’d never worn clothes like that. The clothes weren’t hers!”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. I knew my daughter. She’d never had clothes like that!”

“So…”

“So, that means that the clothes must have belonged to another victim. They kept their victims together in a secret place. They stripped them, robbed them of their clothes and kept them alive for a while. Then, after they killed my girl, they took random clothes that they all kept together. They dressed her and then, they dumped her body. A man working alone wouldn’t have done it. They have buildings to keep captives together. They’re isolated, if they can keep them alive. They’re not worried that a girl could save herself, or that people could stumble across them.”

“It’s an interesting point of view.”

“And something else: according to the autopsy, when her body was found, they put her death to four days before. My daughter had been missing for over three weeks, so, they’d kept her alive in an unknown place. And that’s not all.”

“I’m listening…”

“I was able to get several photos of different crime scenes from someone whose name I won’t say. I studied these photos carefully. Then I returned to the place where my daughter was found. The murderers marked them all…”

“Are you talking about the knife wounds on their body that formed triangles?”

“Yes, Erick. It’s a sign!”

“But not all the bodies were marked. All the bodies bore signs of wounds, but some of them had no distinctive sign on their body. It was the same with your daughter, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s what you think, but you’re wrong! Everyone knows those files were incomplete. Some say the bodies had no marks because they missed them.”

“And Cecilia… what marks did they leave?”

“About three hundred meters from where her body was found, there was a little wood cabin. It was abandoned, but I went in and found the sign…”

“The triangle?”

“No. On a board, there was a drawing of a cross with wood soot, but not a normal cross. The bottom made a half-circle.”

“Like an upside-down question mark, you mean?”

“Exactly! The symbol means something to them, I’m convinced.”

“Couldn’t it have been drawn beforehand?”

“I don’t think so. I wish I could go back in time and inspect all the crime scenes, Erick. I’m sure we’d find the same symbol. The murders have meaning for them and the marks are their signature. But, you won’t find any of this in the files. Do you have the crime scene photos?”

“Most of them, yeah.”

“Try it yourself. You’ll find the same thing as me.”

“What’s that?”

“They were all found on their stomach, face into the ground. Agreed?”

“Sure.”

“Did you think of looking at the orientation of the bodies?”

“No.”

“Of course not, you weren’t there and you can’t tell from the photos. But I know this land and I’ve seen the places they were found. Their heads all pointed east!”

“Are you saying that the murderers positioned the bodies specifically so their heads pointed to cardinal East?”

“Exactly. They were all like that, no exceptions. It could be an accident, but…”

“What would be the point of that?”

“That’s the question. That’s exactly what I asked myself. Think of a compass, all right?”

“Ok.”

“Then think of a clock… where would East be on a clock face?”

“Three.”

“Exactly. And how many sides to a triangle, Erick?” said Armando with a grim smile.

“Three!”

“Strange coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Holy crap,” he responded.

“What you said.”

“So, the digit ‘3’ means something to them. Do you think they’re just screwing with you?”

“They’re not screwing around. They’re not like a serial killer who has fun screwing with the police. I’m sure the murders have a meaning and the symbols are rituals. They’re ritual murders, Erick, I’m sure of it. But other than that, I have nothing. That’s all I got. So now you got it too.”

“We can’t thank you enough. That gives us a whole new perspective, strengthens a few of our hypotheses.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Find them.”

“You think you can?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“If you ever do find them, promise me you’ll tell me who they are. I need to know.”

“We promise.”

Namara and Guerra said their goodbyes to the Marquez family, who gathered on the porch to see them off. As they climbed into their car, Lucinda approached Namara.

“You know, I am old, but I have my mind. I saw you looking at my grandbaby’s picture. Whatever you are, mister, promise me you’ll find the ones who did it,” she said, clutching his hand in her own, swollen and gnarled with age.

Namara looked to Guerra, and then the family. He knew he’d never forget this moment, no matter what happened.

“I swear.”

Lucinda smiled and let go of his hand. They climbed into their car in silence and left the house. Namara was lost in thought. He couldn’t fail now – when he made a promise, he meant it.

CHAPTER 45

“Yeah, Danny, I’m listening,” said Andy’s voice from the receiver.”

“Hey Andy. We’ve got an interesting lead, but we need your help to verify some of the details, because we can’t do much here.”

“All right, what do you need?”

“I have a description of a potential suspect. The father of a victim did tons of research, and this guy turned up all over the place. There’s nothing on him in any of these files.”

“Ok. What do you have by way of description?”

“He’s in his thirties, Mexican. He’s got a wolf face on one arm and a rose on the other.”

“That’s it!?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I know it’s not much, but at least we’ve got something, right?”

“Listen, I’m going to check this out. I’ll have to get into databases of police and correctional facilities to see if there’s a guy like that with a record. How’s that?” “Yeah, thanks, Andy. Maybe it’ll get us something…”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Great, ciao,” he said as he hung up the ancient telephone on the bedside table.

Namara stretched out on his bed as the others sat and tried to relax.

“We don’t have much,” said Guerra from the other bed.

“Thanks, I’m aware. We’ll have to try something else,” he mused.

“Such as…?” asked Shinsaku, gazing at the television.

“An experiment, but I won’t mention it right away. Ming Mei, could you look up a couple of symbols? A cross with a semi-circle and a triangle.”

“I’ll see what I can get.”

“Thanks!”

“I wonder how Kamilia’s doing,” said Shinsaku.

Namara got up suddenly and strode toward the door to get his shoes.

“Wait, what did I miss? Where the hell are you going at this hour?” asked Ming Mei.

“An experiment,” he repeated. “I’m going to check something out.” He grabbed the car keys.

“All right, we’ll come along,” said Shinsaku, getting up from the sofa.

“No, I have to do it alone, or it won’t work. Don’t worry, I won’t be gone for long.”

“Watch out,” Guerra cautioned.

Namara shut the door behind him and took the car. The sound of the motor radiated through the night.

CHAPTER 46

South Beach, Miami, Florida, USA.

“Yes, it needs to be here by Wednesday at the latest,” said Kamilia before tucking her phone away.

“Miss Stone, where should we put the armchairs?” asked a worker as he moved through the space that would be Club Redemption.

“Second floor for now.”

“Will do.”

“So sorry, I’m ready now,” said Kamilia to a journalist sitting at the bar.

The place was full of workers rushing to finish the place before the imminent opening. She had found a perfect location – they were on Ocean Drive, right in the heart of South Beach. The building gave directly onto a beach where hundreds of people wandered during the day. Ocean Drive was entirely big hotels, nightclubs and restaurants of all kinds. Luxury cars lined both sides of the road. So many celebrities came for the riches, the fashion, and the lifestyle. The whole world knew of the nocturnal extravaganza that was South Beach. The price was staggering, but when Kamilia had seen the number next to her bank statement, she realized that money was of no consequence from that day forward.

She’d picked the building for its high church-like ceilings. It would be the ideal space for their Redemption once the grunt work was done. Workers swarmed through the floors and they watched the club take shape before their very eyes. She was managing a million things at the same time and she hadn’t slept much since the other four had left. She was used to this type of project, but nothing came close to this in terms of importance. Her favorite part, and the hardest, was the layout and decoration. She had to anticipate everything: every deadline, every conflict, every disaster.

She had entrusted the task of publicity to her precious contacts she’d netted over the years. She gave the carte blanche and as much money as they wanted to promote it in the highest echelons. However, she was careful to do all the hiring herself. Considering the club’s actual function, she had installed surveillance technology everywhere until she was sure she had beat the CIA in thoroughness. Everything was well-hidden, but she had seen to it that the whole building was literally a stronghold and a crow’s nest. The huge ground floor held a dance floor and multiple bar counters. The second stage was divided into salons, and the third, the penthouse, was restricted to the team. Unaccustomed to doing anything halfway, she’d also stocked the underground parking garage with luxury cars and motorcycles for their future use. There were two speedboats on the pier nearby. She took pride in the fact that she’d left nothing up to chance.

Right now, of course, it was not so much a slick hotspot as a construction site, and clatters and bangs echoed from every quarter.
Everything’s going plan
. Despite her supercharged schedule, her mind was frequently in Mexico; they’d been there for weeks now and she’d had no news. She was annoyed that she had to be here alone instead of with them, but her task was essential. They needed a base of operations.

“So, are you the owner?” the reporter asked casually.

“Actually, I have four associates from all sorts of backgrounds. We decided to unite and create a club that would represent the best of Miami.”

“It appears to be a multi-million-dollar project, judging from the real estate. Would you give exclusive favor to our paper by divulging the size of your investment?”

“We’re not revealing the precise amount, but I will say that our goal is to become one of the most connected places in Miami, and I believe we’ve succeeded!” she said enthusiastically.

“The competition here is fierce. Would you explain your concept a little, Miss Stone?”

“Well, above all, this is a dance club, as you see, with a huge maximum capacity. You’ve got a few bars on the first floor, as well as a dance floor. The second floor is full of private or semi-private salons for clients looking for a calmer atmosphere, or a spot to host a private party.”

“I see. And what makes this spot unique?”

“I intend to arrange it like an Asian Zen garden. When you come for the night at Redemption, you’re living in a mix of serenity and festivity that a South Beach night holds. Come spend the night with us, we assure you, it will be a unique experience, believe me! Our establishment is unpretentious and targeted toward a clientele of all ages, all backgrounds. But, first and foremost, you will find style, glamour, celebration and good taste. In short, Redemption will
be
the hot Miami night!” she said with a smile.