Friday Edition, The (8 page)

“You said you wanted to talk after the meeting,” Ruth said. “I’m sure this wasn’t what you had in mind.”

Sam shook her head. “Everybody’s been trying to brow beat me into believing that Robin’s death was a suicide.”

“What do you think happened?” Ruth asked.

“She was murdered,” Sam said quickly, with an air of authority in her voice.

Sam looked at Ruth, but her face was empty of emotion.

“I came because I thought maybe you could help,” Sam said.

“If I can, honey, you know I will. I’d do anything for that girl.”

“Did Robin say anything to you lately that would make you think she was in trouble? I know she was here at least a few times a week. The last day we were together, we waited until the afternoon to go Christmas shopping because she said she wanted to make a noon meeting.”

“What day was that?” Ruth asked.

“The twenty-third.”

“Robin wasn’t here that day,” Ruth said quickly.

“What?” Sam couldn’t help showing her surprise. “Robin said she was coming. She called from her cell phone after the meeting to say she was on her way.”

“Robin didn’t make the meeting, Sam. She may have called, but not from here.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked and felt a surge of anxiety begin to build within her.

“Of course I am.” Ruth paused briefly. “In fact, I can’t recall the last time Robin’s been to a noon meeting. I’d say it’s been about two months, maybe more.”

“Two ... two months?” Sam said, her voice perplexed. “Didn’t that send up a red flag that maybe something was wrong with her?”

“I’m not her mother, Samantha. She didn’t need to check in. Besides, that’s not so unusual. I thought she might be busy with work. She’s missed meetings before.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Sam asked, her anxiety shifting to anger.

“You’re not her mother either, Samantha.”

Sam shook her head in disbelief. The jigsaw puzzle was becoming more difficult each time she tried to place a piece.

“You know what really troubles me, Sam?”

Sam looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Robin told me in October that she had gone to a bar for the first time in years.”

“A bar!?” Sam’s blue eyes darkened and widened at Ruth’s remark.

“Tim’s Place,” Ruth said.

“Tim’s Place?” Sam echoed.

Ruth nodded.

“What the hell was she doing there?” Sam asked.

“Meeting a client maybe. I don’t know.”

“A client?” Sam said. The nagging thought returned that Robin somehow might be involved in an illegal drug smuggling operation.

“I didn’t think much about it,” Ruth said. “It doesn’t mean much to me, since I go into one almost every day. Robin was a responsible woman, Samantha. She didn’t show up for meetings on occasion, but I didn’t think much about it, our people come and go all the time. But if you’re having suspicions about her death, maybe those were some kind of signals. I’m sorry, now I wish I had paid more attention.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ruth,” Sam said, making a conscious effort to push her anger down. “You’re right. I can’t expect you to constantly be watching out for Robin any more than I can. Where is this Tim’s Place, anyway?”

“Robin never said. But if it’s the place I think, then it’s off Forty-fourth Avenue, between Sheridan and Wadsworth.”

Sam wrote down “Tim’s Place” in her reporter’s notebook and circled it.

Ruth glanced at her watch.  “Come on, I’ll walk you outside,” she said, patting Sam on the thigh. “I need a cigarette.”

They stepped out into a light flurry of snow. Ruth took a deep drag on her cigarette and watched Sam clear snow from her windshield. Sam waved at Ruth as she left the parking lot.

Ruth finished her cigarette and crushed the butt in the snow with her foot. She went inside and hesitated in the hallway for a moment before heading for the telephone in the kitchen. She had been given the number and was instructed to call should Sam come asking about Robin. She did what was expected of her.

Ruth did not want to do it. But they had offered her a great deal of money. She thought her convictions, her sense of moral integrity were stronger than that. Still, it surprised her that she had it in her to accept the cash so easily, and to betray someone that she had loved and cared for so long, the way she had Robin.

It was more money than she could ever acquire in her lifetime. She couldn’t resist. The temptation was too great. She wanted a few nice things. Maybe a new car and new furniture in the living room. She needed clothes and it would be nice to get her hair done more often. Yes, she needed the money. It was the only reason she had agreed.

Ruth dialed the number. The caller answered.

“May I speak to Captain, please?”

****

On the way back to the office, Sam kept thinking of Tim’s Place. She had never heard of the bar, but then she didn’t frequent any enough to know one from the other. Bars weren’t for her. She drank at home. Alone. Most of the time she kept the curtains closed. She felt more comfortable that way.

Before Sam knew it, it was five-thirty. She left the office and stepped out into a light snowfall to go home. She drove out of her way on Wadsworth to 20th Avenue. She turned left on Glen Garry Drive and stopped just before the road bent into the Y.

From there, she could tell if Jonathan and April were home. She had called again last night, but no one was home, or Jonathan saw that it was her calling and didn’t answer.

There was just enough light left and Sam saw that Jonathan’s Caprice wasn’t in the driveway. The house was quiet and all the windows were dark. Sam wondered where they were and, for a brief moment, longed to be with them.

She put her hands together on the steering wheel and rested her forehead against them. She closed her eyes and tried desperately not to let her mind wander. She felt absolutely empty. Everything within her seemed to be suspended. Despite the warm car, she was so cold, she felt numb.

Morrison greeted her as she opened her apartment door a short time later. Happiness consumed her as she scooped him into her arms. The cat purred and she buried her face in Morrison’s furry stomach. After she fed the cat, she checked her answering machine. The message light blinked once.

Before she listened to the message, she put on Robin’s old brown sweater and felt warmer instantly. She thought of the message from Robin on her machine Christmas Eve. It was the last time Sam heard her sister’s voice.

“Sammie? Are you there? It’s me. Pick up the phone.”

The caller was Judie Rossetti. She was on a cruise, but took the time to call, wanting nothing but to say hello. “Hello, Sam, are you there?” There was a pause as if Judie waited for her to pick up, just as Robin had done on Christmas Eve. “The cruise is great. The weather’s heavenly and I think I’ve gained five pounds,” Judie went on and Sam could hear the lift in her voice. “Talk to you when I get back.”

When she heard the soothing richness of Judie’s voice coming from the answering machine, something inside her broke. She began to cry. She sat on the bed and felt Morrison wrap himself around her legs. She struggled to stop the tears from coming, but it was useless. She cried so hard that her shoulders shook.

Music from a Van Morrison CD reached into the bedroom. Sam was indifferent to the artist Robin had loved, but the afternoon she went to Robin’s condo she took all the Van Morrison CDs Robin owned and began to listen to them. It surprised her how much the music had grown on her.
A Sense of Wonder
had become her favorite. She lay on the bed. It felt good to rest. She closed her eyes to let the words travel over her.

The bottle of Seagram’s on Sam’s kitchen table was nearly empty. She had bought it on the way home from work that afternoon and drank a glass the moment she walked in the door. She was about to finish her second glass as she opened a can of cat food. She decided she liked having Morrison around. Her allergies weren’t bothering her and the cat seemed genuinely happy to see her whenever she came home. Morrison was eating when she received a text message. At first glance, the number didn’t register. Then it came to her.

“Well, well. What does R-E-Y want?” she asked and dialed his number: 555-1618.

He answered before it finished ringing. “Rey Estrada,” he said in a collected tone.

“It’s Sam Church.”

“That was fast.”

She recognized his slightly accented voice and the smile that seemed to go with it. She wondered how often he and Robin had exchanged such conversations. “What can I do for you?” she asked, somewhat tersely.

Rey paused before he said, “It’s what I can do for you.”

“I thought you said you weren’t willing to help,” she returned.

“That was last week. I’ve had time to think.”

There was silence and she could hear Rey breathing into the receiver.

“I can’t get Robin off my mind,” he said.

“Makes two of us,” Sam said. “I didn’t quite get your last name.”

Rey said it again.

“Were you two working together?” Sam asked.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“About seven, eight months.”

“Eight months,” Sam said and her heart sank, wondering how long Robin had kept this from her.

“Does that surprise you?” Rey asked.

“I had no idea,” she said.

“Robin was onto something, but I don’t want to say more over the phone.”

“I’ll meet you,” Sam said. “You name the place and I’ll be there.”

“Ever been on a ride along with a police officer?” Rey asked.

“You’re a police officer?”

“Yes.”

She decided to make a guess. “A Grandview police officer?”

“Yes,” Rey said.

Sam took a deep breath, feeling a small sense of triumph. What she had started to speculate was beginning slowly to fall into place. I’ve never been on a ride along,” she said.

“They can be a real eye-opener.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“What about the day after tomorrow?”

“Friday?” Sam said moving into her bedroom.

She put her drink down on the desk to scan her date book.  “Perfect,” she said.

“I’m working graveyard. There’s some things I think you’ll want to see.”

Sam could not contain either her excitement or her growing sense of fear. She found it hard to swallow before she could answer. “What time should I be there and where?”

“You’ll need to sign a release form before you can ride with me. Call Sergeant Albert in the morning. Tell him you’re a reporter and you’ll be doing a ride along.”

“How will I be guaranteed to ride with you?”

“It won’t be a problem.” Rey said.

“I’ll call Sergeant Albert in the morning.”

“Good, I’ll see you about eleven. You won’t be able to attend our briefing, but wait in the lobby and I’ll come get you. And Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Dress warm.”

“Thanks for the tip,” she said.

“See you Friday.”

Rey was about to hang up when she quickly spoke.

“Rey, what changed your mind?”

There was a brief silence. “Let’s talk Friday,” he said and hung up without giving her another chance to speak.

Sam stared at the silent phone for a moment before she hit the talk button. She picked up her drink and went to the kitchen. She thought of meeting Rey Estrada as she poured more whisky into her glass. His change of heart was odd. Though she felt some relief that he was a Grandview police officer, and certain that she wouldn’t be walking into a trap come Friday, she couldn’t help questioning his motives. And she was grateful for the help.

Sam was seized briefly by fear that he might be the killer. Then she remembered what Ruth had said.
Trust that still, small voice.

Sam started to take a drink, but stopped and pursed her lips the moment the liquor touched them. The smell made her stomach turn and she pulled the glass away and stared at the liquid swimming in the bottom of the glass. The acid in the pit of her stomach was bubbling.
How can I help Robin like this?

Sam walked to the kitchen sink. She poured the rest of the whisky in her glass and in the bottle down the drain.

Sam arrived at the Grandview Police Department before eleven p.m. on Friday and waited in the lobby. It was deserted and cast in a semi-darkness that she found soothing. She allowed the quiet to surround her until a door opening on the other side of the lobby broke the stillness. She watched as police officers filed from the room.

An officer carrying a clipboard approached her. She knew he wasn’t Rey. He was short, stocky and looked to be about fifty. From the sound of Rey’s voice, Sam had guessed him to be much younger.

“Samantha Church?” the officer said matter-of-factly looking briefly from the clipboard to Sam.

She nodded. “It’s Sam.”

“I’m Sergeant Albert. We spoke briefly yesterday.”

“Yes,” Sam said again.

The sergeant nodded without looking at her, keeping his eyes fixed on the clipboard. “You’ll be riding with Rey Estrada. He’ll be along shortly,” Sergeant Albert said. “You’ll need to wait here.”

“Thank you,” Sam said and settled in the chair and watched the sergeant disappear behind another door. She carried a new reporter’s notebook and a few pens. She seldom went to any interview without extra pens. She also had her winter jacket, hat and gloves.

Moments later the door opened again and four officers filed out. Outside the door, they huddled together in a tight-knit group and held hands. Their heads were bowed. Sam could tell they were talking, but couldn’t hear them. The group separated and three of the officers headed for the main doors and the fourth turned in Sam’s direction.

As he neared, Sam immediately felt an impression of calm that radiated from the core. He was smiling at her, polite and courteous. Sam guessed him to be six feet, maybe more. He was muscular, but in the right proportions. He wore a long-sleeved uniform that was unbuttoned at the collar. Along with the white T-shirt showing through the opened collar, a crucifix dangled from a gold chain.

He carried a heavy dark-blue jacket under one arm, a briefcase in one hand and his officer’s hat in the other. He looked to be about twenty-five. When he reached her, she got to her feet. “You must be Sam?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Glad to meet you, I’m Officer Estrada.” His dark eyes beamed with a velvety softness that pacified her.

“Good to meet you, officer.”

“Call me Rey,” he said and put his briefcase on the floor to extend his hand in her direction. His face was fresh and clean shaven, his dark hair cut close to his head. She was surprised at the naturalness he had about meeting her. “Ready?” he asked as they shook hands.

Sam nodded and he pointed toward the lobby doors. When Rey Estrada picked up his briefcase, Sam saw the thick band of gold around his left ring finger.

The night was clear and cold and the half moon peered down on them as they left the building and crossed the parking lot. Rey’s patrol car was running when they reached it. The vehicle was white with blue lettering and the words
Grandview Police Department
were written in bold blue letters across the car doors. Stenciled in lighter blue letters below were the words,
to serve and protect
.

The warm interior made the car inviting, despite the shotgun strapped securely in a holster between the driver’s and passenger’s seat, and the mesh screen that separated the front and back seats. The parking lights were on and the interior panel glowed green. The police radio crackled low with a female dispatcher’s collected but direct voice dispatching a unit to an address where a domestic dispute was in progress.

“Is that you?” Sam said when Rey got in the car.

“Nah,” he said and buckled his seat belt. “Different district.” Rey keyed the handset to his radio to notify the dispatcher they were leaving.

“Ten-four,” the dispatcher replied.

Rey turned to Sam. “Buckle up,” he said.

“Have you been a police officer long?” she asked, buckling her belt as instructed.

He glanced briefly at her before returning his attention to the road, but it was long enough for her to notice a glint in his eye. “Going on three years,” he said. “Some days I still feel like a rookie. Other times I feel like I’ve done this forever.”

“How does Grandview compare with other police departments in the metro area?”

“Golden and Grandview are about the same size population-wise, about twenty-five thousand residents, give or take. The police departments are similar. We have about 46 employees. That’s a combination of officers and civilians. We have a police chief and a couple of commanders. There are four detectives and patrol officers who make up the rest of the department.”

“How many civilians work in the department?”

“It varies, but usually between ten and twelve.”

They drove in silence for a moment.

“Of course you know we have a pretty good drug task force unit. Your husband does a pretty good job of running that.”

Sam nodded. “Ex,” she reminded him.

“Are you from here?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I was born here, but my father and grandfather are from the Dominican Republic.”

“Were they police officers, too?” she asked.

“Everyone in my family has been a police officer. Runs in our blood, I guess. That makes my grandfather, his two brothers and my dad and two of his brothers. Everyone except an uncle retired from the force. He was killed responding to an armed robbery. He was shot in the face and died instantly. He’d been on the force fifteen years, but I never really knew him. I was eight when he died, but I remember the funeral. There were so many cops there.”

The radio interrupted their conversation with a report of another domestic disturbance. “That’s us this time,” he said and told the dispatcher he was en route.

“We’ll go without all the bells and whistles,” Rey said and continued with his story. “My grandfather retired as the chief of police of a small town in the Dominican Republic, but my father remained a street cop all his life. He never wanted the administrative hassles.”

“What about you?”

He thought a moment before he answered. “Part of me wants to stay on the streets like my dad, because that’s where I feel most at home. It’s what I do best. Then there’s another part of me that likes the idea of running a department. Nothing too big, though. Maybe a mountain town.”

“What are you, twenty-five?”

“Twenty-nine in June.”

“How long have you been married?” Sam asked, looking again to the gold band on his finger.

“Six years.” Rey answered her next question before she could ask. “I’ve got two little girls, two and four.”

Thoughts of April were on the edge of her mind, about to invade her thinking, but she did not allow them. They turned off Wadsworth to a residential street. Emergency lights from the other police cruisers lit up the street. She noticed that, despite a temperature that hovered around twenty degrees, the excitement and commotion had brought people out of their homes.

Rey parked the squad car across the street. They got out of the car. Sam saw a tall, thin man standing in the yard wearing only a pair of jeans. His long stringy hair was unkempt and a full beard covered his face. His arms were wrapped around his midsection in an attempt to shield against the cold. He bounced back and forth from one foot to the other to keep one from touching the frozen ground for too long. It seemed uncomfortable, almost painful for him to stand still, and watching him made Sam shiver. He yelled obscenities, but slurred most of his words. He was drunk or high and Sam felt embarrassed for him.

She watched from a distance how easily and quickly Rey assessed and handled the situation. When the officers first approached the man, he was belligerent and combative. He wouldn’t let them near him. But it only took Rey a few minutes to persuade the man to let him get closer. One of the other officers handed Rey a blanket and he encouraged the man to wrap it around him.

By the time they arrested the man for chasing his wife through their house with a carving knife, he had allowed Rey to handcuff him. Rey persuaded him to get in another officer’s squad car and go to jail.

When Rey returned to his police car Sam was leaning against the car door, her arms stuffed deep in her coat pockets.

“Let’s get back in the car where it’s warm,” he said.

“You handled that very well,” she said as they drove away.

“Thanks,” he said shrugging off her praise. “I hate domestics, though. You never know what you’re going to find when you get there. You never know how people are going to react.”

They were on Wadsworth before Rey spoke again. “Are you hungry? I could sure use a bite to eat.”

“Coffee would be great,” she said, rubbing the sides of her arms.

They didn’t speak again until they were seated in an all-night diner. Rey had greeted the server and they gave their orders.

“When we’re through, we’re going back to the department,” Rey said. “I want to show you something.”

“What’s going on, Rey?”

“You must know your sister was on to something big,” Rey said and reached for a container of cream to stir into his coffee.

Sam nodded and thought of the materials she found in Robin’s office. “I do now.”

“I think she probably figured out who was behind all this but ...”

“They killed her before she had the chance to tell someone,” Sam said, finishing his sentence.

“I was gone with my family for the holidays when she paged me. I think that’s why she paged me because she finally figured out something important.”

“That’s how you communicated, wasn’t it? By pager?”

Rey nodded and continued. “We knew it wouldn’t be safe for anyone to see us talking. When she wanted to talk to me or vice-versa we’d page each other.”

“Why didn’t you return Robin’s page on Christmas Eve?”

“I didn’t have my pager. I make it a point sometimes to be with my family. I didn’t see her message until it was too late.”

Rey stopped and stared into his coffee cup. He absently traced the rim of the cup with his finger. “But by then it was too late, she was already gone.”

Sam nodded slowly and wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, finally getting warm.

“I saw you at the funeral,” Rey said. “Robin talked about you all the time.”

“I bet that was interesting,” Sam said and hoped he had not witnessed Brady’s tantrum.

She watched him for a response. But he only looked at her with soft, dark eyes. A look that wounded her. “How did you and Robin hook up?” Sam said, directing queries away from herself.

“We attended a seminar and sat next to each other. I knew she was about to go to trial with a drug case I was part of, so I asked her how it was going.”

The waitress brought their food, setting eggs, toast, hash browns and bacon in front of Sam and oatmeal and a large stack of pancakes before Rey. The fresh smell of breakfast food suddenly made Sam hungry. “Why did you ask her that?” She asked as she put jelly on a slice of toast.

“We arrested a group of Mexican nationals at one of the motels along the I-70 corridor west of Denver. They were carrying drugs in their van. The hotel clerk became suspicious when they checked in and called us. We responded and brought Max.”

“Max?”

“Our drug dog. When we took him out to the van, he went crazy. We asked for consent to search the vehicle.”

“What did you find?”

“Six kilos of cocaine.”

“What happened?”

“We arrested them. They were deported, but not before they turned us onto a bigger fish that turned out to be a pretty good catch.”

“Then what happened?”

“That’s what I want to show you at the department. But we have to wait until after two a.m. Shari, one of the 911 dispatchers, will cover for us while we’re in records.”

Rey’s words made the color drain from Sam’s face. For the first time she could understand the importance of what Robin was delving into and Rey’s initial reluctance to help. She took a deep breath, unsure of how to respond.

“Are you all right?” Rey asked.

She nodded. “I hate to think of the kind of people we’re dealing with, these drug dealers.”

Rey studied her intently. “They’d pull your heart out through your throat and not break a sweat.”

She felt fear begin to crawl slowly up her spine.

“Do you want me to go on?” he asked evenly.

“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation.

“There was more than drugs in that van,” he said. “There was cash, too.”

“How much?”

“Fifty-seven thousand dollars.”

Rey had finished his oatmeal and was covering his pancakes in syrup.

“Just sitting on the seat?” Sam asked.

“No,” Rey said, taking a bite of pancake, “In a secret compartment hidden beneath the van. It had been built specially into it. They come like that, you know.”

Sam laughed in surprise. “Sounds like something out of James Bond,” she said.

“That’s not unusual. Those vehicles and planes too, for that matter are designed especially for smuggling drugs. Drug dealers are a very elite group, Sam, and they don’t like to mess around. Like I said they’d rip your fingernails off…”