Murder on Potrero Hill (19 page)

“Thank you,” he muttered as she walked away.

He looked out the window and watched the traffic for a few minutes. The fog was breaking up and sunlight was shining down. A few people meandered down the sidewalk and a young man turned into the diner.

Jake could view her birth certificate himself because he had her social security number and her birthdate, but it would mean going on-line. The minute he turned on his tablet, the police would know where he was. He had no doubt they could track him by it.

He had to know. He had to find out what Mr. Goldman meant. He reached into his backpack and pulled out his tablet. He set it on the table before him, then searched through his backpack for a pen and paper. He didn’t have one.

Pushing back his chair, he went to the counter where the waitress was taking the young man’s order. “Can I borrow a pen and some paper?”

She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a pen, handing it to him. Then she tore off one of her order sheets and passed that to him as well. He went back to his table, then sat staring at the tablet a moment longer. How long did he have before they could dispatch someone here?

He didn’t have any choice. He’d get on, hopefully find what he needed quickly, then log off again. Turning on the tablet, he pulled up a search engine, located the proper government agency and found the birth certificates. He opened another window on the tablet and looked up Zoë’s personal information, punching it into the form. While he waited for the tablet to think, he stared out the window, expecting to see a bunch of police cars screech to a halt outside the restaurant like in the movies.

When he looked back, he saw Zoë’s name. Using his index finger, he tapped it. A form opened up across the screen with the official seal of California across the top. He glanced down the form, then stopped.

His heart slammed against his ribs and he scanned it again, coming to a stop at the same place. What the hell! He read it a third time, but nothing changed. It just didn’t make sense. This couldn’t be right.

“Can I get you anything else?” asked the waitress.

Jake jumped and looked up at her. She was giving him a frank stare, then looked down at the check. He reached for his wallet and pulled out a twenty. She took it and the check, walking away. Jake glanced back at the form, reading it a fourth time.

He grabbed the paper and jotted a name on it, then closed the file, but before he turned off the tablet he hesitated. Pulling up the search engine again, he typed in
Neal Goldman, Esq
. He located his office on Scott Street and wrote it next to the name on his paper. Then he folded the paper and put it in his pocket, leaving the pen on the table.

As he reached for the tablet, he hesitated. He knew the cops had to have mapped his location by now. Maybe he could use this to his advantage. Pulling up the memo function on the tablet, he typed a note to them and then looked up as the waitress brought him his change.

“Here you are, baby,” she said.

He pulled out a bigger than normal tip and held it out to her. “I have a favor to ask you.”

She took the tip, her brows lowering in a frown. “Yeah?”

He held the tablet out to her as well. “When the cops show up here in a few minutes, give this to them, please.”

“Cops?”

“Yeah. Please, it’s important.”

She took the tablet and gave him a scowl. “What’s this about?”

He grabbed Zoë’s journal and picked up the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. “Please. Just give it to them. It’s more important than you can imagine.”

“I don’t want to get involved in no crime,” she said.

“You aren’t. I just need them to have some information and I can’t give it to them myself. Please?”

Her frown deepened and she took a step back from the table. “Okay, but I don’t want to get involved.”

“Thank you,” he said, easing around her. “I am forever in your debt.”

She made a grunt, but didn’t respond. Jake hurried to the door and slipped outside. He didn’t know if she would do what he asked, but it didn’t matter. He had very little time to get out of the Richmond District before they arrived.

CHAPTER 11

“What did I tell you about Claire Harper, Brooks?” came the voice on the other end of the line.

Peyton closed her eyes briefly and then looked out at the traffic on 19
th
Avenue. She glanced at Marco in the driver’s seat. “Hey, Captain. How are you this lovely, sunshiny San Francisco morning?”

“Cut the shit, Brooks. This morning I’ve talked with Claire Harper for forty-five minutes about your interview last night. And then…and then I received a call from Dwight Boyd. You remember who he is, Brooks?”

“The Chief M.E.”

“The Chief M.E.,” repeated the captain. “You think we might need his cooperation in the future, Brooks, do you?”

“Yes, but Captain…”

“Did you ask Claire Harper why she hasn’t pulled the plug on her husband? Just tell me that, Brooks. Tell me you didn’t ask a grieving mother why she doesn’t pull the plug on her comatose husband!”

Marco glanced over and gave her a concerned look.

Peyton shrugged. “It was relevant, Captain.”

“Relevant? How?”

“We’re working on that.”

We’re?
mouthed Marco.

Peyton ignored him.

“You’d better be working on it, Brooks. You’d better damn well be working on it. And before you approach Claire Harper again, you’d better clue me in. You hear me? You’d better damn well clue me in.”

“You got it, Captain. You’ll be clued the minute we get something.”

“I’m not joking, Brooks.”

“I know that, Captain.”

Defino hung up before Peyton could say goodbye. She lowered the phone.

“You got any ass left?” said Marco.

“Funny. You’re a regular comedian. I didn’t see you backing me up.”

“You’re a big girl, you can take it. So, Captain heard from the Queen Bee, eh?”

“And Boyd. You know, I’ve been thinking…” She was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. “Hold on.” She thumbed it on and lifted it to her ear. “Brooks?”

“Hey, we got a ping on Ryder.” She recognized Stan Neumann’s voice.

“Sorry. A ping?”

“He turned on his tablet and he was on long enough for us to pick up a location.”

Peyton reached for her notebook and pen. “Give it to me.”

Stan read her the address.

“What is it?”

“Some diner or something.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Peyton dropped the phone into her pocket. “You’re gonna need to turn around. Stan picked up a location for Ryder through his tablet.” She held the address out to him.

Marco slipped the Charger into the left lane and hit the lights. “Let’s hope we get there before the bastard leaves.”

Peyton nodded and braced herself against the center console and the door as Marco flipped a U-turn.

“You were saying something about you thinking?” prompted Marco.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you later. Let’s just see if we can catch Ryder.”

They fell silent as Marco whipped through the traffic. Peyton squinted, hating this part of it. She liked driving herself when they had to hit the lights. With every swerve and brake, she was sure Marco was going to plow them into the other cars. And people did such stupid things when they heard a siren. Instead of just stopping where they were, they would swerve out of traffic no matter how dangerous it was. She was amazed more people weren’t hurt when police responded to a call.

After a heart stopping few minutes of white-knuckle driving, they pulled up in front of the diner. Peyton climbed out of the Charger and reached the door before Marco had finished putting the car in park. He met her at the entrance, but Peyton could see they were already too late.

A few construction guys were sitting at the counter. Two women were in a booth, talking and sipping coffee, and a kid with a backpack sat in the far corner. A waitress with glasses looked up as they entered, but there was no sign of Ryder.

Peyton reached for her badge and approached the counter, showing it to the waitress. She looked at it, then bent down and retrieved something from under the counter, passing it over the cash register to her.

“I don’t want no trouble,” she said.

Peyton held the tablet up for Marco to see, then she looked at the waitress. “Can you describe the man who gave this to you?”

“Medium height. Brown hair parted on the side. Bit of a beard. White.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“Took off up Geary toward the ocean. Don’t know where he went after that.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“Nope. Just asked me to give it to the cops when they showed up.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Marco nodded at the door. “Let’s see if we can catch him.”

Peyton stepped back, carrying the tablet with her. “Thank you,” she said.

The waitress shrugged.

Peyton followed Marco from the diner and waited while he opened the car, then she slipped into the passenger seat. Marco dropped into the driver’s seat and started the car, then wheeled out into traffic again, headed west on Geary. He didn’t turn on the lights or his siren. He obviously didn’t want to alert Jake if he was still around.

On impulse, Peyton slid her fingers across the tablet’s dark surface. It sprang to life with a chime of bells. A note appeared on the screen and she read it.
Check Zoë’s birth certificate.
It wasn’t signed, but she knew who wrote it.

Looking up, she glanced at the people wandering up and down Geary. “Go back to the precinct,” she said. “I’m sure he’s gone.”

Marco shot a glance at her. “You don’t think we should look?”

She held up the tablet for him to see.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Don’t know, but let’s go look up her birth certificate.”

“Whatever you say,” he answered, moving into the left turn lane to make another U-turn. “What do you suppose we’re gonna find there?”

“With this case, who the hell knows? It’ll probably say she’s an alien.”

“Oh, like the gardener’s kid or something?”

“No, not like the gardener’s kid or something. Like a space alien.”

“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense,” sneered Marco.

“It was a joke, D’Angelo. Jeez, you work with a guy as long as I have and you’d think a sense of humor would rub off on him.”

“Seems to me you’ve got to have something first before it becomes contagious.”

“Just drive,” she snarled and began thumbing through the files Jake had on the tablet.

“Better not let your boyfriend see your lovely morning personality, Brooks,” he muttered.

Peyton glared at him. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said.

*   *   *

Jake sank into the last seat at the back of the bus and slid over to make room for the skinny kid with the long hair and sandals.  It alarmed him to think how adept he was at riding the bus for free. No one had even once tried to stop him.

He placed the backpack on his lap and unzipped it, pulling out Zoë’s journal. He wanted to flip through it again and make sure she hadn’t written anything else after the entry about the birth certificate. He leaned back in the seat and started at the first page. He turned each one, rubbing them between his thumb and first two fingers to make sure none of them stuck together.

He came to the last entry and did the same thing for the blank pages. When he got to the end, he hesitated. Taped to the back cover was a scrap of paper. It wasn’t just stuck there with a few strips. Zoë had meticulously taped its entire surface.

Jake lowered the backpack between his feet and braced the journal on his lap, then he carefully began peeling off the tape. The young man next to him looked down and watched him, but Jake only half noticed he was there.

Once he had gotten a few strips undone, he could wedge his thumb beneath the note and pry it up. Closing the journal, he dumped it in the backpack, then gently pulled apart the edges of the note until he had a full piece of paper. Laying it across his thighs, he smoothed it out, staring at Zoë’s handwriting without reading it. The letter was addressed to him.

He became aware that the young man was watching him. Angling his body toward the window, he hunched over the note, so that no one else could see it.

Jake,

Oh, God, I don’t know how to write this or if I’ll ever be able to give it to you. Before I begin, you must know I love you. I know I haven’t been the best wife, but you have always been there for me, patient and loving, even when I pushed you away.

And I know I’ve been pushing you away a lot more lately. I’m so ashamed, I can’t even look you in the eye. I never expected this to happen and I would give anything if it hadn’t. I didn’t mean it, but I’m sure that won’t be any comfort at all.

I betrayed our marriage and I betrayed your trust. Oh, God, how can I ever say this to you in person? You have the right to know the truth, but I can’t bear the pain I know I’ll see, the shock and disappointment. I don’t think I can bear having you look at me like I’m tainted in some way.

How do you explain what I don’t even understand? I received some shocking news, so I went home to find out the truth. Dad was apparently filing for divorce before his stroke and if that wasn’t enough, I found out something even more devastating. Something I can’t even write here.

Mom wasn’t at the house, but Brandon was. I was pretty hysterical, crying and everything, so he offered me a drink.

I swear I only had the one drink, but the next thing I knew it was many hours later and I woke up in bed with Brandon.  Oh, God, Jake, I’m so sorry. I would give anything to take it back. I don’t even remember what happened. I must have passed out or blacked out or something.

Please, please believe that I would never have consciously betrayed our marital vows. I would never have cheated on you, not for anything in the world. I pray that you will be able to forgive me. I pray that you won’t give up on us, but I know that this will be such a shock, such a horrible, nightmare of a shock. I am filled with such guilt and shame. Every time you touch me, I feel as if I’m betraying you all over again.

And because of this, I know I will never be able to give you this letter. I just can’t destroy what we have. I know that is horribly selfish of me, but I can’t. May God have mercy on me.

Zoë

Jake curled the letter into his fist and closed his eyes, hunching his shoulders. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling any more pain, any more anguish, but he was. The guilt she carried with her up until the moment she died. The pain she must have been hiding. And he’d never done anything to help her, to find out why.

“Dude,” came a voice beside him and a hand closed on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Jake realized his face was wet and he rubbed the tears away with the back of his fist. “Yeah,” he said, but his voice was strained. “Yeah, I’m okay. Where are we?”

“
Divisadero and Pacific Avenue.”

“Thanks.” He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, then he smoothed her letter out on his thighs again. He reached for her journal, folded it in half, and placed it inside, then he returned them both to the backpack.

If he ever saw Brandon Dixon again, that son-of-a-bitch was dead.

*   *   *

Peyton set the tablet on the desk and sank into her desk chair, pressing the button on her desktop to boot it up. Marco took a seat across from her, swiveling to study the white board.

Maria wandered over to them and leaned a hip on Marco’s desk. “Hey, Marco baby,” she said, “Captain wants an update on the case as soon as you get a moment.”

Peyton frowned at her as she typed her password into the keyboard.

“We’re working on something right now, Maria,” said Marco, “but as soon as we find out, we’ll check in with her.”

“Hey, Maria,” Peyton said. “I could use a cup of coffee. No cream, but at least a tablespoon of sugar.”

Maria sneered at Peyton. “Captain was
pissed
this morning,” she said. “Talking about taking your badge.”

Peyton smiled. “I’d also like a donut, chocolate if we got it.”

“Kiss my ass,” hissed Maria, walking away.

Peyton caught the shaking of Marco’s head before she focused on the screen. She typed in the California Department of Public Health website address. “Hey, look through the file and see if we have Zoë’s social.”

Marco swiveled around and reached for the file. He thumbed a few pages, then called out the numbers for her. Peyton typed them into the birth certificate form. She reached for a pencil as she waited for the website to think, drumming the eraser on her desk blotter.