“You said as far as you were concerned?” Chloe asked.

  “Yeah. I decided to look around…do some digging on him when he came back. It seemed like nothing serious at first. I’m not one to judge a man, you know? We all make mistakes.”

  After hearing this, Moulton opened the folder. There were only three sheets inside of it. He scanned them and read the juicer parts out loud. “Assault in 2003, spousal abuse in 2006, arrested for public indecency in Roanoke in 2009.” Moulton raised his eyebrows. “And you never suspected a thing after he came to you?”

  “I did, of course,” Jenkins said, a little offended. And for a while, I continuously checked up on him. Drove by the job sites, called the people that hired him. And I never got a single complaint. However…the timing with his being fired by Hilyard and then her showing up murdered…yeah, that’s hard to look past.”

  “Do you have an address for him?” Chloe asked.

  “It’s there in the folder. You want me to come along?”

  “I don’t think so. For now, let’s just play it safe and pay him a visit…see what comes from it. But be ready to move in the event we need assistance. And if you have a cell or interrogation room, can you make sure it’s ready to go?”

  “Oh yeah, I can handle that.”

  Moulton was already typing Alvarez’s address into his GPS app. When he had it plugged in, he nodded to Chloe. “Thanks, Sheriff,” he said.

  Chloe nodded to him as she exited the office. She saw that the aging sheriff looked a little relieved not to be headed out. She wondered if it was so he could place the blame solely on the FBI if this murder did indeed have ties to something political.

  Best not to give him anything to place blame about, then, Chloe thought as they headed back through the station and out toward the car where night had started to fall.

  ***

  The town of Winston made the lesser part of Barnes Point look classy by comparison. The little town consisted of a convenience store that doubled as a fried chicken restaurant and a post office. Anything else the town might have was hiding down the winding back roads that snaked into the rural Virginia woodland.

  Because of the town’s small size, they were able to find Oscar Alverez’s address quickly. His double-wide trailer sat about a quarter of a mile off the road, visible only because of the rather well-maintained driveway. When they parked behind the truck that read First Choice Handyman on the side, Chloe noted the shed that was being built on the backside of the property. She recalled Jenkins saying the work Alverez did was better than anyone else in Barnes Point. If the foundation for shed was any indication, he was exactly right.

  As they walked across the yard toward the porch, the porch light came on and the front door opened. A Hispanic man looked out at them, his dark hair and beard seeming to stretch out into the night.

  “Who’s there?” he asked.

  Quick to come to the door when he saw headlights, Chloe thought. Seems a little suspicious to me…

  She noticed Moulton stepping up ahead of her, taking a protective position. She couldn’t help but smile as he slowly pulled his ID from his jacket pocket. “Agents Moulton and Fine, FBI,” he said.

  “FBI? What the hell for?”

  His accent was not very thick. He sounded just like any other suspicious American. It made Chloe wonder just how long Alvarez had been in the country. She also wondered—perhaps a bit stereotypically—if he’d have anything to worry about in terms of legal standing as a US citizen.

  “We’d just like to ask you some questions,” Moulton said.

  “No,” Alvarez said, clear panic in his voice. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “No one is saying you have,” Chloe said. They had reached the porch by then but stopped at the bottom of the stairs. They wanted to give Alverez every indication that they were not here to be intrusive. “We’re only here to ask about a woman you recently worked for.”

  Alvarez considered this for a minute and then stepped out onto the porch. He closed the door behind him and leaned a hip against the porch railing.

  “Are you not going to invite us in?” Chloe asked.

  “No. What woman are you talking about?”

  “Lauren Hilyard. We were told you were working on flower beds for her and she fired you.”

  “Yeah, that lady is crazy. Loco.”

  “Can you tell us why she fired you?” Moulton asked.

  “I don’t even know why, man. She said I was getting too much dirt in her yard. Said I was being too rough with the grass. And then she called me a pervert because of things I did in the past. That bitch started screaming at me, right in the front yard.”

  “Did you leave right away?”

  Alvarez nodded, but stayed quiet.

  “Yes or no, Mr. Alvarez?”

  “I don’t know what else you want to know. I left when she told me I was fired. She didn’t even pay me. And I haven’t bothered trying to get it out of her because I don’t want to deal with her crazy ass again.”

  “Would it surprise you to know that Lauren Hilyard was killed several days ago?” Chloe asked.

  She looked for some sign of shock on Alvarez’s face, but there was none. If there had been, it would have been quite visible in the glow of the porch light.

  “No, I did not know that.”

  “It’s believed she was killed just a day or two after she fired you.”

  “Oh, and you think I did it?”

  “I said no such thing,” Chloe said. “You just happen to be the last person that she was in a verbal confrontation with.”

  “That makes me guilty?”

  “Stop doing this,” Moulton asked. “Look…you’re refusing to allow us inside your house. You’re being a little difficult with our questions. All of that does make you suspicious. Especially when you consider the criminal record you have.”

  “That’s in the past. And I’m done with this. Goodnight, Agents.”

  “No, we aren’t done,” Chloe said. “Mr. Alvarez, can you give us proof of your whereabouts Saturday night and Sunday of last week?”

  He nodded and said, “I could.”

  And then he opened his door and headed back inside.

  “Mr. Alvarez, if I have to, I will arrest you. We can question you here or at the station.”

  “This is discrimination,” Alvarez said. He gave a slight smile, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. “Prejudice.”

  “No, this is you being difficult to work with,” Chloe said.

  “And this,” Moulton said, stepping up onto the porch, “is me arresting you.”

  He moved with a speed Chloe had not been expecting. It was almost like a dance in a way. He managed to spin Alvarez around and bring each arm behind his back without being too rough. By the time the cuffs were on Alvarez, he looked as if he wasn’t quite sure what had just happened.

  “Go,” Moulton said. “To the car. Now, Mr. Alvarez.”

  The smile was no longer on Alvarez’s face. He had tried to play the prejudice card and it had backfired. Besides…Chloe figured that this was not the kind of community that was going to toss him too much sympathy just because of his ethnicity. He had a criminal record and most of the people in Barnes Point already had negative views of him.

  Guilty or not, she doubted anyone was going to have much sympathy for him in Barnes Point. She figured they’d find out soon enough as they escorted him in cuffs to the back of their car. He didn’t say a word the entire time and came along easily enough. It made Chloe feel uneasy—a feeling that had still not let up by the time they reached the precinct.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Chloe and Moulton both sat on the opposite side of the small table, facing Oscar Alvarez. “I’m not exactly sure why you chose to do things this way,” Chloe said. “If you are innocent, why not answer our questions?”

  “Because I am tired of everyone doubting me. I am tired of everyone thinking that I did not change. I did very dumb things. But that was in the past. That is not me anymore.”

  “So where were you all day Sunday? That was when Lauren Hilyard was murdered. Can you give your whereabouts?”

  “I was at home. Listening to the preacher from Lynchburg on my TV. After that, I went out for a while.”

  “Where?”

  “To the grocery store. Then to a friend’s house.”

  “Who is the friend?”

  Alvarez shook his head. “They are not involved.”

  “We’re not saying they are. But if we can get a picture of where you were around the time Mrs. Hilyard was killed, we can let you go. It’s rather silly we had to bring you in the way we did.”

  “I agree,” Alvarez said. “Am I being charged with her murder? Do you have evidence?”

  “No, not at this time,” Moulton said.

  “So you will let me go. I know the laws.”

  Something occurred to Chloe, something that had gnawed at her a bit while they had been standing out on Alvarez’s porch steps. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said, mostly to Moulton, but loud enough so they could both hear her.

  She stepped out of the small interrogation room. The viewing room was the next door down. She found Sheriff Jenkins there with two other officers, watching the interrogation on a small flat-screen television.

  “I think we need to get someone over to Oscar Alverez’s house,” she said. “He’s hiding something. And he was adamant about not letting us into his trailer.”

  “I’d need a warrant for that,” Jenkins said.

  “Go over and just check the place out. Don’t go inside or anything like that. Take a look around. See if you can find some sort of justification for going inside.”

  “You think he’s the killer?” one of the officers asked.

  “No idea. But he is hiding something. And I think whatever it is will answer your questions.”

  “Let’s hop to it then,” Jenkins said. “You good here?” he asked Chloe.

  “Yes. And thanks for your help.”

  As Jenkins and the officers left the room, Chloe walked back into the interrogation room. Moulton was in the middle of asking Alvarez if he’d had any shouting matches with other clients.

  “I’ve had disagreements in the past, but nothing like that.”

  “Were you aware that a woman on the other side of the street, just a few houses down, saw the altercation?”

  “No. I didn’t know that.”

  Chloe took a breath and leaned forward, doing her best to appear sympathetic. “Level with us, Mr. Alvarez. We know you’re trying to hide something—maybe some secret. And when we have you here trying to get answers in the midst of a murder investigation, that looks incredibly bad.”

  “No, I’m hiding nothing.” But even as he said it, he looked away and stirred uncomfortably in his seat.

  “The sooner you can tell us, the easier it will be on you. If you try to ride this out and we find out that you were lying…it’s going to be bad. Even if whatever secret you have has nothing to do with Lauren Hilyard.”

  Alvarez looked to the table, to his interlaced fingers. He looked back at Chloe and Moulton, and then back to his hands—back and forth like a metronome as he wrestled with something.

  “If I tell…there could be trouble. For me, maybe. But it’s not me I am worried about.”

  “If you’re honest with us, perhaps we can help,” Chloe said.

  He then chose to look at them directly. Chloe was shocked to see the glistening of tears in the corners of his eyes. “It is…my cousin.”

  “What about him?” Moulton asked.

  “He is staying with me for right now. He hopes to find carpentry work somewhere. I wish I could hire him, but I can’t. I am letting him stay with me until we find work for him somewhere.”

  “Why would you keep that a secret?” Chloe asked. But before the question was fully out of her mouth, she thought she knew. As an American, you couldn’t turn on the news these days without hearing some story about it—no matter what side of the argument you fell on.

  “How long has he been with you?” Moulton asked.

  “Two days. I spent Saturday driving to Georgia to pick him up. We stayed overnight and came home Sunday. He came in somewhere by Eagle Pass, Texas, several days ago and has been hitchhiking ever since. He is not supposed to be here, according to the government. Please…he can’t go back. Let me keep him here, for a better life.”

  Well, what a little mess we’ve stumbled into, Chloe thought.

  “Is he at your trailer right now?” Moulton asked. “Is that why you would not let us come in?”

  “Yes,” Alvarez said.

  “But he can confirm that you were on the road, coming back from Georgia, on Sunday?” Chloe asked.

  “Yes, he can.”

  “And he’s here illegally?” Moulton asked.

  Alvarez nodded curtly and said: “Yes, whatever the hell that means.”

  “We honestly care nothing about that,” Chloe said. “How that is handled will come down to Sheriff Jenkins. We are more concerned with the murder case. And if your cousin can clear you, then you are free to go.”

  She stood up again and mouthed “One second” to Moulton. She then stepped outside of the room and called Jenkins to give him a heads-up of what he was about to step into. She found herself legitimately concerned for Alvarez and the outcome of his situation—particularly while living in a rural town in the South.

  Jenkins answered and Chloe filled him in. When she was done, she was met with a heavy silence that was broken only by Jenkins uttering a curse. He thanked her and then hung up, leaving Chloe to listen to a dead line.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Danielle had gotten a lot accomplished in the past twelve hours but she still felt as if she had done no real work. She’d gone back to the bar and made sure the new bartender was still as good as always (she was) and then spent most of the rest of the afternoon talking to ABC vendors and audio installation experts.

  Now she was relaxing at home—home being Sam’s huge apartment—with a glass of wine and a book. It was 9:30, a full hour and a half after Sam was scheduled to be back home. It was nothing new, as he came and went all the time, his schedule keeping him consistently busy.

  But as the clock ticked to 9:31, Danielle’s suspicion grew too heavy to ignore. She walked to the bedroom and found his secondary iPad charging on the bedside table. She unlocked it (the code was the score of the Patriots vs. Falcons Super Bowl) and opened up his calendar. Under today’s date, he had nothing scheduled for after 7 p.m.

  She then went to his text messages. Her suspicion arose again when she found that there were only two text threads on it: one between him and her that went back several months, and another between him and the lumber provider he was using for the new bar and lounge remodel. But she had seen the countless text threads on his phone. Why had this iPad been cleaned out?

  Stop pretending like you know anything about how technology works, she told herself. Maybe most of the other messages go directly to his phone. What the hell are you looking for anyway?

  She set the iPad down and went back into the living room. No sooner had she picked up her glass of wine than she heard the familiar sound of his key in the lock. She quickly sat back down, wanting to assume the position of a woman who had lazily been lounging around, waiting for him to get home.

  He came through the door carrying his briefcase in one hand and his more rugged and beaten up bookbag over his shoulder. There were also little flakes of sawdust in his hair. She sometimes made fun of the different roles he had to assume in the course of a day: one minute a bartender, the next, a carpenter; after that, a businessman.

  “I know, I know,” he said. “I’m late.”

  “And you have sawdust in your hair,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, I know. I was playing with the skill saw down at the lounge. But hey…the stage is coming along great. Did you get those speakers we were talking about?”

  “I did. They ship out tomorrow.”

  He set his bags down by the door and looked apologetically at her. “I know it’s late. Did you have anything planned?”

  “No. It’s okay. We can do dinner or something tomorrow.”

  “You sure?”

  “Sam…it’s fine.”

  “Okay. Well…why don’t you find something for us to watch? This sawdust is itching my neck and scalp. I need to hop in the shower.”

  “Yes, please do.”

  He stuck his tongue out at her and dashed from the kitchen to the large master bedroom. She listened to him rummaging around for a moment as she considered sneaking up on him in the shower. While the sex between them was still amazing, it had waned a bit as he had gotten heavily involved in the lounge project—her lounge project. It had been a little over a week; not only did she want it, but he’d appreciate a little spontaneous shower sex.

  She got to her feet and tiptoed to the bedroom door. As she waited to be sure he was in the shower, a thought occurred to her, an itching doubt like an insect buzzing around her head.

  “I was playing with the skill saw down at the lounge…the stage is coming along great.”

  This was a lie. She knew that the last of the cuts for the stage had been done yesterday. She’d called the contractor early this morning to make sure she had the right measurements for the speakers. But why would he lie about that?

  She heard the closet in the bathroom open as Sam got a clean towel. Danielle dipped into the bedroom and stealthily made her way to the bathroom door just as Sam turned the shower heads on. He paused for a moment and walked back toward the mirror over the sink. Danielle ducked backward, nearly getting caught.

  She watched from around the door frame as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was looking at something between his neck and shoulder. He sighed and said, “Damn.”

  The mirror was along the side wall, so she was able to spy on him without showing up in the mirrors. It also gave her a clear view of what he was so interested in on his neck.

 

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