Raining Tears, page 14
What was her brilliant husband saying? He could spend hours lecturing on his favorite subject and never lose the attention of his students. Young people valued muscular bodies and pretty faces, but a sharp mind filled with fascinating ideas was a life-long aphrodisiac. Someone pointed at the skull in the bag attached to Gordon’s chair. He removed Horatio, and the crowd gathered closer. He had captured his audience’s total interest.
“Is this all right?” Beth stood in her doorway in gray sweats. Her short red hair was messy, and she wore no makeup. She lugged a maroon-and-gold gym bag with a bulldog emblem. “I’m having flashbacks to high school.”
“Do you have a ball cap?” Her auburn hair would help others identify her.
She smashed a hat onto her head and joined her near the window. “What’s your plan?”
“A distraction.”
She took a tentative glance. “Is that your husband, Gordon, holding a skull?”
“That is Horatio. He uses him to teach students how to identify whether a skull belongs to a man or woman.”
“I remember you said he teaches facial reconstruction.”
“Hopefully, in the future. This summer he’s teaching aging techniques for missing persons.” It was one of his easier courses. “You should take it if you haven’t already.”
Beth stared at the crowd. “They’re getting awfully close. Aren’t you afraid for him?”
“Barry would never allow anyone to harm Gordon. You should ask him about their relationship sometime. I think you two have a lot in common.”
“Does he come from a dysfunctional family?” She reddened. “I guess everyone thinks their family is the odd one.”
“Sometimes they’re right.” She didn’t press her to share more of her personal life and unlocked the door. She looked around before signaling Beth to follow as they crept down the steps.
Sydney blocked her at the bottom. “Let me check first.” No one was in front. She opened the door. “My car is across the street.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Beth had changed into her uniform and was tying her shoes when Sydney joined her.
“The chief needs to know about the trouble.”
“It was nothing.”
Sydney blocked her path. “The chief needs to know everything that happens to his officers. It could save a life or capture a criminal. I know you’re a private person, Beth, but everything you do as a police officer is documented and public record.”
“I need to work on being more open,” she admitted.
They paused outside the chief’s office and knocked.
“Come in.” He pointed to his computer. “I saw the broadcast in front of your apartment. I tried calling.”
“I was flooded with calls, Chief Mills.” Beth scanned the list of unknown callers. “And my number is unlisted.”
“How did they find out Beth’s name and address?” Sydney demanded.
“A clerk in the courts leaked the information,” the chief said. “She’s being reprimanded.”
“One of the reporters got inside Beth’s apartment and knocked on her door.”
“I’m all right.” Beth felt calmer wearing her uniform and surrounded by people who supported her. “I was going a bit stir crazy waiting for the hearing verdict. She took me by surprise.”
“Do you still plan to have a press conference at two?” Sydney asked.
“Yes, I’d like both of you to be there.”
“Are you sure?” Beth’s calmness turned to panic. “I won’t know what to say.”
“You won’t say anything. But I won’t have the news agencies intimidating my officers. I’ll make a statement and remind them we’re looking for the armed robber.”
“I think we should invite Vivien to the press conference,” Sydney said.
“Are you crazy?” Beth’s voice was an octave too high. “She hates me.”
“Officer Moreno is right,” the chief said. “Her lawyer is out for blood, and he knows how to garner sympathy.”
“We need to reach out the olive branch at some point,” Sydney said.
“Not in front of the public.”
Beth agreed with the chief. Vivien wasn’t ready to heal. Her wounds were raw and oozing with pain like her own. How long would it take Vivien to forgive Beth for taking her husband’s life? Never. Beth’s hands trembled in her lap. How long would it take to forgive herself? She wished she knew.
Beth followed Sydney to her office. The detective bureau consisted of rows of filing cabinets along one wall and two desks facing another two. Three of the desks were assigned. She took the empty one. “What do you have for me to work on?”
“The chief wants you to review a cold case about a couple found dead in the park ten years ago,” Sydney said. “I was working on it before this happened. The file was scanned into the system, but I think DNA evidence may be found with new technology on the clothing from the victims. I need you to retrieve the original box of evidence from the Nile crypt.”
“The Nile crypt?”
“That’s what we call the basement. It floods every time we have a heavy rain. Don’t tell me you’ve never been down there?”
“I remember it from my initial tour. It was cold, damp, and scary.”
Sydney wrote a name and number on a piece of paper. “The case number is 20090054128.” She added four numbers. “This is the code to the door. Watch out for the crocodiles.”
Beth gasped before she saw Sydney’s smile. “I’m new and just gullible enough to believe you.”
“I thought a little humor would put you at ease. You looked nervous.”
Sydney was good at reading people, which was scary for someone with secrets to hide. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m grateful for the distraction.” The case would keep her mind occupied. For a little while.
After going up and down rows of shelving, Beth finally located the evidence box. Her personal phone rang, and she answered without looking. “I found it, Sydney.”
“Sydney? This is your mother. You haven’t called in so long you don’t even know me.” The cigarette-damaged voice still had a razor-sharp edge to its coldness.
Beth closed her eyes and counted. She should have looked at the caller’s ID. Now it was too late. “It’s really not a good time, Mother. Reception isn’t good,” she lied.
“I can hear you fine. I saw your photo and name on the news, Lizzy. How could you shoot an innocent man?”
“I can’t talk about the case, Mother. It’s under investigation.”
“Are they going to arrest you?” Her voice sounded gleeful.
She paced along the row framed by the shelving, counting down her anger. “No, I’m on desk duty.”
“Well, it’s only a matter of time before they throw you to the wolves. How could you shoot an astronaut?”
What was she talking about? “He wasn’t an astronaut.”
“They said he worked for NASA.”
Sydney had said Jack Lawson was an engineer working on a space project. “Not everyone who works for NASA is an astronaut.”
“Someone is going to have to pay, and Morenos are always at the top of the cops’ list. You better come home.”
Was she crazy? “I’m not coming home.”
“We can hide you.”
“I’m not a fugitive.”
“Don’t be a fool, Lizzy. You can’t count on those cops to have your back.”
She shouted into the phone, “When did you care what happened to me?”
“We’re family.”
She only included her in the brood for one reason. “You need money.”
Alice exhaled a long sigh. “Fred is in jail. If you could pay his bail, we would gladly hide you in the old cellar.”
“Where Bubba cooks meth? I’m not paying Father’s bail.”
Her voice changed from desperate to angry. “Then I hope they throw you in jail, you ungrateful child.”
Beth hung up. She counted to four before the phone rang again. Her mother was calling back. She hadn’t finished gloating.
Beth muted her phone and stuck it in her pant leg pocket, trying to block out her mother’s hateful words, but they were like daggers into her heart, bleeding any love she could muster for the only family she knew. She had hoped to impress her parents with good grades, a respectable job, and hard work. But they valued shortcuts. She had strived to rise above their sordid life, but what had it gotten her?
She hoisted the box but didn’t have a good grip, and it fell to the floor. She sank next to it and let her depression wash over her. She felt like a second victim of the woman in the alley. The mystery woman had destroyed her life.
Beth didn’t let her pity party last long. She gathered her emotions into the protective shell where she had learned to store them and hoisted the box. She tromped up the stairs and saw Officer Sam Wilson seated on the top step. She had met him at roll call where assignments were given out to each officer. He had been the driver of the second cruiser to arrive at the scene of the shooting.
“Hello. Are you looking for me?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
Suspicion was her first reaction. “Why?” She passed him. “The review board found me innocent of any wrongdoing.”
“You didn’t make a mistake.” He jumped to his feet and followed her. “Hey, I screwed up that night by letting the armed robber escape.”
“She snuck away,” Beth corrected. “At least you didn’t kill a man.”
“I’ve killed plenty of men.”
She froze and turned to face him. His face didn’t look so young anymore. He wasn’t joking. “What do you mean?”
“I’m in the Ohio Army National Guard.”
She shrugged and started walking. “That’s different.”
“Not as different as you think.” He grabbed the box.
“Careful. That’s evidence.”
“You obeyed your training as a cop. There was a threat, and you neutralized it.”
“Jack Lawson wasn’t a real threat.” She took the box. “I killed an innocent man who made a mistake. I feel like crap.”
“Every trial in our life makes us a different person. Sometimes better. Sometimes worse. It’s our choice. I just finished another tour. I can never be the Sam Wilson I was before fighting in the war. You’ll never be the same Beth Moreno you were before Jack Lawson’s death.”
Is that why she felt like a stranger? But what if she didn’t like the new Beth Moreno?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sydney had tracked down every woman who had an arm injury in the area. None of them had been the mystery woman. It had been five days since the shooting, and she was no closer to discovering the identity of her robber. Every hospital and medical facility on her list had been contacted. The woman had escaped without any way to find her.
She listened to the messages on her office phone. Lydia, a technician in radiology at Olde Bend Hospital, said she had a case that fit the description of the injury. Sydney called her back.
“A woman came in Tuesday with an injury to her arm and wrist like the one you described,” Lydia said.
“Tuesday,” Sydney repeated. That was three days after the incident. “Did she say how she injured her arm?”
“The report says she fell in a parking lot. She was scraped up and still bleeding when she came in.”
“My woman was injured Saturday.” She almost disconnected. “Do you have her name?”
She heard clicking on a keyboard. “Her name was Abby Keller.”
Sydney wanted to do a happy dance, but the fake name didn’t solve her identity problem. “I believe that’s the woman I’m looking for. I’ll be over in half an hour.”
She didn’t take any chances and contacted the real Abby Keller who swore she was uninjured. The mystery woman had waited to be treated, but she’d made a mistake. She’d used Abby’s fake identity again.
Sydney called the hospital’s director to clear any red tape. He assured her they would cooperate with her investigation. She left a note for Beth who was still in the crypt and headed for Olde Bend Hospital.
Dr. Viola Parks met her at the main entrance and escorted her through the maze of hallways to the radiology department. A woman with the name Lydia and radiology technician printed below her picture name tag was searching on her computer.
“I talked to you on the phone,” Sydney said. “Do you have the information on a woman named Abby Keller?”
Lydia scrolled through the screens and pointed at the information. “She was treated for a broken arm Tuesday morning.”
The robbery was Saturday night, but she’d known not to visit an emergency room right away or seek help at the nearby Newtown Hospital. The woman was clever, but Sydney liked challenges. The information on the screen matched Abby’s driver’s license. “Do you remember what the woman looked like?”
“She was a mess,” Lydia said, looking at the doctor.
“You spent more time with her. I only remember that she’d been crying, and all her makeup was smeared down her face,” Viola said.
“I offered wipes to clean her face, but she said the alcohol would dry her skin,” Lydia said.
She was worried about dry skin? Officer Wilson had described the lack of makeup on the woman in his cruiser. She was hiding her identity this time behind an abundance of cosmetics. “Can you describe anything about her appearance to help me identify her?”
“Her hair was real,” Lydia said.
“Real? How do you know?”
“This is radiology. We do cancer treatments. A lot of the women wear wigs. Her hair was brown, shoulder length with a blunt cut. The color matched her eyebrows, so I’d bet it was her natural color. And her eyes were brown.”
Medium-length brown hair. The same as Abby’s photo ID before she cut it. “What can you tell me about her injuries?”
“She had a serious case of road rash,” Lydia said. “The woman said she’d fallen at the convenience store down the road. She was wearing a short skirt and heels when she did a belly slide across the pavement. A nurse cleaned her up and bandaged her knee.”
Sydney nodded. “What did her right hand and arm look like?”
“Swollen, but it takes time for fluids to swell around an injury, and the bruising was yellow and purple like the injury had taken place days earlier.”
“I can tell you about the bones.” Viola turned to Lydia. “Can you put the x-rays on the viewer?”
The computer image was enlarged on a screen on the wall. “She had a fracture in the wrist and another above it in the radius.” Viola showed Sydney where a white line marked the breaks.
Sydney pointed at a mark above her elbow. “What’s this line?”
“That’s an old break,” Viola said. “You can see the calcium build up, so it’s been a couple of years since she broke it.”
Was she a victim of abuse? “Did she have any other injuries?”
“Just the scrapes on her skin,” Lydia said.
How was an x-ray going to help her identify her mystery woman? “Did you notice anything more about her?”
“I think she worked at a hospital,” Lydia said.
Abby worked at the Newtown Hospital where her pills and wallet were stolen. Was she right about an employee being the thief? “How do you know?”
“She asked how long it would take the radiologist to read the x-rays. Most patients think I read them. She could have just been familiar with our procedures, though. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
This mystery woman could be the person she was looking for, but she had no name. She studied the x-ray. “Is there a way to find out if you treated this woman for the previous break?”
“I could search our records,” Lydia said. “It’ll take some time.”
Sydney looked at Viola. “It’s important.” She had studied every video taken by the police at the scene of the shooting for any hint to the identity of the mystery woman, but she had kept her head lowered and hidden by her hood. The dash camera inside Sam’s cruiser had caught a portion of her face when she turned back, but it was dark, and raindrops blurred the image. Her best bet for discovering the mystery woman’s real identity was from the hospital. They kept meticulous records, and hopefully, the woman had used her real name for the past injury.
“Make it a priority,” Viola told Lydia.
“I’d appreciate it. Could you send the x-ray to Newtown Hospital and ask them to check as well?”
“Do you want us to send it to the orthopedic doctors in the area?” Viola asked.
“Yes. I’m desperate for a lead. I need to find out what her real name is.” Sydney handed her cards to Lydia and Viola. “Call me as soon as you find anything.”
Sydney checked the convenience store on her way back to the station. The parking lot was small with a raised sidewalk that ran the length of the storefront. The curb was high. Someone not looking could step off, stumble because of misjudging the distance, and tumble on the dirty asphalt. It was perfect for staging an accident and close enough to the hospital to drive the distance even with an injury.
But the clerk on duty didn’t remember the mystery woman. “I wasn’t working the early shift on Tuesday.”
“Do you have the phone number of the store’s manager?”
She called and asked for the name and number of the morning clerk and any videos from the store.
He agreed to send the videos, but the only camera working was above the cash register. She disconnected. Every lead to discovering the identity of Abby Keller’s imposter had been thwarted. She checked the time. She’d be back at the station in time for the press conference. Yeah. Her luck was holding on bad.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Vivien stared at the news coverage as she helped John-John stack colorful rings on a plastic pole. The police were going to make an announcement at a press conference. The camera scanned a crowd of reporters, photographers, and the public gathered outside on the porch of City Hall. Why hadn’t she been notified? The lawyer had warned that if the media lost interest in her story, it would be harder to win her case, but her husband’s death was still newsworthy. Strangers were demanding justice for Jack while she sat at home, but it was too late for her to drive to the station. She turned up the sound.
