Brett glanced over at him before looking back through the mirror. “Maybe.”
“You go in there right now and this situation gets a whole lot more complicated, whether she’s innocent or not. Think about that.”
Brett ran a hand across his face. Alex was right.
“Right now this is my case,” Alex continued. “There’s nothing to report involving you and her. You walk in there as anything other than a homicide detective and that changes.”
“I don’t think she had anything to do with Cavasos’ murder, Alex. She was a victim of violence herself a couple of years ago.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“She didn’t do this,” Brett said again, leaning closer to the mirror.
“That may be true,” Alex responded. “I hope it’s true. But you need to let someone else establish that as fact. Not just barge in there as her boyfriend. In the long run that won’t help you or her.”
Damn it.
Brett watched as Schliesman questioned Paige again about the clothes the victim was wearing in the drawing. That was key, the fact that Paige had drawn Teresa in the clothes she had been taken in. Had died in. That was what was so suspicious about Paige’s drawing.
“These clothes. Why did you draw her in this particular shirt?” Schliesman asked.
“I don’t know.” Paige’s exasperation was clear. “I just drew her in what I saw in my mind.”
“From seeing her in the parking lot, on McDonell Street but not really paying any attention to her.”
“Yes, like I said. It was an artist’s exercise. Trying to recreate something from memory; focus on details.”
That definitely sounded a lot better than saying she had drawn Teresa Cavasos in her sleep. And she had been sleeping when she drew the picture, Brett had no doubt about that.
“But you can agree it’s a little suspicious that out of everyone in that strip mall parking lot you chose to draw the one person that went missing that day,” Schliesman said.
And Brett knew the other half of what the detective wasn’t saying: that Paige conveniently brought in the picture of Cavasos just as she was discovered dead. Too late to be of any help finding her as a missing person.
Paige looked down at her hands. “Yeah, it was unfortunate.”
“Are you sure this isn’t a situation where you’re trying to get attention in your own case?”
Schliesman reached down and pulled a file out of a bag she had brought into the room. Paige’s file. She didn’t open it, but set it on the table.
“Your attack from two years ago is unsolved. Maybe you feel like the police should be working harder on your case. That bringing in a picture of a missing lady might get you back into the limelight.”
“No,” Paige responded. “I have pretty much made peace with the fact that my case won’t ever be solved.”
The sympathetic look Schliesman gave her was almost believable. Probably was believable to Paige who by now must be desperate for any sort of friendly relief.
“That’s a shame. To have to live with that? Knowing the police no longer care enough to keep looking for the man who did this to you?” She took the picture of Paige’s battered face out of the file and slid it across the table to her.
Paige barely glanced at it. “I’m well aware of what happened to me, Detective. I don’t need to see it. And no, I do not hold any ill will against the Portland Police Department. I believe they tried their best with the information they had.”
“But you have to admit, this will put you —and your case— back on their radar.”
“Detective Schliesman, I’m just here to do whatever I can to help find a missing woman.”
Brett turned away from the questioning as the door to the observation room opened. Captain Ameling walked in, making an already bad situation worse.
“I heard she was back.” He pointed at Paige through the glass. “Is this another weird issue like the supposed drawing of herself after the fact?”
“No, sir,” Brett responded. “She says she saw Cavasos at a parking lot in Healy Heights and drew her as part of some sort of artist exercise where she draws someone from memory.”
“And the person she happened to draw showed up missing and now dead. Very convenient.” The captain turned to Alex. “Do we have enough to arrest her?”
Brett knew he needed to stay out of this. The captain already didn’t like him. Speaking up now would just make it worse for Paige.
“No, I don’t think so,” Alex said. “Plus, you know the chief will have a fit if we try.”
“Yeah, well, the chief is in meetings off the premises all day. So if we have enough to book her, you do it. I’ll handle the chief.” He turned to Brett. “And you damn well better not call him about this or I’ll make sure you’re working traffic cases for the rest of your very miserable time here.”
Brett’s lips pursed. “I’m not going to call the chief. I want to find out who did this to Teresa Cavasos as much as anybody else.”
They all watched Schliesman question Paige. Back to info about the clothing choice in the drawing again.
“Why hasn’t she lawyered up?” Captain Ameling asked.
And then Brett knew. Any lingering doubt he’d had was wiped away. Paige hadn’t asked for a lawyer because she wasn’t guilty of anything. She was just trying to help.
She didn’t know what almost everyone in this building was hoping to pin on her. She was in way over her head and had no idea she was even in the water.
Brett needed to do something. Calling the chief wasn’t an option, and wasn’t the route Brett would want to go even if he could get in touch with Adam. But he did have the number for Paige’s security team. He got out his phone to send a text as discreetly as possible.
Paige is being held for questioning at downtown precinct. She needs a lawyer here, stat. Get one here now.
Her security team was competent, and what’s more, Brett believed they really cared about her. He hoped they would get someone here for her.
“You bored by what’s going on?” Ameling asked, glancing at Brett’s phone.
“No.” Brett put it away. “But believe it or not I have other cases I’m also working on, that also require my attention.”
They turned back to what was happening inside the room. Paige shifted uncomfortably in her chair and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her hand.
“Look, I’ve answered all your questions, multiple times. I’d like to talk to Detective Brett Wagner if that’s okay.”
“Why?”
Brett could feel Alex and the captain looking at him. If Paige mentioned their relationship now, it could be disastrous. But she didn’t know that.
Alex looked over at Ameling. “Captain, I think we’re going to need to let her—”
Captain Ameling held up his hand. “Wait, I want to hear the answer to this.”
Brett appreciated Alex trying to run interference for him; to distract the captain. But the man was looking for dirt on Brett and he was afraid Paige was about to give it to him.
Paige stared at Schliesman for long moments.
“Detective Wagner was nice to me when we talked last week. He was respectful, didn’t treat me like a freak the way the Portland PD has been known to do.”
Brett let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. The captain was still wary, but the crisis had been averted.
“Well, you’re going to get to see him very soon,” Schliesman told Paige. “I’m actually turning this case over to him and Detective Alex Olivier.”
Brett knew what was coming. Schliesman was about to let Paige know the case was now a homicide. The detective wanted to shake things up to see how Paige would respond when she found out Teresa Cavasos was dead.
And she’d do it in the most jarring way possible.
Brett couldn’t even blame Schliesman for her methods. Under matching circumstances he’d do the same thing.
Schliesman pulled out another case file, Cavasos’ he was sure. She took out some pictures.
Brett knew which ones. The ones from the hotel where they’d found her body. The ones that showed that Teresa was obviously beaten —very similarly to Paige— and stabbed. The ones that showed that the missing person Paige had been trying to help for the last few hours was very definitely beyond help now.
Schliesman put the pictures right in front of Paige.
Paige took one look at them, and flew out of her seat, vomiting in the trash can by the table.
Chapter Seventeen
Paige felt weak. Dazed. She glanced around the room. Everything in here was gray: the walls, the floors, the furniture, the two-way mirror thingy. It was difficult to get her bearings.
She’d been in here for hours, answering question after question. The same question after question.
And then the pictures.
Oh God, she was too late. Teresa Cavasos was already dead. The pictures. They were still sitting in front of her right now, but Paige had turned them over.
Detective Schliesman had put them right in front of Paige so casually. They were gruesome. Horrific. The woman had died from being stabbed, after being severely beaten.
Paige knew what a beating like that felt like. The debilitating pain that throws your entire body into a panic. Hearing your own bones break and knowing there was nothing you can do about it. Your own blood filling up your nose and mouth until you wonder if you might choke on it.