"Do you have any leads?"
"That's privileged information, Miss Spenser. As a reporter you should know that. But what I find more perplexing about your phone call is the fact that I'm working on a very similar case. In almost exactly the same location. Two weeks ago. It's been in all the papers."
"What's your local paper?" I say.
"The Eagle-Tribune covers the region. It's all there. So you think this Jose Gonzales had something to do with it?"
He says Jose Gonzales like he knows I'm full of shit.
"I don't know", I say, clearing my throat. "Well, thank you for your time, Detective Gomez."
"If you uncover anything with your investigation," he says with another shot of sarcasm, "please call us, Miss Spenser."
"Thanks," I say and hit End. "Dickwad!"
I throw my phone on the passenger seat.
Shit.
Oh my God, that was a clusterfuck!
He Googled me and found my article on Damien. While not much, it might get him thinking about Damien. I hope I haven't created a problem for Damien by making that call.
Fuck! What if I just brought a world of hurt down on Damien's head? I really didn't think that through, did I?
Did Damien kill this Arely guy?
I take out my laptop and sign into the Starbucks free wifi. I Google "brimford eagle tribune" and find the newspaper's website.
A few more clicks and there it is. Angel Rosario Suarez, 31, killed execution-style behind Club Cabrillo on Main Street in Brimford on June 28, 2014.
Shit, where was Damien on June 28?
L.A.! That was the day at the pool with Tara, Tiffany, and... what's-her-name.
Did he really fly to L.A.? Or did he fly to Boston?
Why would a rock star who lives in Miami be killing small-time Latino criminals fifteen hundred miles away?
Makes no sense.
But I'm alive in a whole different way. I'm a reporter. I love mysteries that need to be solved. My brain is fully active, looking for clues and strands of clues.
God, I love being intelligent!
Time to do some more digging.
Chapter 32
"How does it feel to be in your own place?" says Delphina.
She's wearing a little more makeup today. Hair a little different. Same style clothes, but I swear she's dropped a couple of pounds.
"Great!" I say. "Even though I haven't actually moved in yet."
Delphina frowns.
"I thought you said you've already decorated," she says.
"I have," I say as I look down at a spot on the rug and pick my nail. "But I haven't actually spent a night there yet."
"So let me get this straight," she says. "You've had a new apartment for three days. Which you've furnished and decorated. But you haven't left your mother's house yet. Have you even told your mother?"
I never noticed the color of the carpet before. It's kind of a light pink. Very odd.
"Umm... no," I say.
"Annika," she says, "you're making progress by leaps and bounds in almost everything in your life. I'm very proud of you. I can see the change even in the short time we've been meeting. But you know and I know there's one area you need to focus on. One area that's truly holding you back."
I bite a nail and stare at the waterfall in the picture on the wall. Wonder where that is.
"I know," I say. "I'm working up to it."
Delphina does the head-tilt go on thing. Shit, I'm starting to hate that.
"It's just that," I say, "It's like... okay, I have this memory of being a little kid. My mom and I driving to my grandparents' house in her rusty old car. My grandma would take care of me while my mom went to work. It was a struggle. But she did it. She took care of me so well as a single mother. I feel like I owe it to her not to leave her all alone. I mean... who else can she talk to?"
"Doesn't she have friends?"
"A couple. But she's very... reclusive. She doesn't have friends like normal people have friends. She talks to them on the phone but they never get together. I'm her friend. I'm the one she always wants to talk to."
Head-tilt. Nod.
I look at the carpet again. Still light pink.
"Then there's the cancer," I say.
"You said the doctors removed it all," she says.
"Yes, they did. But if it came back while I'm not there..." My eyes are filling again. Dammit I'm sick of crying! "... I'd feel like it came back because I caused it."
"How could you possibly cause cancer, Annika?"
I snort because the question is so absurd.
"I know," I say, "but that's exactly how I feel. I think I'm convinced her cancer is going to return if I move out."
"Isn't that a bit irrational?"
"Yes it is, I just read that sometimes once people are separated they die from a broken heart."