Back on Murder

“He’s just a kid,” I say.

“A kid who slings dope. I couldn’t care less about his feelings.”

“It’s not his feelings I’m worried about. It’s his rights.”

“Look, he’s not going to jail for dealing, so he’s in no position to complain. If he knew he was walking on that one, I’m sure he’d thank us. I just want to find this girl and get the chief off my back, okay?”

“Where is Ha

“You go

“James,” Cavallo says. “Where is she?”

His eyes roll for the hundredth time. I feel like rolling mine, too.

“Did you kill her?”

“No.” All trace of shock or indignation long since gone.

“Did you have someone kill her?”

He smiles wearily. “One of my posse?” He makes air quotes with his fingers. “No.”

“Is she still alive, James?”

“How. Should. I. Know?”

The door opens and Wanda signals for us to come outside. As soon as it shuts, she starts shaking her head.

“What?” Cavallo asks.

“It’s on the news.”

“What is?”

“That we have him,” Wanda says. “They’re reporting right now that we have a juvenile suspect in custody.”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“No,” she says. “I just got off the phone with Villanueva, who’s been trying to get them to stall the story. Too late. They’re talking about it right now on TruTV.”

I shake my head. “Beautiful. So we haven’t fixed our leak.”

“What’s the plan?” Cavallo asks.

“The plan?” Wanda presses her fingertips to her temples. “I’m go

The two women head down the hallway, conferring on strategy, leaving me to wander back into the monitoring room. On the screen, Fontaine wipes his palms on his jeans, then scrutinizes his fingers, peeling at some loose skin around the nails.

I need to talk to Carter Robb again so I can track down this girl Evey and see what she has to say. And it’s time to call Bridger, too. I’ve waited long enough for my dna results.

Fontaine looks up at the camera. He shakes his head, then rests it on the table again, settling in for another long wait.

CHAPTER 12

As the elder sister, Charlotte grew up with competing and possibly counterbalancing senses of both entitlement and obligation, feeling she had a place in the world but also a set of duties, often unpleasant, to go along with it. Her younger sister, A

Both sisters went into law, but Charlotte gravitated toward high-paying corporate work, scratching her civic itch with occasional involvement in the Harris County Republican Party. A

Even over di

“So I hear you got pulled into that task force,” he says. “How’s that going?”

“It would be better if you expedited those test results I’ve been waiting on.”

His eyebrows rise. “What results?”

“You said I’d need a sample to compare, so I found one – Ha

“Really,” he says. “That’s news to me.”

“If you could light a fire under her, I’d appreciate it.”

He gives a noncommittal nod. “I’ll look into it.”

I’d like to get more out of him, but A

To say the years have been kind to my wife, at least physically, is an understatement. As time passes and her contemporaries either go to seed or under the knife, she only improves, still as thin and leggy as the day we married, the patina of fine lines on her face never detracting from its essentially placid symmetry. Looking at her now, the thought that my eyes could stray even for a moment seems ridiculous. A show of ingratitude toward God or the cosmos, whoever arranges such things.

In contrast, A

“So,” A

I nod.

To my left, I see Charlotte tense up. Her unspoken rule about no work at the di

“How are you dealing with it?” A

“I’ve been trying to get a little help from the ME’s office.”

Alan smiles distantly. “I told you I’d check into it.”

“That’s not what I mean, though,” A

Charlotte’s spoon hits her saucer. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know -”

“No, I don’t know. Why should Roland have to deal with anything? He’s a professional, A

“That’s not what I’m saying – ” A

“It’s all right,” I say, holding up my hands. “I’m doing fine. I’d rather be back in Homicide, and if some tests come through, I should be back there soon. In the meantime, I’m just keeping my nose clean and trying to avoid the cameras.”

“I can’t believe all the interest in this thing,” Alan says.

“They’re trying to get the mother to go on Larry King.”

A little shiver runs through Charlotte, who folds her arms tightly. “That’s awful. The way they make such a spectacle of people’s pain.”

“But if it helps find the girl,” A

I shake my head. “It won’t. That’s not what it’s about. There’s always the chance, I guess, but the real motive is to get in front of the story, so it’s not about Cha

Charlotte pushes away from the table. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

She slips through the kitchen and keeps going. A

“Let’s go out back,” I suggest.

The balmy night envelops us, the stars hidden behind muddy clouds that give even the moon a soft-focus halo. I cast a glance toward the detached garage and the side stairs ascending to Tommy’s apartment, then lead Bridger off the deck and across the yard. We stand just outside the pillars of light shining through the back windows, where he can smoke his obligatory postprandial cigarette without A

“I’m thinking about quitting,” he says, fitting the cigarette between his lips, firing the tip with a shiny Zippo.

“You should.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” He exhales into the darkness. “You’re an all or nothing kind of guy when it comes to vice. No moderation.”

“Are you moderating your smoking?” I ask.