Time of Death

There was something wide-eyed about Matt. Like the world was a constant source of fascination to him. In every story he told, there was a dramatic pause, a revelation he wanted you to feel in the same way that he did. Even bleak observations would be delivered in a positive tone. He would talk about a television show he saw where there was human excrement piled up against a crack-house wall, then pause and say, ‘It wasn’t the shit itself, it was the structural engineering …’

He was two years older than Ren, but sometimes she felt like they were twins.

‘Now,’ said Matt, ‘much as I would love to continue to distract you from your freak-out, I have to go and remove my wife’s shoes. That’s the stage we’re at.’

‘Poor Lauren.’

‘Yes,’ said Matt. ‘My final word is – there’s no need to freak out. You’re in a beautiful house, safe and sound with your dog-from-the-dark-side.’

‘Stop that.’

‘Sleep tight. Call me again if you need me.’

‘Thanks,’ said Ren.

‘And remember one thing …’ He paused. ‘You’re an FBI Agent, you loser.’

‘Thanks for that.’ Ren put down the phone and pulled the covers up around her.

This is not a house for one person. It is totally freaking me out. How am I going to get out of this? I’ll die. Annie will be horrified. Where can I go now?

Ren’s eyes started to close. She turned over and drifted into the best night’s sleep she’d had in over a year.

9

Colin Grabien sat at his desk with print-outs of Greg Sarvas’ bank statements and a computer screen with more of Greg Sarvas’ bank statements. He had the look of a teenager forced to study for his SATs when all his friends were out to play.

Ren glanced over at him.

‘This is bullshit,’ he said.

No one responded. He looked up, annoyed.

‘What is bullshit?’ said Ren. Her voice was flat.

‘I don’t see Gregory Sarvas’ name up on that board—’ He pointed to the Most Wanted list. ‘Gartman is out murdering little deaf girls, and here I am, going through these boring bank statements. A lawyer with one and a half million dollars spread across four bank accounts. Call Ripley’s Believe It or Not.’

Grow the fuck up. ‘Nothing else?’ said Ren. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary?’ She got up and walked over to his desk.

Colin pointed to his screen and scrolled through a ridiculous amount of data. She rolled her eyes.

‘No strange payments in or out of his bank accounts,’ said Colin. ‘One property – the family home in El Paso. Mortgage of two hundred thousand dollars outstanding. No other debts. Monthly retainers from five clients, totaling eleven thousand.’

‘Ah, but one property he was more keen to get rid of than his wife suspected,’ said Robbie. ‘I’ve got his phone records here and it looks like he made several calls to real estate agents in the area.’

‘Before or after the rape?’ said Ren.

‘Both,’ said Robbie. ‘A little more so after. Ren, can I borrow a highlighter?’

‘Sure – in my drawer. Grab one. Not the pink one.’

‘I can see why Sarvas would want revenge,’ said Cliff. ‘I’d want to take my wife the hell away from there.’

‘I’m thinking you might be more honorable than a man who wouldn’t report his wife’s rape,’ said Ren.

‘Maybe it was the opposite,’ said Colin. ‘Maybe Sarvas was very honorable. And wanted some old-style vigilante revenge.’

‘Pistols at dawn,’ said Ren. ‘Yes, I thought of that.’

‘Since when do you play cards?’ said Robbie. ‘Ren has a deck of cards in her desk.’

Ren frowned. ‘The bottom drawer has the highlighters, you loser. And no, I don’t play cards.’

‘You never said the bottom drawer.’

‘That’s not the point. There could have been anything in there …’

‘I’m going to call these real estate guys,’ said Robbie.

‘What about Sarvas’ clients?’ said Ren to Cliff. ‘Did you speak with them?’ She went back over to her desk.

‘From what I can gather so far, Sarvas basically worked remotely,’ said Cliff. ‘He had twelve clients. Three of them had never even met him. They were a mix – mainly small-business owners, all in Texas. Across a range of businesses—’

Cliff looked up as Gary strode into the office and up to Ren’s desk, holding a red Sharpie out to her. She stared at him.

‘Your basket is dead,’ said Gary.

‘Exsqueeze me?’ said Ren.

Gary pointed at the gallery.

‘Erubiel Diaz?’ said Ren.

‘Yup,’ said Gary. ‘How about you put a big red X through that face?’

‘Oh my God,’ said Ren, taking the pen from him. ‘Whatwhywhenwherewhohow?’

‘His headless body was found on a burning pyre in Nogales, Mexico,’ said Gary.

‘Shit. Really?’ Ren stood up.

‘Yup.’

She paused. ‘Maybe I should wait ’til they find his head before I put the X through it.’ She walked across the room and drew an X slowly across Diaz’ face. ‘What happened?’ said Ren. ‘Was this a drugs thing? Were there other people being served at this barbecue or was he found alone?’

‘Here’s what I know,’ said Gary. ‘Diaz ended up dead as part of a message being sent to the Nogales police. Earlier that day, they arrested the second-in-command of the Puente cartel. The guy’s associates tried to spring him from the police station where he was being held, but they couldn’t. They shot six officers trying. The station went on lockdown, so the only way these assholes could come up with to get Puente out was by going on a rampage around Nogales. Not just drive-bys – decapitations, everything. They dragged the bodies behind their SUVs through the streets, dumped them in a pile. They came back and forth a couple times and lit that pile on fire.’

‘And that’s where Erubiel Diaz was found …’ said Ren.

Gary nodded.

‘How did they identify him?’ said Colin.

‘Dental records,’ said Gary.

Ren looked at him. ‘You just said he was headless.’

‘Temporarily,’ said Gary. ‘One of the Puente cartel used his severed head as a bowling ball that night. Rolled it right on to a dance floor in one of the clubs.’

‘We need to talk to Colin about this,’ said Ren, turning to him. ‘He knows what it’s like to have no body to dance with.’

Colin rolled his eyes.

‘But getting back to Diaz,’ said Ren, ‘I don’t see how dental records could’ve been any use. I saw the dude – he’d never been to a dentist in his life.’

‘Ah, but someone knocked out two of his teeth last year in Breckenridge. And Frisco Medical Center had to X-ray his mouth. The dentist there checked him out, had everything on record.’

‘So,’ said Ren, ‘was Diaz an “innocent victim” caught up in a street war, or was he part of a rival gang or the Puentes cartel or …?’

‘I’ll call the police chief in Nogales,’ said Gary.

‘If this wasn’t a coincidence,’ said Ren, ‘if someone really had wanted Diaz to disappear off the face of the earth, decaffeinating him and throwing him in with a bunch of burning bodies would be a good way to go.’

‘He could have just been wrong place/wrong time,’ said Cliff.

‘I don’t know,’ said Ren. ‘Right now, the Mexican border is permanently the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s like choosing to go to Iraq on vacation. So is it me or could Domenica Val Pando be back sniffing around what she knows best?’

‘She would need some serious connections to break back into that scene,’ said Gary.

‘Domenica is well-connected,’ said Ren. ‘And what if her H2S project was for use along the border by a cartel? I mean, there are billions of drugs dollars at stake. What if, knowing she couldn’t grab a slice of the narcotics action by the direct route, Domenica tried a side-maneuver: offering up a weapon to the people who need it most?’

They all nodded.

‘I’d keep my eyes on the dry-ice machine in that nightclub,’ said Ren. ‘The atmosphere could actually be more toxic than an eighties theme night.’

‘Maybe Domenica could have gotten a high-enough price for the gas itself that she could hold back after she was paid,’ said Colin. ‘Then set herself up quietly when things calmed down. If they ever did …’

‘But, the H2S plant was shut down,’ said Robbie.

‘Yes,’ said Ren. ‘But we’re the only ones who know that. The story that made the news was that we shut down a meth lab. All Domenica had to say to whoever her client was – assuming she already had one lined up – was that the guy working for her fucked up, so she had to kill him. And his death could be confirmed, so the story would hold up.’ She shrugged. ‘Diaz’ death right now can’t be a coincidence. I would say that somebody wasn’t happy about all the attention being drawn Diaz’ way.’

‘So,’ said Gary. ‘The breaking of the news to Diaz’ wife …’

‘Do not look at me,’ said Ren. ‘I want to meet the wife when she has a clear head. I don’t want to be there for the weeping. Or the gathering of her bambinos into her arms. I want the emotion gone. Goodbye. I want to walk right in at a later date and get some informazion.’

‘Colin, how about you?’ said Gary.

‘Hold up.’ Ren shook her head. ‘I said that I need her to get her emotion out. She won’t cry in front of him.’

‘All I seem to hear about Diaz,’ said Colin, ‘is rapist, dead-beat dad, dirtbag, blah, blah. Is his wife really going to give a shit?’

‘Maybe not,’ said Ren. ‘But the mother of his children will.’ Ren turned to Cliff. ‘How about you …? Robbie …?’ Everyone looked away.

‘Look, I don’t care,’ said Ren. ‘But I’m not doing it. I’m conserving my feminine conspiratorial thing for the real questions.’

‘What about continuity of care?’ said Gary. ‘You’re the Diaz guy.’

Ren grabbed her bag from the floor. ‘Jesus, fine, then. I’ll go. On my way home. Everyone owes me. Every last one of you.’

10

The following morning, Ren walked in to the sight and sound of Colin Grabien, hunched over his desk, hammering his keyboard like a man who had learned to type on a typewriter.

Robbie was sitting at his desk with one shirt sleeve rolled up over his elbow and an ice pack pressed against it. A white fluffy bandage was taped to his cheek.

‘Oh, Robbie,’ said Ren. ‘Could you not find a bigger bandage?’

‘It is a massive wound,’ said Robbie. ‘Do you want to see it?’

‘My mind is saying yes, but my stomach’s saying no,’ said Ren. ‘And, as we know, my stomach always wins. What happened? Were you in lukewarm pursuit of a suspect?’

‘Yup,’ said Robbie. ‘Francis Gartman. We got a tip-off he was at his cousin’s house. We got there, he jumped from a window, I got out of the car after him, crossed the parking lot, I was nearly on top of him – then, bam, I slipped on some ice, took myself out of the game.’

‘Ouch,’ said Ren. She moved behind him and gave him a hug. ‘And Gartman, I’m guessing …’

Robbie shook his head. ‘Yup, lives to fight another day.’

Ren let out a breath. ‘Can I get anything for the wounded soldier?’

‘Well, thank you,’ said Robbie. ‘Could you play the role of over-functioning Mormon mom?’

‘I couldn’t think of a role I would be less equipped to play,’ said Ren. ‘Are you missing yo mama?’

‘All the time.’

‘How Bates Motel.’ Ren straightened up and gave his good arm a squeeze.

Colin stopped pounding his keyboard to check his notebook. Ren took advantage of the quiet. ‘And Mr Grabien, you were correct,’ she said. ‘There was little emotion from Mrs Diaz for either her husband or the father of her children when told that his crispy headless body had been found. Her only surprise was that he had been found in Nogales. Apart from showing up in Denver last November, the only place she knew he’d been recently was Juárez. That was the postmark on the letter that came last month with the measly hundred dollars in it that pushed her over the edge and made her rat him out.’

‘So that’s all we’ve got on the whereabouts of Erubiel Diaz,’ said Cliff. ‘Alive: El Paso, July. Alive: Denver in November. Alive: Juárez in February. Dead: Nogales in March.’

Ren slapped the desk. ‘Fuck him for getting killed. We’ll have to wait and see what Gary hears back from Nogales. In the meantime, I’m thinking I’ll turn my attention to Gavino Val Pando. Might be worth putting in a call to Sheriff Gage in Summit County for the files on that bar raid at the Brockton Filly last year. Maybe Gavino was with friends or involved with one of the girls who was there that night? There were at least twelve kids pulled in for under-age drinking …’ She shrugged. ‘It’s worth a try.’

As she reached out to make the call, her cell phone beeped with a text from Matt:

Cnt tlk – at scan. Xpect call frm mom re Louis Parry.

Louis Parry? Oh my God.

The disappearance of Louis Parry was the first case Orenda Bryce hadn’t solved. She was nine years old. Her fifteen-year-old brother, Beau, was Louis Parry’s piano teacher. Ren remembered that summer like a hazy image from a photo shoot; a pretty neighborhood filled with tanned children, frozen under the sun.

The police had returned missing children to their parents already that summer – kids who had stolen money from their mother’s pocketbooks to pay for the amusements in the park. The police thought Louis Parry was just like all the others, even though his mother tried to tell them her son was more thoughtful than that; he was a quiet boy, he liked nature, he liked music … But by the time the police started to listen to her, half of the first, precious forty-eight hours had been lost.

Ren had spent weeks looking for the sweet blond boy who used to call to the door with a shy smile and a folder of piano scores. She searched all the places that scared her – abandoned houses, crawl spaces, the woods, the railroad yard – just in case Louis Parry had wandered in there by mistake and that those places scared him even more.

Ren didn’t realize that someone could have taken Louis. She knew about strangers, never to accept a ride from them, but she never knew why. The world of Ren Bryce was safe and beautiful. And she thought Louis Parry’s was the same. But nothing anyone did brought Louis Parry home.

Until maybe now. The police must have finally found him. Heartbreaking.

Ren slid open her desk drawer and pulled out the deck of cards. She opened it and slid out the top card. It was the Ace of Hearts. At its center was the face of Louis Parry, wide-eyed and fragile. And printed underneath:

MISSING PERSON

Louis Parry was last seen at 4.30 p.m.

on June 20th, 1981

on Main Street in Catskill, New York.

He was 10 years old, 4' 5'' and dressed in red shorts and a yellow T-shirt.

If you have any information regarding this case,please contact

New York State Crimestoppers …

The card featured in hundreds of cold-case decks that had been handed out three weeks earlier in Rikers Island in New York, in the hope that an inmate would recognize a victim, see something or hear something during a game of cards and call the confidential number.

During a game of cards.

Her cell phone rang.

She hit Answer. ‘Hi, Mom.’ There was silence at the other end. ‘Mom?’

Ren got up and went into the hallway. She pressed the phone to her ear. She heard a huge intake of breath and a desperate sob. ‘Oh, Ren. The police were just here. They’ve torn the house apart. It’s your brother, it’s—’

‘What? Matt?’

‘Beau,’ said her mom. ‘Beau.’

Ren’s stomach heaved. ‘Whoa, what? Beau? What the—’

‘It’s about Louis Parry. They think Beau had something to do with Louis Parry going missing.’

‘What? What are they talking about? Why?’

‘They mentioned something about cards being sent out to prisons – I didn’t understand any of that. All I know is that someone called some number—’

‘Mom, Mom,’ said Ren. ‘Calm down, OK? This is a mistake, that’s all. A very big mistake. The cards are cold-case playing cards. They’re handed out in prisons, to jog inmates’ memories while they’re playing poker or blackjack or whatever. The hope is that they might have heard someone talk about having committed one of the crimes. Then they can call Crimestoppers with the tip. All kinds of crazy people call Crimestoppers. For all kinds of reasons. A lot of times, the cops just have to follow up as a formality—’

‘You weren’t here. You haven’t seen what they’ve done. They are convinced Beau was involved. It’s like tearing his room apart was a formality.’

‘God, Mom. Beau didn’t do anything. We all know that.’

‘But Beau is dead, Ren. He’s dead. And I’m afraid they’re going to blame this on him for closure—’

‘They cannot do that,’ said Ren. ‘They need proof. And they will never find proof. They cannot find something that does not exist.’

‘I’m sick, Ren. I am physically sick. People are walking by … standing across the street. And what about the Parrys? What are they going to think? After all this time? Your father, your brothers and I were out looking for Louis—’

‘Mom, calm down or you will have a heart attack. The Parrys are good people—’

‘The Parrys are desperate people. These cards – whatever they are – are their last hope. Maybe a part of them wants to give up. Wants to take whatever means they can sleep at night.’

‘The Parrys are good people,’ Ren said again. ‘They really are. They wouldn’t—’

Her mother dropped the phone. Ren could hear it bounce across the floor.

‘Mom? Are you OK?’

‘I’m sorry. My hands are shaking. I’m a wreck …’

‘Where is Dad?’

‘At the gym.’

Ren rolled her eyes. ‘Did you call him?’

‘I got voicemail.’

‘Call someone, Mom, and get them to come over.’

Her mother let out a breath. ‘Is there anything you can do?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Ren. ‘You bet there is.’

Ren put the phone down. She could not move. She had reached a sub-setting of numb. For now, her mind was incapable of getting any further than Beau.

11

Ren breathed deeply until she was calm enough to speak.

‘Robbie, could you do me a favor, please?’ she said. ‘Would you mind asking Summit County to send over the files on that Gavino Val Pando bar raid?’

‘Sure, no problem.’

She Googled the number for the Catskill Police Department and punched it into her phone as she got up from her desk. The receptionist came on the line as Ren was shutting herself into the conference room.

‘My name is Ren Bryce. I’m with the FBI. Could I speak with the lieutenant please?’ Ren sat down in the far corner of the room.

‘Putting you through to Lieutenant Stroud …’

Whoa. ‘I’m sorry – which Stroud?’ said Ren.

‘That would be Lieutenant Daryl Stroud, ma’am.’

Ren hung up.

Daryl Stroud. This cannot be the person I have to deal with here. Daryl Stroud had witnessed Ren’s first full-blown manic meltdown. He was the low she rode out of Catskill on. Ren had been nineteen years old when she raised her hand to Daryl Stroud – her boyfriend of one year – to slap him across the face for a reason she could never recall. He would have taken the slap, but he grabbed her wrist when he saw that Ren had turned the stone in her ring into her palm to increase the impact. As she stormed off, she had turned to throw a can of beer at him. It landed at his feet, burst open and sprayed all over him. Ren had hitched her way home and as the hours passed and the alcohol started to drain from her system, she began calling Daryl’s house, weeping, ready to beg forgiveness. It was his mother who answered, so Ren had hung up. She then walked to his house and threw stones at his window. He wasn’t home. When he did show up an hour later, Ren roared at him that he had cheated on her, which he hadn’t, and told him he was an asshole. His parents came out and his dad took Ren on a wordless journey home. Daryl and Ren got back together the next day after tears and vows of eternal love. A month later, Ren had kissed his best friend, the biggest asshole in town … while Daryl Stroud remained the sweetest, most genuine, loyal and honest guy you could meet.

She picked up the phone and dialed again.

The receptionist had already given Ren’s name and patched her straight through.

‘Daryl, hi, it’s Ren Bryce again. I’m sorry we got disconnected.’

‘Hello, Ren. How are you doing?’

‘Shell-shocked. What’s going on, Daryl? You know Beau had nothing to do with this.’

Silence. ‘I’d love to agree with you,’ said Daryl.

‘But I’m at a loss as to how you don’t.’

‘Because of the tip-off,’ said Daryl. ‘Because of the fact that Beau knew and was trusted by Louis—’

‘OK, let’s scratch that last one for a start: the whole town knew Louis. And he was a trusting type of kid. Where did the tip come from? What was it exactly?’

‘Oh, come on, Ren. You’re an agent with the FBI. You wouldn’t tell a suspect’s family member what you got.’

‘That depends. If it were you, Daryl … Come on, this is nuts. Please take a look at this tip and the nature of it, where it came from and what its reliability is. Please, Daryl.’

Stroud’s tone changed. ‘That’s not just an FBI way of handling things, you know. Here in the sticks we think that might be a good idea too. That is, when we’re not sitting on our hoods, flirting with old ladies outside the diner.’

‘I didn’t mean anything by that,’ said Ren. ‘Here’s how it is – I’m not worried, because I know Beau is innocent. But I am desperately worried that it will be pinned on him anyway. It seems so sudden and random.’

‘I won’t treat this any differently than any other investigation.’

That is not reassuring. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to. Just please remember Beau and who he was.’

‘I really am so sorry for your loss.’

‘You know something?’ said Ren. ‘It’s been twenty-four years and those words are still welcome. They still help. So, thanks. But please, please do everything you can. Beau’s death was devastating enough. The pain is so … I …’

She stopped.

‘Ren? Are you still there? Ren?’ Daryl hesitated. ‘Please don’t cry.’

There was another pause before Ren answered. ‘Thank you. I gotta go.’

Sinking into the chair, she stared at the ceiling, holding her head back to keep the tears from falling. It was a few minutes before she was ready to dial Information for a number she knew she shouldn’t call, but would regret if she didn’t.

She felt sick as she listened to the pulsing dial tone.

‘Is this Ricky Parry?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ricky, it’s Ren Bryce.

Silence. ‘Oh. Hi. I … should we be talking?’

‘I really think we should,’ said Ren. ‘What is going on, Ricky?’

‘Someone came forward with information.’

‘Who? And what was this information?’

‘Don’t you know? Like, with your FBI contacts—’

‘They’re not going to tell me,’ said Ren, ‘But I hope you can. We all know that Beau didn’t have anything to do with this. Your whole family knows that. Our families are friends, Ricky. I’m in shock here. Why did none of you tell the police that this information was bullshit? What about your mom?’

‘Mom has cancer,’ said Ricky. ‘She’s very ill. Not that she’s ever really been well since … then. And losing Dad last year was … terrible …’

‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘I understand that. We were all there at the funeral.’ My whole family was there to support you.

‘I know …’ said Ricky.

‘Ricky, this new information is false. I’m concerned that you’re latching on to—’

‘Oh, come on!’ Ricky spat the words. ‘Why would Beau kill himself if he was so innocent? There has to be a reason. I’m betting the guilt ate him up and he couldn’t take it any more. He checked out because he could not live with the knowledge of what he did to Louis.’