Until Jimmy Handley’s murder, Eric had been the least-known Santellis. Of course, he just might have been better at hiding his sins. Sam could attribute the same skill to Rosa.
Sam punched in the name of Terrance Jackle, Tony Santellis’s newly paroled best friend. It had been Jackle’s apartment where all had gone wrong. The photo whirled onto the computer screen. A sentence blinked on, and off, bright green, before freezing. Jackle had bought it a few weeks ago, in the back of his head.
Strange.
Frowning, Sam punched in another name. This one wasn’t a Santellis, just a hanger-on. Jason Hughes hadn’t done hard time for being present at Jimmy’s death. But that didn’t matter, hard time might be preferable. The man had been dead for sixteen months, drug overdose. A suspicion hovered and then took over Sam’s thoughts.
Two corpses.
Okay, time to try another name. Sam chose Mitchell Trent, a small-time dealer who’d never chosen friends wisely.
Three corpses.
Trent had been dead for almost a year. Trent apparently drove a vehicle with a brake problem. The report mentioned Trent’s girlfriend, Lindsey, had also died in the crash.
Four corpses.
The news didn’t surprise Sam. She’d been present at Jackle’s the day of Jimmy’s death, too, the only female besides Rosa.
No, no way.
Eric Santellis was the only one still serving time. It took Sam twenty minutes to ascertain that besides Rosa, Eric was also the only one still alive.
And now, thanks to Sam, Rosa had a known address, albeit currently the Gila City County Jail.
And her previous address had blown up a few hours ago.
Pushing his chair back, Sam stood up and stuck the files in a drawer. It was almost three-thirty. Time to head home. After a few hours of sleep, all this might make some sense, although he doubted it.
The brown sedan would have to suffice as transportation since one of the memos on his desk reminded him that the Exxon station had called at noon saying his truck was ready. A lot of good that did him now.
He flipped the light switch and headed toward the stairs. This time of morning in the Gila City precinct meant solitude and paperwork. Sam glanced out the window. Cliff’s car was now parked between a paloverde tree and a trash receptacle. Suddenly, Sam doubted that sleep was anywhere in his near future. Rosa and Eric the only ones alive?
Cliff was behaving strangely.
What were the odds?
The women’s area occupied the left corner of the station. It had one cell that opened into a type of foyer. They’d turned it into a women’s holding area back in the sixties. A few female picketers had gotten carried away at a peace march and suddenly the town needed a separate cell for women. Sam didn’t know, or care, what it had been used for before that.
The duty officer’s radio played to a nonexistent audience. Sam curled his fingers around the handle of his gun. This was his station, his home, his turf. Why was he feeling that some outside force had violated his space?
He heard Henry’s voice, a low mumble even in a quiet night. Okay, that meant at least one person was where he was supposed to be.
Supposed to be?
That’s what had been bothering him.
Cliff’s showing up this morning.
Cliff had only been back in Gila City a few weeks. He’d told Sam that haunting his old precinct wasn’t something he intended to do. Something about out with the old and in with the new. And this morning had been the first time he’d entered the doors. This morning, of all mornings, the morning Lucy Straus, Rosa Cagnalia, was apprehended.
And now he was back.
More than coincidence?
Cliff had said, back when he and Sam were partners, not to believe in coincidence.
For the first time, Sam truly understood what his ex-partner had been trying to teach him.
FOUR
The police station represented family to Sam, but, right at this moment, he felt out of place. Something—make that someone—he’d believed in was proving to be a crumbling cornerstone. Cops weren’t supposed to take things personally. Cliff was, and who could blame him? But he seemed to be trying to get revenge on Rosa at any cost.
Sam decided to walk around a bit, try to shake off the disturbing feeling. Three women were in the dispatch room. Two detectives were on the second floor, staring at a wall of photos and arguing. Each photo was marked with large, red, chronological numbers. The number of cars stolen in Gila City had increased from fifteen a month to more than thirty. The mayor promised action; the police worked longer hours. The car thieves probably laughed.
He settled back at his desk and picked up her file. No way should he feel obligated to keep an eye out for her. He had arrested her, but he’d arrested lots of people and figured most—if not all—of them were guilty. Maybe that was the problem. The more he investigated, the more he heard about the interrogation the feds had conducted yesterday, the more he wondered about what else she was guilty of, besides making off with drug money. There had to be something else involved here. The number of corpses certainly supported that theory.
And maybe there’d be one less corpse if she adhered to the Good Samaritan law by sticking around and helping Jimmy. She was a registered nurse. A few minutes of her time might have meant the difference between life and death for Jimmy.
What made her turn her back on a young man dying, literally, at her feet? She could have saved Jimmy, copped a plea and continued life as she knew it. She had no priors and almost every deposition taken after the bust painted Rosa as one of the good guys. She was well liked at work and by her neighbors. Her family supported her. Something was very wrong with the whole picture. If she was such a nice girl, why did so many people want her dead?
“Sam.”
If he were inclined to give credit, he just might thank God for sending him the accomplice he needed. But he’d stopped asking God for anything a long time ago, so there was no need for thanks.
Ruth had dark circles under her eyes and looked as tightly wound as Sam felt.
“What are you doing here at this hour?” he asked.
“I can’t sleep. We arrested someone connected to the Santellises,” she said softly. “I don’t think we asked her enough questions before the feds took over.”
Sam nodded. “Not only did we not ask her enough questions, but we didn’t ask her the right questions.”
“Do you think she knows what happened to Dustin?”
“No.” Sam gathered his notes and a few printouts. “I don’t think she knows anything about your husband’s disappearance. And I think I can convince you that she’s a pawn in somebody else’s game.”
Ruth hadn’t been on the Gila City force during Cliff’s tenure. She’d still been in high school. She might be able to stay unbiased. Especially if she thought it would bring down the family she blamed for her husband’s death. She took the seat that Rosa had occupied, and just like Rosa, she picked up a pen and started fidgeting. Finally, she asked, “So, what’s going on?”
“I’m putting two and two together and I’m not getting four. Someone’s out to kill her.”
“She’s connected to the Santellises. That’s why I’m here. And, someone’s always going to be out to kill her.” Ruth set the pen down and for a moment Sam thought she might leave, might turn her back on what she didn’t want to hear.
Swallowing, he voiced the words that might begin to hammer the nails of his onetime friend’s virtual coffin. “I don’t think Cliff