скачать книгу бесплатно
He watched from the shadows as the police swarmed over the building. He ground his teeth. The stupid female showed up too soon. He hadn’t finished his search. Of course, Joyce had surprised him, too. Threatened him, but he solved that problem. He could solve this new problem. There was another night, and he wasn’t going to stop until he found what Joyce had stolen from him. Too much depended on that evidence, and he would find it.
When Elena walked into the Santa Fe police headquarters, the large clock on the wall read 6:20 a.m. It hadn’t been a peaceful night. She’d wrestled “the nightmare,” only this time it had a new twist. This time the dream started with her arriving at the antique shop and finding the body. But when she turned the body over, it wasn’t Joyce she discovered. It was her birth mother’s body, and suddenly the room had altered to the kitchen where her mother died. Her father, in a drunken rage, had grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter and stabbed her mother when she refused to get him another beer. Elena had been eight when that happened. Her older brother had called the police and held their mother while they waited for the cops.
It had taken years for that vision not to haunt her dreams. Too many times her adoptive parents held her while she cried. This morning she didn’t want to add to the sorrow and grief her mother felt for Joyce.
After experiencing that old nightmare, Elena knew she couldn’t go back to sleep, so she dressed and decided to go to work. Unfortunately, her car and keys to the shop were still with the detectives. Instead of waking her mother and facing questions, Elena wrote a note and took a bus downtown. She could walk from the main police station to the shop.
The receptionist walked to her desk, a cup of coffee in her hand. “May I help you?”
“Is Detective Stillwater here?”
The woman called the detective’s extension. “Detective, there’s a woman here—” She paused and looked at Elena.
“Elena Jackson.”
The woman repeated the name. “Okay. I’ll relay the message.” She hung up the phone. “He’ll be here in a moment.”
Elena turned and looked out the plate-glass windows into the empty street. It glowed with a soft predawn light. The scent of piñon and mountain cedar filled the air. This time of day always refreshed Elena, and in the stillness, she could pray. She could tell the Lord about her day and spend time with Him. Even in New York, where there was a mass of humanity, the mornings were her time to renew herself. In New York, praying as she walked to work had made her appreciate the beauty of the city, but when she came home to New Mexico, her soul found peace.
The smell of the receptionist’s coffee floated through the air, reminding Elena that she hadn’t had her morning cup yet. A stop at Juan’s at the corner of the street would be her first priority after she got her keys. Juan’s Café was a favorite hangout for the cops and lawyers downtown, but, despite that, she’d wanted coffee and one of the breakfast burritos Juan cooked up. Often, when she was a teen, her adoptive father had brought her to the store and they’d stop at Juan’s for a treat.
“How are you doing this morning?” Daniel’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts.
Elena turned and watched the detective walk toward her. He was a good-looking man, something she hadn’t noticed last night. Of course, she had been a little too preoccupied to look, but now she gave him a once-over. Whipcord lean, Daniel had a wealth of blue-black hair, high cheekbones, piercing brown eyes and a well-defined mouth. The coppery tone of his skin reminded Elena that it was his ancestors who first roamed this land. He probably had his fair share of female admiration. She didn’t notice a wedding ring on his left hand. Although he’d been up all night, he didn’t look tired.
“I came by for my keys. I wanted to get to the shop and see what needed to be done.”
“Let’s go back to my desk. Your keys are there and we can go over your story again.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
“Now that you’ve had the night to think about what happened, maybe something else occurred to you.”
Suspicion filled her. Did he think she had something to do with Joyce’s murder? But before she could say anything, her stomach rumbled. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Daniel’s mouth curved with amusement.
“I haven’t had breakfast,” she mumbled. “I was going to stop by Juan’s before I went to the store.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Her brows knitted into a frown. “I beg your pardon?”
“Let’s go to Juan’s. Over some burritos, we can go over your statement.”
“Huh—” Her stomach rumbled again.
His gaze captured hers.
“Okay,” she agreed.
Daniel went back to his desk, picked up her keys and handed them to her. He put his notebook in his shirt pocket, grabbed his corduroy jacket and slipped it on.
Rodriguez sat back in his chair. “Hey, when you’re at Juan’s, buy me a number one and have him send it over.” He pulled several bills from his wallet and handed them to Daniel.
Elena noticed the silent message the two men exchanged and wondered what it was about. Once outside in the morning air, Elena glanced at Daniel.
“Am I about to get the third degree?” she asked.
“No. What makes you think that?”
“All the silent messages you and your partner exchanged.”
“You’re imagining things.”
She didn’t believe him and prepared herself for the grilling.
The wonderful smell of coffee and refried beans surrounded her as they stepped into the restaurant, making her worries disappear. Whatever the detective had in mind, she could handle it after a cup of coffee and something to eat.
She ordered and found a booth in the corner away from the noise and chatter of the restaurant. Daniel ordered his breakfast and Rodriguez’s. After paying for them, he joined her.
“Have you remembered anything else about Joyce that you didn’t tell me last night?” he asked.
“I’ve tried not to think, to put everything out of my mind.” She concentrated on her burrito.
He took a bite of his breakfast. “How long did Joyce work at your store?” he questioned.
“She worked for my parents for the last five years.” When he gave her a look, she explained, “I was in college at UNM, studying art. When I came home one Christmas, Joyce was working at the store. I knew her casually, but if you want more information on her, talk to my mother. Mom worked with Joyce every day for the last five years. I worked holidays and some summers when I came home. Once in New York, I rarely saw Joyce.”
“But you’ve been here in Santa Fe for the last six months?”
Elena frowned at him. If he knew the answer, why ask the question? Maybe he was testing her. “My father passed away at the beginning of March. Mother wasn’t able to handle the business, so I quit my job in New York and came home.” She didn’t want to discuss the grief that put her mother in bed or how in order to keep things running, she’d come home. Her adopted older brother lived in Seattle with his family. Of the two of them, she was more able to come and help their mother.
He took out his notebook and scribbled something down. “So you aren’t familiar with Joyce?”
She frowned at him. “No. She was a wonderful employee, always on time, reliable, helpful to my parents. Since I’ve been home, I can’t name any problems with her.” Of course, Elena had been worried about Joyce.
“What are you not telling me?”
Her head jerked up. “What makes you think—”
He gave her a pointed stare. “I’m a trained investigator.”
Elena shrugged. “As I told you last night, Joyce seemed to be preoccupied over the last couple of weeks.”
“Tell me about it.”
Elena tried to come up with exact instances. “One time she put the special orders in the wastepaper basket. Another time, she forgot to put a large check in the cash register. And another time, she came to work without her purse. She had to drive home and get it. That wasn’t like her. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me she just had an off day. It wasn’t an off day, but an off week. But I didn’t press her. We all screw up.”
As he jotted notes in a small spiral, the clatter of silverware and dishes filled the air. Elena tried to peek at what he wrote, but his head came up, and she smiled and settled back into her seat.
“And you never knew anything about her personal life?” he pressed.
Something was going on here. “No, I didn’t, but I’ve got a feeling that you know something I don’t.”
He leaned back against his chair. “Did you know that Joyce had a criminal record?”
TWO
She looked stunned. “No.”
“Hey, Stillwater.” Jeff Muller, a patrolman and fellow soccer dad, walked up to the table. He nodded toward Elena. “You going to the girls’ soccer game this afternoon?”
His daughter, April, and Jeff’s daughter, Melissa, played on the same soccer team, the Red Peppers. They were 9-1 for the season. This was their final game. “I wouldn’t miss it, Jeff. Has your daughter’s injury healed?”
“Yeah. She’s only got a few scabs left, but she’s ready to play.”
“I’ll see you at the field at five.”
Jeff nodded and walked off.
When Daniel looked back at Elena, he saw her struggling with the information he’d just dropped about Joyce. She was either a good actress or the info came as a total shock. His heart wanted to believe it was surprise, but his brain argued she could be acting.
Of course, he was fighting an unseen enemy—attraction.
She was the first woman who’d grabbed his attention since his wife’s death. He’d found himself looking forward to seeing her today. Of course his reaction could be a combination of tiredness and hunger.
Liar, a voice in his head whispered.
“Are you sure you have the right woman?” she carefully asked.
They’d taken the dead woman’s prints and run them through their AFIS computer system. Joyce Murphy’s name and mug shot had popped up. “I’m sure. She’d been convicted of passing counterfeit money.”
Elena’s mouth fell open.
“So my news comes as a big surprise,” he continued.
That jerked her out of her fog.
“Of course.” She shook her head. “I never knew. She was a trusted employee. I’m sure my parents didn’t know about her past. She was the only employee my parents had over the past few years, with the exception of my brother, Adrian, and me. Joyce was there for my mom when Dad had his heart attack and has helped since his death.”
Elena’s impression of Joyce didn’t sound as though she continued her criminal ways. “Did your parents ever mention a concern about Joyce?”
“They never said anything to me. You could call my brother in Seattle to see if they mentioned anything to him. Of course, he left home before I did.”
Elena’s phone rang. She dug around in her purse and grabbed it. “Hi, Mom. No, I’m with Detective Stillwater.” She looked up at him. “Did you know that Joyce had a criminal record?”
He watched her face as she listened to the answer.
“You did, but I don’t—” Her hand curled into a fist. “Okay. No, I’ll be at the shop in a few minutes.” She closed her phone and carefully placed it in her purse. Raising her chin, she met his gaze. “Mom knew about Joyce’s past. Are we finished? I need to meet her.”
“We are for now.”
“What does that mean?”
“I might have more questions as the investigation goes along.”
She nodded, gathered her purse, and left. He carefully observed her. He’d checked out her background. Elena Segura Jackson had no criminal record. Adopted at the age of ten by the Jacksons after the trauma of seeing her mother murdered by her father, she’d had a normal life with teenage rebellion. She had one ticket for speeding, but that was it. Her college records showed her as an A student and her move to New York had been uneventful as far as law enforcement was concerned. He needed to interview the mother and brother. It might turn up something.
There was something that bothered him. It was this attraction thing. What he needed to do was to chalk it up to too little sleep.
His cell rang.
“Hey, Dad, are you going to be home before I leave for school?” April asked.
“I’m on my way, now, sweetie.”
“Good. Grandma wants you to bring home some milk. She says you won’t mind.”
He laughed. His mother’s friend, Rosalyn Mendoza, had come to his rescue when he came home from his unit in Afghanistan to take care of his wife, who had breast cancer, and daughter. His own mother had died before his daughter was born, but Rosalyn had adopted his daughter as if she were her own granddaughter. April only knew Rosalyn as her grandma. “You tell her I’ll bring the milk. If she’s plays her cards just right, I might bring home some apricot empanadas from Juan’s.” He knew the baked turnover was a favorite of his daughter’s.
April cheered. “Hurry home.”
He laughed. “You just want the empanadas before you go to school.”
“No, Dad, it’s you I want to see.”
Her words brought on bittersweet pain that reminded him of how little he’d given his daughter over the years. But with the Lord’s help, that would change.
Getting off the bus at the northwest corner of Amarillo Plaza, Elena tried to put aside the fear gnawing at her. She didn’t want to think about what happened last night, but it seemed to race after her like a stalker. Hurrying past Mama Rosa’s Cantina on the corner, Elena walked toward Past Treasures on the north side of the central plaza in old town Santa Fe. This square was part of the original city, built with adobe. Wooden beams used to construct the adobe stores were used to support the new wooden awning built to give shoppers shade in the middle of a blistering day. In the center of the square, old hitching posts were left to emphasize the history of the area.
When she got to the shop, there was nothing there to indicate a murder had occurred within those walls. All the police tape was down, but the door remained locked. She found the keys in her purse and opened the door.
With her hand on the knob, she prayed, “Lord, give me strength.” Slowly, she entered the building. Her gaze scanned the room. The police had moved things, and there was black powder on several pieces of furniture and the back door.
Walking into the room, she heard voices coming from the janitor’s closet at the back of the store.
“You don’t have to do that yourself, Diane. Call your experts that deal with rugs.”
From the voice, Elena recognized Preston Jones, the owner of the art gallery next door. Preston dealt exclusively with artists from Santa Fe, Taos and the surrounding area.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Cam McGinnis asked. Cam owned the native jewelry store on the other side of the shop.
The three of them emerged onto the showroom floor. Cam carried a bucket, and Preston had sponges. Diane saw Elena, handed her rag to Cam and raced to her daughter’s side.
“Oh, baby, how are you?” Immediately she was surrounded by her mother’s favorite perfume. “I was so worried about you. How did you get down to the police station?”
“The bus.”
