Chương 10
A cleaner pushed a cart past us and muttered, “Excuse me,” though we were the ones blocking the hallway.
I moved.
So did Patel.
The argument ended not because either of us won but because hospitals keep moving.
Emma had gotten out of bed and was standing beside the window in hospital socks.
The IV pole followed her like a reluctant dance partner.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Looking.”
“At what?”
“Cars.”
I went to the window.
The emergency entrance canopy blocked most of the parking lot.
“What car?”
“The silver one.”
I looked at her.
“Diana’s?”
She nodded.
“I thought I saw it.”
My phone was already in my hand before I could stop myself.
Patel noticed.
So did Emma.
“Don’t call people unless it’s really her,” she said.
I lowered the phone.
“Good rule.”
“It had the wrong lights.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her back lights are skinny.”
She pointed toward a sedan moving through the lot.
“Those are fat.”
Patel glanced at me.
“Technical classification.”
“She gets that from her mother.”
Emma looked down.
The old mistake.
Every dead parent leaves ordinary traps in conversation.
For a second none of us knew what to do with it.
Then Emma said, “Mom called all SUVs Jeeps.”
“That is true.”
“Even yours.”
“She did it to annoy me.”
“She thought it was funny.”
“It was not funny.”
Emma smiled.
“It was a little funny.”
Dr. Patel said, “For the record, I support her.”
“You’re both banned from vehicle identification.”
That quiet minute did more for my breathing than anything Reeves had said.
Then Ortiz appeared at the doorway.
She was out of breath and holding a brown evidence envelope.
I looked at her.
“You’re supposed to coordinate through Reeves.”
“He sent me.”
“For what?”
She glanced at Emma.
“Can we talk outside?”
Emma said, “Everybody talks outside now.”
Ortiz’s expression softened.
“I’m sorry, kiddo.”
“Did you find Mrs. Harrington?”
“Not yet.”
“You should look by the tennis courts.”
Ortiz blinked.
“Why?”
“She goes there when she gets mad.”
I turned toward Emma.
“How do you know that?”
“She told Mrs. Gable.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
Ortiz took out her notebook.
“What exactly did she say?”
Emma sighed.
“Dad said no questioning unless the doctor says yes.”
Ortiz slowly put the notebook away.
“Your dad is annoyingly correct.”
“That’s what Captain Reeves says.”
I tried not to smile.
Patel said, “Five minutes, if Emma wants.”
Emma nodded.
“Okay.”
Ortiz looked at me.
“Outside first.”
We stepped into the hallway.
“What’s in the envelope?”
“Photographs from your kitchen.”
“You brought evidence to the victim?”
“Copies.”
“Why?”
“Reeves wants you to identify something.”
She opened the envelope and removed three printed photographs.
The first showed the open drawer beneath my charging station.
The second showed the counter.
The third showed the trash can.
A torn strip of black leather lay on top of coffee grounds and a paper towel.
My stomach tightened.
“That’s from the folder.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Anything distinctive?”
“The edge stitching.”
“Could it be another folder?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Elena bought it.”
Ortiz waited.
I touched the photograph.
“There’s a small repair near the corner.”
The picture showed it.
A line of darker thread.
“Elena stitched it herself because I refused to throw it away.”
Ortiz wrote that down.
“Anything else missing from the drawer besides the folder?”
“I haven’t seen the house.”
“From memory.”
“Medical documents.”
“What else?”
“Insurance.”
“Anything financial?”
“Some old tax records.”
“Social Security numbers?”
“My wife’s was probably on the death certificate.”
“Emma’s?”
“Possibly on insurance forms.”
Ortiz nodded.
“Your own?”
“Yes.”
She slid the photographs back into the envelope.
“Reeves needed that confirmation.”
“Why did Diana tear the folder?”
“We don’t know that she did.”
I gave her a look.
She shrugged.
“I work for Reeves tonight.”
“Apparently everybody does.”
“That’s because you’re acting like a dad with a badge.”
The words were not cruel.
That made them harder.
“You think I’m interfering?”
“I think you’re trying not to.”
“Same thing?”
“Not yet.”
I looked toward Emma’s room.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Ortiz leaned against the wall.
“You always did that.”
“Did what?”
“Asked the question like you already knew there was something.”
“Usually there is.”
“There is.”
I waited.
“We located Diana’s vehicle.”
My pulse kicked.
“Where?”
“Abandoned behind the tennis courts.”
I stared at her.
Emma.
Of course.
“Any sign of Diana?”
“No.”
“Keys?”
“Gone.”
“Phone?”
“Gone.”
“Blood?”
Ortiz hesitated.
“No.”
“What’s the hesitation?”
“We found a second phone.”
“In the car?”
“Under the passenger seat.”
“Burner?”
“Looks like it.”
“Connected to the number texting me?”
“Not that number.”
“What was on it?”
“It’s locked.”
“Then why are you here instead of getting a warrant?”
“We are.”
She glanced toward the doorway.
“But the lock screen showed notifications.”
“What kind?”
“Messages.”
“From whom?”
“No saved name.”
“Content?”
“One preview.”
I felt my shoulders tighten.
“What did it say?”
Ortiz looked at me directly.
“Target four was mishandled.”
For a second, neither of us spoke.
“Emma.”
“That’s our concern.”
“What else?”
“Another notification arrived while the phone was being photographed.”
“What did that say?”
“She’s gone.”
“Who?”
Ortiz shook her head.
“Could mean Diana.”
“Could mean Emma.”
“She’s right there.”
“Could mean whoever was supposed to move her.”
Ortiz’s face sharpened.
“Move her?”
“Five means remove.”
“What?”
I pulled out my phone and showed her the earlier messages.
Her eyes moved over the classification system.
When she reached the last line, she swore.
“Reeves has this?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I thought he would.”
She stepped away and called him.
The conversation lasted less than thirty seconds.
When she hung up, she looked angry.
“At him?”
“At you.”
“Join the club.”
“He thought I’d already seen the message dump.”
“Communication breakdown.”
“Don’t be cute.”
“I’m not.”
She pointed toward Emma’s door.
“Now I have a reason to put a deputy outside this room.”
“Do it.”
“I already asked for one.”
“Who?”
“McNally.”
I shook my head.
May you like
“Not McNally.”
“Why?”
