Beneath Forbidden Ground (30 page)

Valvez looked down, nodding, but didn’t speak.

Scallion reached into his pocket, pulling out a ten-dollar bill. “There’s a snack bar on the floor below this one. Get yourself something to eat or drink while I arrange things. I’ll come get you when things are prepared.” Handing the man the money, he stared directly into his eyes. “And, Carlos. You
will
be there? You won’t leave?”

“Sì. I will wait for you.” He had come this far; he would not turn back.

31

When Valvez had left, Scallion dialed Ross’s extension. Informed he and Ladner were out on a case, he dialed the cell phone number he still knew from memory.

“Wendell, you recall Carlos Valvez, the handyman I mentioned in our meeting last Monday? He just showed up, ready to talk. Says the Brand case is involved too. Any chance you can come back in to sit in while he spills what he knows?”

“Don’t see how I have any choice. Sam and I are just following up a couple of leads. They can wait. We can be back in, say, twenty minutes.”

“Okay, but listen, Wendell. I’m going to try and get Otto to join us. I don’t want to overwhelm the poor guy, so Sam may have to sit this one out.”

“I’ll explain it to him. Call you when I get back to the building.”

The next call was to the sheriff’s office. He was in a meeting. Scallion told his secretary to slip the man a note somehow, let him know it’s urgent. Within five minutes, Howorth called back to find out what was so important.

“Okay,” he said, when Scallion had finished his story. “We’ll use the interrogation room in Ross’s area. There’s a camera down there so we can record the interview. Call me as soon as Wendell arrives, and we’ll meet through lunch if we have to.”

“You going to have the D A’s office sit in again?”

A brief pause, then, “Nope. Let’s see what we have first.”

Shortly after 11:30, all parties were in place. The four men took their seats around a small table; Scallion next to Valvez, with Howorth and Ross across from them. The sheriff took charge. He started by identifying the people present for the benefit of the camera documenting the interview. He then turned to Valvez.

“
Hola, Carlos. Encantado de conocerle.
”

“Gracias, Sènor.” Valvez smiled uncomfortably.

“
Soy Sheriff Otto Howorth. Quiere darle las gracias por venir a hablas con nosotros.”

“Sì, Sènor Howorth.” The bronze-skinned man seemed to relax.

Scallion and Ross were casting curious glances at their boss. Then both seemed to realize simultaneously he was trying to put the man at ease by opening with his native tongue, welcoming him before the gathering grew serious. Fluent Spanish was another of the man’s many talents.

“Now, Carlos,” Howorth continued, now in English, leaning across the table, “before we get started, there are a couple of things you need to be aware of. First, this meeting is being recorded on tape. There is a camera filming our conversation.” He pointed at the small device mounted high in a corner. “Secondly, if what you are going to say implicates you in regard to what may appear to be criminal activity, you have the right to consult an attorney before you speak. Do you understand these points?”

“
Sì, Sènor Howorth, I understand. But I am ready to speak what I know now. I only
wish to have protection for my wife and children.”

“Yes, well, we’ll talk about that when we’re done here. Has your family returned to Houston with you?”

“No, Sènor. They are in San Antonio.”

Howorth leaned back. “I see. Well then, Carlos, we’re ready when you are.”

Valvez shifted in his chair. His face showed the strain of horrific knowledge kept bottled up for slightly more than a decade. He turned to the detective sitting next to him. “The women you asked about when you first came to see me, and the man, Sènor Lamb, I think they are buried under the lake at Cypress Bridge Acres.”

Scallion had to immediately put the clamps on his rush of excitement; the way the statement was worded bothered him. “Carlos, are you saying you didn’t actually
see
what happened? You didn’t see them being buried?”

“
No, Sènor. But I am sure they are there. Sènor Kritz called me that night at my
home. He demanded I return to the job site, and help him with a problem. I was very
tired, and did not want to come, but he insisted. There were four automobiles parked
in
front of the construction trailer when I arrived. Sènor Kritz had the keys to each car.

My job was to drive them, and follow him to four different locations. He showed me
where to park the cars. After I parked each car, he took the keys, then wiped the
steering wheel and door handles clean. We returned to Cypress Bridge Acres in his
truck to do the same thing until all four were driven away.”

“Did he say why this was being done?” Howorth asked.

Valvez shook his head. “No, Sènor. He did not say. And I did not want to ask. But I knew
it was bad. He told me I must never speak of what I did that night to anyone. Later, he told
me what to say if anyone ever asked about the women.” Valvez looked again at Scallion. “When you came to see me, I told you what he said I should say.”

“Why did you feel you had to do as he demanded?” the sheriff asked.

Valvez hesitated, avoiding direct eye contact.
“
I am sorry to say I was not in this country
legally at the time. Sènor Kritz threatened to tell the immigration authorities if I did not do
as he said.”

“But you are legal now?”

“Sì. Sènor Kritz helped me later to take the necessary steps. And my family too.”

The room was quiet for a moment. Valvez shifted nervously once more.

“And what about Mr. Lamb?” Howorth asked.

“When the cars were all taken away, Sènor Kritz handed me the keys to a truck parked
behind the trailer, near the excavation equipment. It was Sènor Lamb’s truck. He said to
drive it to the front, and we would do the same thing we had done to the others. As I turned
the engine on and switched on the headlights, the beam was pointed at a front end loader. I
saw Sènor Kritz’s cap on the seat of the machine. Then the lights reflected on the keys
hanging from the ignition of the loader. I am sure Sènor Lamb would never leave his keys in that way. Someone must have operated the equipment, and it could only be Sènor Kritz. He was the only one there.” Valvez’s voice trailed off. He hung his head, as if sharing the guilt of his boss’s actions.

“Did you see any signs of the four women? Or William Lamb? Purses, wallets, items of clothing, anything? Either that night or the following day?” It was still Howorth speaking.

“No, sènor.”

“Carlos, why have you waited so long to come forward?”

The little man seemed to shrink into his chair; he looked miserable. “I am sorry, Sènor
Howorth, but I was very afraid of what he might do to me or my family. But I know how those families must feel, not knowing what happened to their daughters. In San Antonio, I read the Houston newspaper, and saw that Sènor Brand had been killed. That is when I knew I had to tell the truth.”

Ross couldn’t keep quiet. “What did his death tell you?”

“Sènor Brand had been to Cypress Bridge Acres two times before, while I was working near the lake. He stopped to talk with me, saying he was going to be in business with Sènor Kritz soon, and that he wanted to remove the lake and build more houses, to make more money. He said Sènor Kritz was resisting, but he knew he would change his mind. I knew better than him that it would never be allowed. Sure of what had happened years earlier, I knew Sènor Kritz could not allow it. When I called him to tell him of Sènor Brand’s visits, he was very angry.”

“Angry enough to kill?” Ross asked.

“Since I was sure he had already killed, sì, sènor.”

Silence invaded the room again. The lawmen aimed questioning looks at each other, searching for other points to cover. Sheriff Howorth finally spoke. “Pete, Wendell, let’s step outside. Carlos, you stay put for a moment.”

“Sì, sènor.” Valvez grew nervous again, knowing they were going to discuss his fate.

Outside the room, Howorth leaned against a wall, pulling on his moustache. “I want to sort out what we have here. As I see it, Valvez has admitted to being an accessory after the fact, but he didn’t give us enough hard evidence to actually prove the crime he assisted in. Or for that matter, the killing of Kevin Brand to cover it up.”

“But you do believe his story?” Scallion asked, concerned about the sheriff’s tone. “Why else would he admit to what he did?”

“Oh, I think he’s telling us exactly what happened. It’s just that we need hard evidence, and the only way we’ll get that is to drain the lake as you first suggested, Pete. I’m going to start the ball rolling when I get back to my office, get a court order authorizing it. As far as the Brand case goes, didn’t you say there was possible DNA taken from the scene?” He was looking at Ross.

“Right.” Ross turned toward Scallion “Have you heard from Marla yet?”

“Not sure. She may have called while I’ve been down here. I’ll check.”

He stepped away from the other two as he dialed Marla’s number. She answered herself this time. “I’ve been away from my office, Marla. Just checking to see if you’ve got anything for me.”

“Yes. I tried to call you but got your voice mail. We’ve got a positive match from the cup your partner brought in to what we extracted from the harmonica. And we were able to obtain a viable sample from the bathrobe on the other case. Should be able to match it if you can bring me something from the right suspect. Why don’t you come down and I’ll show you.”

“Can’t right now. I’m tied up with the boss on a couple of cases.” Scallion turned to see Ross giving a teasing smirk, having no doubt guessed at the woman’s request. He hoped Howorth wouldn’t pick up on it. “But thanks anyway. You’ve come through for us again, Marla. I’ll make sure Otto’s aware of your good work.”

“Okay, Pete. Thanks. Goodby.” There was again obvious disappointment in her voice.

Scallion quickly relayed the news to the other men.

“Finally, some good news,” Howorth said. “I’ll issue a warrant for Nuchol’s arrest immediately. Hope they haven’t turned him loose in Oklahoma City.”

“I’ll check on that,” Scallion said. “Meanwhile, what do we do about Kritz? And how about Carlos?”

The sheriff mulled things for a second. “When, and if, Valvez’s story pans out, as I said, he’ll be charged as an accessory. Until then, I don’t think he’ll object to being placed under protective custody, for his own good. As far as Mr. Kritz goes, he’s most likely going to raise a stink once we start emptying that lake. He’ll know it’s just a matter of time then. Might even be a flight risk. I’ll have a detail assigned to keep tabs on him. That’ll also make it hard for him to pay you any more surprise visits, Pete.”

“I don’t think he’ll try that again,” Ross said. “Not after Ladner and I quizzed him about the other night.”

Scallion was deep in thought. The other two noticed. “What’s on your mind, Pete,” Howorth asked.

“I was just wondering if there’s a chance you could put in a good word for Valvez. I understand his part in the cover-up, but he was in a vulnerable position. And he
is
going to give us the man responsible for seven homicides.”

“Yeah, but he was vulnerable because he was illegal,” Ross pointed out.

“I know that, Wendell. But people with far more culpability than him have been given leniency. It happens every day.”

Howorth broke in. “I’m not making any promises, but Pete does have a point. I’ll discuss it with Whitlow. He needs to be let in on what’s going on anyway. And Wendell, see if Kritz’ll agree to give us a DNA sample.”

Ross shook his head. “Don’t think it’ll happen. Not voluntarily, anyway.”

“Well, give it a try. In the meantime, we’ve got a lake to empty.”

32

By Wednesday morning, the court order had been executed, and an engineering firm that specialized in hydrology-related projects was retained to attack the problem of emptying the lake at Cypress Bridge Acres. The pace of work was maddeningly slow from Scallion’s viewpoint. The engineers needed to ensure the revised flow path of the stream feeding the lake wouldn’t cause harm to the properties around the lake, including the landscaped lawns of the surrounding homes. Once this had been accomplished, a makeshift device designed to serve as a dam would be put in place at the point where the meandering creek fed into the lake.

On the morning after the gates installed to divert the flow had been lowered, the change in the water level began to show. Curious residents of the development started to gather. The decision had been made by Sheriff Howorth not to notify homeowners of the purpose of the project, for fear it would create a panic. The knowledge that bodies might be buried practically in their front yards wouldn’t be welcome news. There was also the concern that word might filter out to Kritz. He was well aware it was only a matter of time before the suspect would be informed, but that time would come sooner than expected.

Scallion and Murtaugh stood under threatening skies, impatiently observing the barely noticeable dip in the elevation of the lake. Murtaugh was back nearly full time, his daughter’s more-or-less forced incarceration under way. It would be a long haul, he’d told Scallion. He was still determined to see the dismantling of Luther Kritz come to a head before calling it quits. Scallion, for his part, was playing hooky from Marti’s final week of radiation, at her insistence; her mother was filling-in as chauffeur. She was feeling stronger, and was confident about the checkup she had scheduled with her oncologist the following week. He wanted to share her positive outlook, but couldn’t wipe the worry from his thoughts.

Scallion removed his coat, draping it over his shoulder, then loosened his tie. His shirt was clinging to his body, leaving only a few dry spots.

“Sorta like watching paint dry, huh?” Murtaugh said, a groan showing his own impatience.