Broken Saint, The (15 page)

Chapter 24

“Hair Sample 1 is the boyfriend, Hector Cruz. We got that
off his felony in California.” It was Robin, our evidence tech, phoning to say
she had the results on the DNA of the two hair samples from different males on
Maricel’s body. The message was waiting for me when I got in this morning.

Not particularly helpful having a hair sample from
her boyfriend. “And Hair Sample 2?”

“That one’s not in any system we have access to.”

“Shit.”

“Oh, no, please, Karen. No need to thank me. These
little chats are reward enough.”

“So that’s all the forensics you’ve got?”

“Unless you bring me more evidence. Get me some
more DNA and I can match it to our mystery man. And get me some polyester
fibers and I can tell you if it was his trunk Maricel took her last ride in.”

“If we got you more DNA, that would take another
thirty-six hours, right?”

“Can’t rush it. We have to ferment the stuff.”

“All right, Robin, thanks.” I hung up the phone
and turned to Ryan. “Any point in asking the chief again if we can search
Hector on his hair DNA being on Maricel?”

Ryan sighed. “He’s already made it clear he
doesn’t see that as probable cause. Hector’s admitted he was with her that
night. We need a witness who puts Hector where he says he wasn’t.”

“Or someone who says Hector said he stabbed her.”

“Yes.” Ryan smiled. “That would also work.”

“So that leaves us with Andrea Gerson’s statement
how Maricel said you have to choose your friends carefully. We were going to
interview Amber and Jared again.”

“Want me to give Jared a call?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Ryan punched his number and put it on Speaker.

Jared picked up. “Yeah?” His voice was low and
groggy.

Ryan said, “Jared, this is Detective Miner,
Rawlings Police Department. Can you hear me? Your voice is faint.”

“I was sleeping. Give me a second, will ya?”

“Sure, Jared, I’ll just stay on the line, give you
a chance to wake up.”

We heard him mutter “Jesus Christ” and clear his
throat a couple times. “Okay,” he said, “What is it?”

Ryan said, “Jared, we need to talk to you again.
About Maricel Salizar.”

“What the fuck?” he said. “I already told you
everything I know about her.”

“Yeah, well, you know how cops are, right? We’ve
got a few more questions.”

“Why don’t you just ask your questions now?”

“No, Jared, we’d rather have a chance to talk with
you in person. You’ve got two choices: wherever you are in the next half hour,
or at police headquarters. Which’ll it be?”

“What time is it now?”

“It’s 8:10.”

“I’ve got a 9:00 class in the Business Building.
How ’bout five to nine in front of the Business Building?”

“Let’s make it a quarter to nine.”

He sighed. “Anything else?”

“Quarter to nine, Jared. You’re not there, our
next conversation is at police headquarters. Understand?”

“Yeah, quarter to nine.”

Ryan hung up.

We got up and drove over to campus in time to get
there by 8:30. The campus was starting to shake itself awake. The few students
walking around were huddled in their coats, their heads down. It was supposed
to get up to forty today, but it was about fifteen now. A half-dozen students
clustered around the entrance to the Business Building, most of them holding Starbucks
paper cups.

“Guess you didn’t have coffee places at BYU.” I
was rocking up and down on my toes, my hands deep as I could bury them in my
pockets.

“No,” Ryan said cheerfully. “There were places just
off campus.”

We stood there in the morning chill, watching the
kids hurry past us, checking their phones.

“Is that him?” I pointed off to the south with my
chin.

“I think so,” Ryan said.

I checked my watch: 8:43. “Well, that’s a good
sign. He’s not gonna make us chase him down.”

He slouched up to us. He wore skateboarder
sneakers, no socks, like my son does. Blue jeans, a hoodie sweater, and a down
vest.

“Thanks for meeting us, Jared.” I tried to smile.

He nodded, to let us know this was a real
imposition.

“You wanna talk here or go inside the building?”

“Let’s get this over with.”

I was a true moron in college, but even I would
have been a little smarter than to insult a couple of cops. “Help us understand
your relationship with Amber.”

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“Known her a long time?”

“Four or five months.”

“Where did you meet her?”

He pointed over his shoulder. “In this building,”
he says. “In a Business Law class.”

“You two exclusive?”

He looked at me funny, like that was a stupid
expression, maybe a stupid concept. “Well, since we’re not, like, together
every second of every day, it’s not really possible for either of us to know,
you know what I mean? But my life is crazy enough as it is without having to
juggle two girls. So I’m exclusive. Amber? I think she is, but like I say, no
way of knowing.”

“Tell us about her black eye.”

He looked bored and annoyed, seeing as Amber had
already answered that question for us. “It was last week, I think, don’t
remember which day. We were coming up the stairs to her apartment, she must’ve
fell, hit her face on the bannister or whatever the hell it’s called, got the
cut and the black eye.”

“I thought she said it happened when she was going
down the stairs,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s right. We’d just driven back to her
place. We were going up the stairs. Like I said, she’d been drinking—”

“You hadn’t been drinking?”

“No,” he said. “I got a DUI. Did a course in
Traffic Court. Never gonna drink and drive again, Detective.”

He gave me a good-boy smile, which made me want to
slug him.

“Anyway,” he said, “she remembered she’d forgotten
something in the car, I think it was her gloves, so she turned around to go
back down and get ’em. That’s when she slipped. So I guess we’re both right. We
were going up the stairs, with a little detour to go down the stairs.” He
smiled at me, like I was going to have to work a lot harder than that to trap
him in a lie.

“Can you tell us where you were late Sunday night,
around midnight?”

He put his hand on his chin and raised his head,
like he was giving the question all the thought it deserved. “I have four
classes on Monday, so I turn in early on Sundays.”

“Were you at your own place or at Amber’s?”

“Amber’s. Yeah, I remember.”

“You didn’t go out that night? You know, to go
back to your place for a little while, run out to get a pizza or something?”

“No, I don’t think so. I was at Amber’s till maybe
seven in the morning. Then went back to my place to shower and change clothes,
go to classes.” He smiled.

I looked at Ryan to see if he wanted to ask
anything. He shook his head.

“All right, Jared,” I said, “thanks for talking to
us—”

“Detective, can I say one other thing?”

“Of course, Jared.”

“If I was interested in finding whoever killed
Maricel …” He paused dramatically, like he was going to open up a new line of
inquiry for us.

“Yes, Jared, that is our goal in talking with her
associates …”

“Then I’d be looking at Hector Cruz.” He nodded
when he said the name.

“You think so?” I said.

“Yes, I really do.”

“Why is that? Because he’s the boyfriend, you
mean?”

“That’s one thing, sure. But also—I don’t want to
come across as prejudiced or anything, but you’re aware he has felony
convictions.”

I turned to Ryan. “You’re taking this down,
Detective? We really should look at Hector Cruz.”

“Absolutely,” Ryan said. “Felony convictions.”

I turned back to Jared. “Can you tell us anything
else about Hector Cruz and Maricel?”

“I wasn’t close to either of them,” Jared said.
“But Amber told me they had some kind of big fight recently. You never know.
Maybe they got into it and it went too far.”

“You know what that fight was about?”

“Sorry,” he said. Then he smiled.

I nodded my head and looked at Ryan again. He was
writing. “That’s a really good suggestion, Jared. Again, let me tell you how
much we appreciate this information you’ve given us. I think it’s gonna be
really helpful.”

“You’re very welcome, Detective.” He gave me a
tight smile. “Glad I could help.” He turned and slouched into the Business
Building.

I said to Ryan, “Is it illegal to be a total
douche?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Ryan said. “Not enough prison
space.”

“He says he’s exclusive with Amber because it’d be
too complicated to juggle two girls?”

“We already covered ‘total douche,’” Ryan said. “I’m
thinking about whether we ought to boost him up on our list of possibles for
Maricel.”

“Go on.”

“Well, he’s obviously lying about the black eye. I
like him for popping Amber. I think he’s capable of hurting a woman.”

“Why’d he hit her?” I said.

“It doesn’t have to be dramatic. Could’ve been
anything. Falls under ‘total douche.’”

“What else?”

“He’s stupid,” Ryan said. “He knows we’ve checked
his record—”

“The DUI?”

“Yeah, but he tells us we should check Hector,
like we’re so dumb we didn’t think about Hector first. And he says Hector has
felonies. As in, more than one. But we don’t have any record of more than one.”

“Which makes me like Jared more than Hector.”

“Exactly,” Ryan said.

“But if he’s stupid—which I believe he is—he
thinks he just did a good job with us. All that shit about Amber going up and
down the stairs.”

Ryan said, “Which means he’s not gonna call her to
make sure they get their stories straight.”

“So if we get to her soon we might be able to catch
her in a lie, squeeze her, get her to flip on Jared,” I said.

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

Chapter 25

“Let’s surprise Amber,” I said. “Call the Registrar’s
office. Find out her class schedule.” We were at a small table in the corner of
the Starbucks
just inside the Business Building. I was finishing a coffee,
Ryan a bottle of water.

Ryan nodded. “I got her student number. I can look
it up.” Thirty seconds later, he said, “She’s in a finance class right now.”

“Building?”

He pointed over his shoulder. “Room 312.”

“Let’s go get her right now.”

“While she’s in class?”

“That’s right. I want to scare the shit out of
her.”

“That should do it.” He packed his tablet and the bottle
of water into his leather briefcase.

We took the stairs to the third floor, room 312. I
looked through the window in the door. There were about thirty students and a
tweedy geek, bald with a long fringe of white hair, lecturing. Amber was
sitting two rows back, near the center. I took my shield out of my bag and hung
it around my neck. I opened the door with some force, and we walked right up to
the professor.

He looked concerned when he heard us come in. He
stopped talking. I whispered in his ear. He nodded. I turned to Amber, and
waved for her to come with me.

She sat there, her eyes wide. “Now,” I said, as cold
as I could. I didn’t actually enjoy scaring her, but I was okay with it.

She started to gather her stuff. A notebook got
away from her and slid off the desk, spewing loose papers all around. Another
student bent down and helped her pick them up. Everyone was paying full
attention to me. I ought to be a professor.

Amber finally got her things together and stood
up. With her backpack hanging off one shoulder and flopping around, she crashed
her way through the desks. I led the way out of the room, Amber following me,
Ryan behind us. I turned and nodded thanks to the professor.

“What is happening?” Amber said, her voice an
octave higher than I remembered it.

“We’re going to headquarters. We need you to make
a statement.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

I wanted to tell her I knew that, but I didn’t say
anything.

We escorted her out of the building, around the
back to the parking lot. Ryan played his role, holding her head down as he put
her in the back seat of the cruiser.

I did start to feel a little bad for her when she began
to cry.

Ryan and I were silent during the trip, even when
she started gasping out questions about why we were bringing her in. By the
time I swiped my keycard letting us in the back entrance, she was ready to
confess to anything we wanted.

I led the way down the hall to Interview 1, told
her to sit in the blue plastic chair at the interview table, right next to the
stainless steel bar with the handcuffs attached.

She looked like she was going to pass out.

“Ryan, turn on the recorder,” I said.

He got up and walked over to the controls on the
wall.

I spoke the date and time and names of the three
of us in the room. Amber was almost hysterical at this point.

“Ms. Cunningham,” I said, “we’ve obtained some
additional information in our investigation of the Maricel Salizar murder.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that,” she
said, sobbing. “I already told you that.”

“And we need to ask you some additional
questions.”

She was nodding her head. Anything we wanted.

“All right, Ms. Cunningham, I want to remind you
we are recording this interview. If, in the course of our investigation, we conclude
that you have not been completely honest in your responses, we will not
hesitate to prosecute you. It’s obstruction of justice, which is a felony
carrying significant jail time.”

She was petrified, crying, snot ribbons trailing
from her nose.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She nodded vigorously.

“I need you to say whether you understand what I
have said.” I don’t think that was strictly true, since we were recording video
as well as audio.

“Yes,” she said through her tears. “I’ll tell you
the truth.”

I wanted to go over to her and tell her it’s okay,
but I didn’t.

“We just spoke to Jared. He told us all about the
black eye.”

“Oh, God,” she said, her head collapsing onto the
table.

“I need you to tell us how you got the black eye.”

“He didn’t mean to do it,” she said through her
sobbing, her shoulders hunched, wiping at her eyes with her palms.

“Ms. Cunningham, let me repeat what I said about
obstruction of justice. You need to answer my questions fully and accurately.”

“He punched me in the face, but it wasn’t all his
fault.”

“Why wasn’t it all his fault?”

“I had pushed him. Hard. He fell backwards against
my bureau. He yelled out, like it really hurt.”

“That’s when he punched you in the face?”

“Yes. I think it was the anger. It wasn’t like he
thought about it. It was a reflex. He didn’t mean to hurt me. I know he
didn’t.”

“What did he do when he saw he had cut your face?”

“He got me a towel from the kitchen, a clean
towel, and held it to my cheek to try to stop the bleeding.” She was sobbing as
she spoke. “He told me to keep it against my face. Then he put some ice in it.”

“Did you seek out medical care?”

“Yes, after a few minutes, when I’d calmed down,
he drove me to the ER. They closed the cut with a butterfly bandage. The doctor
told me the blurry vision was normal and should go away after a few hours.”

“Did you tell the ER doctor how you were injured?”

“No,” she said. “I lied. I said I fell walking up
the stairs.”

“Why didn’t you tell the doctor the truth?”

“Jared told me, when we were going over to the
hospital, that he was really sorry he had hit me, and he pleaded with me not to
tell anyone because he’d get in trouble for it. He told me he loved me and
promised he’d never do it again.”

Ryan said, “Jared told us his version of why you
were fighting. Tell us your version.”

“Oh, Jesus,” she said, her head in her hands.
“Don’t make me say it. My God, please don’t make me say it.”

“Final warning, Ms. Cunningham,” I said.

“Okay, okay,” she said, her hands up. “It was
about Jared and Hector and Maricel.”

“What about them?”

“I caught them,” she said.

“Caught them doing what?”

“They were together,” she said, crying now.

“Be more specific,” I said.

She looked up at me, sobbing hysterically now.
“Hector was having sex with Maricel. From behind.”

“And Jared?”

“Maricel had his penis in her mouth.”

“And you walked in on them?”

She nodded, her head looking down at the battered
table in Interview 1.

“I need you to answer the question, Ms.
Cunningham.”

“Yes,” she said, almost shouting. “I walked in on
them.”

“Thank you. Then what did you do?”

“I screamed, is what I did. Jared looked up, saw
me, cursed, and pulled away from Maricel. He pulled his pants up. I ran out of
the room. Jared caught up with me. Grabbed me by the arm, to make me stop
running. I told him he was hurting me. He said he needed to explain. I said
there’s nothing to explain.”

“What was his explanation?”

“He said they’d been drinking, smoking. They were
all wasted. Maricel was the most wasted of the three of them. She egged him on.
Jared said he didn’t want to at first but he was stoned and it just happened.”

“Did Maricel say anything when you came into the
room and saw the three of them together?”

“No,” Amber said. “I could see she was crying, but
she didn’t say anything.”

Ryan said, “So Jared caught up with you and you
two went back to your apartment?”

“That’s right,” Amber said.

“And the argument between the two of you continued
there?”

“Yeah. I said what you would think I said.”

“Which was?”

“I called him a bunch of names, said he was a
shithead, that kind of thing.”

“And you got into that shoving match?” I said.

“Jared didn’t mean to punch me. I believe that. He
told me he loved me. I believed him. I believe him now.”

“But he had his dick in that girl’s mouth,” I
said.

“I know,” Amber said, her palms covering her face.
“I know. But he said she did it.”

“She did it?”

“That’s what Jared told me. They were all high.
She grabbed his zipper and pulled it down.”

“While Hector was screwing her from behind.”

“I believe Jared. He made a mistake. I believe
him. It was Maricel’s idea. It wasn’t Jared’s idea. He didn’t want to do it.”

“Did Jared spend the night at your apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain he spent the whole night there?”

“I fell asleep, if that’s what you mean.” She
wiped at her snotty nose with the back of her hand.

“So he could have left the apartment without you
knowing it?”

“I don’t think he did that.”

I turned to Ryan. “Do you have any questions for
Ms. Cunningham?”

He shook his head.

“I am terminating the interview now. It is 10:41
am
.” I pointed to the recorder, and
Ryan stood up, walked over, and switched it off. “Ryan, would you give me a
minute with Ms. Cunningham?” He nodded and left the interview room.

Amber was sobbing, her head resting on the table,
her arms out in front of her, like she was doing the dead man’s float. I got
some tissues out of my big shoulder bag and walked over to her. I pulled out
the plastic chair next to her and sat down, putting my arms around her shoulder
and drawing her in toward me. She started crying more. I handed her the
tissues.

“I would have told you the truth,” she said
through her tears. “Why did you do that to me?” She grabbed my sleeve.

“Because I’m conducting a murder investigation.”

“But you know I didn’t kill Maricel.”

“Yes, I do know that. But I needed that
information about Jared and Maricel.”

“Didn’t Jared tell you already?”

“No,” I was massaging her shoulder. “Jared lied to
us. He’s sticking with the story about you tripping on the stairs.”

“Why didn’t he tell you the truth?”

“Because he’s a shithead, just like you said. He
knows if he admits hitting you, he could be on the hook for assault. That’s a
felony,” I said. “He would do jail time.”

“He didn’t mean to hit me.” She looked at me,
tears still streaming down her face.

I didn’t say anything. “Amber, I’ve worked
domestic violence. No abuser ever meant to hit the woman.”

“Jared’s not like that. He loves me.”

“Detective Miner and I interviewed Jared an hour
ago. We asked him if the two of you were exclusive.”

“What did he say?”

“He said his life’s crazy enough with one girl.”

She looked confused, then she figured it out. “That
son of a bitch.”

“Amber, you need to do some thinking. Jared hits
women. He might’ve hit you only once—so far. But I’ve never met a guy hits a
woman only once. He hits you once, when he’s mad at you, he’ll hit you again,
next time he gets mad. I’ve seen women with their jaw wired shut, drinking
through a straw. I’ve seen women lose their eyesight in one eye. Amber,” I
said, “I’ve seen women killed by men who didn’t mean to hurt them.”

I handed her my card. “You have to get this guy
out of your life. Today.” I wrote my cell number on the card. “Call me, day or
night. I will personally pick Jared up and arrest him.”

Amber sat with her head in her hands. She lifted
one hand to tell me she heard me, to tell me to stop.

“Sit here for five minutes. Pull yourself
together. I’ll send an officer in here to bring you back to campus.” I paused.
“Look at me, Amber.”

She lifted her head.

“I know what it’s like to be abused. I want you to
think about what I said.”

She nodded, and I left the interview room and made
my way back to the detective’s bullpen, where Ryan was sitting at his desk.

“That was pretty rough,” he said.

“Twelve minutes, we got the truth.”

“What did you talk to her about, just now?”

“About how some guys beat up women.”

Ryan nodded. “She want us to charge him?”

“I told her I’d help her. But it usually takes a while
for them to come around to it.”

“Well, maybe she’ll tell him to take a walk.”

“Yeah, I think she’ll do that. I told her Jared
said he couldn’t handle two girlfriends at once. For some reason, she didn’t
like that.”