The Edge of Night (29 page)

“No, ma’am. It’s Eric Hernandez.”

“Oh, my God,” she breathed, dropping her arms. “Where is he?”

“An ambulance is taking him to Sharp, and I’m on my way there to question him. Would you like to come with me?”

She reached for her purse. “Of course. Thank you.”

He opened the passenger door, his demeanor calm and self-assured. It occurred to her that she’d seen him before. She never forgot a face.

“I’m Detective Santiago,” he said, smiling politely.

She sat down. “You used to be on the gang unit with Officer Shanley.”

Closing her door, he walked around to the driver’s side and got behind the wheel. “You have a good memory. That was years ago.”

“Is Eric going to be okay?”

He checked his rearview mirror and pulled forward, driving down the street. “I don’t have any details on his condition.”

April took a deep breath, trying to relax. She hated being in a car with a stranger, even a mild-mannered police officer.

A moment later, when her cell phone rang, she startled.

“Do you mind turning that off? It interferes with my scanner.”

Although she knew it was Noah calling, she didn’t dare refuse. Detective Santiago was his boss, or would be someday. She switched off her phone and slipped it back inside her purse, every nerve in her body on edge.

After they’d gone a few miles, she realized that they weren’t anywhere near Sharp Medical Center. She frowned at the dark, curvy road, wondering if this was a shortcut. An intense wave of foreboding passed over her.

She’d made a mistake.

As if sensing her discomfort, Santiago rolled down his window. Yanking her purse from her clutched hands, he tossed it out on the street.

April gaped at him in horror, realizing she was staring into the face of a killer.

26

When Noah tried to call April, she didn’t
answer. He dialed again, starting to panic when her voice mail picked up.

“Fuck!”

After leaving a message for her to call him back immediately and to not go anywhere
with anyone
, especially a police officer, he tossed the phone aside. Then he started the engine and drove away from Brown Field.

Abandoning a crime scene without speaking to investigators or checking the condition of the victim was the craziest, most inappropriate thing he’d ever done on duty.

But he didn’t think twice.

In the next few minutes, his suspicions snowballed into full-blown certainty. There was only one man in the department who fit the description Eric had given. He had more than enough authority to halt DNA analysis. He’d been a patrol officer when Maggie Chavez disappeared and a homicide detective by the time her body was found.

Patrick’s former partner and current nemesis: Victor Santiago.

Every cop instinct Noah possessed was on red alert, telling him that April was in danger. The previous victims were pretty, dark-haired young women connected to CVL. April’s relationship with Raul—and Eric—made her a likely target.

He turned on his emergency lights and drove as fast as he dared to April’s house, hoping he wasn’t too late. He should have told her this morning that he loved her. Or said it on the phone earlier tonight. Why hadn’t he done that?

When he pulled up to the curb and saw her car parked in the garage, he was so relieved he thanked God out loud. Leaving his engine running, he jogged up the front walk and knocked on her door insistently.

She didn’t answer. The windows were dark.

He walked around the side of the house, calling her name. It was unusual for the garage to be open. Her car door was slightly ajar. He glanced inside, noting that her purse was gone. Stomach sinking, Noah checked the door that led into the kitchen. It was locked.

She’d never gone in.

Chilled to the bone, he ran back to his squad car, glancing across the street at her neighbor’s house. It was also dark.

She wasn’t here.

Noah contacted her cell phone service provider immediately, giving his badge number and demanding the signal information. While he stood there, cursing God and Santiago and the motherfucking phone company for taking so long, an operator triangulated her location.

“The latest signal is from the 2000 block of Hollister,” she said finally.

“Keep tracking it. I’ll call back.”

Hollister Street went past Southwest High School into the Tijuana River Valley, skirting the border. It was the edge of the United States, the end of the world. He drove 120 mph on the 905 westbound, passing cars like they were standing still.

Before the turnoff, he called Patrick.

“Hello?” his partner answered, sounding drunk.

“Why do you hate Santiago?”

Patrick was silent.

“I’m serious, asshole! What’s your gut feeling about him?”

“I never liked him.”

“No shit,” Noah said, impatient. “Why?”

Patrick paused, as if reluctant to answer. “I think he’s a perp,” he said in a gruff voice, laying it out there.

Noah took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “What do you mean?”

“He loves dead bodies, practically drools on rape vics. Everyone says he’s so dedicated. I always thought he was a creep.”

“Motherfucker!” Noah hit the brakes hard, taking a left on Hollister. “Now you tell me! Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Would you have believed me?”

“Fuck you,” he said, ending the call. He slammed his palm against the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

Noah didn’t see a soul on the 2000 block of Hollister, but there was a homeless guy near the corner of Sunset and 2200. He was sitting at the side of the road, next to his overloaded bike, rifling through a small black purse.

Noah squealed to a stop, getting out of his squad car.

The man’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “I just found this. I swear.”

Noah took the purse away from him, glancing inside. April’s cell phone and wallet were still there. “Where?”

“Right here. On the grass.”

He looked down the street, seeing a sign denoting the Tijuana River Valley regional park. It was a remote area, encompassing several miles of marshland, used mostly for bird-watching. “You know who dropped it?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you see a car pass by?”

“Yeah. A nice black one. Mercedes maybe. Went that way.” He pointed toward the park entrance.

“Thanks,” Noah said, getting back inside his squad car and making an all-units request for assistance.

He didn’t answer the rash of queries that flooded the radio, and he didn’t wait for backup. Killing his headlights and drawing his weapon, he drove down the park road in stealth mode, searching for Santiago’s car.

Santiago took her to the Tijuana Estuary.

It was a quiet nature preserve, seldom visited during the day. At this time of night, the place was totally dead. He pulled over in a secluded spot, parking under a dark veil of willow branches. April stared into the blackness outside her window.

No one would even hear her scream.

Santiago removed a gun from the holster at his waist. “Get out.”

Her stomach dropped. “You’re going to let me go?”

“No. I’m going to kill you outside.”

April pictured Jenny’s face, and tears sprang to her eyes. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her.

“Why?”

“Easier cleanup.”

“Why me,” she clarified, frozen to the spot. If he wanted to kill her out there, she was staying right here. “Don’t you know?”

As she shook her head slowly, it dawned on her that she’d seen him with someone besides Officer Shanley. “You knew Raul. I remember you visited him once. You gave him … drug money.”

“Hush money, actually.”

“For what?”

“A deal we struck. He didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

Santiago seemed as calm and reserved as he had been when he’d picked her up, a nice gentleman in black-framed glasses. The contrast between his sedate expression and the deadly barrel of the gun terrified her.

He wouldn’t kill her politely.

“I guess he kept the secret, after all,” he mused.

“Wh-what secret?” she asked, trembling with fear.

His gaze slid down her body in a cold caress. “A long time ago, he sold me a girl from the barrio. It was a very disappointing experience. She was tainted, you see. They gang-raped her before I got there. Ruined everything.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, nauseous.

“I strangled her anyway, just for practice. It was a difficult task, and horribly unsatisfying. I didn’t use her sexually. The bandanna wouldn’t work. Finally I grabbed a plastic bag to finish her off. That was the only bit of serendipity.”

She stared at him in horror.

“I was so disillusioned by the incident that I almost gave up my craft. For years I fantasized about killing again, doing it right this time. Working on homicide fulfilled my obsession in some ways, and I enjoyed being meticulous.”

April nodded, as if she sympathized with him. In truth, she was too terrified to make sense of his words. He was so close she could see the pores in his skin, smell his antiseptic breath. Her flesh crawled at the thought of him touching her. She tried to appear serene, but her face felt numb.

At any moment he could reach out and grab her wrist. Or pull the trigger.

“After a while, the fantasies weren’t enough. A few weeks ago Raul tried to extort me for more money, and that was the last straw. His crew had violated my first love, my first kill. So I decided to do the same to their loved ones.”

“Raul’s dead,” she said, moistening her lips. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No. Killing men gives me no pleasure. But you”—he pressed the gun to her head, stroking her hair with the barrel—“are very much my type.”

“You killed Raul?” she whispered, cringing in fright.

“I arranged for his demise, yes.”

“Please. Let me go.”

He smiled indulgently. “I’ll give you a head start.”

April reached for the door handle. Staying inside no longer seemed like a winning strategy.

“I cherish death,” he said, placing a palm over the middle of his chest. “I’m giving honor to women who had none in life.”

“I’m tainted,” she babbled, her sweaty fingers slipping on the handle. “You wouldn’t believe how tainted I am.”

“Compared to the others, you’re immaculate,” he said, gesturing with the revolver. “Now, run.”

“Noah will come for me.”

Santiago laughed. “That would be convenient for my purposes but not likely. He’ll be tied up at Eric’s crime scene for hours, and he has no idea where you are. We have plenty of time together.”

Making a strangled sound of despair, she finally managed to lift the handle and shove the door open. She exited the vehicle, stumbling on her way out.

“I’ll give you five seconds,” he offered.

Her heels found unsteady purchase in the wet soil, and the smell of thick mud drifted up, dark and stagnant. Although there was no one around to hear her, April screamed. The sound was absorbed by the heavy vegetation and sultry night air.

Run!

She’d gone only a few steps when she was faced with a heart-stopping dilemma: head down the road, where she would be completely exposed, or take cover in the salt marsh, where she would most certainly get stuck.

She chose the marsh.

The path of most resistance was her only chance of escape.

Keeping most of her weight on the balls of her feet, so her heels wouldn’t sink, she ran as fast as she could through the knee-high grass, gasping for breath. The blades whipped across her ankles and calves, tearing her stockings and stinging her skin.

The only trees in sight were near the road. They were too sparse to hide among, but the marsh had plenty of dips and valleys. As soon as she put some distance between them, she could drop to her belly and crawl through the grass.

At least, that was her plan.

“Time’s up,” he called, sending chills down her spine.

Without looking back, she knew he was closing in on her. She was sobbing out loud, crashing through the grass, incapable of fleeing quietly. Santiago, in contrast, pursued her with silent ferocity, gaining on her in strides.

Like a killing machine.

In her panic to get away, she ran harder, her chest burning from exertion. Her right heel sank into the mud, and her ankle twisted, refusing to support her.

With a sharp cry, she fell to her knees.

Knowing she had to get up and run or die now, she reached down to her throbbing ankle, trying to take off her shoes.

She’d removed only one when he tackled her at full force, knocking her flat. His body was harder than it looked, streamlined and strong. He grabbed her by the hair and shoved her face in the mud, using his weight to trap her underneath him.

April couldn’t scream. She couldn’t even breathe. If Santiago continued to hold her in this position, she’d lose consciousness.

But he wanted to toy with her, so he let her up.

“Bastard,” she panted, spitting out mud. Dragging herself forward, she slithered like a snake in the grass, her teeth clenched with determination.

Although she knew she had little chance of survival, April refused to quit. Every abuse she’d suffered at Raul’s hands came rushing back to her, driving her on.

Never again, she promised herself. Fueled by rage and adrenaline and twisted memories, she tightened her grip on her high-heeled shoe, anticipating Santiago’s next move. When he grabbed her sprained ankle, squeezing so hard she screamed in pain, she turned and swung, trying to jam the spike heel into his face.

She missed. Sort of.

The heel sank into his left ear, by some sadistic miracle. He released her ankle, shrieking like a banshee.

While he jerked the shoe from his punctured eardrum, she scrambled away. The instant she came to her feet, her ankle buckled again. She cried out in agony, but she didn’t stop. Having no other option, she crawled through the wet grass on her hands and knees, trembling uncontrollably.

There was a river tributary close by, a serpentine oxbow painted silver by the moonlight. Having no choice but to wade through it, she toppled over the edge, falling into the shallow stream face-first.

Cool water rushed around her, gushing into her eyes and nose. Her hands found the silt-covered bottom and she pushed herself up, sputtering. The current was too weak to take her anywhere, the water too shallow for swimming. Shoving the wet hair from her eyes, she found her feet and continued on, crawling up the opposite bank.

Santiago leapt over the narrow stream entirely. He landed on top of her with a brutal slam, knocking the wind from her lungs.

They fell back into the water together, arms and legs entwined. She tried to choke in a mouthful of air, her chest seizing.

Again he had a chance to end it. Obviously he had something else in mind, because he didn’t attempt to drown her. Instead, he grabbed her by the front of her shirt, lifted her up, and backhanded her across the face.