The Survivors Club (7 page)

CHAPTER 11

The next morning, Danny pulled into the parking lot the same time as Tess did.

“Autopsy results,” he called out. “Including photos!” He waggled a thumb drive.

Inside, they went over the report and the photos.

The photos were gruesome.

Tess had taken many photos of George Hanley at the scene. He was only recognizable as a human being by his legs, arms, and the shape of his head.

“Look at this.” Danny opened up one of the autopsy photos—George Hanley, naked on the autopsy table, his wounds cleaned up and looking as if he’d been attacked by dark red leeches. But this photo focused on Hanley’s lap.

Tess had looked at and photographed the body. She’d marked evidence, but hadn’t touched him. There was always a risk that her own clothing lint, her own skin or hair follicles, her own DNA,
could end up on the victim, especially one as torn up as this one was.

Tess could see exactly what Hanley looked like on the floor of the cabin. She could see the crime scene techs as they took Hanley away, could run it on a reel in her mind. They almost had to scrape him off the floor of the cabin to get him into the body bag. He was a blood-soaked bag of grain. The cloth of his knit polo shirt and chinos had been enmeshed in his flesh.

So Tess had not seen then what she saw now.

His genitals were fully intact.

“That’s right,” Danny said. “He’s still got his balls. And here’s Exhibit B.” Another photo of Hanley’s mouth. “They didn’t stuff them in his mouth.”

Tess hadn’t stripped away the duct tape. There was no way she could do that at the scene. But she had wondered…

She’d wondered, as she knew Danny had wondered, if anything had been jammed down Hanley’s throat, his lips sealed by the tape after the fact.

That didn’t happen.

Both Tess and Danny knew what this meant.

When it came to looking like a drug-related or cartel killing, Hanley’s death had walked like a duck. It had walked like a duck, and talked like a duck.

But it wasn’t a duck.

“Somebody didn’t do his homework,” Danny said. “They sure didn’t know about the latest fashion accessory. You gotta wonder who would work so hard to make it look that way.”

The focus on the case had changed. It was quite possible that whoever killed George Hanley had tried to make it look like a drug-related hit.

Tess and Danny attended George Hanley’s funeral.

They went to pay their respects to a fallen cop—no matter how long he’d been out of the job he would always be one of them—but also to see who might show up.

The funeral was held at the Lois Maderas Memorial Park outside Nogales. The only people who attended were George Hanley’s daughter Pat; her husband, Bert; and a handful of people Tess put in two categories: a couple of Hanley’s neighbors at the apartment he’d been staying in, and a sprinkling of well-off people in middle age. Judging from the bumper stickers on their big SUVs, Tess pegged them as environmentally conscious members of SABEL. Jaimie Wolfe did not attend.

Tess and Danny kept an eye out for anything unusual, and chatted up the SABEL people and neighbors when they could. But they could only do so much. They had to keep it respectful—this was not the time to grill anyone. Mostly, they were here to watch and learn.

And to document with photos of the mourners—both Danny and Tess were adept at taking photos with their cell phones without their subjects being the wiser.

Before the service began, Tess walked to the main building under the pretext of using the restroom, and from there she watched the mourners.

Sometimes killers attended funerals. It was always wise for a detective to attend the funeral of the victim if he could. Some killers were loved ones—domestics were common as dirt. The bad guy came because he (or she) had to show up as part of the family. Sometimes, they came out of guilt. There were also instances where killers came to see their handiwork—what they had wrought.

They came to gloat.

But Tess saw no unusual behavior.

It looked mostly like people attended because they either wanted to pay their respects, or they felt they had to.

She walked back to the graveside.

Pat Scofield looked as if someone had taken a baseball bat to her—stunned. Her face and eyes were red from crying. She wore thick hose with a chunky-looking dress that was years out of date. Her husband was turned out surprisingly well in a bespoke suit.

“The odd couple,” Danny whispered, nodding at Pat and Bert. “Think I’ll go for a walk up on that hill.”

His turn to watch the mourners.

After the funeral, Tess asked Danny if he’d like to go with her to check out Jaimie Wolfe. Tess still hadn’t gotten the list of SABEL members. She’d called Jaimie twice and left messages.

“Sure,” Danny said. “I got some things I have to do—some cleanup on Roscoe, but later this afternoon, I’m available.”

Roscoe was a sad story—a woman had neglected and starved her little son to death. Tess knew the case haunted Danny, what with his own firstborn coming soon.

They split up after agreeing to drive out to visit Jaimie at the end of their shift.

CHAPTER 12

The best thing about the Lois Maderas Memorial Park: the hills and windbreak of trees at the top of one of them. The shade here was dark, and he was far enough away that even a sharp-eyed cop wouldn’t see him. He lay on his stomach on the grass, watching.

He didn’t come to watch the mourners.

He came because he knew the cops would be there, and he wanted to see who they were.

They were easy to spot. Dressed professionally, but casual. Even if they didn’t dress like cops, he would know them anywhere.

Because of what they were looking at.

They weren’t watching the coffin as it was lowered into the earth.

They were looking
out
.
Out
at the people surrounding the grave. Their faces impassive behind dark glasses. Quiet and contained, they kept their eyes on the mourners, and now and then they scanned the surrounding hills.

He didn’t use his binocs because he didn’t want to catch a reflection.

The woman in particular interested him. She wore a navy jacket over a pale blouse and chino-type slacks. He could see the rectangle under her jacket on her left hip. The woman was a cop all the way. Her dark blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail. The dark glasses. The calm around her.

And the other guy—the spic.

He was a little more restless. Full of energy. Looking for trouble. When he looked toward the hills, it was almost with X-ray vision.

The watcher knew he couldn’t be seen, but still…

He knew that killers often showed up at funerals to gloat. Or out of nervousness, because they couldn’t stay away. Maybe they were worried about some loose end, maybe they had a compulsion.

But
he
came to watch the cops watching for him.

CHAPTER 13

This time there were no girls or horses in the riding ring.

Tess stood back while Danny knocked.

It took a while, but Jaimie finally came to the door. She wore a similar outfit to the one she’d worn last time—except for the cowboy boots, which were beat up, but expensive.

“I’m busy today,” Jaimie said, her voice abrupt.

“Just a couple more questions,” Danny said.

“Who are you?”

Tess stepped up close to Jaimie. “This is Danny Rojas, my partner.”

“Your ‘partner?’ With the sheriff’s office? Or are you lovers?”

Danny gave her his best sexy grin. “We’re negotiating on that.”

Tess thought about stomping on his foot, but the moment passed.

Jaimie came out on the porch and closed the door behind her. “All right, you can ask your damn questions! I just hope it won’t take long.”

She seemed completely different from the way she’d been before. Last time she’d at least given the appearance of being forthcoming, and volunteered information. This time she folded her arms and stood on the porch. “What do you want to know?”

“First, I need the names of the SABEL members,” Tess said.

“Fine.” She walked inside and closed the door.

“You have a way with people,” Danny observed.

They waited. The smell of alfalfa, horse urine, and manure drifted up to them.

A couple of minutes later, Jaimie Wolfe returned with a sheet of paper. “Names and phone numbers,” she said, her voice brisk.

Only eight people on the list. Apparently eradicating buffelgrass wasn’t a popular pastime around here.

“Do you have any theories as to why George Hanley moved down here?”

Jaimie shrugged. “He
said
, to be with his daughter.”

“He never mentioned an additional reason to you?”

“I don’t think so. Look, he wasn’t crazy about his daughter, but she was related to him. There are problems in any relationship. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to do.”

Tess said, “What did he tell you about leading the tours at Credo?”

“I think he said his grandmother grew up there, when it was a real town.”

“Have you ever been there?”

“Nope. I’ve trailered my horses out into the Atascosas and rode some trails, but that was a long time ago. Back before things got really bad. Now I wouldn’t go there if you paid me.”

Tess watched the dogs, who were hanging out in the front yard with
a watchful eye on Jaimie. One of them was an Australian shepherd.

“Did George bring his dog over here?”

“All the time. Is she okay?”

“She was taken to Animal Control.”

Her mouth flatlined. “
That
figures! It was that stupid bitch, Pat, am I right? Anyone who’d do that to a dog after she lost her human, that’s just plain evil! “ She crossed her arms and glared at Tess. “I have half a mind to go get her.”

“She’s already been adopted.”

“Well,
that’s
good. At least she’s got a home.” Jaimie looked out at her own pack. “Adele was always welcome. She loved coming here.” She nodded to the Australian shepherd. “Bandit and Adele got along great, but that’s true of most dogs. Pat should have called me and I would have come and got her. She would have been a happy dog.”

Tess asked her again (how many ways could you answer the question? She was about to find out) regarding George Hanley’s relationship with the other people on the board of SABEL.

“He got on great with everybody. People loved him.”

“Anyone who didn’t?” Danny asked.

“Nope. He was just that kind of guy.”

“Was there anyone he was really close to?”

“Not really.”

“No one he might’ve rubbed the wrong way?”

“Nope.”

Danny said, “Anyone else besides SABEL members who had any interaction with George that you’ve noticed?”

“Nope.” She paused. “Except for my brother Michael—he was his financial advisor. You might want to talk to him.” She started down the steps of the house. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got six stalls to clean.”

Tess remembered the notation on George Hanley’s calendar. “What’s his name?”

Jaimie Wolfe stopped and turned to look at them. “Michael. Michael DeKoven. He lives in Tucson—he’s in the book.”

“So what do you think?” Tess asked Danny as they drove out.

He buzzed down the passenger window of the Tahoe and rested his elbow on the door and watched the scenery fly by. “She’s smooth.”

“Lying?”

He shrugged. “Could be. But there’s nothing I can point to.”

“So, your first impression.”

Danny turned to look at her, the sun bouncing off his aviator shades. “I don’t think she works and plays well with others.”

Tess nodded.

“I bet you could figure her out,
guera
. You know, use your X-ray vision.”

“Doesn’t work that way.”

“I bet you remember every word she said. That would drive me nuts.”

“I file most stuff away.”

“What, like filing cabinets in your head?”

“Memory is selective for everybody. If I don’t think about a thing, I don’t think about it. Just like everyone else.”

Danny said, “My wife remembers everything.”