heard the shots. He checked his watch. Inspector Govich came to Canada because the time was very close to when we said we found the body. That was the real reason he wanted to re-interview us.’
‘What’s this current murder cop’s name?’
She reached over to the coffee table and picked up his card. ‘Benjamin Raveneau.’
‘Spell the last name.’
She did and her head was floating, Doug lying to her, Doug sleeping with that bitch who had wormed her way into their lives. Doug was happy to get her calls because it told him where she was and meant she wouldn’t bother him for several more hours. He probably got a text from Gail as soon as she hung up. And Larry had always lied to her. Nothing was real. She couldn’t believe anything, not even herself. Her whole life was false. She was just a form of property stored in the house here.
‘I could answer some of his questions,’ she said. ‘I could end that part.’
Larry was quiet for several seconds before answering, ‘It all ended quite awhile ago and it’s very troubling to hear you talk like this. Do you really want to risk the life you have?’
Yes, she thought, I want to risk it all.
‘Don’t take any more calls from the inspector and I’ll look into it. Don’t say anything to anyone until we talk again. Can you do that? I think it’s important that nothing more get said and I’ll ask for help. You don’t need to worry. How’s the skiing?’
She looked out the window at the skiers in the far distance. She pressed End and cut the call off. She had lived and slept with him. That seemed impossible now.
TWELVE
L a Rosa was in her car on her way to Santa Rosa to sit next to an elderly woman and take her cold arthritic hand with its misshapen and swollen knuckles into her warm hands. Then she would tell her bones found during a construction excavation seven months ago were a positive DNA match for her daughter who had disappeared forty-two years ago. The daughter was a fifteen year old runaway in 1969 and though the rest of the world forgot about the girl long ago, her mother couldn’t.
The last time la Rosa saw her she revealed the fantasy world she had constructed. Her daughter had fallen in love with an Australian and lived in an unnamed remote area of the Outback without a phone. Marsha Fairchild had an answer for all the reasons why her daughter had never contacted her.
From a distance it was an inability to face the probable truth, but for all her toughness, la Rosa dreaded this meeting. She was in her car north of the Bay Area driving through hills south of Santa Rosa where the cell reception was poor. Her focus was on what she was going to say to convince the woman when Raveneau called.
‘Govich was right. There’s something there.’
‘Did you get anything we can use?’
‘Not yet. Hold on, I’ve got a call coming in from the lieutenant.’
Raveneau knew immediately from the lieutenant’s tone that something had happened.
‘Inspector, where are you?’
‘Vallejo.’
‘I need you here.’
Traffic was lightening. He was moving at fifty miles per hour and it was picking up.
‘There’s been a shooting at a cabinet shop on Sixteenth Street, three dead and one dying. I need you and la Rosa to help secure the scene.’
‘Where’s the one who is still alive?’
‘With paramedics on his way to the hospital, but you go straight to Sixteenth. Where’s your partner?’
‘On her way to Santa Rosa.’
‘Oh, that’s right.’
‘Tell her to come to Sixteenth when she’s done there. I’m going to tell Inspector Ortega you’re on your way.’
Ortega and Hagen were on-call, so caught the case. Raveneau still checked the board. He kept track of who was on-call and who was backup, but he and la Rosa no longer were. Unless something like this happened, they stayed on the cold cases.
Becker hung up. Raveneau told la Rosa.
‘Disgruntled employee?’ she asked.
‘Becker doesn’t know.’
A few minutes later he was
‘What’s this current murder cop’s name?’
She reached over to the coffee table and picked up his card. ‘Benjamin Raveneau.’
‘Spell the last name.’
She did and her head was floating, Doug lying to her, Doug sleeping with that bitch who had wormed her way into their lives. Doug was happy to get her calls because it told him where she was and meant she wouldn’t bother him for several more hours. He probably got a text from Gail as soon as she hung up. And Larry had always lied to her. Nothing was real. She couldn’t believe anything, not even herself. Her whole life was false. She was just a form of property stored in the house here.
‘I could answer some of his questions,’ she said. ‘I could end that part.’
Larry was quiet for several seconds before answering, ‘It all ended quite awhile ago and it’s very troubling to hear you talk like this. Do you really want to risk the life you have?’
Yes, she thought, I want to risk it all.
‘Don’t take any more calls from the inspector and I’ll look into it. Don’t say anything to anyone until we talk again. Can you do that? I think it’s important that nothing more get said and I’ll ask for help. You don’t need to worry. How’s the skiing?’
She looked out the window at the skiers in the far distance. She pressed End and cut the call off. She had lived and slept with him. That seemed impossible now.
TWELVE
L a Rosa was in her car on her way to Santa Rosa to sit next to an elderly woman and take her cold arthritic hand with its misshapen and swollen knuckles into her warm hands. Then she would tell her bones found during a construction excavation seven months ago were a positive DNA match for her daughter who had disappeared forty-two years ago. The daughter was a fifteen year old runaway in 1969 and though the rest of the world forgot about the girl long ago, her mother couldn’t.
The last time la Rosa saw her she revealed the fantasy world she had constructed. Her daughter had fallen in love with an Australian and lived in an unnamed remote area of the Outback without a phone. Marsha Fairchild had an answer for all the reasons why her daughter had never contacted her.
From a distance it was an inability to face the probable truth, but for all her toughness, la Rosa dreaded this meeting. She was in her car north of the Bay Area driving through hills south of Santa Rosa where the cell reception was poor. Her focus was on what she was going to say to convince the woman when Raveneau called.
‘Govich was right. There’s something there.’
‘Did you get anything we can use?’
‘Not yet. Hold on, I’ve got a call coming in from the lieutenant.’
Raveneau knew immediately from the lieutenant’s tone that something had happened.
‘Inspector, where are you?’
‘Vallejo.’
‘I need you here.’
Traffic was lightening. He was moving at fifty miles per hour and it was picking up.
‘There’s been a shooting at a cabinet shop on Sixteenth Street, three dead and one dying. I need you and la Rosa to help secure the scene.’
‘Where’s the one who is still alive?’
‘With paramedics on his way to the hospital, but you go straight to Sixteenth. Where’s your partner?’
‘On her way to Santa Rosa.’
‘Oh, that’s right.’
‘Tell her to come to Sixteenth when she’s done there. I’m going to tell Inspector Ortega you’re on your way.’
Ortega and Hagen were on-call, so caught the case. Raveneau still checked the board. He kept track of who was on-call and who was backup, but he and la Rosa no longer were. Unless something like this happened, they stayed on the cold cases.
Becker hung up. Raveneau told la Rosa.
‘Disgruntled employee?’ she asked.
‘Becker doesn’t know.’
A few minutes later he was
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