Victim Six by Gregg Olsen Page A

visitor.
    “Look, these days there is always trouble with young people. I know the girl. I know Tulio and his brothers too. They had their music playing at all hours. I called the sheriff on them five times last summer. You can check on that, if you don’t believe me.”
    “Did Celesta ever indicate to you that she wanted out of the relationship? That maybe she wanted to return to El Salvador?”
    The older woman looked for her cigarette case and pulled out a More. She flicked on her lighter and pulled air through the slender dark brown cigarette.
    “She said that Tulio was no good and she wanted to get away from him. He was too controlling.”
    This interested Kendall, although she wasn’t sure if she believed anything this woman had to say. “Really?” she asked.
    “I’m talking out of school,” she said, “but I don’t care. The girl needed to get away from the lot of them. The Pena brothers have turned this quiet mobile home park into party central. I think one of the boys stole my leaf blower. They denied it. But that’s what I think. I called the sheriff on them too.”
    “I see.”
    “Yes, and you can verify all of this. The girl finally got some sense. Really, picking brush? What kind of life is that? She could do better than that. Who couldn’t?”
    Kendall thanked her. She didn’t tell her that the county was rife with desperate people who would do just about anything to survive—and stay out of the reach of the law. Picking brush was far from the worst endeavor she could imagine.
     
    With Josh Anderson away at the academy speaking about his experiences investigating rural crimes, detectives’ row in the Kitsap County Sheriff’s office was far quieter than usual. Almost pin-drop hushed. Two were out in the field, running down drug cases, and a third was working the third murder of the year, the case of a Seabeck woman who’d been arrested for the killing of a woman she and her husband had picked up after a night of partying at the Bethel Saloon. The tavern was a Kitsap classic, a rough-around-the-edges biker-type bar that shared a parking strip with a butcher, Farmer George’s, frequently prompting a retort about the two establishments’ close proximity:
    “Wonder which is the bigger meat market?”
    “Judging by the looks of some of those biker babes hanging around the pool tables, I’d say there’s more gristle at the Bethel than at Farmer George’s.”
    Kendall Stark had felt genuine concern coming from Tulio Pena when he spoke about Celesta. She’d seen the way a husband or boyfriend can try to emulate devotion or worry by saying the right words. Sometimes they even eke out a tear to punctuate the moment with a display of emotion that is supposed to support their position as a loving partner.
    “I don’t know why she did this to me.”
    “I had no idea she was unhappy.”
    “All I ever did was love her.”
    Kendall just didn’t see a false note when Tulio gave his statement. Even so, something troubled her greatly, and there was no way to really dismiss it. The reporting deputy noted in the initial missing-person report that Celesta Delgado’s purse had been left behind in the van.
    Inside the purse were the three main indicators of an abduction or a homicide: Celesta’s cell phone, keys, and wallet.
    No woman running away leaves those things, she thought.
     
    It was around five when Kendall found her husband and son in the plaza of the Kitsap County Administration Building. Steven had a client meeting that evening, and they’d planned on an early dinner. A few clouds had rolled in, obscuring the Olympics and turning what had been a lovely afternoon into what promised to be a cool spring evening.
    Cody’s face lit up when his mother emerged from the Sheriff’s Office walkway. “Mommy! I see you!” he said.
    Kendall beamed and ran toward her son with outstretched arms. Some days there were no words, just the rocking of a small body as he looked at her with eyes that