Deserves to Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

He heard footsteps in the hallway and turned to find the receptionist craning her neck around the corner. “Sheriff,” Joelle said with a tentative smile. “I don’t want to bother you, but Manny Douglas of the Mountain Reporter phoned for the third time this morning and I told him you’d call him back. If he calls again, I could refer him to the public information officer, but I’ve dealt with him before and he doesn’t seem to take the hint, if you know what I mean.” Her glossy red lips pursed. “The last time he called, less than two minutes ago, he said he was on his way to the station and was only five minutes away.”

Blackwater held back his initial annoyance and said, “I’ll phone him as soon as I’m done here. If he’s already here, give him coffee and let me know. I’ll talk to him. In my office.” The last thing he wanted to do at this point in his career was piss off a reporter.

She handed him a WHILE-YOU-WERE-OUT memo with Douglas’s name and number, then hurried off as a phone started ringing down the hallway.

As he folded the note and tucked it into his pocket, Blackwater swung his attention back to the screen. The break in his attention had given him a fresh perspective. As his eyes narrowed on the image, he felt a little sizzle of anticipation, and realized what was wrong, what had to change. To Zoller, he said, “Is it possible for you to change her teeth? Or her jawline? Give her more jowls?”

Concentrating so hard she bit into her lower lip, Zoller actually was able to draw on the screen with her mouse, the computer filling in the gaps or shaving off what she took off. She was able to change the contour of the face and add in some more crooked teeth so that in a matter of minutes, he was no longer staring at the face of Anne-Marie Calderone as pictured on her driver’s license. Instead, he was looking at a much dowdier, older appearing woman that he was certain he’d seen before.

“Darken her eyes.” He knew before Zoller had finished the change that he would be staring into the face of the waitress from the Midway Diner. Her name tag had read JESSICA, he remembered, but he would bet his badge she was the missing heiress, Anne-Marie C

alderone.

Pescoli had already gotten a text from Bianca that there was no school today and, of course, her daughter was ecstatic, saying she was going back to bed for a while, then hoping to get a ride to a friend’s later. Driving back to the station, Pescoli hoped her daughter stayed put. As far as she knew, Jeremy was at home, probably still fast asleep and would be for a while. Good. At least for the morning, she needed not to worry about either of them.

She wheeled into the station’s parking lot and spied a spot in the thickening snow. “If this keeps up, Blackwater will have us all shoveling,” she said, cutting the engine. “I can see it now, part of his new military regimen to keep his officers in shape. Did I tell you I caught him in full uniform doing push-ups in his office? Told me it kept the blood flowing.”

“It does,” Alvarez said as she unbuckled her seat belt.

“Yeah, well, once up and showered, I’m not interested in getting my blood flowing,” Pescoli grumbled, climbing out of the car and spying Cade Grayson just parking his pickup in the visitor’s lot not far from the pole where the flag was still positioned at half-mast, Old Glory billowing in the falling snow. “Take a look.”

“Let’s see what he has to say.”

He wasn’t alone. As he hopped out of one side of the truck, his brother Zed, several inches taller and at least fifty pounds heavier, stepped his size fourteen boots into six inches of icy powder. Both men were dressed in thick outerwear and cowboy hats, the wide brims collecting a white dusting as they made their way to the officers.

“Got your message,” Cade said to Alvarez. “We were already in town, picking up supplies, so I thought it might be best to talk face-to-face.”

“Let’s go inside.” Alvarez led the way, and within minutes, they were seated at the conference table, hats removed, jackets unzipped, faces stern, coffee supplied by Joelle on the table, untouched. Alvarez had taken time to dash into her office to retrieve her files and Pescoli, as was her custom these days, had made a quick trip to the bathroom.

The brothers were obviously uncomfortable, whether it was because Cade was being questioned, or due to the fact that they were seated in the sheriff’s department, a door away from what had been Dan’s office.

“Is this about Bart?” Zed asked, bushy eyebrows pulling together. “We all know that Hattie won’t let that one go.” He sent his brother a glance that was unreadable, one that Cade tried to ignore.

“I did look through the case files on your brother’s suicide,” Pescoli said, taking in both brothers as they were seated across from her. “But I can’t find any reason to reopen the case. It looks to me that Bart took his own life. I’m sorry.”

“Not unexpected,” Zed said, his lips twisting down.

More, Pescoli thought, in disapproval of his ex-sister-in-law, than in disappointment about his brother’s cause of death.

“Hattie’s had a bug up her butt about it from the first but hell . . . we all just have to accept what happened. We may not like it, but it’s time to move on.” Pointedly, he glanced at the door leading to the office once occupied by his brother.

Cade’s gaze zeroed in on Alvarez. “Why did you call? You seemed to think it was pretty damn important.”

“It is,” she said, her tablet firing up in front of her. “I’ve been in contact with Detective Montoya of the New Orleans Police Department.”

“New Orleans?” Zed said. “What the hell’s this all about? We’ve got a ranch to run and a helluva snowstorm to deal with.” He shot a disgusted look at Cade. “I told you we should’ve just called.”

“What about New Orleans?” Cade asked, deathly solemn, but not surprised.

“Montoya says you were involved with a woman from there, a woman by the name of Anne-Marie Calderone, or possibly, at that time she might have told you her name was Anne-Marie Favier, though she was married.”

He didn’t respond, so Alvarez attempted to jog his memory. “You were in Texas at a rodeo, took a side trip to Louisiana, and met her there?” She slid a copy of the woman in question’s driver’s license across the table.

The edges of Cade’s lips turned white as he let his gaze skate over the image on the license before he found Alvarez’s eyes again. “What about her?”

“For the love of Christ,” Zed said. “You and your goddamn women!” He snorted through his nose and shook his head.

“We’re investigating a couple homicides here in Grizzly Falls. You’ve no doubt heard of them. We think there’s a connection to Ms. Calderone, and we think she’s here. Has she contacted you?”