Ready to Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

No more morons like Hanson and Connors. That thought gave her great satisfaction as she tore out of the lot. Gunning the engine to make a light at the intersection, she told herself she had to be patient.

First she had to close this damned case and nail Grayson’s assailant.

After that, she could hand in her resignation and tell Cort Brewster exactly where to shove it.

Chapter 32

“Wanda Verdago is ready to talk,” Alvarez announced.

It was late morning by the time she’d returned to the station and had cornered Brewster in his office. Grayson’s boxes had been cleared out and now, with all of Brewster’s paraphernalia on the shelves and in the bookcases, the room didn’t feel like it had ever belonged to Dan Grayson.

Brewster had been reaching for the phone but let it drop. “She knows where her husband is?”

“Not that she’s admitting to yet. I talked to her at her apartment, but she wouldn’t say much. Not without seeking legal advice.”

“Of course.”

“But she agreed to come to the station and give a statement about the disappearance of Joey Lundeen, fifteen years ago.”

“For the love of Mike,” Brewster said, his eyes narrowing a bit. “I always wondered what happened to that two-bit punk.”

Alvarez nodded.

“You think it’s a homicide?”

“She’s not saying until she and her lawyer arrive. They should be here around three. She wants a deal. Immunity.”

“Must be serious.”

“I’d say so. She seems about ready to roll on her husband, so if she knows anything about the recent attacks, this would be the time to find out.”

“I’ll talk to the D.A. I’m sure we can work something out.” He was sitting up again, reaching for his phone, but she said, “Before you do that, tell me this. You said your brother knew Verdago, and you, too, sort of.”

“A long time ago.”

“Does he strike you as the kind who would go completely off the rails and plan the kind of attacks that we’re dealing with? Well organized. Planned.”

“What’re you getting at, Alvarez?”

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t add up to me. Why grab your girlfriend, go on a killing spree, then go to ground? Doesn’t follow his pattern.”

“Could be one of a dozen reasons. Something ticked him. He was bored with the life of an ex-con and janitor. He has something to prove. Who knows what makes a guy like Verdago tick?”

“Maybe,” she said, unconvinced. Alvarez didn’t like loose ends and this case, with Verdago at its center, was filled with them.

“So, did Pescoli go with you?” he asked. “I haven’t seen her around, but I heard she was in this morning.”

“I haven’t talked to her.” That much wasn’t a lie, but she didn’t mention the voice mail and text she’d received.

“Well, when you do, keep an eye on her, would you? She’s out of control and she dragged you into the muck yesterday.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he cut her off, “Don’t bother defending her. It’s not gonna fly. She’s a loose cannon, Alvarez, and if she gets involved in another stunt like that . . .” He must’ve read something in her face, because he set the phone down and held her gaze. “Oh, fuck. Don’t tell me,” he said, then abruptly changed his mind. “What the hell’s going down now?”

The cabin appeared deserted.

Pescoli, from a position looking down on the graying building, had seen no movement in the windows, though thick curtains covered the glass. No smoke curled from the chimney, however, and though there were tracks in the snow leading to the house and indicating that a vehicle had been coming and going over the past several days, the lean-to that served as a garage was currently empty aside from a stack of cord wood and an old refrigerator that had to have been new around 1960.

She studied the place through binoculars. Surrounded by forest, the only access was by vehicle; the single-car lane that wound through the trees was only visible due to the double tracks cutting through seven inches of snow. Whoever had been driving that rig had been gone for a while, it seemed, because the tracks weren’t new, a thin layer of snow had accumulated over them.

She’d parked her Jeep in an abandoned sawmill nearly a mile down the county road that serviced this area, then had hiked through the woods alongside that road to find this position, where she’d hidden in the brush, staring down at the cabin. She’d sent a text with her whereabouts to Alvarez, but so far