Hidden Page 9

  She pulled a metal folding chair from behind the cabinet and sat down across the desk from him.

  “Anything from Luis on the cell phone?” she asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay, so where are we? Show me what you’re working on.”

  He just looked at her.

  “Come on, Jacob. I want in.”

  “Don’t come crying to me when Schneider busts your ass down to patrol.”

  “What about your ass?”

  “I’ve been a detective longer than you.”

  “Whatever. Tell me what you’ve got.”

  “I’m working on who wanted Dana Smith dead.”

  Kendra scooted closer. “Whoever she flipped on when she turned state’s evidence.”

  “That’s assuming it was a hit.”

  “You’re not assuming that?”

  “I’m strongly leaning that way, but it could have been random. Except . . .” He shook his head.

  “Except what?”

  “The knife thing,” Jacob said. “I keep thinking about what Nielsen said, that he hadn’t seen a wound like that since Afghanistan.”

  “Stabbed from behind, straight through the heart?”

  “Right. So, say it’s a professional hit. Maybe the perp has some kind of military training. Maybe black ops.”

  “How do you jump to that?”

  “Those guys are trained to locate bad guys and take them out,” he said. “Some of them come home, have problems with reentry. Maybe sell their skills on the black market. They’re trained to get in and get out without leaving a trail, and that fits with our crime scene.”

  “Okay. So . . . let’s work backward. Let’s figure out who contracted it. He’s the one ultimately responsible anyway.”

  Jacob shook his head. “I want the doer.”

  “Same for me. Let’s get both.”

  “We need more on the victim,” Jacob said. “What’s her employer say? Did Dana give any hints about where she’s from originally? I heard it might be Chicago, but that isn’t confirmed.”

  Kendra’s eyebrows arched. “You heard? Is that from Special Agent Sexytimes?”

  Jacob didn’t say anything, and Kendra shook her head.

  “Hey, as long as Morgan’s talking to you, maybe she can tell us what all this is about, save us a lot of trouble.”

  “She’s out of it.”

  Kendra rolled her eyes. “Perfect. So, we’re working in the dark here, while the feds keep everything under wraps.”

  Kendra had never been a fan of his relationship with Morgan, and Jacob wasn’t sure why. But whatever the reason, he couldn’t focus on it now.

  “How did Celeste Camden hire Dana? Let’s start there,” he said.

  Kendra flipped the file open. “She said she found her through a message board at the university.”

  “She got her nanny from a message board? How did she vet her?”

  “She calls her an ‘au pair.’” Another eye roll. “And the vetting was pretty weak. Evidently, Dana offered a reference from someone she’d done some babysitting for, and Camden called her and got a big thumbs-up.”

  “You think it was a phony reference?”

  She shrugged. “Could have been a friend of Dana’s. Who knows? Anyway, she hired her eight months ago and said Dana was great with her kid. She doesn’t know anything about her friends or family.” She flipped through the notes. “Also, she was always punctual and had nice handwriting.”

  “Nice handwriting?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “What about money? Camden do any withholding on her?”

  Kendra lifted an eyebrow. “That’s where she got a little squirrelly. They had a cash arrangement.”

  “Did she have anything on file? A driver’s license or social security card?”

  “No. Dana told her she didn’t drive and that she’d lost her social security card. Camden said she didn’t want to make her jump through hoops to get a new one, so she agreed to pay her in cash.”

  “No taxes. Win-win for everyone.”

  “That’s what it sounds like.” Kendra blew out a sigh. “So, what’s next?”

  “We need Dana’s real name, and we need to figure out what case she was involved with, possibly in Chicago, possibly not. Once we know who might have wanted revenge on her for testifying, we can see where that network leads.”

  “You’re thinking organized crime?” Kendra asked.

  “Could be a lot of things. Maybe she worked somewhere, and her boss was running drugs or embezzling money. Or maybe she was having an affair with a guy and stumbled across some illegal shit he was into.”

  Kendra’s brow furrowed. “Whatever it is, is probably the feds’ jurisdiction.”

  “She was murdered in ours.”

  Kendra watched him for a long moment. “What about that reporter?”

  He bristled. “What reporter?”

  “Bailey Rhoads from the Herald. I saw you talking to her at the lake yesterday.”

  “What about her?”

  “Well, did you tell her the FBI’s taking over?”

  “No.”

  “Be careful talking to her. If the media sink their teeth into this story, it’s going to be much harder to investigate anything on the down-low.”

  He thought of Bailey and the determined look in her eyes. She’d already sunk her teeth into the story.

  He should have known Kendra would call him out for talking to Bailey. They were trying to keep their involvement with this case quiet, and the last thing they needed was for people to notice him talking to a reporter covering the story and assume he was not only still working the case but leaking to the media.

  Kendra was watching him, looking worried. She had reservations about what they were doing. She would never admit it, but Jacob knew her too well.

  “You don’t have to do this with me, you know,” he told her.

  “You’re saying you’d rather work alone?”

  He would, and not only because he didn’t want her to get in trouble.

  “If Schneider finds out, there will be blowback,” he said. “If the feds find out, there will be blowback. And if we solve the case and want to make an arrest, there will be blowback.”

  She folded her arms and looked at him. “So why are you doing this?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  “Richard Mullins is a dick,” she said. “I’ve never liked the guy.”

  Jacob felt the same.

  “The minute he opened his mouth yesterday, I could tell that for him this is all about damage control.” She shook her head. “Someone whacked an FBI source, and they don’t want people to know, so he’s been told to find a way to sweep everything under the rug. You know the Marshals claim that they’ve never lost anyone in the WITSEC program? At least no one who”—she did air quotes with her fingers—“‘followed the rules of the program.’ It’s a point of pride for them.”

  “So, you’re thinking what?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe one reason the feds were so eager to wrestle this thing away from us is they want to prove the victim screwed up somehow, and this whole thing is her fault. Then they can save face and maintain their bragging rights.”

  “That was my read, too,” Jacob said. “Getting an arrest is secondary.”

  “And getting justice for this victim is even lower on his list, if it’s on there at all.”

  Jacob nodded. “We’re on the same page. But we have to work fast and under the radar. As soon as we catch another homicide case, it’s going to be much harder to dedicate time to this thing, and the trail is growing colder by the minute.”

  “So, we’ll work it fast and quiet with no resources to back us up,” Kendra said. “Easy peasy.”

&
nbsp; “Say the word if you want out.”

  “Forget it. I’m in.”

  * * *

  * * *

  BAILEY RUSHED ACROSS Guadalupe Street as the light flashed red. A glance at the clock tower told her she was late for her interview. She’d overslept this morning and been late to the staff meeting, which had gone by in a blur. Everything felt off-kilter today, and she couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss with Jacob in his truck.

  She needed to focus. She needed to nail this interview and get back to the newsroom with the ingredients for a kick-ass story. Max had let her devote four full days to this thing to the exclusion of everything else, and he wanted results.

  Bailey sliced through throngs of summer school students and took the concrete steps two at a time when she reached the student union. She hurried across the grassy mall, passing the flagpole where a woman had huddled in terror one hot August day as a sniper at the top of the tower aimed a hunting rifle at students, picking them off one by one. Bailey’s grandmother had been on campus at the time, strolling down Guadalupe with her girlfriends when the first shots rang out and people started dropping. Dede had taken shelter in a shop and ripped up dresses to bandage the wounded as they waited for ambulances that couldn’t get through the barrage of bullets. The gunman killed sixteen people before being taken out by a pair of Austin cops, and to this day—more than fifty years later—Dede got a tremor in her voice whenever she talked about it.

  The story had made an impression on Bailey. It had prompted her to comb through newspaper clippings and yellowed Life magazines and ultimately sparked her interest in journalism.

  She didn’t look at the clock tower now as she rushed across the mall to the gnarled oak tree in front of Mezes Hall. A woman with long auburn hair and a loose cotton dress stood beside a stroller. She waved at Bailey.

  “Dr. Camden?”

  “Call me Celeste.”

  They shook hands, and Bailey smiled at the chubby-cheeked girl in the stroller. She clutched an Elmo sippy cup in her hands and regarded Bailey with big brown eyes.

  “This is Jillian. She just turned two.” Her mom beamed down at her, but her look turned wary as she glanced around. “The sitter’s meeting us here before my 1:10 class, so I’m afraid I don’t have much time.”

  “Thanks for meeting me. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, and she looked down at Jillian. “I almost didn’t come. It’s been so awful, but . . .”

  She swiped her cheeks, and Bailey waited for her to compose herself.

  “She was such a sweet person. I can’t believe this happened.”

  A pair of students vacated a bench and Bailey stepped over to claim it. She set down her messenger bag, and Celeste pushed the stroller over. She set her big leather tote bag on the bench but didn’t sit.

  “I understand you called the police on Monday morning,” Bailey said. “Do you remember what time?” Bailey had this information already, but she’d found it was better to start with easy questions.

  Celeste took a deep breath and nodded. “I was getting ready for work. The TV was on in the kitchen, and Jill was eating breakfast. I was annoyed because Dana was late, and I needed to be in early. I’d called several times on Sunday to let Dana know, but she hadn’t returned my calls, and that’s very unlike her. Then I saw the pictures on the news.”

  “You recognized the personal items?”

  “Yes, but I knew before that. I was pouring my coffee and they were talking about a woman found near the jogging trail, and I just knew. Dana was down there every single morning. She was obsessive about her exercise.” Celeste rolled the stroller back and forth. “I saw the details in the paper this morning.” She glanced at Jillian, and Bailey could tell she didn’t want to elaborate about the murder. “It’s just awful.”

  The tears welled again, and Bailey scooted over on the bench. “Do you want to sit down?”

  She sat. Jillian squirmed against her straps, and Celeste unbuckled her. She scrambled out, dropping her sippy cup as she climbed onto her mother’s lap and rested her head on her shoulder.

  “I know, love. It’s naptime.” Celeste kissed her forehead.

  Bailey picked up the cup and put it in the stroller. She felt uneasy talking about Dana in front of Jillian, but Celeste didn’t seem to mind.

  “As I mentioned in my email, I’m working on a profile.” Bailey took a notepad from her messenger bag and cast a glance at Jillian. “I was hoping to get some background info? I haven’t been able to find anything on social media.”

  “I doubt you will. She’s not a social media person. Actually, that was one reason I hired her. She didn’t even have a cell phone when I met her, if you can believe that. She doesn’t like technology. Didn’t, I should say.”

  “Mommy, I want Flopsy.”

  “Flopsy’s at home, love. Remember? We forgot her on the sofa.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Rosa’s coming, and then you can go snuggle with Flopsy and take a nap, okay?”

  Jillian plugged her thumb into her mouth and looked at Bailey.

  “Oh, here she is. Thank goodness.” Celeste stood and shifted Jillian to her hip as a young woman strode up the path. She had long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she waved excitedly as she neared them.

  “Hey, chiquita!” She gave Jillian a kiss on the cheek. “I get to see you today!” Then she looked at Celeste. “Sorry I’m late. I had to park by the library.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Rosa looked at Jillian. “You want to ride in the stroller, or walk and help me push?”

  “Push!”

  “She had a PBJ at eleven.” Celeste set Jillian down. “There’re strawberries in the fridge for snack. I should be home by six.”

  “I got it.” Rosa held her hand out, and Jillian took it.

  Celeste leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of her daughter’s head. “Be good for Rosa, sweetie.”

  Bailey watched them walk away and felt a pang of sympathy. She shifted her attention to Celeste, who was weeping openly now that her daughter wasn’t there to see her.

  “Sorry.” She pulled a crumpled tissue from her tote bag. “I’m a mess right now.”

  “I understand.”

  She shook her head. “It’s horrible. Horrible. I still can’t get my mind around it. Stabbed? I can’t even imagine. Makes me never want to leave the house.” She blew her nose and gave Bailey a watery look. “Sorry.”

  “Take your time.”

  Celeste took a deep breath and blew it out. Then she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Okay, so you’re doing a profile.”

  “I’d like to know more about what Dana was like. What was her background? What were her interests? Did she have any hobbies?”

  “Well, she didn’t go out much. Which was good for me because I could call her up at a moment’s notice. She had a few girlfriends here and there, but I never met them.”

  “She mentioned them to you? Do you happen to know their names?”

  “No.”

  “What about a boyfriend?”

  She shook her head. “Not that I ever knew about. And I was glad, to tell you the truth. I told her in the interview, I didn’t want any men around Jillian, and she said that wouldn’t be a problem. Of course, she could have been seeing someone and never said anything.”

  “How did you meet her?” Bailey asked.

  “I got her name from a bulletin board in the anthropology building. You probably think that’s strange, looking for a nanny that way, but most people who post there are grad students or spouses of people who work here. Anyway, it all worked out. I interviewed her, and it was a great fit.”

  “You mentioned she didn’t have a phone at first? But then later she did?”

  “I gave her
one the first week. She couldn’t afford a plan, but I had to be able to get hold of her, so I got her a cheap one. She didn’t use it much, though. It was one of the reasons I hired her. Some of my colleagues have au pairs, and all they do is park the kids in front of a screen and sit on their phones all day. It’s really atrocious.”

  “What about interests? Hobbies? I’m trying to get a picture.”

  She smiled. “Well, she was very pretty. I’m surprised she didn’t have a guy in her life. And she was creative and energetic. Jillian adored her. She was very engaging.”

  “What about education?”

  She shook her head. “No college. She said her parents couldn’t afford it.”

  “And are they here in town?” Bailey already knew they weren’t, but she wanted to see what Celeste said about it.

  “She didn’t talk about her family much. I got the impression they were estranged.”

  “Do you know where they live?”

  “I don’t know. St. Louis, maybe? She said something once when we were talking about baseball.”

  “Baseball?”

  “She was over on a Saturday, and she wanted to watch a game. I remember, it was the Cardinals playing at Wrigley Field.” She gave a wobbly smile. “My late husband was a Cubs fan.”

  “Okay, so . . . do you know what brought Dana to Austin?”

  “No. But she seemed to love it here.” She looked around at the sidewalks streaming with people. “What’s not to love, right? It’s sunny all the time. Friendly. It used to be safe, too, but not anymore. Just last week one of our TAs was robbed at a gas station. She was standing right there gassing up her car, and boom, someone reached right into her car and grabbed her purse off the seat. She’s lucky she wasn’t shot.”

  Bailey had written a brief on the incident, but she didn’t say anything.

  “The whole thing was caught on video, but has anyone made an arrest? No. The police are too busy handing out traffic tickets.” She looked at Bailey. “Do I sound bitter? Maybe I am.”

  “The city’s changed a lot.”

  She took a deep breath. “But back to Dana. She loved crafts. She and Jillian painted all the time together. You should see our fridge—it’s covered with artwork. Oh, and she worked at the art museum down on the lake. Villa Paloma.”