When I called Sanchez’s current cell phone number, it went to voicemail. I located a number for his wife, and she stated that her husband and a couple of his buddies are on a mountain climbing expedition in Mexico. They drove, so they won’t be back until Sunday. Cell service is mostly unavailable, so talking to him before he gets back isn’t likely.
“Maybe they are,” I say. “Maybe they aren’t. I just need to know whether or not they chopped up Fanning’s body and took it with them.”
Liv laughs, the first of the day. “That would be one way to dispose of a body. Maybe Sanchez is aDexterfan.”
I grunt an agreement. Sanchez isn’t the only one we haven’t been able to contact, but I feel as if he’s somehow the one we most need to hear from. That said, our one witness claimed to have seen two women casing Fanning’s place. There was no mention of a Hispanic man.
But that doesn’t mean Sanchez isn’t involved, which makes paying his mother a visit a good idea. She lived through the horror of his abduction. I figure she’ll have plenty to say. The wife, on the other hand, only knows what her husband decided to share with her.
Sofia Sanchez serves us hot tea. Liv doesn’t seem to think this is strange. She adds cream and sugar and appears to savor the disgusting stuff. But I’m too old to think for a minute that hot tea is normal. Tea is made to be poured over ice. So I stare at my dainty cup, pretending I plan to drink it. No need to insult the lady.
“Mario is a good man,” his mother says. “A hard worker.”
She’s already showed us his high school and college graduation photos. He’s an engineer now, working toward a second degree in architecture,with a wife and their first child on the way. The wife is visiting her folks in Memphis for a few days while he and his friends are away.
“I’m sure you’re very proud of him,” Liv says. “We just have a few questions for him. If he can give us a call when he has service again, that would be great.”
Mrs. Sanchez looks from Liv to me. “My son has not been near that evil monster—if that’s what your question is about.” Her voice is stern, almost angry. “He has not even spoken of him. Whatever has happened, Mario had nothing to do with it. Nothing,” she repeats.
I give her a nod. “Yes, ma’am, we understand. As my partner said, we just have a couple of questions.”
She nods and drinks her tea. The rest of the visit goes pretty much the same way.
As we hit the road, I say, “I don’t think Mrs. Sanchez is too happy with us.” She didn’t have a lot to say after her assertion that her son hadn’t gone anywhere near Fanning. I decide not to be suspicious that she jumped immediately to that conclusion regarding our visit. Some folks always see the police in that way first—that we’re looking for someone to blame rather than the actual facts in a case.
“Probably not.” Liv leans back in the seat and closes her eyes. “Can’t blame her.”
“True.” Though my wife and I never had any children of our own, I get it. A good parent wants to protect their child—even a grown child.
For a while, I drive without saying more. Liv isn’t herself today. It’s the headache. My wife’s sister had migraines. I remember she’d have to go into a dark room for the whole day if one started. I see how hard the headaches are for Liv. Crazy part is that until a few days ago, she hadn’t suffered one in at least a year. I hope they aren’t back to stay. No one should have to live with that kind of gorilla in the corner, ready to attack at the worst possible moment.
Personally, I think it’s the stress. Hell, her daddy died just a couple of months ago. He was the only family she had left. She’s damn young to be in the same boat as me, all alone in the world. Well, she has that fiancé, butI’m not so sure about him. I keep that part to myself, though. She has to make up her own mind about how she wants to spend the rest of her life.
She’s noticed that I’m off my game lately. I hope I’m not piling more onto her stress level. I can be a pain in the ass sometimes. She pretends not to notice. I’ve been a cop for a long time. I have certain routines and ways of doing things. She appreciates my experience, and I appreciate her, period.
“I am still awake, you know.” She gives me the side-eye.
I chuckle. “I was just thinking it’s been a long time since you’ve had one of those headaches. Everything okay at home?”
That’s as close as I’m getting to asking about the fiancé. Not because I can’t talk to Liv about anything, but because I don’t want to make her feel worse.
“Same old, same old,” she admits. “I guess I’m not paying enough attention to him—to us.”
I figured. “I’m taking you home. You need to take care of yourself, kiddo. Make up with him—if it suits you—and we’ll dig in again tomorrow.”
Now she lifts an eyebrow at me. “It’s only four o’clock. We calling it a day already?”
“Yeah. But it’s not you,” I assure her. Liv is not the type to fall down on the job as long as she is breathing. “It’s me. I have a doctor’s appointment.”
She instantly sits up straighter. “Why? You never go to the doctor. You hate doctors.”
“The department is insisting on a physical,” I lie.
“Ha!” She relaxes into her seat once more. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to put them off forever.”
But I damn sure tried.
I hate this place.
