I clear away all the other thoughts and force myself to focus on the moment. “I need you all to write your statements and then sign them. I’ll have an officer standing by to provide any assistance you may require. You can leave once that’s done.” I get to my feet. I have to get out of here and find Liv.
“Is that it?” Hyatt asks.
I survey the frazzled-looking group. “For now.”
I locate Officer Loudon, who was watching the door when I arrived. “Make sure they all write their statements and sign them before they leave. Put the statements on my desk.”
“Will do.” Loudon gives me a confirming nod.
“And close out those BOLOs I issued for Hyatt and Reeves and their vehicles—except the one for the old Ford truck.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sanchez is expecting me. I need to hear his side of this. Not to mention I’d like to know his reason for dropping out of the plan. A part of me still thinks there is more to him than I know. Something about his escape all those years ago that is not in the case file.
Sanchez is waiting at the front door of his home when I arrive. I apologize for running late. He shows me to his private study. To be so young, he’s earned a surprising number of awards from the firm where he works. Most of Fanning’s victims have done fairly well for themselves despite the horror of their childhoods.
“So,” Sanchez says once we are seated around his desk, “how can I help you with this investigation? I’m assuming since you’re here that you haven’t found Fanning.”
I shake my head. “Not yet. You’re the last of his victims we have to interview. In fact, I’m running behind because the other six showed up at headquarters to confess the plan they attempted to carry out. Sounds like you dropped out.”
Sanchez nods. “I wanted to be a part of it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk my responsibilities.” He shrugs. “My friends and I had this excursion to Mexico planned already.” He shakes his head. “Their plan just wasn’t the right thing to do. I decided to leave justice to you.”
Smart man.
He smiles then, though the expression is a sad one. “You thought I had something to do with his disappearance.”
I shrug. “We considered the possibility the same as we did for the others. Taking him to Mexico and burying him seemed like an interesting option.”
Sanchez laughs. “I can’t say that I wouldn’t have enjoyed doing just that, but no, we didn’t. I haven’t seen or heard from that bastard since the trial. If the world is lucky, no one will ever hear from him again.”
Sanchez’s wife appears with two glasses of iced tea. Her rounded belly makes me think of Liv. I hope she can work things out for the best. Whatever that might be.
“Was there anything else, Detective Duncan?” Sanchez meets my gaze again. “I get the feeling there’s something more you want to ask me.”
I smile. Perceptive guy. “You know, I’ve read over your statements repeatedly. The ones you made when you were ten years old and then your testimony at the trial. You told your story carefully, ensuring all bases were covered, but it feels like you left something out.”
His eyebrows rear up. “Really. My lawyer and the district attorney seemed to think my testimony was powerful. You know, unimpeachable.”
“That’s true. Maybe it’s just me.” I look him directly in the eyes. The truth is, after Liv and I learned what the other victims were up to, I began to wonder about Sanchez all the more. Mostly because something about his original story just didn’t sit right with me. “I feel like there’s something else you need to tell me.” I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that you were a skinny ten-year-old. Little for your age. And you bested a forty-something-year-old guy who was experienced in handling kids—each one of them larger than you. You not only bested him, you left him in bad shape. How did you manage to do that?”
He stares at me, unmoving, his face suddenly clear of emotion. “You read the court transcripts. The statements I made to the police. You should know the answer.”
I shake my head. I am just not buying it. “You had help, didn’t you?” I’m on one hell of a fishing expedition, and I’m just hoping he’ll take the bait. My gut, every instinct I’ve got, tells me he had assistance escaping that bastard.
“Maybe I got lucky.” He turns his hands up. “Maybe Fanning had a bad day. Who knows?”
“What was your relationship with Dr. Lewis Newhouse?”
His expression closes. “Detective, I think—”
“Whatever secret you’re keeping, Mr. Sanchez,” I cut him off, can’t let him take that path, “you’re not helping anyone. I need you to be straight with me. Lives depend on what happens next.”
He smirks. “You mean Fanning’s life?”
Anger flares. I let him see it. “Not just his. There are others who are hanging by their fingernails here. I need your help. Now. And you’re wasting my time. If that bastard isn’t caught, then he’ll just do the same thing to some other kid that he did to you and all the others.”
Silence swells between us for a moment. I see the change in his face when the tide of his emotions shifts in my direction.
