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Even now, it seemed the memory of it brought an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. “He stole from that good man, that good family. And shamed us.”
“Did you attend Mr. Ortiz’s funeral service?”
“No. I wanted to, but David’s parent-teacher conference was that day. Tony, my husband, and I make sure we both attend every one. It’s important. I sent flowers.” Something flickered in her eyes. “The priest was killed during the Mass. I heard about it. And I heard they’re saying—the police are saying—he wasn’t a priest at all. Oh God. Oh God.”
“Mrs. Franco.” Eve crouched until they were eye-to-eye, then drew an evidence pouch out of her field bag. “Is this Lino’s?”
Teresa’s breath went ragged as she reached for the bag, as her thumb rubbed the front of the medal through the seal. She turned it over, and her eyes blurred with tears as she read the inscription on the back. “I gave him this for his First Holy Communion. He was seven, seven years old. He was still my boy then, most of him was still my little boy. Before he got so angry, before he wanted so much more than I could give. Is he dead? Is Lino dead? Did he kill the priest? Oh God, did he take the life of a priest?”
“I think he may have, Mrs. Franco, in more ways than one. The body of the man who posed as Father Flores had a tattoo removed. From his forearm. The gang symbol of the Soldados. He’d had facial reconstruction. He had this medal hidden in his room.”
The color simply leached out of her face. “You think this man, this priest, was Lino.”
“Father Flores was traveling out West when he disappeared, nearly seven years ago. We’ve done some back-checking, and Lino Martinez drops off the grid at about the same time. He moved on and off prior to that. Changing identities, from what we’ve been able to ascertain. Identity theft has been part of his style, and one of his skills.”
“It was always so. He was bright. A bright boy, and smart with electronics. He could have used it for his education, to build a good life, a career. Instead, it was part of his path into the gang. His usefulness in that area. Mother of God.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Did it come to this? Is he dead?” She began to rock. “Is he dead? Please, I need my husband. I need my family. I need to see my son. I need to see Lino.”
“You haven’t seen him in twenty years, and he changed his appearance. Would you recognize him?”
Teresa dropped her hands, and the tears fell with them. “He’s still my son.”
Eve picked up the evidence bag in Teresa’s lap. “I’ll make arrangements for you to view the body.”
A shudder moved through Teresa. “Please, can it be tomorrow? After my boy is in school. I don’t want him to know. . . . Maybe it’s a mistake, and he won’t ever have to know. If it’s not, I want to find the right way to tell him about his brother.”
“Tomorrow morning. I can have transportation sent to you.”
“Please don’t. The neighbors . . .” She choked on a sob, covered her mouth with her hand. “I know how that sounds. It sounds shameful and selfish. But my life is here. My little boy’s life is here. We’ve had no trouble with the police. You can look, you can ask. He’s a good boy. My husband, he’s a good man. You can—”
“Mrs. Franco, we don’t want to bring you any trouble. I can tell you where to come, and meet you there. What time will your son be in school?”
“My boy’s in school by eight. We can come to the city, my husband and I. We’ll leave as soon as our boy’s in school. My husband can—”
“Okay. It’s okay. Nine o’clock.” Eve pulled out a card, wrote down the particulars. “Go here, ask for me. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“We’ll come. We’ll be there, me and Tony, but . . . I need to go home now. Please, I just . . . I need to tell Sophia that I’m not feeling well, and need to go home.”
“All right. Mrs. Franco,” Eve said as Teresa rose. “Why did Lino leave New York at seventeen?”
The dark eyes that had been so rich and warm were dull now. “To get rich, to be important. ‘When I come back,’ he said to me, ‘I’ll be a rich man, and we’ll live in a big house. A big house like Mr. Ortiz. I’ll be somebody.’ ”
“One more thing. Can you give me the names of friends he was closest to? Other gang members?”
“Steve Chávez was his closest friend, and the worst of them. He and Steve left together.” Teresa pressed her fingers to her eyes, rubbed hard. “Joe Inez, Penny Soto. Penny was his girlfriend. Others, there were others. Some are dead or gone. I’ll think, and write them down for you. But please, I need to go home.”
“I’ll meet you tomorrow.”
Eve stepped out of the office behind Teresa, watched her hurry to the woman who’d seated them. “I guess we should leave her a big tip,” Eve observed. “But either way, I pretty much ruined her night.”
14
EVE RAN THE THREE NAMES TERESA HAD GIVEN her as Roarke drove home. “Chávez, Steven, has himself a long, crowded sheet, in various states. Assault, assault with deadly, couple of illegals pop, sexual assault—acquitted—grand theft auto, fraud, robbery. Crossing lots of state lines, and gracing many state facilities to do his penance.”
“A traveling badass,” Roarke commented.
“Arrested numerous times and/or questioned and released. A bit over seven years ago he got popped for possessing stolen goods, made bail and walked away. That was in Arizona.” She glanced over at Roarke.
“And the last time Teresa had contact with Lino was seven years ago, in Nevada. A neighbor of Arizona.”
