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Chapter 48
Dance and O'Neil's flight from John Wayne Airport in Orange County to Monterey landed at six. A young uniformed officer with the Monterey County Sheriff's Office greeted them.
Dance knew him well. Gabriel Rivera was a deputy who worked frequently with O'Neil. The stocky, cheerful man, with a mustache that rivaled Steve Foster's, wanted to be a detective, like his mentor, and was known for putting in long hours.
"Detective, Agent Dance."
She shook his hand.
"I've got the preliminary from the scene in Santa Cruz. Otto Grant."
Dance recalled O'Neil had received the phone call about discovering a body in the bay.
Worse ways to die than going to sleep in the bay...
He handed O'Neil a manila envelope and the detective extracted the contents, copies of handwritten notes and some photos.
Dance glanced at the crime scene photos. Hard to make an ID from them alone; he'd been in the water for some time and, though the chill would otherwise preserve flesh, critters had been dining. Much of the remains had been reduced to bone.
"I haven't contacted the family yet," Rivera said. "We've got a DNA sample from them and the lab's running it now. Should be about twenty-four hours." A nod at a close-up of the corpse's hands. "No fingerprints, of course."
O'Neil squinted at one image. "Not Grant."
"It's--"
"Not him. Grant had a knee replacem
ent. Two of 'em. That man's got both knees intact. Maybe homeless, maybe a drifter, fell asleep on the beach and got washed out to sea. Anyway, it's not him."
"Okay, Detective. I'll let everybody know."
"Oh, Gabriel?"
"Yessir?"
"Saves time to learn everything you can about whoever you're searching for."
"I'll remember that, sir." The deputy took the envelope back and returned to his squad car.
Dance and O'Neil walked to short-term parking and collected his vehicle. The fog was back, and the evening promised chill.
"Solitude Creek... Bay View... What on earth is he up to?" Dance mused.
O'Neil remained silent. A mood seemed to be on him. Understandable, of course; a deputy had been shot, a witness killed and their suspect had escaped. Yet she sensed there was something else on O'Neil's mind.
His window was down and cold air streamed into the car. She thought about asking him to roll it up but chose not to, for some reason. She turned the heater up higher.
Well, if he wanted to talk, fine; it wasn't her role to pry anything out of him, unlike with her daughter. She pulled out her phone to call Boling but somehow the idea of having a cheerful conversation with him didn't appeal; it also seemed a bit passive-aggressive, a subtle payback for O'Neil's mood. She texted instead, saying she'd be home soon.
Almost immediately her phone dinged with a reply. Miss you. WDYWFD?
She answered back that leftovers were good, and asked about the kids.
He sent another one saying Maggie was Skyping with Bethany and Cara (Secrets Club teleconference); Wes was out with Donnie, biking (back @ 7, promised).
She typed:
C U soon. XO
