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“She didn’t call or text?” Alvarez said as she heard the smooth purr of another engine coming close.
“What part of no don’t you understand?” Donny demanded. “That’s all there is.”
“Would you mind showing me your cell phone, so I can confirm?” Pescoli asked.
“What? No.” Panic in his gaze. “I erase everything.”
Another lie. Pescoli said, “We can get them from your cell phone carrier.”
“Is that even legal?” he asked. “Don’t you need like a warrant or something?”
Pescoli said, “We haven’t found Destiny’s phone yet, but when we do, we’ll be double-checking her records, calls, texts, searches on the Internet.”
He blanched.
“And even if we don’t find it right away, we’ll be checking with her carrier and getting the records from them.”
He opened his mouth, was about to say something, probably change his story, when the idling engine stopped. A car door opened and slammed shut.
“Oh, shit,” Donny said just as Mayor Carolina Justison stormed through the open gate.
“Whose car is blocking the—?” She let the sentence die when she recognized the two detectives. “Oh.”
Wearing a slim navy skirt and white knit top, a computer bag slung over her shoulder, she advanced on the group gathered in the shade of the back porch. Her lips were compressed. Her eyes, behind rimless glasses, snapped angrily. Her blond hair, cut at an angle to her chin, whipped away from her face as her red pumps pounded along the cement path past the basketball court.
“I thought I told the sheriff that my son was off limits,” she barked at Pescoli. “I made it very clear that Donald wasn’t going to talk to the police without an attorney present!”
“I didn’t say nothin’,” Donny protested as Alex edged away from the group and toward the gate.
“Anything!” she corrected automatically, swinging around to glare at her son. “You didn’t say ‘anything’ and that’s good. But it’s not the point. We all know you have nothing to hide. But there is a protocol to follow.” Her gaze sharpened on Alvarez. “I talked to the sheriff directly, and I spoke to you. I thought we were all on the same page about this.”
“New information came to light,” Alvarez said, not backing down an inch. “We just wanted to clarify a few things. Donny and Alex both knew the victim.”
“Donny will speak with you, but only with an attorney present. Is that clear?” She turned her attention to her son. “I think you should go in, take a shower, get cleaned up. We’re going out for dinner. With Bernard.”
As in Bernard Reece? Senior partner of a local law firm? Father of Austin Reece who seemed to be the ringleader of the group? Alvarez made a note.
Donny’s expression turned put-upon, as if his mother were really stepping into his private space and time. “I can talk to them. I’ve got nothing to hide . . .” At his mother’s sharp glare, he clammed up and scooped his things from the table, but not before Carolina’s sharp eyes noticed the pack of Winstons.
“Donald,” she said tightly. “Really?” She plucked the pack from his big paw. “We talked about this.”
“You smoke!”
Her cheeks tinged pink. “It’s not a habit.” She slid her eyes toward Alvarez to see if she noticed. “And it’s different. You’re an athlete.”
Donny, red-faced, didn’t argue and hurried off, making his way toward a large sliding door flanked by a wall of windows. As he yanked it open, Alvarez caught a glimpse of a large kitchen that appeared to be recently remodeled, and opened to an adjacent family room where leather furniture was clustered around a fireplace, an oversized flat-screen mounted over the mantel.
From the corner of her eye, Alvarez saw Alex O’Hara easing toward the hedge.
Mayor Justison noticed also. “Good-bye, Alex,” she said in a singsong voice. As he disappeared through the hedge, she tucked the pack of cigarettes into the side pocket of her computer case, then made sure that Donny had shut the family room door. “Kids,” she whispered, as if the three women remaining were in a tight-knit little coffee klatch that understood the foibles of teenagers. She seemed less tense and, with another glance at the family room, Carolina scrounged in her bag and withdrew a cigarette and Donny’s lighter. With her back to the house, she lit up. “Since my little secret’s out, right?” Exhaling a lungful of smoke, she flashed a smile as a motorcycle’s engine came to life, wheels chirping. Presumably, Alex O’Hara had made good his escape.
Carolina said, “I rarely buy a pack, but today, I think I owe myself a wee little shot of nicotine.”
The motorcycle was now racing away, engine whining to a higher pitch as Alex O’Hara put the bike through its paces.
“Did you know that the victim was pregnant?” Pescoli asked.
Carolina was about to take another drag but stopped, the cigarette halfway to her lips.
