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“Two months along,” Pescoli added.
“Oh, dear God. Oh, no.” She was visibly shocked.
Alvarez said, “Preliminary autopsy’s in. Looks like her neck was snapped. She actually died of asphyxiation. She was strangled. But whoever choked her was strong enough to break her neck.”
“I thought she drowned.”
“No water in her lungs,” Alvarez said. “Someone killed her and tossed her into the creek.”
Carolina’s knees looked about to give way and she placed a hand on the top of a table to steady herself. “Oh Lord.” She took a seat as well as another hit from her cigarette. “Oh, dear Lord.” Then it hit her. “But you don’t think . . . that Donald Junior . . . that he was involved?”
Alvarez said, “He admitted to meeting her that night, here. Claims they talked things out. No one else was here. They fought. She stormed out, that was the last he saw of her. He never went to Reservoir Point that night, or so he says, but it seems he may well be the last person to ha
ve seen her alive.”
“Aside from the killer,” she said weakly.
Pescoli said, without inflection, “We’re asking for a DNA sample. And need to see his cell phone records.”
“Now, wait a minute. You can’t possibly think that Donald Junior had anything to do with what happened to that poor girl.”
Pescoli said, “He agreed to come to the station and give a DNA sample.”
“No,” she stated firmly.
“We’re just trying to get to the truth,” Alvarez assured her. “Eliminate suspects.”
“Oh, for the love of . . .” Carolina rubbed her forehead with the fingers of her free hand, then steadily climbed to her feet. “My son is innocent of any wrongdoing. I can’t speak about paternity of the baby. That I don’t know, but I assure you Donald Junior would have stood by his child, if—and it’s a big if—he was the father. From what I understand Destiny was . . . loose with her favors.”
“Her ‘favors’?” Alvarez repeated.
“As in sexual favors. You know what I mean. The way I understand it, she kind of got around. I think it was one of the reasons Donny broke up with her.”
“Then a DNA test will straighten all that out,” Pescoli pointed out. “And the text and phone information on his cell will help clear him as well.”
For a second, Carolina studied the lit end of her filter tip, then took another long drag and, in the stream of smoke that ensued, said, “I think we’re done here, detectives.” Though she’d calmed considerably, there was still an edge to her voice. “We all know that Donny is innocent except for being a slave to his raging teenage hormones, as we all once were. That girl Destiny, poor thing, just wouldn’t leave him alone. She was obsessed. Donny tried to let her down easy, but, of course, that just didn’t work.” She sighed heavily, took a final pull on the Winston, then let it drop to the concrete, where she crushed out the burning butt with the toe of one pump. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m sure you can find your way out.”
With that, she plucked the remains of her cigarette from the patio and dropped it into a trash can tucked behind a fence near the hedge, then, back ramrod straight, clipped her way into the house.
Pescoli said, with no inflection, “Bitch.”
Alvarez smiled faintly. “All right. Let’s go.” They would learn nothing more. Alvarez suspected Carolina had put a gag order on her son, and even now, she was probably on her phone, trying to connect to the sheriff to ream him out but good.
Fair enough.
That was all part of Blackwater’s job.
Still ruminating about Carolina Justison’s mention of “Bernard” in the same breath as “dinner,” Alvarez followed Pescoli back to the Outback and slid behind the wheel. The interior was oven-hot, but before her partner could complain, she started the engine and hit the fan to full speed.
“What do you think?” she asked, backing around a newer white Mercedes, the mayor’s sporty two-door, which she had been unable to slide into the garage. “About the kids?”
“Donny’s lying through his orthodontist-straightened teeth. Alex O’Hara, too.” Pescoli rolled down her window. “I just haven’t figured out what it is they’re hiding.”
“Everything.” She checked the street and wheeled out, then put the Subaru in drive and caught a glimpse of the curtains moving in the big window not far from the front door. Carolina Justison, cell phone pressed to her ear, was standing on the other side of the glass and peeking through the drapes to make sure the cops were leaving. “What about the mayor?”
“Piece of work.” Pescoli wasn’t one to hold back. “Thinks her kid is innocent.”
“Or knows he isn’t.”
