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As if that would ever happen.
Ugh!
If that was what was in her subconscious, her brain was a very scary place.
* * *
Hoping to have a one-on-one with Austin Reece, Alvarez drove to his parents’ home, a huge, sprawling stone house in a gated community that bordered the one private country club in Grizzly Falls. She’d gotten through the gate by showing her ID to a guard, who called and warned whoever was at the Reece home that she was coming.
She’d met Austin’s father in the ornate, two-story foyer. Stiff backed, thick hair prematurely gray, wearing rimless glasses and a polo shirt and pressed slacks, Bernard Reece allowed her inside but didn’t move from the marbled main hallway. He stated firmly that he would not allow his son to be interviewed unless he or another attorney was present during the questioning.
“I think I’ve made it crystal clear that Austin isn’t going to speak with you or anyone else from your department alone. I know how this works.”
There was no arguing. She tried. Got nowhere. “Then bring him into the station tomorrow. Early,” she suggested and kept her tone even, her gaze direct. “Sit in.”
“I have an appointment early in the morning. Nine o’clock.”
“Not a problem. I’m up early. Let’s make it seven.”
His lips flattened a bit. “I’ll be busy. As I am now.”
“Then don’t come. But I’ll be there, and if Austin doesn’t show up, it won’t be good. As you said, you ‘know how this works.’ ”
His eyes flashed for a second. Then one side of his mouth lifted as if he were amused. “A threat?” he said, before holding up a hand to cut off any response. “No, don’t tell me: a promise. Just like on television.”
“Yeah, that’s right. We’re just like the TV cops.” She sent him a hard stare. “Tomorrow.”
She drove away wondering what Bernard Reece was hiding. What did he know about his kid that made him so wary? Was it because he was a lawyer and, as such, was inherently suspicious, or was there more to the story? Did he suspect that his Ivy League-bound boy was in the kind of trouble that would alter the course of his life, turn all those gilded dreams to rubble?
She thought about Reece all the way to Missoula, where she located Veronica Palermo’s apartment building three blocks off campus. The parking lot was dusty, the asphalt crumbling in places, lines for spaces having long faded. L-shaped and flat-roofed, the two stories of the Campus Court Apartments were painted a peeling gunmetal gray. Along each level ran covered porches where a few old aluminum deck chairs, coolers, and wooden crates used as tables had been set on the concrete around the doorways.
Alvarez parked near a fenced area that was intended to hide the garbage bins, but the broken gate and the Dumpster with its open lid and trash mounding to the point of overflowing gave the secret away.
Donny Justison’s college friend’s apartment was located on the second level. Alvarez climbed the chipped concrete steps, knocked on the door, and heard a flurry of footsteps. Seconds later, the door opened, and a girl of about nineteen stood in frayed jean shorts and a pink tank top that showed off black bra straps. Her auburn hair was wet and she was wearing no makeup.
“I’m looking for Veronica Palmero.”
“I’m her. Who’re you?”
Alvarez introduced herself and showed her badge. Veronica carefully looked at her ID, determined she was legit, and led her inside a flat that smelled of lingering cigarette smoke mingled with the distinct odor of marijuana. Dirty dishes were stacked on the counters and piled in the sink, and clothes, including a big pair of men’s shorts, were scattered over a cheap brown carpet. “Look I don’t have much time,” Veronica said. “I’ve got to get dressed for work.”
“This won’t take long. I just have a few questions about Destiny Montclaire. I know you already spoke to a deputy, but I’d like to clear up a few things.”
“That bitch?” She waved Alvarez inside and took a seat, cross-legged, on a worn gray couch. “I already told that deputy guy who came here all I know, which is nothing. I never even met the chick.”
“I just need to clarify a few things.”
“Go ahead and sit down, but this has gotta be short.” She pointed to a chair that looked as if something had recently been spilled upon it, and instead sat on a mustard-colored ottoman.
Alvarez remained standing. “You’re living here alone?”
“For now. Jessica—my roommate, Jessica Tanaka?— she went home for the summer. Works for her dad, but I stayed on to keep this place. I work and am taking two classes this summer.”
“And you know Donny Justison?”
She gave Alvarez the “duh” look. “He’s only my boyfriend.”
“So, you’re close.”
