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She nodded. Any of them—Harley, Milo, Jensen, or even Billy—could have been disguised and involved somehow. She’d seen the grainy picture of the “person of interest” the police had released to the public, but the photo had been unclear and could be nearly anyone.
From the booth, Noah said, “Uh-oh.”
She slid in beside him again and glanced at the screen to see Vera’s face up close. The camera wiggled and grew dark, then was suddenly focused on the tip of Vera’s nose.
“What the devil—?” Vera said. “Whose are these?” She must’ve held the glasses away from her face because all of her face came into view. Her lips were twisted in confusion, lines creasing her forehead.
Remmi’s stomach tightened, and she bit her lip as Vera examined the sunglasses with their minute camera.
Finally, Vera sighed. “Bill’s.” She carried the sunglasses to what appeared to be the dining room table. “He’d lose his head if it wasn’t screwed on.”
She left the room and Remmi let out her breath. “She thinks they’re her brother’s.”
“Until he comes home.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Head back to your place. We know where we stand. We can set up the reception there. The camera will keep recording, so we’ll fast-forward to the action when we get there.”
Remmi looked at the monitor again and saw her aunt make her way to baby Monty. Vera picked her grandson off the floor and spun him around. Monty giggled and clung to her.
She said, “Oh, baby, did you hear? Gramma’s going to be rich! Richer than I ever thought.” The baby laughed, and so did Vera, a joyful moment for both, while Remmi felt a newfound disgust as she stared at her aunt. Breathlessly, Vera said, “Whee!” as she spun and held her grandson tightly. Finally, she wound down, but any sadness or regret she’d felt about hearing that Ned Crenshaw had died seemed to be forgotten.
“Okay,” Remmi said, digging in her purse for her keys. “Let’s go. I think I’ve seen enough.”
* * *
“I need a rain check. For that dinner I promised,” Dani told Stinson after she’d climbed out of his Cessna and into the rain. Darkness had fallen, evening seeping into night.
“You always need a rain check.” He was standing on the tarmac beneath the nose of his plane, the stiff wind ruffling his windbreaker and messing his hair, lights from the terminal illuminating the darkness.
“I’m a busy woman.”
“A busy woman who always seems to need a favor.”
“Yeah, well . . .” She couldn’t argue the fact, and he knew it. She’d known Mark Stinson since college, when he’d married Celia, one of her best friends. In the past few years, Stinson, with his plane, had been her go-to guy for quick, short flights when she needed one. Though he was always paid by the department, he had to adjust his schedule on a dime to accommodate her.
So far, he’d never failed.
She flipped up the hood of her jacket and heard the loud roar of a jet as it sped down a runway off the main terminal.
“Throw in a drink,” he yelled as she started walking away.
“You got it. At least one!” But her words were snatched by the wind and another jet that roared into the black, cloud-covered sky.
Once in the car and on the road again, she said to Martinez, “First stop, Remmi Storm’s house.” As soon as they’d landed, they’d received a call from Detective Davis in Las Vegas with the news that the dental records for Didi Storm were a match with the corpse now lying in the morgue. No question. No dispute. Next of
kin would have to be notified.
Settler hated this part of the job, informing family members that a loved one had died, and violent deaths were the worst. Even in the case of a mother gone missing for twenty years, the loss would be painful.
Switching on her wipers against a heavy dousing of rain, Settler wove through a clog of traffic and got onto the 101 heading north. “I just hope we reach Remmi Storm before she hears that her mother’s body was found.”
Though Davis had promised to keep Didi’s identity secret until after Remmi had been notified, it would be a difficult job. The press had been at the construction site, and the Las Vegas P.D. had been inundated with phone calls.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Martinez said, “The press is gonna have a field day with this.”
“Yep. Next of kin for Didi Storm is public knowledge.” She’d considered calling the information to the station and asking for someone in the department to contact Remmi, but she felt it was her responsibility as Remmi had come to her, looking for her mother.
