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José Cortez.
Kerri hit the brakes and skidded to a stop, ending up sideways across the road.
“Whoa, Devlin.” Falco put his phone away and looked around. “What did I miss?”
Kerri pointed the Wagoneer in the necessary direction and headed after the other vehicle. “Black Escalade. José Cortez is the driver.”
They followed the Escalade to the Iris warehouse. Cortez was exiting the SUV when they parked next to him, cutting him off from the warehouse entrance.
Falco was out before the vehicle stopped rocking. “José Cortez, I’m Detective Falco, and this is my partner, Detective Devlin. We have a few questions for you.”
Kerri had skirted the hood by then. She stood on one side of Cortez, and Falco stood on the other. He looked ready to bolt.
“This will only take a moment of your time, Mr.Cortez,” Kerri reassured him with the best smile she could muster.
“What’s going on here?”
A female had exited the warehouse and was headed their way. She looked to be in her forties. Brunette hair. Medium build. Dressed in jeans and a sweater, along with fashionable slides.
Kerri introduced herself and Falco to the woman, who didn’t bother returning the pleasantry. “We have questions for Mr.Cortez.”
The woman braced her hands on her hips. “Mr.Cortez is my employee, and he’s already late. I suggest the two of you schedule a time with him for after work. Right now, he needs to get inside before he ends up in the unemployment line.”
They made no move to stop the man when he followed his boss’s order. Until they could prove Cortez was somehow involved in criminal activity, they didn’t want to cost him his job.
“May I have your name, ma’am?” Kerri asked. “I’ll need an explanation to give my boss for why we didn’t interview Mr.Cortez.” This was a lie, but the other woman had no way of knowing this.
“Elizabeth Grant. COO of Iris. Google me. That’ll give you the rest of what you need.” She turned her back and walked into the warehouse.
“Friendly,” Falco muttered.
Kerri scoffed. “About as friendly as a rattlesnake.”
“Considering the Cortez connection,” Falco said as they climbed back into the Wagoneer, “I say we do some digging into this Iris Cosmetics.”
“Start with the boss,” Kerri suggested. “Shit rolls downhill, but it typically starts at the top.”
Was it coincidence that José Cortez worked in one of the Taylor warehouses?
Had to be.
Kerri tried to shake the idea, but it wasn’t budging. Not with the other facts she knew about Cortez.
One—he and his wife had appeared out of nowhere in August of last year.
Two—the high-end vehicle was purchased at the same time.
Three—Alice and the death of her parents seemed to be the catalyst for both.
Could the murders of Walsh and Kurtz be somehow tied to the Cortez family?
Was that even feasible, or was Kerri sifting through all the scattered facts and theories to reach the conclusion that suited her most? Needing to find answers so desperately, she was putting two and two together and coming up with ten?
Stop & Shop
Birmingham, 1:50 p.m.
Kerri wasn’t sure she could eat, but Falco had insisted. She stared at the less-than-appetizing offerings beyond the greasy glass of the display case. Overcooked chicken. Potato wedges. The smell of stale cooking oil had her stomach churning.
