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“The body that was exhumed belonged to a man, approximately thirty-five to forty-five-years-old. Vallejo was sixty at his alleged death, which makes this an impossible match. We estimatethisman’s height to be around five-feet, ten-inches, and six-feet, one-inch. I’m not sure I can accurately guess his weight, but bone density suggests he was on the heavier side. Dental records so far haven’t come back with a match, and the lab has pulled DNA, but again, that takes time. And the question you asked isn’twho is he? But rather, is he Vallejo?”
I bring my hands up and shove them through my hair. “It’s not him.”
“Reports say you sliced a blade through his neck and put a bullet in his belly,” Fletcher finally chimes in. “So if he walked away that night, he was in a world of trouble anyway. He’d have needed emergency surgery. Lifesaving treatments.”
“Why wasn’t the building secured?” I stare out into the ether. And at the same time, catch my own reflection in the glass. “Why didn’t they rush the club and seize everyone?”
“Don’t know,” Archer mumbles. “We weren’t there.”
“I was shot.” Closing my eyes, I try to think back. To remember. “Jumped out the two-story window with bullets in my body and a few missing brain cells.” I bring my hand up and rub my forehead. “They swept me up from the ground and took me away. I didn’t…” I open my eyes and turn from the window to find Rory’s pale-faced stare shining right back at me. “I wasn’t debriefed on the operation, and I quit right after we put my partner in the ground.” Finally, I bring my focus to Malone. “I buried my partner and held his wife while she sobbed. I’m godfather to his little girl, and I knew she deserved so much more. So I carried his casket. Barely,” I add on a humorless chuckle, looking at Rory again, “couldn’t walk properly on my own. But I wasn’t going to sit my ass down and let others carry him without me. I lowered him into the ground and said my goodbyes. And knowing—or believing,” I add bitterly, “that Vallejo was dead, I walked away and didn’t ask questions again.”
“Well…” Archer wanders to Mayet’s desk and sits on the edge. “Seems Vallejo pulled a switcheroo and lived to see another day. Now he’s got his sights set on Rory.”
“But we still don’t knowwhy,” I press. “Why her?”
Fletch already heard all this yesterday in the hospital, but Archer’s brows furrow now. “Why?”
“Vallejo has a massive body count, Malone. Maybe even more than your father.” I look to Aubree when Archer’s face hardens and her eyes widen. “Was that classified?” I taunt. “She not in the know yet?”
“I know,” Aubree murmurs. “No one in this room keeps secrets from each other.”
I open my mouth to continue, but something in the way Mayet’s eyes flash has me stopping again. I study her. I ponder what has triggered that look. But she’s skilled at what she does and locks it down just as quickly as it began.
“Finish your thought,” Malone snarls. “You took your shot. You still don’t trust me. Cry me a fucking river, but finish your thought before you drown yourself.”
“My point,” I drag my eyes from Mayet and stop on him. “Vallejo’s already a wanted man. So why does he care that this one chick might’ve seen him in the shadows?”
“I hardly saw him at all,” Rory murmurs. “Like, just his eyes, basically.” She reaches out and pinches her cheek bone. “Maybe a tiny bit of his upper cheeks.”
“She’s calling Vallejo out by name,” Fletch says. “After five years on the down low, she’s blown his cover.”
“But she didn’t,” I press. “Youcalledme, Detectives. You didn’t know who your eyewitness was, but you were aware Vallejo was involved, because a different witness overheard his name being said.” I raise my hands and look around, “I don’t see that guy in witness protection. He’s not dead. His home isn’t being shot up.”
“Because he didn’tseethe perp,” Archer inserts. “He was along the street and heard the commotion. Rory is the only one whosawhim.”
“Yeah. She saw something,” I agree, looking at her and trying to understand exactly what that thing is. “She saw something maybe not even she realizes. And whatever that thing is, is worth killing for.”
“So what did you see?” Archer folds his arms and stares at the side of her face till she turns. “Go back to the start, and tell us exactly what happened.”
“I mean…” Rory swallows, her throat bobbing as the lump of nerves moves down. “I don’t know. I was walking toward the bus stop after leaving the hospital.” She glances straight past me, since the street below is almost exactly where she stood that night. “I was walking that way,” she points. “I could see the neon lights from the bar up ahead. I even considered stopping in,” she murmurs, “since I was cold and hungry. My car was destroyed last year, and I haven’t been able to replace it yet, so I’ve been riding the city buses.”
“Where was Lombardo?” Fletch ponders. “Where was Vallejo?”
“On the other side of the street.” She closes her eyes, as though to picture it in her mind. “I was on this side, and as I was walking along, I caught voices across the street. Angry men. There were a handful of them all standing in a group.”
“How many?” Archer bites out. “How many men?”
“I don’t know. Three. Or four.”
“Well?” He lowers his arms and sets his hands on the desk beside his thighs. “Three or four?”
“I don’t—”
“Three or four, Aurora? Use your brain and think about it. How many?”
“Watch yourself, Malone.” I speak quietly. In warning. And startle Rory’s eyes open again as she swings around to study me. But I meet the cop’s stare and repeat, “Watch it. Don’t be a dick, or I’ll remove your witness and send you up the fucking river.”
“She needs to remember!” he barks out. “If she’s gonna testify, she needs to know what she saw. If she doesn’t know what she saw, then why the fuck are we even here?”
