Carla, p.14
Carla, page 14
“And yours? In my experience, a family doesn’t suffer multiple murders if there aren’t some deep secrets involved,” Patrick said.
“My father’s deep secret was being an honest cop in a dishonest town,” Maria said.
“And your brother’s secret?” Patrick said.
“You’ll have to ask him,” Maria said.
“I asked you to investigate an attempt on my life, not me,” Patrick said.
“I’ve known from the start who made the attempt. I was in the car at the traffic light behind you, already following the men who tried to kill you, though from what I learned later that evening, they weren’t actually supposed to try to kill you. They were just supposed to question you, scare you,” Maria said.
“And the gunshot?” Patrick said.
“I think the gun went off when the car hit the median. I don’t think it was on purpose,” Maria said.
“Then who was it?” Patrick said.
“I’ll tell you who it was, but first I want some answers,” Maria said.
Patrick sat there, silently thinking over what she was saying. For the first time, Maria saw the seasoned politician thinking over all of his options and how they might come back to him. Whatever this man was hiding, it was serious, and he was much more devious than she had thought.
“What is it you want to know?” Patrick said.
“For starters, why did you change your stance on development?” Maria said.
“What could that possibly have to do with any of this?” Patrick asked.
“Did you really think those developers who had sunk all that money into your campaign wouldn’t be vengeful when you stiffed them?” Maria said.
“I didn’t stiff anyone. I changed a policy platform. I could easily change it back later,” Patrick said.
“But you weren’t going to change it back, were you? Because someone did you a favor,” Maria said.
“I haven’t the foggiest what you are talking about,” Patrick said.
“A 501c named Save Our Homes sent three hundred thousand dollars to Vance Nixon. Shortly afterward, you changed your stance on development. Shortly after that, Les Hilton was hired to find some dirt on you to sink your campaign,” Maria said.
“I had no idea that Vance Nixon received three hundred thousand dollars,” Patrick said.
“You are an excellent liar. Not even a hint of deception in your mannerisms,” Maria said.
“That’s because I’m telling the truth,” Patrick said.
“What favor was done for you?” Maria said.
Patrick stared at her, completely mute.
“That’s what they said. They didn’t care who won the election because the incumbent was on board, and a favor had been done for the challenger. So what favor was done for you?” Maria said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Patrick said. But it was obvious from the tone of his voice that he knew exactly what she was talking about. “Aren’t you sworn to uphold the law? Why didn’t you arrest them immediately?”
“Is that really what you would have wanted? You seem to be going through a lot of trouble to keep the whole thing a secret,” Maria said.
“Dealing with the backlash would have been easier than this,” Patrick said.
“Guess that depends what you’re hiding,” Maria said.
“My wife was in that car,” Patrick said.
“And my girlfriend is dead, and my partner is still in the ICU, so you’ll have to learn to deal with the fact that I could give a shit about your problems. I need some answers, or I’m going to tell the first reporter I can find everything I know. Your ties to Vance Nixon, the change in development stance, your connection to Ariella’s death,” Maria said.
“Connection to Ariella? I barely knew her. She was some random volunteer,” Patrick said.
“She got close to your wife, and your wife told her something, but she was kidnapped before she could share it with the reporter who hired her,” Maria said.
“What do you mean?” Patrick asked.
“What the hell do you think I mean? Did you forget how to speak English? I was pretty clear in what I just said,” Maria said.
“Close with my wife? But what could my wife have told her?” Patrick said. He was back to lying. The change in his voice was subtle, but it was there. Patrick could have been a soap opera star with his good looks, but a real actor, never.
“I really don’t have time for this,” Maria said.
“Yeah, me either, I have some meetings to prepare for, so why don’t you let me know who it is that wants me dead, so I can deal with it properly,” Patrick said.
“Like you dealt with Christopher Wilkins? I’m not going to blame you. The guy probably killed your wife’s sister, kidnapped, raped, and killed. But they couldn’t get him for it, could they? The police failed. And the guy went to Thailand. Only God knows how many children he victimized over there, and then he made the mistake of coming back to the United States, and you saw your opportunity. But you couldn’t do it yourself, could you? You are too high profile. You couldn’t disappear. Maybe Nick said he’d deal with it, but he’s around too much too, isn’t he? But Vance Nixon. No one pays any attention to him and the two of you go way back, and you thought you were getting a favor, but you weren’t. You were getting attached to an anchor,” Maria said.
“This is all very fanciful,” Patrick said.
“Your secrets are getting people killed. You can play the patriot all day long for the press, but it’s bullshit,” Maria said.
“I served my country with distinction.”
“My girlfriend was handcuffed to a chair and blindfolded because my investigation got too close to your secrets. Whoever did this sat behind her and watched from over her shoulder. This person made her watch herself being watched in the mirror by someone in a black wetsuit and some strange mask just for the perverted pleasure of seeing her terror, and that’s who you are protecting,” Maria said.
“I’m very sorry that happened to your girlfriend, and I’m sorry that she’s gone, and if I knew who it was that had done it, I’d deal with them myself for you, even if it cost me the election,” Patrick said.
“That’s what Nick said. I’m beginning to think you’re all full of it. All those medals but hollow chests to pin them on,” Maria said.
“None of us feel like heroes. People call us heroes all the time. Fawn over us, but the reality is that most of the time we were just trying to stay alive. We were on our mission. We believed in the mission, but plenty of nights afterwards, you lay awake wondering if killing all those people was really worth it. The most honest of us can’t bear to put those medals on because the hypocrisy of it is a little too much, but heart and integrity are things I’ve never lacked for. Whatever secrets I have come from doing the right thing, just not always in what is considered the right way,” Patrick said.
Maria looked away. She wanted to believe the speech had been rehearsed, maybe something he was using in front of donors, but the sincerity had returned to his voice, and he’d more or less admitted to killing Christopher Wilkins. Maybe that was all she could hope to get out of this.
“You suspect whoever did this to your girlfriend of being connected to me in some way, don’t you?” Patrick said.
“I don’t know. I can’t decide if they’re trying to frame you or if you’re involved,” Maria said.
“Have they made any progress in finding him?” Patrick asked.
“We don’t even know if it was a male kidnapper. Carla said whoever it was had a chest like a man, but she couldn’t feel a dick pressing against her back,” Maria said.
“What kind of mask was it?” Patrick said.
Something about the question brought all of Maria’s attention back to Patrick. He was thinking of a specific mask, which meant…
“You know who it is, don’t you?” Maria said.
“I wish I did. So, I could kill him myself for you,” Patrick said.
“Yeah, you already said that,” Maria said.
“Are you going to tell me who attacked me?” Patrick asked.
“Are you going to tell me who kidnapped my girlfriend?” Maria said.
Patrick stood up and walked across the room. Opened the door.
“Unfortunately, I need to go to a pressing meeting, but we should pick up this conversation at a later date,” he said.
Maria didn’t want to leave, but something was rattling around in her brain. Something she couldn’t quite process sitting here thinking of ways to make Patrick open up and tell her what she needed to know. Her heart wanted to stay here and argue, but her head was telling her to go outside. For once, she listened to her head.
As she walked out of the office and made her way across the parking lot to her car, she realized what it was that she’d heard but hadn’t processed. Maria had said the person had no male genitalia, but Patrick had continued calling whoever it was, a he.
How could that be possible unless Patrick knew who it was?
Maria got in her car. She couldn’t wait in the parking lot; Patrick would see her sitting there. She looked around and saw a coffee shop across the street, windows dark. She drove out of the parking lot and took a left at the light and entered the back parking lot of the coffee shop. It had a drive thru, and she pulled around until she could see the front of the office. Then she turned the car off and waited.
She didn’t have to wait long.
25
Kenneth came out the front door of the office and stepped into a waiting car, from the looks of it, a rideshare. A few minutes later, the SUV pulled out from behind the headquarters, but Patrick was driving. He turned right onto Lake Mead Boulevard and, at the light, flipped a U-turn and drove right past the coffee shop.
Maria pulled out and followed him.
Patrick took the entrance onto 95 and headed north. He stayed on 95 until the turnoff for Mount Charleston. Maria had to let him get a way ahead because the road was one lane and her headlights were easy to spot. She wondered if he was leading her out here to a deserted area on purpose, but she doubted he’d have left Kenneth behind for something like that.
No, Patrick was coming out here to see someone, and the only person she knew attached to the campaign who lived out here was Nick.
Patrick ended up getting so far ahead of her that she lost him, but she looked up the property records on her cell phone and found Nick’s house. It was a cabin on the curve of Matterhorn Way.
Maria drove by and saw Patrick’s SUV parked in the driveway.
Patrick was sitting alone in the front seat, typing on his phone. If he wasn’t pulled in head first, he might have seen her as she passed. This location was going to be impossible for her to watch from her car. She pulled a little further down the road and found a house, completely dark with an empty driveway.
She parked and stepped out. Took a position at the corner of the garage. Through the trees, she could make out Nick’s house and Patrick’s car, but she couldn’t see anything clearly. The night air was cold, especially this high, and she’d wished she’d brought a jacket. Waiting in the car wasn’t an option, though. She couldn’t see anything from where it was parked.
She stood like that for an hour, shivering, until headlights approached Nick’s house.
A car door opened and closed. It looked like Nick, but from this distance, Maria couldn’t really be sure.
The two men went inside.
Maria left the garage and walked up the street. The moon looked so close, as if the trees were touching it. There were no houses between her and Nick’s. Just trees and mountain and night sky. She wondered what she hoped to achieve. Was she going to confront the two of them and demand answers?
Probably not. Two former special forces members. She doubted confronting them would go well, and out here, there weren’t any witnesses. If they were the ones responsible for everything, she’d disappear without a trace.
She stepped off of the road and behind a tree facing the front of the house. Nick and Patrick were in the living room. Patrick had his finger out and was pointing it in Nick’s chest. Nick had his hands in the air, palms up.
Maria couldn’t hear what Patrick was saying, but he was yelling. The sound carried, but the words were indistinguishable. She tried to see a way she could get closer without being seen, but it was too risky. Maybe she could get to the front porch without one of them seeing her. Maybe she could get under the living room window and hear something useful.
But if they came outside while she was there, she’d have nowhere to run to.
The two of them were really going at it now.
Nick was leaning into the finger poked into his chest.
The two of them screaming into each other’s faces.
For a moment, Maria wondered if they were going to start fighting, but then they stepped away from each other. Nick walked off. Patrick just stood there, shaking his head. When Nick came back into view, he had a bottle of liquor, from the shape, tequila. He motioned toward the table.
Patrick shook his head.
Nick poured a couple of shots and handed one to Patrick. He held off for a bit but ended up relenting. Drank his shot standing up.
Maria went around the side of the house, trying to find a place where she could approach without being seen. Against the far side was a rickety-looking one-car garage. She walked around it and found a door. Opened it and looked inside. The only car was a late model Oldsmobile. Super old. The bumper looked like it was being held on by wire and gum. Maria remembered talking to Les’s neighbor and how convinced the woman had been about an old Oldsmobile that was parked outside of Les’s house, and the license plate on the RV that actually belonged to a 1993 Oldsmobile. Les’s neighbor had said the car was a source of dark energy, or something like that. At the time, Maria had more or less written the car off, and she’d almost forgotten entirely about Les.
But here was a car matching the description.
Kind of unlikely this was just a coincidence.
Maria closed the door. Looked around the back of the cabin, but there was nowhere she could see to eavesdrop. Short of barging in, Maria wasn’t going to get her answers here, but she was pretty sure where she could find the answer she was looking for.
26
Wanda Miller’s face was wan, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Big circles around her eyes that even a high-end concealer would have trouble masking. She asked Maria what she wanted.
“I want to talk about Ariella,” Maria said.
“Patrick said not to talk with you,” Wanda said.
“I also want to talk about Julie. And about Christopher Wilkins,” Maria said.
The features on Wanda’s face hardened. She started to close the door, but Maria stuck her foot out and blocked it.
“This isn’t going away. Talking to me is the best option you have,” Maria said.
“I’m fairly sure talking to you is the worst option I have,” Wanda said.
“It’s the only option if you want to find out who it was that killed Ariella,” Maria said.
Wanda hesitated, but after a solid ten seconds, relented. Maria followed her into the apartment. Wanda led her to a table in the dining room and sat down. Maria took the chair across from her.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t offer you something to drink. I’d like to get this over with before Patrick gets back,” Wanda said.
“Did you know Vance Nixon was going to kill Christopher Wilkins?” Maria said.
“Why are you here?” Wanda said.
“Because I want to avenge the death of my girlfriend, and she was killed by the same person who killed Ariella,” Maria said.
“How do you know that?” Wanda said.
“Bullets were left on my doorstep. The same caliber of bullets that killed Ariella,” Maria said.
“But I don’t understand why you’re asking about Christopher Wilkins,” Wanda said.
“Because it’s all tied together. Vance Nixon, Patrick’s changing stance on development, all of it. You told Ariella the night she disappeared about Christopher Wilkins being killed. She was a plant by a local reporter. She told them Patrick’s secret was the coverup of a murder, but she was kidnapped before she could give the rest of the story to the reporter she was working for,” Maria said.
“But how would anyone know what I did or did not tell her? You said I told her something that I don’t even know and then she was kidnapped. Was someone listening outside my door? Please. Do you even hear the nonsense coming out of your mouth?” Wanda said.
Maria knew Wanda was right. This was the one big weakness in her theory. How could anyone have known what Ariella knew unless Wanda had told them, and Wanda couldn’t have told them fast enough for Ariella to be kidnapped.
Unless.
Maria looked around the room. It was relatively bare, a temporary location. A generic painting of a desert mountain hung on one wall. Across from it was a traditional Mexican Day of the Dead mask. Nothing else in the room had Mexican style decor. Everything was bland, generic.
Why was that mask there?
“Did you hang that mask?” Maria asked.
Wanda shook her head, no.
Maria stood up and took the mask off of the wall. Fitted on the inside were a microphone and a transmitter. Maria found the power switch and turned it off.
“There was a microphone there? The whole time?” Wanda said.
“Was anyone in the room before you moved in here?” Maria said.
“You’d have to ask Nick. He handled all of that stuff,” Wanda said.
“Tell me more about him,” Maria said.
“Not sure what more there is to tell,” Wanda said.
“He was Patrick’s spotter, right? He assisted Patrick on missions,” Maria said.
“In reality, the spotter is the superior on the missions. The shooter is supposed to focus on the shot, but the spotter makes all the decisions, confirms the kill, and protects the shooter. And if something happens to the sniper, the spotter is supposed to take the shot,” Wanda said.
