Page 79 of The 24th Hour

“I don’t think I would have guessed Ms. Rae was his principal heir. Well, Mr. Jamie always did follow his heart.”

I climbed the steps, pulled open a decorative steel and glass door, and walked toward the security station.

I was still on the phone with Arthur.

“Please keep your ears open and your phone charged. Call me anytime day or night. Yes, night’s okay.”

Then we signed off. I had known Arthur for six months and, strangely, I both cared for and mistrusted him. He was distressed.

I didn’t know why. And he hadn’t really told me.

CHAPTER 104

DETECTIVE SONIA ALVAREZ sat across from her former colleague, Sergeant Robert Bailey, at a plain metal desk on the second-floor squad room of the Tahoe police station. Bailey was forty, shaggy-blond-haired, steel-blue-eyed, a former middleweight boxer, high school math teacher, undercover cop with the Las Vegas PD and now at the police station in Tahoe. He had called her this morning with a lead that went straight to the front of the line.

According to Bailey, Samuel “Padre” Rochas was a known contract killer who’d been dropping hints just short of taking credit for the Frickes’ murders. Why? Was he the doer? Did he want to get caught to forestall his imminent extradition? Or was he stupidly attaching himself to the crimes in order to muddy the opaque waters of these sensational murders and boost his street cred?

Either way, Alvarez was charged up by this unexpected development. She had questions when Bailey picked her upat the Tahoe airport about how much Padre had told his street buds.

“Just crumbs,” Bailey said. “Based on facts.”

He filled in Alvarez on the details of Padre’s claims.

“Witnesses of the seedy kind tell us that Padre definitely knew Jamie Fricke well. He dropped names, knows a lot about soccer … But mostly he described Holly Fricke as an addict and a whore and Jamie Fricke as a spiteful bastard, which Fricke certainly could be. Have you seen any of the clips of him chewing out various team players? Fricke was a brute. He fired one of the assistant coaches right off the field a couple of years ago. Got into fistfights in locker rooms and hotels—he really thought he was some kind of god.”

Alvarez said, “I never thought about Jamie Fricke at all until his wife was killed, and soccer was definitely never on my mind. I’ll study up.”

Bailey grinned at her. Good-natured teasing went both ways in their partnership and Alvarez had almost forgotten the fun they had injected into their dangerous undercover work.

“No,” Alvarez insisted. “I will. Study up.”

“Okay. I’m convinced.” As they pulled into the station, Bailey said, “So we have Rochas in the cage on the third floor getting his shit together for his flight tonight.”

“I need to talk to him if there’s a chance he’s our shooter.”

“No problem, Sonia. If you need coffee, the machine is down the hall, turn left. It’s right there. But you’ll want to talk to Rochas first and fast.”

“Lead the way, Bailey. And stay close. If I get into trouble, I’ll give you our help sign.”

Bailey put his thumb on his forehead, fingers splayed out like a fan, and he wiggled them.

He and Alvarez both laughed at their old gag. Then Bailey said, “That’s it. I think we’re good to go.”

Alvarez was expectant as she followed Bailey up the stairs to the jail. Padre, serial killer for hire. And she was going to interview him within a hand’s length of the bars.

When they reached the landing, Alvarez caught up with Bailey and grabbed the crook of his arm.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Good to go,” she said, smiling into Bailey’s face. “I really am.”

CHAPTER 105

THE INTERVIEW ROOM was a ten-by-ten screened cage at the far end of the cell row. It wasn’t private, like the interview rooms Alvarez had become accustomed to, and the acoustics on the tier were crystal clear. She walked alongside Bailey and as they approached the cage, Alvarez glimpsed the prisoner.

Bailey said to Alvarez, “I’m armed. And he’s not. He’s shackled and we’re not. He’s ruthless but you’d never know it. His charm is charming, but—well, you’ll figure him out, Alvarez.”

Rochas was sitting at a table inside the cage. His ankles were shackled, his hands were cuffed in front of him, and a chain ran through the cuffs, then a metal loop in the tabletop, and fed down to connect with his shackles.

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