Page 56 of 25 Alive

CHAPTER83

“AGENT WONG. I’M Robert O’Rourke, FBI, San Diego office. A car is waiting to take you to the airport.” Having shown his badge to Bao, O’Rourke reached into his breast pocket, withdrew a folded paper, and handed it to her.

Bao read the letter.

It introduced Special Agent Robert O’Rourke, and his instructions to take her to Monterrey Airport and escort her onto the FBI’s private jet to San Francisco. The last line in the letter: “Please come to see me when you’re rested.”

It was signed by Craig Steinmetz.

Bao put the letter into her handbag and asked O’Rourke, “Where’s Joseph Molinari?”

“In jail, awaiting a hearing.”

“Damn it! We have to get him out.”

“Our guys are on it,” said O’Rourke. “FBI. Ambassador to Mexico. Others from the administration. I know the circumstances of the shooting, but you and Agent Molinari have been charged with killing three citizens. So, we’regetting you out of the country before you’re jailed, too, Agent Wong.”

Bao felt dizzy, as if her blood had dropped from her head to her feet. She interpreted O’Rourke’s warning as confirmation of her fears that the cartel might gain access to Joe and kill him in his cell. That if she was caught, she, too, would be jailed pending trial—or worse.

Tears came. Ana handed Bao a wad of tissues and said, “I will pray.”

Bao nodded, at the same time wondering if the nurse was leading her to a slaughterhouse.

CHAPTER84

TWENTY MINUTES AFTER leaving the Ritz, I was parking my Explorer in my preferred parking space on Harriet Street, perpendicular to Bryant, and a hundred yards from the medical examiner’s office. I had questions for Claire, and I hoped she had time for me.

I blew through the ME’s main entrance, bypassed the vacant reception desk, and buzzed myself into the office and autopsy suite. I found Claire in scrubs and mask standing over a half-draped body on an autopsy table.

She took one look at me, put down her scalpel, ripped off her gloves and mask, and gave me a big hug that nearly knocked me off my feet.

I grabbed both of Claire’s shoulders until I was steady, and by then Claire was asking, “You haven’t heard yet from Joe, have you? Lindsay. Talk to me. Tell me what I can do.”

I told her the truth, there was nothing she could do, and spelled out where things stood without saying my worstfears: that Joe could be dead, and I wouldn’t even know it. But Claire could read my eyes.

“Claire, I’m just going to be a wreck until I hear from Joe. Once I do, I’m calling you first!”

And then I asked, “What can you tell me about the woman found dead in a dumpster?”

She said, “I gave Cappy the death certificate, but come with me.”

I followed Claire to the cool room, where she pulled out one of the drawers and cranked a lever. And then I was standing beside a drape-covered female body.

Claire drew down the sheet, saying, “Her family was looking for her, so we have her name. This is Caroline Ford of Chicago. She’s single, thirty-five, an account executive or something like that. She was here in town on a business trip. Cause of death: asphyxiation. She was strangled to death. Manner of death: homicide. Her underwear was torn, but she hasn’t been sexually penetrated. There’s no semen, no bruising. Maybe her killer tried and couldn’t manage it. On another note, she was about two months pregnant. ‘I said. You dead’ was written in lipstick on her right forearm. It was smudged all to hell, but we have pictures from before the Forensics folk moved her. The lipstick on her mouth was also smeared. Maybe her killer kissed her.”

“So, maybe DNA?”

“Maybe. This is all I have for now.”

I thought of the breakfast fork I had wrapped in a napkin, in my purse. “I have something for Hallows to test against, too.” I expelled a bottomless sigh. “You have photos of her from when she was found?”

“Yes, I have them, and I’ll send them to your phone. Right now.”

I thanked my dear friend, hugged her again, and then left the premises. I walked briskly up the breezeway to the Hall’s back door, handed my gun to the security guard so that the metal detector didn’t freak out, took it back, and climbed the stairs to the Homicide bullpen.

CHAPTER85

CRAIG STEINMETZ WAS at his desk, waiting for Bao in his plain, government-furnished office. Bao took the chair across from him. She finally felt safe.

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