Midnight Crossing (Josie Gray Mysteries #5)(14)

She looked at him dumbfounded. “I’m not involved with the Medranos. That’s a ridiculous thing to say.”

“Well, hell, yes, you are! Your boyfriend sure was!”

“Look. They committed a crime against Dillon that took place over a year ago. That doesn’t make me involved. Please don’t use that expression. And, no, I don’t think the two crimes are related. At this point, it’s safe to speculate that this could be an illegal immigration issue. Beyond that, when you talk to the media, tell them this is an ongoing investigation and the police aren’t ready to comment further.”

“You’d better be ready to answer some tough questions come tomorrow. The media’s going to be all over this. And they’re going to wonder how you’re involved with a dead girl beside your home and another hiding at your house.”

“I’ll call you later today with an update,” she said, turning from him. She crossed the crime scene tape, aware that she’d rather stand next to a corpse than her boss.

She heard Otto and the mayor talking for a few minutes and after the mayor left Otto approached her. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I’ve never understood his beef with you, other than you’re a female.”

“You think that’s true, that the media will want to know how I’m involved, since the murder took place next to my house?”

“I think it is if he plants that seed,” Otto said. “You think he hates you enough that he’d tarnish an investigation just to put you in a bad place?”

Josie thought about Otto’s question. It was hard to imagine the mayor would purposely mislead an investigation, but if he could turn the public against her, or cast doubt about her ability to lead the department, she had no doubt he’d do it.

*

With the body finally loaded into the hearse, Josie and Otto called Marta out to the front porch to discuss what they’d found.

“That poor girl. I suppose she’s been hiding out here for days, knowing her friend was lying alone in the pasture,” Marta said. “Makes you wonder what could have happened to make her so afraid to ask someone for help.”

Josie described the plastic bag she’d found the previous morning, but explained she’d not seen any other signs of someone hiding around her home.

“Has she spoken at all?” Otto asked.

“Not a word,” Marta said.

“Vie said they have a room ready for her,” Josie said. “Vie said her shift ends at eight this morning, so she’ll get her checked in.”

“Any ideas on what happens now?” Otto said. “She’s not a criminal. We can’t hold her.”

“I don’t know where she’d go. If she knew someone, she’d have found a way out of this mess days ago,” said Josie. “I’ll have a translator meet me at the trauma center as soon as Vie clears it. For now … Marta, I’d like you to get her settled into a bed there. Surely we can keep her for observation for a day or two.”

“I’ll start running missing persons reports,” Otto said.

“That’s good. I’ll finish up here and meet you at the office.”





FOUR

The trauma center in Artemis was equipped with a one-room surgical unit not typically seen in small towns along the border. The center was located in a building shared with the county health department. Emergency room doctors served the trauma center on rotation, and a federal grant had at least ensured that the facility could handle some of the increased violence the area had experienced over the past decade.

Marta pulled into the rear parking lot. It had been a quiet drive from Josie’s house into town. Marta had talked about her daughter’s first few weeks living away at college, trying to engage the woman in conversation, but she had remained quiet.

Marta opened the jeep door and walked around to the backseat to lead the young woman into the center. The woman was staring at Marta as if she had no idea what was happening to her.

Marta spoke to her in Spanish, explaining that the doctor needed to check her to make sure she was okay. The young woman’s eyes were wide and her mouth downturned into an exaggerated frown. Her arms were drawn up and crossed at her chest, as if she thought Marta was going to drag her out of the vehicle. Marta still had no idea if the woman spoke English or Spanish, so she alternated between the languages.

After several minutes the woman timidly put a foot onto the pavement and stepped out of the jeep. They walked slowly into the reception area, where a young female receptionist picked up the phone and waved a finger in the air for Marta to give her a minute.

A moment later, Vie Blessings, the trauma center head nurse, came bustling out from the nurse’s station in bright purple scrubs and neon green glasses. Her hair was short and spiked. Marta would have thought Vie’s vibrant personality would have frightened the young woman into retreating, but Vie came across as so incredibly competent that people just gave in to her. Marta had seen it before with great ER nurses; they could take control of anyone, from babies to crack addicts, all of them in crisis and needing help.

Vie wrapped her arm under the woman’s and took her in to the patient wing. She motioned with her head for Marta to follow.

“I’ve got a bed ready for her,” Vie said. “No sense processing paperwork if she can’t talk with us yet. Let’s just get her stable and feeling safe.”