Sunset Beach(71)

Drue thought that over. “I read Zee’s reports. I thought it was interesting that so many of the employees who worked directly with Jazmin left the hotel not long after she was killed.”

“Lot of turnover there,” Rae agreed. “Head of housekeeping, engineering, the security guard who was first on scene and called the cops. When I asked the hotel manager about it, he said that’s the nature of the hospitality industry.”

“And the manager was never a suspect?” Drue asked.

“Gene Wardlaw? No. He wasn’t even in town. Ironically enough, it turns out he was interviewing for another job at a hotel in Daytona Beach. Which he subsequently took.”

Drue let out a long sigh.

“Yeah. It’s frustrating as hell, not being able to find the guy who did this. Yvonne calls me every Sunday night, like clockwork, asking for updates. I tell you, it haunts me sometimes.”

“It’s haunting me, and I haven’t been working it for the past two years,” Drue admitted. She glanced at the detective, trying to gauge just how sympathetic she might be to her cause.

“I even went over to the hotel and checked out the laundry room where she was killed,” she added.

Rae Hernandez raised a dubious eyebrow. “How’d you get in? Nothing like closing the barn door after the cow got out, but I know they really ramped up security after the murder.”

“A friend went with me and we told the security guard at the gate that we were considering the hotel as our wedding venue.”

“Ballsy move, but I wouldn’t recommend trying that again,” Hernandez said. “Technically, they could probably have you arrested for criminal trespass.”

“One thing I noticed in that laundry room,” Drue continued. “There were mounting brackets on the wall, over the doorway. So, at one time there was a video camera there? Did you guys look into that?”

“We did. Brian Shelnutt, the head of security, said the camera had been broken for ‘a while.’ He couldn’t tell us how long that was. He said it had been removed and another one ordered.”

“Convenient,” Drue said. “Did you believe him?”

Hernandez removed her sunglasses and polished them on the hem of her shirt before donning them. “I rarely believe anybody. It’s an occupational hazard.”

“Something I’ve been wondering about,” Drue said, finally getting to the matter she’d wanted to raise since the beginning of this meeting.

“What’s that?”

“Wondering if you’d let me see the video from the hotel.”

“Oh, hell no,” Hernandez started.

Drue plowed ahead. “It’s been nearly two years, and you’ve admitted you don’t have any real suspects. What could it hurt, letting me look at the video? Remember, I want the same thing you want—to solve this thing and get a settlement for Yvonne and Aliyah.”

Hernandez gazed at her for a moment, her face dispassionate. “You won’t like what you see. The video shows Jazmin Mayes was working, way past the time Yvonne insists she wasn’t.”

“I don’t care,” Drue said. “I’d really like to see the video.”

“I don’t want you coming in to the station,” Hernandez said, choosing her words carefully. “I’ll put it on a flash drive. Where do you live?”

“Sunset Beach. Pine Street, I’m just a few blocks away from the Gulf Vista.”

“That’s convenient. My husband’s working tomorrow. Text me the address and I’ll have him drop it off to you in the morning on his way to work. But I warn you, there’s not much to see. I should know. I’ve been staring at that damn video for two years.”

“Thank you!” Drue said, touching Rae’s arm. “I mean it. Thanks.”

The detective looked over her shoulder and waved at an approaching man, who wore dress slacks and shoes and a short-sleeved dress shirt. “Here’s my husband now. The game’s about to begin, so your time is up.”

Drue stood and looked toward the field. The stands were filled now, and the opposing team, kids in green jerseys with a yellow Phillies logo across the front, had taken the field for their batting practice.

“Hey, can I ask you one more question?”

Hernandez looked annoyed. “Last one.”

“Why are you sitting way out here for your son’s ball game? Why aren’t you up in the bleachers with the other parents?”

Hernandez shrugged. “I had a run-in with one of the umps last season, after he called Dez out at home. My boy was safe by a mile. The ump had it in for me all season, and Dez, just because I had the nerve to question his strike zone. So I got banned from the stands! Totally unfair. Now I watch the games out here. Which is fine, because I don’t have to put up with all those bitchy baseball moms griping about how their precious angel isn’t in the starting lineup.”

On the way home, Drue replayed her conversation with Rae Hernandez, elated at the possibility that she’d actually get to view the video from the hotel. She pondered something Hernandez had said, as an aside.

“I rarely believe anybody,” the detective had told her. Drue wondered what that was like, to never trust anybody. Earlier in the day, she’d admitted to Ben Fentress that she didn’t even trust her own father. The question was, who did she trust?