Forgotten in Death(47)

“Alva, she was always the rule follower—used to piss me off sometimes. She was always the responsible one. She didn’t tattle on me or Chantal, unless it was major, but she started keeping a notebook. Kid stuff. I guess she went back to doing that.”

His eyes went glossy with tears, but he let out a long breath until he had them under control. “She ran from that son of a bitch she married. That’s what happened. We hardly ever saw her after they moved, hardly ever got to talk to her. She always said how everything was fine, was great. How happy she was. I didn’t half believe her, but she kept saying it, and how she loved her house, and living in the country, having all the room. And—and—how there was so much sad back home. Mom, Grandpap, Grandma, all gone.”

He had to take those deep breaths again. “Was he hurting her? Chantal worried about that, but whenever I asked her, asked Alva, she just laughed it off. He was the sweetest husband in the world.

“Fuck that, he had a rep here in Stillwater. Sweet didn’t apply.”

“I’m verifying old injuries with a forensic anthropologist. She had several.”

“I knew it, part of me knew it. Goddamn it! Why didn’t she come home? We’d’ve taken care of her like she took care of us.”

“Shortly after your grandmother died you were attacked and badly beaten.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Laid me up good for…” He came out of his chair again. “He set that up? Bastard had friends on both sides of the law around here back then. He set me up. And Chantal, Jesus God, she was raped while I was in the hospital. He did that to keep her quiet. Alva … She’d have died to protect us.”

“Detective. I need you to listen to me. To stay calm and listen.”

“He’s not going to sit on his fat ass and get away with what he did to my sisters.”

“No, he’s not. You have to leave it to me.”

Those blue eyes went molten. “My sisters, Lieutenant New Fucking York.”

“He’s not going to get away with it, but if you go after him and do what I know you want to do, he will. You can beat the hell out of him, end up losing your badge, doing time for assault, and he’ll come out of it a victim.”

“Not if he’s dead.”

“I’m ignoring that. You’re a cop, a solid cop like your mother, like your grandfather. He’s scum, and he’s not going to keep the badge he doesn’t deserve. I’m asking you to give me time to get Alva justice. For what happened then, for what happened now.”

“And if you don’t?”

“I helped lift her out of that dumpster this morning. I stood over her when she was on the slab in the morgue. I’ve spent the day finding everything I could about her and for her. Finding you, so someone who loved her would know, would come, would take her home again. There is no don’t for me. I’m standing for Alva, and I’ll make certain she gets justice.”

His eyes teared up again. “She wanted to be a teacher.”

“I know. She gave it up when your mother was killed and your grandfather was injured. She gave it up for you and your sister. Don’t let your very justifiable rage and grief stop me from taking down Garrett Wicker for what he did to her for nine years, what he did that set her on the path to that goddamn dumpster.”

He swiped at his eyes. “I have to talk to my sister, to Chantal.”

“Do you want me to notify her?”

“No, no, that’s for me. I’m sorry I took a punch at you.”

“Forget it.”

“I’m sorry for it,” he repeated. “I know you’re right. I know what my mother would say, my grandpap. Hell, what Alva the rule follower would say. I know you’re right. I’m going to give you all the time I can stomach. Let’s say a week. If by then you’re not any closer to taking down Wicker for what he did, I’m not making any promises.”

“It won’t take a week.”

“Can I use this number to contact you when we’ve made arrangements to come out there? To come for Alva.”

“Yes, anytime.”

He rubbed his face. “Later there, right. Like an hour?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant, for looking out for her. I expect I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Detective.”

“I think you really are. Good night.”





10





After the conversation, Eve rose and walked to the board to study Alva.

“Somebody knew you, loved you. They’ll take you home.”

No one had known her, Eve thought, or loved her when she’d wandered the streets, a child bloodied, broken, traumatized.

But someone had helped her.

“I’m not finished helping you.”

The hell with the time, she decided, and went back to her command center and contacted DeWinter.

“Are you ever off duty?” DeWinter demanded.

“I need a time line on Alva Quirk’s previous injuries. I’ll take your best guess.”

DeWinter lifted a glass of straw-colored wine, sipped delicately. “I don’t guess.”

“Listen, we’ve ID’d her. I have a name. I have a history that includes what reads clearly as a nine-year abusive marriage to a cop. Her mother was a cop, and went down in the line. Her grandfather was a cop, and he went down in the line. Before she hit twenty, she gave up her own ambitions so she could take care of her younger siblings. She trusted cops, she did everything right, and he broke her bones, blackened her eyes, isolated her from everything she loved and valued.”