Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(10)

For a minute, nobody said anything. Officer Hoffman looked tense. Aunt Barb blinked. Judy didn’t recognize the name, so she stood mute next to her mother.

“This is awkward, Officers.” Aunt Barb frowned slightly. “I don’t know anyone named Rita Lopez. Are you sure you have the right house?”

Officer Hoffman pursed his lips, which were thin. “Your name and address were listed as her emergency contact in a card in her wallet.”

“I was?” Aunt Barb asked, taken aback. “May I see the card?”

“Sorry, we don’t have it with us. Hang on a sec.” Officer Hoffman extracted a skinny notebook from his back pocket, then produced a ballpoint pen from inside his Windbreaker. He flipped through the pages of his notebook, then read off a phone number. “Is that your cell-phone number?”

“Why, yes, it is.”

Officer Hoffman made another note, then looked up. “The deceased had a Pennsylvania driver’s license in her wallet, under the name Rita Lopez. The photo was a match, but grainy.” He flipped back a few pages in his notepad. “The vehicle she was found in had Pennsylvania plates, TAJ 3039. Is that your friend’s license plate?”

“I don’t know.”

Officer Hoffman flipped a few pages back again. “The vehicle was registered in Arizona under the name of Anna Martinez, 387 Canary Lane, in Mesa. Do you know anyone by that name, Ms. Moyer?”

“No, I don’t.” Aunt Barb tugged on her head scarf.

“It’s possible that Rita Lopez isn’t her real name or the name that you know her by.” Officer Hoffman checked his notebook. “The deceased is a Hispanic female, mid-fifties, with short dark hair. Height about 5'1", weight about 150 pounds. She was wearing an Eagles T-shirt and jeans.”

“Iris?” Aunt Barb recoiled, her hand flying to her cheek.

Judy gasped, horrified. She flashed on Iris, wearing her Eagles T-shirt and jeans, then looked over at her mother, whose mouth had dropped open, her lips parted in surprise.

“Officer. No, wait.” Aunt Barb was shaking her head. “It can’t be Iris. She’s at work now.”

Officer Hoffman consulted his notebook again. “The deceased was found this evening, at about 8:05 P.M., in a vehicle by the side of the road, on Brandywine Way, facing west. The vehicle was a brown Honda, two-door, 1984.”

Aunt Barb kept shaking her head. “That’s Iris’s car, but it can’t be her. Somebody must’ve stolen her car.”

“What is Iris’s last name and her address?”

“Wait, hold on.” Aunt Barb paused, flushing. “I’m not sure I should tell you that. That’s her personal business.”

“Did your friend enter the country legally or illegally?”

“Why?” Aunt Barb pursed her lips.

“If she entered legally and we know the point of entry, we could check her fingerprints, on file there. Usually the undocumented carry a MICA or a matricula, an identity card from the Mexican consulate, but she didn’t.” Officer Hoffman paused. “Ms. Moyer, we’re not Immigration, we’re the East Grove Police. Our only interest is identifying the deceased, notifying her next of kin, and liaising with the county coroner to return her body to her loved ones.”

“I don’t know.”

Judy swallowed hard, listening. She didn’t like Aunt Barb’s lying to the police, but she understood that her aunt was just protecting her friend. She hoped Iris was alive, but even if somebody had stolen Iris’s car, there was no explanation for how they got her clothes, too. Plenty of people in the Philadelphia suburbs wore Eagles’ regalia, but it was too coincidental that her aunt’s name, address, and cell number were on a card in the wallet.

Judy’s mother returned with a glass of water and offered it to Aunt Barb. “Here we go, honey. Have some.”

“Thanks.” Aunt Barb set the glass down on the wooden coffee table, untouched.

“We do need to get a personal ID.” Officer Hoffman hesitated. “We have an email photograph of the deceased, taken at the scene. We can show it to you.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” Aunt Barb held out her hand. “Let me see that picture. We can settle this here and now.”

Judy squeezed her aunt’s arm. “Aunt Barb, let me look instead. You don’t want to see that.”

“I’m okay.” Aunt Barb faced Officer Hoffman. “Please, let me see the photo.”

Officer Hoffman exchanged a look with Officer Ramirez, who pulled a BlackBerry from his Windbreaker pocket, hit a few buttons, and presumably downloaded the photo, pausing before he handed it over.

Aunt Barb accepted the phone and looked down. “No,” she whispered, hushed. “No, it’s not possible. Iris?”

“Aunt Barb, I’m so sorry.” Judy put an arm around her aunt’s shoulders, feeling a wave of sympathy.

“Oh no, no, no. This can’t … be.” Aunt Barb burst into tears and buried her face in her hands, dropping the phone.

Judy’s mother grabbed some Kleenexes from a box on the table and handed them to Judy for Aunt Barb, then picked up the phone and handed it to Officer Hoffman.

Aunt Barb sobbed, hoarse sobs racking her frail frame. “She should have been … at work. Why wasn’t she … at work?”