Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(72)
Judy was brave, but not crazy, so she put the car in neutral, reached for her phone, and pressed in the number for Detective Boone. She wanted to see if she could convince him to meet her. The phone rang, but her call went to voicemail and she left a message: “Detective, this is Judy, I’m at the barracks at Mallard and Ravine. I want to find Carlos Ramiro, Daniella’s boyfriend, and ask him a few questions about Iris’s death. Call me when you get this message please. Thanks so much.”
Judy hung up, only temporarily defeated. She listened to the efficient rumble of her VW engine and gazed through her windshield into the blackness and the thorny tangle of bramblebushes under her headlights. She didn’t love the idea of going to the barracks alone, but she didn’t see any option. She couldn’t justify calling 911 and she didn’t want to worry Mary. It struck her that she didn’t even consider calling Frank, but she didn’t have time now to ponder the reason. She couldn’t let it go and come back tomorrow, because she had to work.
She eyed the bramblebushes, which oddly reminded her of The Bramblebush, an old book about the philosophy of law that every law student hears about first year, which Judy had actually loved. The gist was that the law itself was a bramblebush, and that reminded Judy of her purpose at the barracks. Justice for Iris and Father Keegan. She couldn’t turn away, not when she’d come this far. She was here and she wanted to get it done now. She was strong and not completely unprepared, and if she kept her wits about her, she told herself she’d be fine.
She steered the wheel to the right, turned onto the driveway, and flicked on the high beams, traveling slowly. The driveway was unpaved and lined with more bramble and multiflora, and her headlights flashed on the blood-red eyes of something darting across her path. Spooked, she braked the car, her heart hammering until she realized it was just a fox, his bushy tail flying behind him as he disappeared into the underbrush.
She willed herself not to be afraid and cruised forward. Her headlights illuminated the dark outline of a building that lay ahead. There were no light fixtures to delineate its outline from the blackness of the night sky, but as she got closer, she could see that it was about fifty feet long, made of unpainted cinderblock, a flat roof, and a single front door, with only three small windows, each a lighted square, for its entire length. She thought she heard some sort of mechanical noise coming from the barracks, but wasn’t sure, so she lowered her window and confirmed it, hearing a loud thrumming from a machine she couldn’t identify.
Suddenly the engine noise cut out and the lights in the doorway and windows flickered off, plunging them all into darkness except for her headlights. Judy swallowed hard. She put the car in reverse, ready to get the hell out of there. In the stillness, she heard dogs barking and men laughing and shouting to each other in Spanish, with peppy music playing from a radio.
She told herself to stay calm. The stench of compost wafted through her open window. She didn’t know where the mushroom growers were, but they couldn’t be far. In the next moment, the engine noise started up again and the lights went back on abruptly.
She put the car in forward gear and cruised ahead. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and in the headlights she could see that a group of men were hanging out in front of the barracks, their white PVC chairs an unnaturally bright white. The engine noise was coming from a portable generator. The only illumination came from the open doorway, which was wide, like a barn door, and threw a warped square of light onto the hard ground, casting harsh shadows on the men. Their beer bottles glinted brown, and the ends of their cigarettes burned red.
They all stopped laughing and talking, and turned toward her, some getting out of chairs and others walking over. Judy’s mouth went dry. She realized there were probably ten or twelve of them, more than she’d reckoned for. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to reverse, but she was in no hurry to get out of the car. Two little mutts came running toward her, barking and jumping up on her door, their toenails clacking.
“Settle down, guys,” Judy said, though she wasn’t sure if she was talking to the dogs or the men. She told herself to remain calm as the first man approached her car, cocking his head to peer at her. His body made a short and wiry silhouette in the light coming from the doorway, and she could see he was wearing a grimy white tank top and floppy work pants, but she couldn’t tell what he looked like, or even if he was smiling or hostile, because he was backlighted. His odor reached her before he did, a strong mix of cigarettes, aftershave, and compost.
“Miss, are you lost?” he asked, with a light Spanish accent, coming over to her car door and shooing the barking dogs away.
“Uh, no.” Judy could see in the reflected light from her dashboard that he couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old, with handsome features and a friendly smile, so she relaxed. “My name is Judy Carrier and I’m looking for Carlos Ramiro. I was told he lives here, by Father Vega.”
The young man frowned. “Are you from the church? Or Mike’s? I never saw you there.”
“No, I’m just a lawyer from the city.”
“You look like you’re from a D.A. or federal, like.”
“No, not at all. I’m in general practice.”
“Is anybody with you? You came alone?”
“Yes, I don’t have anything to do with immigration or anything like that, I promise you. Hold on, I’ll show you.” Judy reached into her purse, grabbed her wallet, and pulled out a business card, handing it to him. “This is me. I work at a law firm.”