The Replacement Child - By Christine Barber Page 0,105
from them.”
“Goddammit, Gil.” Now she was pissed. She let her anger get the better of her. “Has a single word you’ve told me gotten into the paper? Has it? I’ve been nothing but straight with you. Are you ever going to trust me?”
“I think we should just stick to discussing the facts of the case in which you were directly involved,” Gil said, his voice never breaking from its monotone.
“Fine. Whatever.” He was such a cop. His skin probably felt like a polyester uniform. “So what can you tell me about Patsy Burke’s murder? Please make sure to speak clearly so my tape recorder catches it all.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “We’re fairly certain Ron Baca killed Mrs. Burke. Manny Cordova had another officer with him all night Tuesday, so he couldn’t have done it. But Officer Cordova did admit that he made a cell-phone call to Ron on Monday night right about the time Mrs. Burke said she heard it.”
Lucy had thought that when she finally had concrete confirmation that she wasn’t crazy—that she had been right in believing Scanner Lady’s death was connected to Melissa Baca’s—something would happen inside her. But nothing did. She felt empty, sodden.
“Manny Cordova was standing right next to you and me at the station when we talked about Scanner Lady and the cellphone call she overheard,” Gil said.
“Which one was Manny?”
“He was sitting on the desk next to mine. He’s kinda stocky; short, like you.”
“I’m not short. I’ll have you know I’m the tallest person in my pygmy tribe,” she said with no humor in her voice, more to annoy him than as a joke. She was still mad.
Gil didn’t take the bait. “Manny Cordova and Ron Baca both knew that Patsy Burke was Scanner Lady.”
“I seem to be the only person who didn’t know….”
Gil continued. “So, Manny Cordova tells Ron Baca that Patsy Burke overheard their cell-phone call—”
“And Ron kills Patsy Burke because maybe it’s only a matter of time before she recognizes his voice. Maybe he’s afraid she’ll mention it to his mom at one of the bridge-club get-togethers. He takes the log from her house, probably burns it,” Lucy said. It was so much supposition. So much guesswork. “But, of course, you realize what the problem is, Gil?”
“Yeah, I know. Ron killed her, and we can’t prove it. At least not yet. But now we know that he knew Patsy Burke. It’s a start. And if he confesses …”
“He won’t. He’s been so smart. He just shuts up and all they can get him on is accessory for Melissa’s murder, right? And he never gets convicted for Patsy Burke’s murder. How many years is that?”
“Actually, we’re not sure we can get Ron on accessory. We might only be able to manage a conspiracy charge. That’s a fourth-degree felony. I think the standard time is eighteen months; but he’s a cop with no priors, so I’d say he gets probation.”
Maxine stood in the doorway of Melissa’s bedroom. Detective Montoya’s back was to her as he talked on the phone. “Ron killed her, but we can never prove it.” The rest of the conversation hadn’t made any sense to her. She had heard only Detective Montoya’s half of it. “Ron killed her, but we can never prove it.”
She gripped the doorjamb. She seemed to be moving, floating. She held on tighter.
Someone was talking to her, but she couldn’t let go. The voice got louder and someone touched her elbow. They took her arm, and she let go of the doorjamb; she knew she would float away. The person guided her down the hallway and put her in a chair.
Maxine heard Detective Montoya in the kitchen, filling a glass with water. She smoothed the armrests of the chair and wondered where the keys to her car were.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Saturday Night
Ron Baca flipped through the notebook, looking for calls he had gone to. There was one about a woman getting slapped by her granddaughter. He had been to that one. Mrs. Burke only wrote down calls about kids and old people.
The writing in the notebook was that old-lady writing, like his mother’s. It was hard to read. He flipped the notebook shut. He would dump it tomorrow.
He got a Coke from the fridge and peered out the corner of the kitchen window. It was starting to get dark. He could leave soon and go check on his mom. He’d take only back roads.
On Monday, he would show up back at work. By then the state police