The Replacement Child - By Christine Barber Page 0,67

as she closed the door. He waited until he saw the living-room light go on before he walked back to the car.

He sat in his car for another five minutes to make sure that they hadn’t been followed, then he drove home. Gil pulled up to his house and got out. He took the four plates of bizcochitos that his mother had given him out of the trunk of his car and tried to balance them on top of one another. He opened the front door of his house quietly, then bolted it behind him, almost dropping the cookies. It was almost two A.M. He put the bizcochitos on the kitchen counter and walked as silently as possible to his bedroom. He reached around the corner and flicked on the closet light so that he could see as he undressed. He was down to his underwear before he realized that Susan wasn’t in bed. He turned on the lights in the bedroom, in the hallway, in the girls’ room, in the family room, in the kitchen—they weren’t there. He sat down on a stool in the kitchen in his underwear. The answering-machine light was blinking—most likely the message he had left for the girls, wishing them a good night. Had Susan said that they were staying at her mother’s tonight? He didn’t remember. She must have. But he couldn’t remember. He pulled his pants and shirt back on and drove the four blocks to his mother-in-law’s house. Susan’s car was in the driveway. He headed back home.

He realized that he hadn’t bothered to think of a way to explain to his wife why he was just getting in at two A.M. It felt strangely annoying that there was no one waiting at home to ask him where he had been all night.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Friday Morning

Officer Manny Cordova was busily erasing something when Gil stopped at his desk the next morning.

“Manny, let’s go have a talk.”

Manny looked up, surprised. “Sure,” he said, and he followed Gil into an interrogation room.

Manny eyed the manila file folder that Gil slapped on the table as he sat down.

“What’s up, Gil?” he said as he took his seat across from Gil.

“That’s what I’m wondering, Manny.”

Gil opened the manila folder and started. “Yesterday you told me that you saw Hector Morales’s car in Oñate Park around four thirty P.M. on Monday. You said you saw a person in Morales’s car hand something out the window to someone in a Chevy that resembled Melissa Baca’s—is that correct, Manny?”

“What’s this about, sir?”

“That’s what we’re getting it. Is that what you said?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“You know what I can’t get, Manny. I can’t get why you’re lying to me.”

Manny looked at the door as if he expected someone to walk in. In that instant, Gil knew for certain that Manny was lying. Gil hoped that Manny had just made an honest mistake. Gil watched him open his mouth to speak, then shut it again and look down.

Gil tossed a pile of papers onto the table. “Those are court records from Judge Padilla. Hector Morales was in Española at his DWI hearing from two P.M. to almost six on Monday. A guard in the parking lot remembers watching Morales sit in his car and smoke at least four cigarettes from about three forty-five P.M. until after four thirty. Morales and his car were both in Española, Manny. So, my question is, where were you at four thirty P.M.?”

“I was driving to an MVA when I passed by Oñate Park—”

“No, you weren’t. According to an incident report, you were out at a gas station near the interstate checking on a drunk male. That’s all the way across town.” Gil sighed. “Hector Morales says he never sold drugs to Melissa Baca.”

Manny finally looked up. “You’re going to believe a mojado drug dealer over me?”

Gil looked at Manny until he looked down again. Then Gil waited. The tricks he used to get confessions out of suspects worked on cops, too. All he had to do was wait.

And Manny obliged. “Gil, man, what are you saying? Okay, so I wasn’t there. I heard it from one of my informants, and I thought it would sound better coming from me.”

“Who’s the informant?”

“Hell, I don’t know, just some guy. I didn’t know him.”

“Some guy you don’t know comes up to you out of nowhere and says he saw Melissa Baca on the day she died buy drugs, and you believe him? Does this guy know Melissa