The Replacement Child - By Christine Barber Page 0,81
she died.”
“You saw Ron Baca talking with Melissa? Where was this and when?”
“It was at McDonald’s. The one on Cerrillos Road. I was over there getting some fries when I saw them at a table. It must have been something like four thirty P.M.”
“What were they doing?”
“They were talking and looking at pictures. You know, like Polaroids.”
That’s where Melissa had been for the missing hour—she’d been showing her brother the photos of Sandra Paine.
But Ron Baca’s fingerprints weren’t on the photos. Gil had run the fingerprints against all databases, including law enforcement. But Gil didn’t think the secretary was lying. It would be easy enough to check with the McDonald’s employees. Ron Baca would be hard to forget in his police uniform.
“Does that help Manny—I mean, Officer Cordova?” she asked.
That’s interesting.”
Lucy looked up to see who had spoken. It was the newspaper’s secretary, staying late to finish up some paperwork. She was typing in the agendas for the local government agencies, which were listed in the newspaper every Sunday.
“Stacy,” Lucy said, “you’ve got to stop talking to yourself.”
“Come over here and look at this,” Stacy said. She handed Lucy a piece of paper. It was the agenda for the Citizens’ Police Advisory Review Committee, whose name was too long and governmental. The committee met only a few times a year to hear the public’s complaints about Santa Fe’s police service. The idea was that people who were mistreated by the police would be less intimidated if they could air their concerns to a bunch of regular Joes instead of having to file formal grievances at the police station. The committee was fairly new and having a hard time getting started. The complaints usually amounted to nothing more than, “When the officer pulled me over, he was rude.”
“What am I looking for, Stacy?” Lucy asked as she read over the agenda.
“Down there. On number five.”
The fifth item on the agenda listed only a name—Melissa Baca—and then her occupation—teacher at the Burroway Academy. There was no other information. Very strange. So Melissa Baca had been planning to go in front of the police advisory committee. To complain about a cop?
“When does the committee meet next?” Lucy asked.
“On Monday.”
“Oh, Tommy …” Lucy called to him, in an exaggeratedly sweet voice.
“I hate it when you use that tone. This can’t be good news,” he said as he walked over.
She handed him the agenda, pointing to Melissa’s name.
“Damn,” was all he said. Lucy knew what the problem was: it was almost ten P.M. For the second time in a week, they’d have to scramble to get anything for tomorrow’s newspaper.
While Tommy was making phone calls, she finished editing an article about road construction on the interstate. It was the last story she had to read for the night. Unless Tommy found out what Melissa Baca’s name was doing on that agenda.
There was already a Melissa Baca story for tomorrow’s newspaper. Tommy had written it, and Lucy had looked it over and sent it to the copy desk for its final edit more than two hours ago. The story was slated for the local section, not the front page. It was a short story, only ten inches. Lucy had wanted the story on the front page. The first paragraph read: “Melissa Baca, a seventh-grade teacher whose body was discovered below the Taos Gorge Bridge Tuesday, did not have drugs in her system, according to a report by the Office of the Medical Investigator. However, the state police said they still consider drugs a factor in her death despite the toxicology results.” Lucy had thought that maybe, if the story was on the front page, the readers would question whether Melissa Baca really had done drugs. But John Lopez had voted Lucy down; there were too many other breaking-news stories that deserved the five front-page slots. And Lopez knew the real reason why Lucy wanted it on the front page: she wanted to absolve herself. It was her chance at redemption, her way to make up for yet another error in judgment. If only she had asked Tommy about his confidential sources. If only she hadn’t talked about Scanner Lady in a room full of cops. If only.
Lucy went over to the copy desk to tell the assistant copy-desk chief that the road-construction story was ready to be edited. The editor said, “About time,” before calling it up on her screen. Lucy was watching her edit the story when Tommy came over.