The Replacement Child - By Christine Barber Page 0,88
one time when Melissa was six, he put her in the fold-up couch, closed it up, put the cushions back on the couch, and left her there. Her mother found her a few hours later.”
“Sounds like the typical brother-sister relationship.”
Judy shook her head. “But Melissa was six and Ron was twenty. He was an adult. An adult doing that to a child is just cruel.”
She got up, obviously bothered by the conversation, and paced along a Chinese rug. She continued. “He was always doing stuff like that. He once put her in the dryer when she was three. He told her it would be like some kind of roller-coaster ride. She was in there for five minutes before the door came open. He didn’t even take her out—she fell out. He just sat there and watched. She could have died.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Saturday Afternoon
As Gil was saying good-bye to Judy Maes, his cell phone rang. It was Officer Joe Phillips. “Hi, Gil. I have someone who wants to see you in the interrogation room. Says he has something on the Baca killing.”
“Who is it?” Gil asked.
“Hector Morales.”
Five minutes later, Gil was back at the police station, looking for Phillips. Gil found him picking through a salad, eating only the croutons.
“Hey, Joe. What did you pick Morales up for?” Gil asked.
“For beating up his girlfriend.” Phillips smiled coldly as he popped a crouton into his mouth. “It seems Morales’s two-year-old son was sick, so the girlfriend put the kid into bed with her. The kid pukes his guts out all over the bed. Morales gets home and finds the girlfriend changing the sheets. He gets the wrong idea and beats the shit out of her.”
“How bad is she?”
“Bad. She’s at St. V’s. They think her jaw is broken.”
“How many times have you arrested Morales for aggravated battery against her before? This is, what, his fourth time? She won’t press charges again and he’ll be out tomorrow.”
“Not this time.” Phillips’s smile got bigger.
“What happened?”
“It was the neighbor who called it in when she heard all the yelling. Valdez is the first cop on scene, and she sees Morales hit his girlfriend through the open door. Valdez goes in and orders Morales to stop. Morales doesn’t see the uniform, he only sees another woman. So he hits Valdez in the stomach and kicks her.”
“Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. She had her armor on, so Morales banged up his knuckles pretty good, the poor baby.” Phillips was grinning widely now. “We finally got him on agg battery, agg assault against a police officer, resisting arrest, and disturbing the peace. We’re going to have the DA think up a couple of new charges later today.”
Gil followed Phillips to the interrogation room. Inside sat a disheveled and handcuffed Hector Morales, who looked high and smelled drunk. Gil guessed that he was on cocaine.
Morales started talking as soon as he saw Gil. “Hey, man, I knew you wouldn’t let me down. I knew you’d help me.”
“Hector, let’s get one thing straight: I’m not here to help you. Do you know something about Melissa’s murder?”
“Yeah, man. I think I do, but you gotta get these assholes to let me go. I’m innocent. I didn’t hit no cop.” Phillips, standing in the corner, snorted his disbelief.
“Hector, just tell me what you know.”
“Hell no, man. I ain’t telling you anything until you get them to let me go.”
Gil, still standing, leaned forward, bracing himself against the table. “You hit a police officer, Hector.”
“The cops drove me to it. They set me up. I hit that bitch cop after she came into my home for no reason. She violated my rights.”
Gil stared at Morales. This wasn’t getting him anywhere. “Why don’t you just tell me what you know about Melissa’s killing, and I’ll see what I can do.” Gil made it sound as noncommittal as he could.
“Okay, man. So, this is it. I sold Baca some heroin a couple of times a few months ago.”
Gil was confused. “You told me Melissa Baca didn’t do drugs.”
“Not her, man. The other one.”
“Her brother?” If Ron Baca was on drugs, that would explain a lot.
“Not him. The other one. The other bitch. You know which one I mean.”
Gil didn’t know what Morales was talking about. Melissa had no sisters. She had several aunts, but he didn’t know their names. Did Morales mean Judy Maes? “Can you describe her to me?”
“You goddamn asshole cops,” Morales said, spit collecting at the corners of his mouth. Phillips started toward