Defender

Chapter 2-1

2

Night shifts. Jack Sandoval squinted at the clock on the opposite wall and hoped this one would pass without incident. Or at least, an incident where his services wouldn’t be required. A full moon always meant car accidents and domestic disputes and your usual assortment of crazies in addition to the regular run of burglaries and assaults, but he wouldn’t be called to handle any of those sorts of crimes unless the other detectives on duty were occupied elsewhere.

Problem was, the number of murders also tended to rise when the moon was full. Got in people’s blood, he guessed; even witches and warlocks couldn’t exactly explain it, although any witch worth her salt would tell you that most spells were more powerful when the moon was full. His relatives in the de la Paz clan probably weren’t casting many spells tonight, though. No reason to, when their world had been safe and calm and placid for more than a year now.

The phone on his desk rang, and he couldn’t keep himself from grimacing before he picked it up. He knew all too well what the call probably meant, especially since the readout on the phone indicated the person on the other end of the line was Larry Jansen, lead detective for the Scottsdale P.D.’s homicide department.

Still, this was his job, and Jack knew he would be first on the hook to pick up any new homicide cases, since he’d just closed the books on a double murder that had been the result of a d**g deal gone bad.

“Sandoval,” he said.

“Jack, we need you on-scene for a possible homicide at 2344-A Cactus Circle.” A pause. “It’s…bad.”

It would have to be, for Larry to have offered even that brief disclaimer. Usually he was neutral to a fault, wanting his officers to make their own determinations when it came to individual crime scenes. “Any witnesses?”

“Not to the actual crime, as far as we can tell. The first responders report that the next-door neighbors were out for the evening, and the people living under the victim said they were watching TV and didn’t see or hear anything.”

“Who reported it?”

“The victim’s wife. Soon-to-be ex-wife, actually. She’d gone to his place to deliver divorce papers.”

“Has she been questioned?”

“They got some basic details, but they’re waiting on you.”

“I’m on my way.”

“I figured you were.”

Larry ended the call, and Jack got up from his desk, then slipped into his sport jacket, which he’d left hanging on the back of his chair. The night was probably mild enough that he really didn’t need it, but he’d found that the public liked to see plainclothes officers in jackets. Made them seem more professional, or something.

Two calls to make before he left, to Grace Pedersen, one of the city’s CSI techs, and Ian Tolliver, another homicide detective. Together, they made up the remainder of his team. Neither of them sounded thrilled to be called in after they were technically off shift, but of course there were no arguments, only a quick “I’ll be right over” from both Grace and Ian. Jack hadn’t expected anything less. Actually, the two of them would probably make it there before him, since they lived closer to the crime scene.

The condo complex in question was off Scottsdale Road, about ten minutes from the police department headquarters. As Jack emerged from the building, he shot a jaundiced glance upward at the large yellow-tinged moon hanging overhead. “Thanks a lot, you bastard,” he muttered.

His department-issued Ford Taurus waited for him in one of the spots designated for official use. He got in and headed north on Scottsdale Road, mentally preparing himself for whatever might lie ahead. If Larry said it was bad, then it was.

At times like this, Jack almost wished he had a partner, someone to chew things over with while on the way to a crime scene. Back when he’d been a beat cop, he’d resented having someone in his lap all the time, just because the job was hard enough without having to hide that he wasn’t exactly your standard-issue police officer, was actually a member of Arizona’s largest witch clan. Luckily, he’d been able to avoid exposing the truth of his nature, but he had to admit things became much easier when he was promoted to detective and rode a desk every day instead of a squad car.

He turned onto Cactus Circle. About halfway down the block, he saw a swirl of police lights, flashing a raucous blue and red. Three patrol cars, a fire truck, an ambulance, and a van from the medical examiner’s office. About what he’d expected, but still, he couldn’t help being impressed by the turnout. All those personnel, just for one body.

A body of a man who’d been murdered, Jack reminded himself.

He pulled up behind one of the squad cars and got out. Immediately, a uniformed officer came over to him. “I’m Officer Lopez. Detective Sandoval? ”

“That’s right,” Jack replied, moving the lapel of his jacket slightly so the officer could see the badge clipped to his shirt pocket. “What do we have?”

“Deceased male Caucasian, twenty-nine years old.”

Jack could feel his jaw tighten. Damn. Somehow it always felt worse to him when the victim was under thirty. All that potential…gone. “Go on.”

“No sign of forced entry. Nothing taken, as far as we can tell.” Lopez didn’t look like much more than a kid himself, twenty-five, if even that. His dark eyes were strained, but he sounded composed enough as he continued, “I’m no expert, but this killing…it looks like something ritual to me.”

God, Jack hoped not. His clan had had enough of that sort of thing to deal with — and sweep under the rug — when Matías Escobar and his thug cousins kidn*pped those young witches from up north and tortured them, killing one of the girls. Yes, Escobar had been dealt with, but the last thing Jack wanted on his plate right now was another crime with evidence that pointed toward witch-kind. “Witnesses?”

“Not really. The immediate neighbors either weren’t home or didn’t see or hear anything. We’re talking to people in some of the other buildings, just in case they might have noticed any suspicious activity earlier in the evening. The wife came on the scene afterward…or so she claims.”

Jack frowned. “What makes you think she was involved?”

“Oh, nothing in particular.” Lopez stood up a little straighter and lifted his chin. “It just seems to me that the timing is a little suspicious.”

Sounded like someone wanted a promotion. Jack wouldn’t exactly brush off the other man’s words, but, on the other hand, he also intended to take them with a very large grain of salt. He’d wait for input from his team, who should already be up in the condo, gathering evidence. “Where’s the wife?”

“Over there, with my partner.” Lopez pointed toward a low wall of stacked stone that bordered the pathway next to the building. A woman sat there, but because she was partially obscured by the uniformed officer standing in front of her, Jack couldn’t really see what she looked like.

Well, he supposed he’d get a good look at her soon enough, take her measure. “Thanks,” he told Lopez.

Jack walked over toward the wall Lopez had pointed out. As he approached, the patrol officer who’d been blocking her turned and gave him a brisk nod. “Detective Sandoval?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Officer Manning. This is Ms. Campbell, the victim’s wife.”

The woman stood as the patrolman said her name. Seeing her clearly for the first time, Jack almost started, then told himself the last thing he should be doing right then was paying any attention to her appearance.

But…she was beautiful. Late twenties, with long sandy brown hair streaked with gold. He couldn’t be sure of her eye color because the lighting out here wasn’t very good, but he could tell that she had the kind of graceful bone structure that didn’t require much makeup, even though right then she was stricken and wan, her eyes shadowed and reddened from shock and grief.

Somehow Jack managed to gather himself. “Ms. Campbell, I’m Jack Sandoval. I’ll be the lead detective on this case. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

She shook her head. “No,” she replied. Her voice was somewhat low-pitched and husky, but he couldn’t know for sure if she always sounded like that, or whether the word had come out that way because she’d been crying. “I’m not sure how much I can tell you, though. I didn’t see anything.”

“That’s fine,” he said. He gave the patrol officer a slight nod, indicating that he wanted to continue the interview alone. Luckily, Officer Manning didn’t seem inclined to argue, because he nodded in return and headed off toward the spot where the team from the medical examiner’s office was beginning to set up its own field operations. Jack returned his attention to the woman in front of him. “Just tell me what happened.”

She pressed her lips together, then let out a breath. “I — I was coming over to bring Jeff our divorce papers so he could sign them.”

How completely ridiculous was it that Jack experienced a slight sensation of relief at hearing she really had been separated from the victim? As if it mattered. “What time was that?”

“A-around seven-thirty, I think. I got here a little earlier than that, though. I parked on the street and went over the papers a few more times, and — ” A small chuckle, and she sent a nervous look up at Jack. “Really, I was just sitting there and trying to work up the nerve to go see him.”

Voice neutral, Jack inquired, “Were you worried he would react badly?”

“Oh, no,” she said at once, her tone so emphatic that he knew she must be telling the truth. “I mean, he’d pretty much reconciled himself to the divorce happening. He wasn’t happy about it, but he wasn’t going to fight it, either.”

Her reply relieved him somewhat. It probably meant that, whatever had happened, it hadn’t resulted from a struggle between the two. Besides, this Ms. Campbell didn’t look as if she’d been involved in any kind of an altercation. Her face was strained and pale, but the clothes she wore — a silk blouse with elbow-length sleeves and a dark pencil skirt — appeared relatively unmussed, except for a few wrinkles she’d probably picked up while sitting in her car. “Did anyone see you when you were in the car?”

“I don’t know. I think a few people went past — walking their dogs or whatever — but I couldn’t really tell if they were paying any attention to me.”

Well, that wasn’t so good. He’d have to wait for the exact time of death from the medical examiner, but it did sound as if there was an unspecified period where Ms. Campbell had been by herself, with no one to back up her claim that she’d been sitting alone in her car. “Ms. Campbell — ” he began, and she shook her head.

“Kate…please. And actually, legally it’s still Kate Nichols. I’ve just been using my maiden name lately, trying to get used to it again.”

“All right, Kate.” Jack paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase the question without sounding too accusatory. “Do you have any way of proving your whereabouts in the time immediately before seven-thirty?”

“I — ” She broke off there, worry entering her eyes, as if she’d just realized for the first time that the police might regard her as a possible suspect. Then she hitched in a little breath and said, sounding relieved, “I was texting with my brother right before I went up to Jeff’s place. You know, for encouragement.”

“May I see those texts?”

“Of course.” She began rummaging through a large brown leather purse that sat on the wall behind her. No doubt the patrol officers had already inspected its contents, including the phone, although they probably wouldn’t have asked her to unlock it. She pulled out a rose gold iPhone and entered the code, then went to the messaging app. “Here.”

Jack took the phone from her and looked down at the exchange displayed on the screen. Sure enough, there was a convo between her and someone named Colin, with time stamps between seven-nineteen and seven twenty-three. That still didn’t cover the entire time she’d supposedly sat in her car, but it did prove she really had been texting. “Colin is your brother?”