Crush - Alan Jacobson [27]
At first glance, the man looked to be about seventy, but something about the way he moved made Vail think he might’ve been older, or stricken with a muscle-wasting disease. He leveraged himself with both hands on his desk to rise slowly from his leather chair. “Any news on my daughter?”
Dixon stepped forward. She was the local cop here; she would be the one to deliver the news.
But before she could speak, the phone buzzed. Montalvo looked down at the desk, thought about whether to answer it, then lifted the receiver. “Yes.”
He listened a moment—Vail could hear a loud, distressed male voice at the other end of the line—and she realized what must be happening. Lugo had just informed Kevin Cameron of his wife’s death. Frederick Montalvo, family patriarch and the woman’s father, got the first call.
Montalvo’s face drained of color, his left hand slipped from the desktop, and the phone dropped from his grip as his legs gave out. He hit the carpeted floor with a thud—with Dixon and Vail quickly at his side.
Vail tossed down her purse, then checked Montalvo’s pulse while Dixon lifted his legs. His skin was clammy, but judging by his slow and regular pulse, Vail felt he had fainted rather than had a heart attack. He opened his eyes, blinked, and stared at Vail, who was hovering over his face.
“Mr. Montalvo, are you okay?” she asked.
“I—my daughter. Is she—is she? . . .”
“Yes. We’re deeply sorry.” She cradled the back of his neck. “Come on, let’s sit up. Slowly.”
Montalvo, with Vail’s help, moved into a seated position, still on the floor. He put his head between his knees while Vail supported his back. And then he began to weep.
Vail and Dixon shared a look. Vail could tell that Dixon hated this as much as she did. There was just no good way to deliver this kind of news. The reaction often ranged from outright disbelief to massive heart attacks, and everything in between.
Dixon lifted the fallen receiver from the desk. She had apparently surmised what had happened as well, because she said, “Mr. Cameron, are you there?” She waited, then said, “No, he’s fine. He’ll be fine. I’m sorry for your loss.” She listened a moment, then said, “Of course we will,” then hung up.
“How did it happen?”
Montalvo’s voice was weak, frail.
“I think all we should say at this point is that she crossed paths with a killer and we’re doing our best to track him down. We have a task force already set up—”
“You’re not answering my question,” he said, more forcefully. He turned away from Vail’s supportive hold, rolled to his right side, and struggled to get to his feet. He swayed a second, then found his chair and sat down heavily.
“She was murdered,” Vail said. “That’s all you need to know. The details are unimportant. And you have to trust me on that. I help track these killers for a living. And I can tell you that we’re doing everything we can to find this guy. That’s a promise.”
“Where? Where did you find her?”
“In the wine cave at Silver Ridge Estates.”
Montalvo sighed, then shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Vail bent down, retrieved her purse, then slung it over her shoulder. “Why’s that?”
“They’re a competitor, of sorts. Worse than that, perhaps. We’ve had some difficulty with the family.”
Dixon moved closer. “What kind of difficulty? Which members of the family?”
“The disagreement goes back a very, very long time. I doubt it’s related. It wasn’t violent. Just business.”
“How long is a very, very long time?”
“Decades. About forty years.”
Dixon looked at Vail, then at Montalvo. “Tell us more about—”
“It’s got nothing to do with anything, Ms. Dixon. And no, I don’t care to discuss it. It’s family business, that’s all.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Vail said, “that’s for us to determine. You can’t possibly know what’s related and what’s not. That