“Nothing. Lights went out at 11:36, came on just a few minutes ago.”
“Getting the kids ready for school,” Serrano said. “Any sign of Isabelle or Nicholas Drummond?”
“Nothing,” Chen added. Serrano leaned over, saw half a dozen coffee cups, three Red Bulls, an empty bag of Twizzlers, two hamburger wrappers, and a box of Nerds littered beneath Chen’s seat. Serrano smiled. He remembered the joys of pulling all-nighters.
“I didn’t even know they still made Nerds,” Serrano said. “Aren’t they basically just flavored sugar lumps?”
“And they’re delicious,” Chen said. “Only downside is that my tongue feels like the underside of a carpet. I’ve never needed to brush my teeth so badly.”
“Go home; get some rest,” Serrano said. “I’m going to check on them. The kids have school, and I’ll keep an eye on Ms. Marin if need be.”
“You sure?” Lowe said.
“Please, for our sake, go shower,” Tally added, holding her nose. “And throw all this crap away. You’re gonna start attracting fruit flies.”
Lowe nodded. They pulled out of the lot and headed south on Lakeland.
“Give me a minute with Rachel,” Serrano said to Tally. She nodded, content to stay in the heated Crown Vic.
Serrano showed the desk clerk his badge and went up to Rachel Marin’s room.
He thought about what Isabelle Drummond had said. It unnerved Serrano. Not just her words, but the emotion behind them. The anger. Nothing in this world was more dangerous than someone with means and a grudge.
He still couldn’t figure out why Rachel hadn’t hid in the basement with her children. Police were on the way. Ninety-nine out of a hundred people would have headed for safety. But Rachel confronted Robles with a shotgun. She was smart. She knew there was a strong chance the confrontation would end in blood. He recalled what Rachel had said at the station, and it gave him chills.
I had to put him down to make sure he’d be put away.
He knocked on the door and said, “Ms. Marin? It’s Detective Serrano.”
“Hold on!”
He heard a commotion from behind the door and a young girl shrieking.
“Eric, what did I tell you about pulling your sister’s hair?” Serrano smiled. “And Megan, your dirty clothes do not belong in Eric’s backpack.”
“But Moooooom,” came a young girl’s voice, “Eric said he wanted my underwear and socks in his backpack.”
“I did not, you little monster!”
“You, Megan, finish getting dressed. Eric, you . . . go play a warfare brigade game or something.”
“My computer is at home, and the Wi-Fi here sucks.”
“I know. We’ll be home soon. Just grin and bear it for now. Please.”
“What does grin and bear it mean?” Megan said. “Is there really a bear in here?”
“No, sweetie,” Rachel said. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“What’s a speech figure?”
“It’s . . . ugh. I’ll explain later. Just finish getting ready.”
Finally Rachel opened the door. She wore a shiny blue work shirt tucked into a gray skirt. Her brown hair was tied in a slightly unkempt ponytail. Her makeup was uneven, and there were small clumps of mascara caked on her lashes. She looked frazzled, harried, overwhelmed, and weirdly enough, kind of cute. Serrano coughed and pointed to her collar, where only one button was fastened. Rachel fixed it.
“Thanks, Detective.”
He could see Megan in the background twirling around a pair of what appeared to be boys’ athletic socks, which she then threw at her brother’s head as he sat in a chair tapping on an iPad. Rachel looked back into the room and let out an exasperated sigh.
“It’s hard enough when we’re in our own home and I have a handle on things,” Rachel said. “Living out of a suitcase and sharing a bathroom with two quarrelsome devils? Forget it.”
“Need me to throw them into solitary confinement for a little while?” Serrano asked.
“Actually, that sounds wonderful. Maybe for a year or two.”
Serrano said, “I could just keep them in the holding cells for a few days. Bet the drunks and hookers would scare them straight.”
“I may take you up on that,” she said. “So what can I do for you, Detective?”
“Just came to check on you and the kids. Last night could have gone another way. I’m glad it didn’t.”
“Me too,” Rachel said.
“So how are you all holding up?”
Rachel shrugged. “Kids are acting out. Hopefully we can get home soon and get them back into the routine where my son barely speaks to me and my daughter works on becoming the next Sue Grafton.”
“We’re moving as fast as we can. So far your story checks out. That will speed things up.”
“It will check out,” Rachel said. “It was clean and justified.”
Serrano nodded. He toed the floor.
“There’s one more thing,” Serrano said. “Christopher Robles is dead.”
Rachel’s eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened slightly. She looked back inside the hotel room.
“Hey, kids, give me a minute. Try not to set anything on fire.”
She stepped out of the hotel room and closed the door. Serrano motioned for her to follow him. They walked to a small alcove down the hall with a pair of vending machines.
“How did he die?” Rachel said. “I shot him in the shoulder. It was a nonlethal wound. I could have cut his spinal cord in half, but I didn’t because I wanted him to live.”
“I know,” Serrano said quietly. “It wasn’t you.”
“So, what? Complications during surgery? Did a doctor screw up?”
“We don’t know for sure,” Serrano said. “But he suffered a pulmonary embolism postsurgery. It’s not uncommon in intravenous drug users, since their veins are often shot to hell to begin with.”
Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. “Isabelle. She’s going to blame me.” She looked at Serrano. His facial expression didn’t change. “She already said something, didn’t she?”
“We’ve made it clear to Mrs. Drummond that her brother was about to be booked on charges of breaking and entering, trespassing, and attempted murder. Whatever happened to him, he brought on himself.”
“Look at me, Detective,” Rachel said. “Do you think she believes that?”
Serrano hesitated, then said, “No, I don’t.”
“Shit shit shit,” Rachel said. “My children . . . Robles was at the bridge the night Constance died,” Rachel said. “And he was at the press conference. Somebody else knows that besides me. Somebody wanted him dead.”
“We don’t know Robles’s death was a homicide,” Serrano said.
“Yes you do,” Rachel said. “You just can’t say it yet.”
“You’ll have protection twenty-four seven until we can establish there are no threats,” Serrano said. “We had two officers in the parking lot all night last night watching the hotel. You’re safe.”
“Thank you,” she said. “He was there for a reason. Robles. At the press conference. He was scared of something he saw that night at the bridge.”