The Kiss after Midnight (The Midnight Trilogy) (18 page)

“After they got their own one-bedroom flat, the beating got so bad that it resulted in Isabela suffering a major blow to the head after only two months. She spent the rest of her days in intensive care, eventually succumbing to her wounds. With her foster mom no longer around to help her, Annabel bore the brunt of her foster father’s abuse, showing up to school every day with fresh bruises.

“She continued lying to teachers and friends as to the source of her injuries, which got worse and worse. She retaliated one day and stabbed Chico to death with a kitchen knife. The state deemed it self-defense and left her in social care. With both foster parents dead, however, Annabel had no home. She moved from foster family to foster family, but by then the damage had been done. She never lasted more than two months in a new place. She also developed a fixation with fire.”

“Fire?” Tom said.

“She burned the house of the first foster parents who took her in.”

Emma and Tom exchanged glances.

“The state really believed she would never find a home, but in 1993 this woman”—he brought up a photo of a blond-haired woman, around 40, with her arms around a smiling Annabel—“took her in.”

“She seems so happy,” Emma said.

“She was. Jessica Baxter helped Annabel overcome her childhood trauma, her birth parents’ dying in an accident and the ordeal she suffered at the hands of her foster father.” Another picture of Jessica appeared, her arms around a sixteen-year-old Annabel at a charity function in Manhattan.

“They both look so happy in this one,” Emma said. “Look at Annabel’s eyes, full of joy.”

“They were, but unfortunately, Jessica started to suffer from the same mental illness that plagued her family for years. Annabel looked after her for a few years before her condition worsened to the point that she sometimes went a whole week not knowing who her foster daughter was. She was eventually institutionalized, and Annabel refused to just watch as the health of the only parent she truly loved deteriorated. She went back to Mexico in 2000 for a college degree in criminal psychology. She stayed there for four years.”

He clicked on a graduation picture of her and another woman with similar dark features, though her eyes were green rather than blue.

“That’s Penélope,” Tom shouted.

“Correct,” Nathan said. “It was probably in college that they began their friendship.”

“They look so close in that picture,” Emma said.

“What happened after?” Tom asked.

“Well, before Annabel came back to America, it’s believed she took grueling military training and advanced martial-arts classes. Her head wasn’t right after her mother’s condition got worse. That’s probably why she became detached, as many people started describing her. When she eventually came back, Jessica’s condition still wasn’t fantastic. At 24, she took even more gun classes and competed in illegal martial-arts tournaments and lots of high-velocity activities. She completely changed into a different person. It might have been her foster mom’s condition or something else, something that might have happened in Mexico. We believe she met Antonio Cabrera a few months later through Rico Martinez, who at the time was a close acquaintance of her very good friend Penélope Salazar.”

“Hang on,” Tom said. “You’re saying that she dated Antonio before Penélope did?”

Nathan nodded.

“That was unexpected.”

“Then she started associating with many other members of The Dominguez Family, including one Reynaldo Machado.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding. She didn’t ... Not with Reynaldo.”

Nathan nodded again. “They definitely were dating, and it broke Antonio. He started seeing Penélope soon after, but I’m sure Annabel seeing Reynaldo ate at him.”

“So what happened with Reynaldo and Annabel?” Emma asked.

“It ended before it began. She started dating a Wall Street heavy hitter a few months after, which was also when she enrolled for the academy.”

Tom stood up. “Well, this certainly changes everything. What if it’s Reynaldo helping Annabel?”

“Or even Antonio,” Emma said. “Maybe he hasn’t gotten over her yet. Maybe they both wanted Penélope out of the way.”

Tom scratched his head and walked to the window. “I don’t know. Annabel seemed so happy with Penélope in those pictures. I don’t think she would murder her for anyone.”

“You never really know people,” Nathan said.

Tom returned to his seat, and they all remained quiet for a moment.

“So where’s Jessica now?” Emma asked.

“She’s staying at her younger sister’s place in Brooklyn,” Nathan said.

“Does Annabel still see her?” Tom asked.

Nathan shrugged. “I don’t think she’s been to see her recently, but I guess that could be a good place to start. She’s never stopped loving her. She was the only mother figure she truly knew.”

“Then I think we need to talk to her.” Tom started putting away the files on his table.

Emma frowned at him and cocked her head. “Are you sure?” she said. “You heard Nathan. There’s nothing she can tell us now.”

“I don’t care,” Tom said. “We have nothing else to chase.”

“We can talk to Reynaldo.”

“And what would he say? Even if he hates Antonio’s guts, he won’t spill anything. He’s too loyal to Jorge.” Tom walked to his chair and slung his jacket over his shoulder.

Nathan put his laptop in a leather case and shook Tom’s hand. He nodded at Emma and left the room.

***

Tom pulled out the sheet of paper with Jessica’s address as they reached the corner of East Jeffrey Street. “Pull over here.”

Emma parked between a large delivery truck and a small red Toyota. They got out of the car and stared at a four-story apartment building. The trees that grew around it were so large that they looked like a forest.

“Creepy, isn’t it?” Tom said.

Emma eyed him for a second and walked up to the intercom switch. A raspy voice answered. “Hello?”

“Ms. Thomas?” Emma said.

“Yes?”

“I’m Agent Green with the FBI. I spoke to you earlier on the phone.”

“Oh yes,” the woman said. “You want to see Jessica.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The door opened and Tom and Emma walked in. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and knocked on the apartment door. A tall skinny woman, possibly in her late fifties, opened it. She wore a lightweight white dress and flat shoes.

“Jane Thomas?” Tom said, showing his badge.

The woman nodded.

“Will it be possible to speak with your sister?” Emma asked.

“What’s this about? We haven’t heard from Annabel in nearly a year.”

“And we’re not saying you have. We just want to understand Annabel a bit more. Maybe find out why she’s helping this man.”

Jane looked at the floor with a sad expression.

“I promise we’ll be gone before you know it,” Emma said.

Reluctantly, Jane nodded and stepped aside, allowing the agents to enter. They waited as she put all three locks back into the place. She led them through a corridor that smelled strongly of cinnamon. Photos crowded the wall, mostly picturing Jane and a young man.

“Is that your son?” Emma asked, gesturing toward a picture of a man in a Navy uniform.

“Yes,” Jane said. “That was my Godfrey.”

“Was?” Tom said.

“He died serving his country ten years ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Emma said.

She waved her hand as if to dismiss Emma’s condolences. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” She led them into the living room.

Tom stood by the door and looked around the room, which was home to two small fish tanks and countless flowerpots. Jane motioned for them to sit on a three-seat corner sofa. “Can I offer you some coffee?”

Tom shook his head.

“I would love a glass of water, please,” Emma said.

Jane gave her a warm smile and walked to the kitchen.

“I like this place,” Emma said.

“Are you kidding?” Tom whispered.

Emma frowned at him.

“What? It just gives me the creeps.”

“And so it should,” came a voice from the corridor. A short woman with long white hair and a tired face walked into the living room. She looked frail but walked with more purpose than Tom would have expected of someone who was supposed to be mentally challenged.

“Mrs. Baxter?” Emma said, standing up.

“Ms.,” Jessica replied, “and please, sit.” She pointed at Tom. “He’s right to be scared of this place, you know. In fact, we should all be scared, for our world is about to turn upside down. All our dreams are about to start happening. The good, the bad and the downright evil.” She paused and looked around the room. “There has been evil carried out in this house. More than I would like to remember.”

Emma and Tom exchanged glances.

Jessica sat at the end of the sofa. “Have you met my sister?”

“Yes,” Emma said. “She let us in.”

“But of course she did. Who else would have?”

Emma glanced at Tom, who was staring at Jessica.

“You folks think I’m crazy. You all do. But I’m not crazy. You want to send me back because I speak the truth.” She raised her voice. “I do. I do. I do.”

“Jessica,” Jane shouted as she ran into the room. She held her sister’s hand, which shook considerably.

Emma stood up. “Is she okay?”

“We’ll never be okay,” Jessica screamed. “As long as he’s out there.”

Tom gave Jane a questioning look, and she met his gaze for a moment before kneeling in front of her sister. “I told you they were coming, didn’t I?”

“Who are they?” Jessica said. “What do they want to do with me?”

‘Nothing, darling. They just want to talk about Annabel.’

Jessica burst out crying. “My baby. Why did she have to die?”

“She’s not dead, ma’am,” Tom said, rising to his feet.

“She is to me,” Jessica growled. “Her body might be here, but her soul is gone. She killed her. He killed her. You all killed her.”

Tom sat back down and sighed.

Jane walked toward them and handed Emma her glass of water. “I told you this was a waste of time,” she said. “She refuses to talk of Annabel anymore.”

“I can see that,” Emma said. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” She rose, and Tom followed suit. “We’ll go now.” She edged closer to the frail woman. “We’re going now, Jessica. It was lovely to meet you.”

The gray-haired woman glared at both of them. “It was Mexico, you know.”

Emma stared at her dumbfounded. Tom knelt in front of Jessica. “What do you mean? What happened in Mexico?”

“That’s where my baby died. That’s where she met her.”

“Who? Who’s her?”

“You know, the one she chose over me. The one who made her start worshipping the devil.”

Tom looked at Jane and Emma with a frustrated expression. Jane gestured for him to leave her sister alone. As he stood, Jessica grabbed his wrist. “You listen to me, boy, and you listen good. That girl was no good. She destroyed my Annabel. I prayed every day for her to die, but I didn’t mean for her to.”

Tom looked at Emma and nodded slowly. “Penélope.”

“Don’t you dare mention her name.” Jessica lunged and repeatedly hit him in the chest, crying uncontrollably. He restrained her as best he could, but she started to kick him, too.

Jane pulled her off him. “Go,” she shouted to the agents above Jessica’s screaming. “Go now!”

They quickly made their way outside, where Tom proceeded to pace, arching his neck from side to side.

“So what do you think?” Emma asked.

“I think we need to find out what happened in Mexico. That seems to be where everything for Annabel changed and, from what we know, where she met Penélope.”

“I agree. This is all more than it seemed when we started looking at it. Annabel might be more involved in her friend’s death than we think.”

“I want a car here, day and night.” He walked toward the car.

“You don’t think she’ll come here, do you?”

“I don’t care, but I’m not taking any chances. Right now, Jessica is our best chance of finding Annabel.”

“What’s the hurry?” she said as he opened the car door. “Where are we going?”

“I’m going to Antonio’s place.”

She frowned. “What for? We’ve covered every inch of that place.”

“But we know more now. I just have that feeling in my gut that we’ve missed something.”

Tom dashed behind a young couple entering Antonio’s apartment building on East Sixty-sixth Street and held the door open. He showed the man his badge when he gave him a questioning look. The man raised his right hand in apparent apology and led his girlfriend into the building. Emma walked up the stairs to the entrance and joined Tom.

“So remind me again what we’re doing here,” she said.

“Just follow my lead.” He glanced around the exceptionally clean foyer. The marble floors hinted at sophistication, as did the chandeliers on the ceiling. He walked up to the doorman’s desk, but no one was there. He leaned over and peeked through the open back room, from where he could hear the sounds of a television, possibly a football game. He spotted a bell and pushed it a few times.

A square-jawed man peered out of the room and frowned. “Can I help you?”

Tom held up his badge. “Agent Saddle, FBI.”

The man swallowed.

“And this is Agent Green. Can we have a word?”

The man nodded and disappeared from view. He reappeared a few seconds later and made his way to the front desk without a hint of urgency. He leaned against it and eyed Emma for a moment before turning back to Tom. “What can I do for you?”

“Your surveillance tapes,” Tom said. “We need to see them.”

The man shot him a sharp look but soon relaxed. “What’s this about?”

“We’re investigating a murder,” Emma said. “Penélope Salazar’s.”

“I’ve already told the police all I know. They’ve spoken to me, my boss and at least two of my colleagues. What more is there?”

“I understand that,” Tom said. “We just want to take another look. See if they missed anything. We’ll just be a few minutes.”

The man turned toward the back room and then back to Tom. “Just a few minutes?”

“That’s all we need,” Emma said.