Becoming Forever (Waking Forever Series) Read online

  Ash was startled by the faint knock on the door. “Yes?”

  The door opened and Emma peered around the door. Seeing Ash was more composed, she walked into the office. “Detective Haines, I pulled your mother’s file.” She walked around the desk and sat in the leather chair. “Please.” The doctor gestured for Ash to sit in the chair she had been crying in only moments before.

  She’s not going to talk about the crying. Thank God. Ash was relieved as she took a seat. “I know you aren’t allowed to disclose the autopsy results before the final report is filed, but I hoped -”

  Emma flipped the manila file open. “Of course.” She smiled professionally as she began to skim the contents of the folder.

  “Your mother died from a ventricular aneurysm. Which -” Emma looked up at Ash. “Is usually associated with complications from a heart attack, but looking at your mother’s medical history, I didn’t see any evidence she had suffered a myocardial infarction.”

  Ash nodded. “If it wasn’t caused by a heart attack, then what?”

  Emma looked at the file again, and absently chewed at the inside of her lower lip. “Genetic abnormality in the lining of the heart muscle caused the bleeding and the subsequent clot that killed her.”

  Ash was having trouble focusing on what the doctor was telling her. Her emotions were all over the place, and the fullness of Emma’s lips was distracting. “She never had any issues.”

  Emma nodded, closed the folder and placed it on her desk. “Unfortunately, some irregularities are asymptomatic.”

  Ash looked down at the brown carpet that covered the office floor. “It was just waiting.”

  “Pardon?” Emma leaned forward and put her elbows on the desk.

  Ash shook her head. “I mean she had this thing inside her for probably years, and didn’t know it was just out there - waiting.”

  Emma leaned back in her chair. “Please don’t think me insensitive, detective, but there’s something waiting out there for all of us.”

  Ash’s eyes widened as she looked at Emma. “Of course.” She stood up and walked to the door. “Dr. Atman, thank you for the information, and -” Ash blushed and nodded toward the box of tissues. “And the other thing too.”

  Emma walked around the desk and held the door open for Ash. “Call me Emma, and it was no trouble.”

  Ash nodded and started her walk back to her car. In spite of having the answer to her mother’s untimely death, the knowledge gave her no solace, and she felt the grip of grief tightening around her chest.

  Getting into her car, Ash remembered a line by one of her mother’s favorite authors, C.S. Lewis. No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.

  Chapter 3

  Ash and Cris approached the front door of Paul Garrett’s parents’ house. It was a ranch style single story residence built in the 1950’s, and indicative of the northeast San Antonio neighborhood the couple resided in. Remembering her own mother’s death from three years ago, Ash felt particularly sympathetic to the Garretts and the loss of their only son.

  “Isn’t this the neighborhood that has a deed restriction requiring Christmas lights every year?” Cris asked as he finished his early afternoon five hour energy drink, and tucked the small empty plastic bottle in his jacket pocket.

  Ash looked the house over as they walked up the stone walkway toward the front door. “Yeah. My parents used to drive us through here every year, and now my brothers bring their kids here.” Ash straightened her jacket before ringing the doorbell. “I guess it’s become a bit of a tradition.” She pressed the small metal button to the right of the wood and glass door.

  “Forced merriment. Neat.” Cris smirked.

  Ash smiled at her partner. “Bah, humbug.”

  The door opened, and a tall man with peppered gray dark hair stood in front of the two detectives. In spite of the dark circles under his eyes, evidence of his recent tragedy, Jonas Garrett was a handsome man, dressed simply in a pair of tan khakis and a white polo shirt. He looked at Ash and then at Cris.

  “You must be the detectives that called earlier?” Jonas asked.

  “Yes. Mr. Garrett. I’m Cristelo Martinez and this is my partner Ashley Haines.” Cris unclipped his badge and photo ID from his belt, and held it in front of Jonas. Ash quickly followed suit.

  Jonas looked carefully at each badge, and then stepped to the side, gesturing for the detectives to enter. “Please come in. My wife has tea for us on the patio.”

  Ash couldn’t help but smile. Given Jonas’ accent, it was clear he was from Texas, and regardless of the reasons for his current house guests, southern hospitality mandated iced tea or coffee be offered to a guest.

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Garrett.” Cris said as he and Ash followed the man toward the back of the house.

  Ash looked around as they made their way through the living area, den and through the kitchen to a set of pine French doors leading to a covered patio. Clearly Paul had come by his penchant for cleanliness from his parents. The house was tastefully decorated in an Arts and Crafts style reminiscencent of Frank Lloyd-Wright architecture. It was simple without unnecessary decoration or ornamentation.

  Evelyn Garrett sat in a wrought iron patio chair with a burgundy cushion. The petite, brown haired woman stood to greet Ash and Cris. “Detectives, welcome. Please, have a seat.” Ash and Cris sat on two of the four chairs set up around a square wrought-iron table. “I’ve made iced tea, but if you would prefer coffee, I can brew a pot.”

  Ash and Cris both shook their heads. “No thank you, Mrs. Garrett. The tea is perfect.” Ash smiled as she leaned back in the chair, crossed her legs and opened the cover of her iPad. Evelyn began pouring the tea from the clear glass pitcher into four tall glasses.

  Cris cleared his throat. “Mrs. Garrett, I’m Cristelo Martinez, and this is my partner Ashley Haines.” Evelyn nodded as she leaned across the table to place a glass of iced tea in front of Cris. Ash could see the dark circles were under her eyes as well. “We want to ask the two of you about Paul, and get a list of any friends, acquaintances and co-workers we would be able to meet with.”

  Jonas, who had sat in the chair next to Ash, leaned forward. “You can’t think this was anyone Paul knew.”

  Cris nodded. “Sadly, the odds that Paul knew his killer are pretty good.”

  Evelyn shook her head. “The fact my son has a killer is just -” The woman sat down heavily, and slumped on the armrest of her chair. Jonas reached over and covered his wife’s hand with his own.

  “I can get you a list of people we knew. But you’ll want to go to his office for any work related individuals.” Jonas said. The tension in his voice was obvious.

  Ash had been looking intently at Evelyn, whose eyes were red as she turned her attentions to Jonas. Ash’s heart rate was up, and she felt hot. This happened nearly every time they talked to parents or spouses. Ash managed her empathy as best she could, but there had been more than one occasion where she had to excuse herself from the interview under the guise of taking a call.

  Cris always knew when the intensity of the scene had gotten to his partner, and would assure her afterwards that over time it got easier. Ash wondered if that was a good thing.

  “Paul was an analyst at Pierce and Pierce? Is that correct?” Ash asked as she reached for the glass of iced tea.

  Jonas nodded. “Yes. His assistant is -” The man took a deep breath. “His assistant was Delores Reed. I have her number, and she can put you in contact with a good portion of Paul’s social and professional circles.”

  “Has anyone told Sara yet?” Evelyn looked at her husband as the tears she had been trying to squelch began spilling over.

  Jonas handed his wife a cloth hankie from his back pant pocket. “I left her a message yesterday, and Delores is following up.”

  Ash tilted her head to the side, as she jotted down Delores’ name. “Sara?”

  Evelyn sighed. “Sara Glass. She and Paul have been seeing one another for -” Evelyn turne
d to her husband. “What Jonas, three years?”

  “Give or take.” Jonas pulled his cell phone out of his side pant pocket. “I have her phone number here.”

  “And what does Ms. Glass do for a living?” Ash asked.

  “She’s an attorney at a family practice. Wonderful woman.” Evelyn put her glass of tea down.

  Ash made a note on the iPad as Cris continued with the standard questions. Listening to Paul’s parents talk about their only child, it was clear to Ash they had been very proud of him. It was also clear, based on some of the gaps in timelines around Paul’s day-to-day activities, Jonas and Evelyn had not been as intimately involved in their son’s life as they might have thought.

  This wasn’t uncommon with adult children. Parents tended to see their sons and daughters through a lens that was mostly nostalgia for the child they had known, with very little of the reality of who the adult was. Ash had learned there was little value in asking a parent about significant others, or possible affairs. The parent rarely, if ever had a realistic idea of who their child actually had become.

  The case that had driven this fact home for Ash the most was a murder-suicide she had worked with Cris a year ago. The man had shot his girlfriend, and then turned the gun on himself. When Cris and she had talked with his elderly parents, they had no idea the man had left his wife and their grandson for the now dead girlfriend, or that their son had been fired from his job as a manager with Enterprise Rent-A-Car.

  Ash could still remember the distraught and shocked expressions on those parents’ faces as they tried to comprehend not only the horrible crime their son had perpetrated, but also the fact they didn’t actually know their own child.

  Cris and Ash completed their interview with the Garrets, and walked back to their non-descript black Ford Crown Victoria in silence. Ash slid into the driver’s seat as Cris fastened his seatbelt. “That was depressing as hell.” Cris stated matter-of-factly.

  Ash nodded as she started the car. “Always is.”

  “So I’ll take the four friends he travelled with if you want to talk with the co-workers?” Cris asked as he flipped through his red Mead notepad.

  “Sure. I can double back with the girlfriend after?” Ash checked her side mirror, and slowly pulled into the residential street. “Unless you want to take that?”

  Cris shook his head. “No, no. Not in the mood for a hysterical woman.”

  Ash huffed. “Sexist.”

  Cris smiled as he wrote several notes down. “No. Experienced.”

  Ash pulled the car to a stop at a traffic light leading out of the Garrett’s neighborhood. “What about the boyfriend in the Miller case last month?”

  Cris shrugged. “You can’t count him. He’s gay.”

  Ash turned and looked at her partner. “Wow - just wow.”

  “I’m a bastard.” Cris chuckled. “And you have a green light.”

  Ash drove the car forward. “I only let you get away with that sort of shit because you’re old and don’t know any better. Your generation -”

  Cris scoffed. “I beg your pardon, but when did fifty-three become old?”

  Ash glanced at her partner. “Fine, have it your way. You’re a homophobic bastard.”

  Cris slipped his notepad into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Wait, what are my choices again?”

  “Old and misguided, or homophobic prick.” Ash stated casually.

  “Can you phrase that in the form of a question, please?” Cris smirked.

  Ash couldn’t help but laugh. “Nice.”

  Cris let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Let’s not fight. I’ll grant you that I have seen many men lose their shit over the years, but I will say it’s proportionally less than women.”

  “Maybe because men are more likely to kill and maim one another, leaving a distraught woman behind.” Ash countered. “You’re a violent lot, partner.”

  Cris pursed his lips in mock consideration. “Agreed. Can we get a Starbucks?”

  ***

  Pierce and Pierce Venture Capital occupied the third floor of a ten story office building near the north central part of San Antonio. Ash walked into the main lobby, which consisted of an overabundance of plants and marble. It reminded Ash of a tomb.

  She walked toward the marble desk, which was being manned by a white man in his early twenties. Pulling her badge from her belt, Ash smiled as she held the credentials in front of her. “Good afternoon. I’m Detective Ashley Haines with the San Antonio Police Department. I would like to see Thad Rooney with Pierce and Pierce please.”

  The young man stared blankly at the badge and photo ID. “Ah, yeah. You need an appointment. Do you have an appointment?”

  Ash looked at the man’s name tag, and then tilted her badge back and then forward. “Chip - this means I don’t need an appointment.”

  The man’s mouth hung open slightly as he looked up at Ash. “I’ll buzz you up.”

  Walking toward the bank of elevators, Ash shook her head. “I weep for our future.”

  The reception area of Pierce and Pierce was ornate, with overstuffed leather chairs lurking in every corner, and fresh floral arrangements on each of the three glass tables. Ash sat in the chair closest to the elevators while she waited for Thad Rooney, the COO of the firm, and Paul Garrett’s manager.

  Ash assumed the middle-aged Caucasian man in the crisp navy blue 3-piece suit walking quickly toward her was Rooney.

  “Detective Haines?” The man thrust his hand out, and shook Ash’s with far too much enthusiasm and force.

  Calm down guy, you’re not selling me anything. “Mr. Rooney. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

  “No problem. We’re all devastated by Paul’s death.” He began walking back toward the main floor of the firm, and Ash took several quick steps to catch up with him. “I assumed you would want to talk to his assistant, Delores? She’s really going to be able to walk you through Paul’s schedule, dates, et cetera.”

  “Initially, yes.” Ash followed the man into a large corner office with picture windows. “Based on that exchange, I’ll then determine who else I need to speak with, along with what documentation I may need from Pierce and Pierce.”

  Thad sat down behind his desk, and gestured for Ash to sit in the chair across from him. “I can’t imagine what you would need from the firm. Clearly the tragedy had nothing to do with Paul’s work at Pierce and Pierce.”

  Ash opened up her iPad and reached for her stylus. Thad Rooney had just unintentionally started his interview. “Why is that clear?”

  Thad leaned forward in his high-back leather chair. “Well, from what the news reported the scene was an absolute mess. There’s no one in the firm capable of such atrocities.” He leaned back, cupping his chin with his right hand. “It was just awful.”

  Ash nodded, and made several notes about overall tone and tenure of the interview. “Mr. Rooney, where were you last Thursday?”

  Thad’s eyebrows shot up. “Me?”

  “Yes, sir.” Ash stopped writing.

  “You can’t mean to imply -” Thad stammered.

  Ash shrugged. “I know it’s seems silly, but I just have to ask these questions.” Ash nodded toward her iPad.

  “Well - I, of course.” Thad leaned forward and hit a button on his phone. “Emelda, can you please print my schedule for last Thursday and bring it in, please?” Not waiting for a response, he released the call button.

  “Any interoffice politics or conflicts between Mr. Garrett and other members of the firm?” Ash asked.

  “Well, the business is competitive, and after the downturn in 2008, the pool got shallow. But Paul did well in spite of that. He was very competitive, and competent.” Thad smiled.

  “Mr. Rooney, you didn’t answer my question. Politics, conflicts with other team members?” Ash looked directly at Thad.

  Shifting in his chair, Thad shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  Ash nodded. “Any clients that were unhappy with
Mr. Garrett?”

  Thad looked up at the ceiling and contemplated. “No. He had a very clean book of business.”

  Ash smiled. “Great. Now if you could show me to Delores Reed’s desk, and I’ll take that schedule from Emelda.”

  Thad stood up quickly. “Of course. Follow me.”

  Ash stood and waited for Thad to come around the desk. She followed him out his office door where he was greeted by a thin, forty-something redhead who, without speaking, handed him a sheet of paper.

  Thad turned to Ash. “Detective, my schedule. It includes contact information should you find it necessary to talk to any of the individuals listed.”

  Ash thanked him. She followed him through several rows of cubicles and then back down a hallway lined on the left side with offices. At the end of the hall was a short, heavy-set Hispanic woman in her late fifties. She was sitting at a glass-topped desk with three computer monitors, and behind her was a metal shelf with numerous framed photos of children and adults. Ash assumed they were her family.

  “Delores, this is Detective Haines. She is here about Paul, so please help her with whatever she needs.” Thad smiled, and started to walk away but then turned back to Delores.

  “If she should need any proprietary information, please let me review the request before providing the detective with the documents.” Thad turned to Ash. “Standard procedure.”

  Rooney had been relatively helpful so far, and it was because of that Ash decided not to point out to him all she would need to do was get a subpoena and his approval would be moot. “Of course.”

  Thad Rooney smiled, the muscles in his jaw clenched. “Good day.”

  “It’s terrible about Mr. Garrett. His family has been in my prayers.” Ash’s attention was brought back to the short woman behind the desk.

  Ash nodded. “I know. Were you close?”

  Delores smiled. “He was a very good boss.”

  Ash squelched the urge to roll her eyes. It seemed at Pierce and Pierce the ability to answer an actual question asked was a commodity neither the senior leadership nor the subordinates traded in. “Is this Mr. Garrett’s office?” Ash pointed to the closed door to Delores’ left.