shouting.
“Get down. Down on the ground!”
Dixon’s voice. And she wasn’t very happy.
Vail made it down the two dozen steps and there, spread eagle, face down on the ground, was Miguel Ortiz. Dixon, her SIG drawn and steadied out in front of her, stood fifteen feet away. Behind her, Brix pulled up along the side street and swung into the postage stamp parking lot. Jumped out, drew his weapon.
As Vail took a position to Dixon’s left, Brix came up behind them. “Jesus Christ, Miguel. We just had some questions. What were you thinking?”
“I don’t want to go back. Don’t send me back!”
Vail and Brix shared a look. Brix closed his eyes, then holstered his weapon. “You ran because you’re illegal?” He motioned to Dixon. “Let him up.”
“But—”
“Miguel, get to your feet.”
He stood up, keeping his hands above his head. “I thought you think I had something to do with that woman. In the cave. After we talk the other day, I was worried. I no want to go back home.”
“If you had something to do with that woman in the cave,” Vail said, “we’d arrest your ass. And believe me, you wouldn’t ever see home again.”
Brix stepped closer and banded his arms across his chest. “Miguel, we need you to tell us the truth. Will you do that?”
“Si, si.”
Brix nodded at Dixon, who holstered her weapon and did a thorough pat down of their suspect.
She stepped back. “He’s clean.”
“You can put your hands down.” Brix shook his head. “When you run from the police, we think you’re guilty of something.”
“No, no guilty.”
“Okay, then. You haven’t told anyone what you saw in that cave, have you?”
“No, you tell me not to. It was important, no?”
“Yes, that’s exactly right. It’s important. It’s still important.”
“I won’t tell.” He shifted his feet nervously. “Can I go now?”
“In a minute. First, tell us about Isaac Jenkins.”
Miguel’s eyes flittered between Brix, Dixon, and Vail. “Who?”
“What about Dawn Zackery?”
Miguel shook his head. “I do not know these people.”
“Where were you yesterday?”
“In the vineyard, tending to the vines.”
“Where?”
Ortiz pointed at Brix. “In yours. Silver Ridge, the Bella Broxton Cabernet vineyard.”
“Who were you with?” Brix asked.
“Mr. Styles. We were putting sulfur on the vines and working the soil. For the cover.”
Brix turned to Vail. “We sometimes use a cover crop between the rows as an early warning system. If there’s something affecting the vines, the cover will show it first.” To Ortiz: “When were you with Mr. Styles?”
“All day. From six in the morning to sundown.”
“I’m going to ask Mr. Styles, Miguel. Will he tell me you were with him the whole time? Did you ever leave him?”
“We were in different rows of the vineyard. But we were talking the whole time. Yes, he will tell you that.”
“And what about after you left Mr. Styles? Where were you and who were you with?”
Ortiz squinted, looked off at the parking lot behind them. “I went home, had dinner with Enrique. My friend.”
“Anyone else see you?”
“The people in the restaurant. El Brinquito.”
Brix nodded. “I know the place. I’m going to check that out, too. And what time did you leave?”
Ortiz looked down and rubbed at his forehead. “I think it was around eight. I went home. Miss Wright can tell you. And I stay there all night and then went to bed.”
Brix pulled out his phone, flipped it open, and aimed it at Ortiz. The electronic click of a simulated camera shutter sounded. “You can go, Miguel. But next time when you see the police, don’t run. Especially if it’s me.”
Ortiz nodded with an embarrassing shift of his eyes. He walked off, his head down. When he was far enough away, Vail said, “He’s illegal. You knew that?”
Brix pocketed his phone, then lifted a shoulder. “If we got rid of all the illegals in California, it’d bring our economy to a screeching halt.”
Vail watched Ortiz in the distance as he crossed East Napa Street. “If Ortiz were a serial killer, he’d fit more in line with a disorganized killer. Not very sociable, lower education, average intelligence at best, manual labor type job. But like I said before, our offender is more complex. He’s predominantly organized. He brings the weapon with him. He’s purposeful, he plans his kills. He’s intelligent, sharp, and resourceful. Bottom line, Ortiz doesn’t look like our UNSUB.”
“I didn’t think so,” Brix said. “Still, I’ll check out his story, just to be sure.”
“And that means we’re still nowhere,” Dixon said.
Vail turned and headed into the parking lot, toward Brix’s car. “Not nowhere, Roxx. Just not where we want to be.”
While waiting, Brix emailed Vail his camera photo of Ortiz, and then she and Dixon walked over to the visitor’s bureau, which backed up to City Hall in the square’s parklike center. The interior office space was pleasant, filled with maps, signage for events and area promotions, and brochure racks.
Vail and Dixon showed the staff Ortiz’s picture and asked if they knew him. Both women said they had seen him around, but had never observed any unusual or unruly behavior.
As they left, Vail said, “I didn’t think that’d get us anywhere.”
“You never know when you’re going to run across a victim who escaped alive, someone who’s too scared to go to the cops. Or one guy who heard another guy bragging about his kill.”
By the time they returned to the car, Lugo was pulling alongside Brix, who was leaning against the front quarter panel of his Ford.
Lugo got out, holding a manila folder above his head. “Kevin called me. He was going through Victoria’s things and found her file of board notes.” He handed them to Dixon. “I started to go through them but then remembered you were meeting with the board president today.”
“We were supposed to have already met but we pushed it back to chat with Miguel Ortiz.”
Lugo shook his head. “Let me guess. Waste of time.”
“It was worth a shot,” Brix said with a shrug. “I’ve got some things to follow up on, but yeah. Looks that way.”
Lugo nodded at the folder in Dixon’s hand. “Hopefully that’ll help you out when you meet with that board president.”
Vail consulted her watch. “Speaking of which, let’s get going.”
Vail and Dixon took Lugo’s car, leaving Brix to partner with Lugo, and headed to Wedded Bliss Estate Wines, where the Georges Valley AVA board president served as chief executive. While en route, Vail reviewed the file Lugo had brought them.
After several minutes of struggling to make out the handwriting and abbreviations, Vail stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders.
Dixon tapped the papers. “Anything in there?”
