'There's blood everywhere!'
'Whose blood?'
'I think he's dead!'
'Who's dead?'
'Someone killed him!'
'Who?'
'Trey! Trey Rawlins!'
'The golfer?'
'Yes!'
'Ma'am, I'm dispatching police to your location.'
'Thank God! Hurry!'
'Who killed him?'
'I don't know.'
'Is anyone else in the house?'
'I… I don't know. I hope not.'
'Where are you?'
'In our bedroom.'
'Stay there. Stay on the phone until the police arrive.'
'I hear the sirens. Tell them to come up the back stairs. The doors are open. I'm right inside.'
'What's your name?'
'Rebecca Fenney.'
'Stay with me, Rebecca.'
A few minutes passed. The dispatcher's voice could be heard in the background and Rebecca's intermittent 'Oh, God' and 'Trey' and 'So much blood.'
Then the dispatcher's voice came back on. 'You still with me, Rebecca?'
Her voice sounded weak: 'Yes.'
'Rebecca, the police are there.'
In the background: 'Police! We're coming in!'
'I'm in here! Thank God you're here!'
'Ma'am, are you okay?'
'Yes.'
'Don't move until we clear the house.'
Only her breathing could be heard and then a voice in the background: 'House is clear. Ma'am, hang up the phone, I've got dispatch on my radio… Dispatch, it's a murder scene. Send out homicide, M.E., crime scene… Shit, send everyone.' A pause. 'The poor bastard.'
The tape ended, and they sat without speaking. It was the next morning, and Scott and Bobby were sitting in the Jetta in the parking lot across 34th Street from St. Patrick's Catholic Church listening to the 911 call on the CD player and looking at the crime scene photos of Rebecca with Trey Rawlins' blood streaked down her face like war paint. Parked on the street was a satellite TV truck; loitering outside the church doors was Renee Ramirez in a tight short skirt.
'The D.A. was right,' Bobby said.
'About what?'
'Renee. She does have great legs.'
Inside Our Lady of Guadalupe Chapel under a twelve-story-tall bell tower, the funeral mass for Trey Rawlins was taking place. Bobby pointed at the church.
'Did you know that after the Great Storm, they raised this entire island above sea level, six feet on the bay side, seventeen feet on the Gulf side? That church weighs three thousand tons. They jacked it up and filled in underneath. They wanted storm water to flow to the bay side. It worked. Problem was, Ike flooded the Island from the bay side.'
'I didn't know that. How'd you know that?'
'Tourist guide, at the beach house.' He shrugged. 'Wife's seven months' pregnant. I read in bed a lot.'
'Me, too.'
'You don't have a wife.'
'That's why I read in bed.'
Bobby grunted. 'You think the caddie killed Trey?'
'Goose has big hands and a good motive-a hundred thousand dollars.'
'A bus token will get you killed in some parts of Dallas. You gonna take his prints to the D.A.?'
'Tomorrow, at the grand jury. We wouldn't get them back in time anyway, and Rex wouldn't stop the indictment even if Goose's prints match those on the kitchen counter, not with Rebecca's prints on the murder weapon. After the hearing, I'm going back out to the tournament, talk to Brett and Tess McBride, get their prints. Trey and Tess, that's a good motive for a jealous husband. You were right, Trey cheated on Rebecca.'
'She cheated on you, he cheated on her. Funny how that works.'
'Yeah. Funny.'
'Least we've got more suspects.' Bobby ticked them off on his fingers. 'The three unidentified sets of prints at the house, the construction workers-'
'Is Carlos on that?'
'He hired on yesterday.' Back to his fingers. 'Goose, Brett, and
…'
'Rebecca.' Bobby nodded. 'She didn't sound like a killer on that 911 call.'
'No, she didn't. But her prints were on that knife stuck in Trey's chest.'
'The others had motives, Bobby. She didn't.'
'Unless she knew about Trey and Tess.'
'Yeah. Unless.' Scott considered that possibility. 'Only if Trey were leaving her for Tess. What else?'
'Karen's reviewing Trey's endorsement contracts-'
SSI's legal department had released copies without a subpoena.
— 'and running assets searches on Trey and Rebecca. I've been through the murder book, read all the witness statements and police reports. I'm waiting for the final autopsy report, toxicology, and DNA.'
'Grand jury will indict tomorrow, we'll fast-track the trial, you and Karen prep for that.'
'Yep. Oh, I went out to Trey's country club, talked to the assistant pro. He said Trey came out that morning, Thursday, but he left just after noon, didn't come back.'
'Rebecca said he practiced all day, while she shopped in Houston.'
'He lied.'
'About a lot of things.'
Bobby gestured at the church. 'They're coming out.'
He grabbed the camcorder and filmed the funeral guests exiting the church.
'That's Trey's sister,' Rebecca said. 'Terri hates me.'
The image on the screen was of a young woman in a black dress. Scott, Bobby, Karen, and Rebecca were inside watching the funeral tape. The girls were outside with Consuela and the baby. Louis was watching them. Carlos was roofing.
'Why?'
'She thought I was too old for him, didn't want him to marry me. At least that's what he said.' She shook her head. 'I should've gone to the funeral.'
'Media was there,' Scott said. 'Wouldn't have been good.' He pointed at the screen. 'There's the D.A. and his wife, Tom Taylor and his.' An older man in a suit and a woman walked next to them. 'Who's that?'
'I don't know.'
On the screen, Renee Ramirez stuck a microphone in the D.A.'s face, but he waved her off. She wasn't happy.
'Rebecca, you should stay here at the house.'
'Why?'
