Julia nodded. “It started a couple of months ago. January. He told me they were just friends. He was helping her with her art. She wanted to be a comics illustrator. But the way he drew her. He showed me.” She pulled a tissue from a box on the table, blew her nose. “She was . . . special. A mother can tell. Noah was . . . he was happy.”
I remembered Rivero’s words at the comics store. That Noah was happy. And that he had something to lose.
“The hell, Julia?” Hal said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Julia didn’t look up from her hands. “Because you’re you. And she’s Hispanic.”
The flush deepened. “He was dating a wetback?”
“Jesus, Dad.” Todd groaned.
“That attitude is exactly why I never told you,” Julia snapped.
“I don’t believe it,” Hal said.
But I did. I was thinking of our Milkshake Lady. Of the odd design on her shirt—the one that was also tattooed on Noah’s arm.
“Do you know her name?” I asked.
“Noah called her Ami. With an i. Said she was from El Salvador. But he never shared her last name.”
Bandoni said, “You never met her?”
While Hal glared, Julia shook her head. “No. But Noah said she was here as part of a program. IPS? TPI? I can’t remember.”
“Goddamn illegal,” Hal said.
“TPS, maybe?” I said. “Temporary Protected Status?”
“That’s it.” Julia dug her eyes into her husband before turning back to me. “She was here legally. But she was worried that her status might change.”
“What the hell is that?” Hal asked. “A TPS?”
Julia looked at Bandoni, who looked at me.
I clicked my pen closed. “Temporary Protected Status allows select migrants from approved countries to remain in the US for a time when they are at risk in their home countries. If Ami was from El Salvador, then maybe she’s part of the indigenous population there. Paramilitary forces have wiped out entire villages.”
Hal looked uncomfortable. Probably the first he’d heard about it.
But excitement rippled along my skin. If Ami was here under a TPS, then maybe there was a way to trace her.
Hal shook his head. “It’s not right. It’s just not right. I’m sorry for what’s going on in these countries. I really am. But it’s not our problem. We can’t open our doors to everyone. We can’t take care of everyone. And isn’t it true that these people stay on once their visas run out?”
I spread my hands. “Sometimes. But—”
He snorted. “That makes her illegal, and Noah wouldn’t do that. He was the kid who always colored inside the lines.”
“You don’t even know your own son,” Julia said.
“Oh, but he told you everything?”
I cleared my throat. “You mentioned Ami was learning to be a comics artist. Did she have a regular job?”
“Cleaning houses, I think.”
Hal palmed his forehead. “This just gets better.”
I made a note. AMI ________. TOP-A?
Bandoni looked at Todd. “Your brother ever say anything to you about this woman?”
Todd gazed into the air as if rifling through an invisible memory deck. After a moment, he shook his head. “I wish he had.”
I took Deke’s composite drawing and the sketch of the Milkshake Lady from my satchel and set them on the table. “You ever see this woman?”
The three Ashers leaned over the drawings.
Hal reared back. “She’s barely even pretty.”
“Grow up, Hal,” Julia said. Then she turned a wistful gaze on me. “That’s Noah’s drawing of Ami. The one he showed me.”
“Did he tell you what the symbol means?” I asked, pointing at Ami’s shirt. “It looks a little like a shepherd’s staff.”
Her hand flew to her throat. “That’s his tattoo! I didn’t—oh, God. I didn’t put it together before. Is it important?”
“We’re looking at everything,” I said.
“Noah wouldn’t explain it,” she said and fell silent.
All three of them looked exhausted, and Bandoni gave me a faint nod, a signal that it was time to wrap up the interview. I picked up the drawings, and Bandoni shrugged into his suit coat. He said, “Is there anything else you can think of that might help? Anyone who was angry with Noah? Or maybe jealous of him?”
Todd and Julia shook their heads.
Bandoni reached into his pocket, handed out business cards. “You think of anything else, whether you believe it’s relevant or not, give us a call.”
“Find who did this,” Hal said. “Find who killed our son.”
He reached out to take his wife’s hand.
She made no move at all.
Outside, we stood in the chilly shadow of the hotel. Up and down the street, lights came on against an early dusk.
Bandoni’s color was high. He tugged at the knot in his tie. “Nice fucking family. Whatever the parents got left between them, this death is gonna blow them apart.”
“I got the impression they haven’t been all that together for a long time.”
“I’ll bet Hal Asher played his sons against each other every chance he got. His idea of motivation. And the mom just ducked when the dishes flew.”
“Harsh.”
“Call it as I see it. What’d you think?”
“We need to look into this seduction community. Talk to Riley Lynch. See if he can identify Craze and the other man in the photo.”
“I start needing someone to point out the obvious, I’ll get a furry partner of my own.”
I patted Clyde’s head. “Not sure you could keep up. We also need to find the neighbor or friend who took the photo.”
“I’ll get patrol to recanvass the neighborhood.” Bandoni dug out a cigarette, patted his pockets for a lighter, and swore. “You got a match?”
“Sorry.”
“Damn it.” He shoved the cigarette back. “I had a chat with Smith and Wesson about Water Resources. Noah was a good employee. Liked by the handful of people who worked with him.”
“A couple of people have mentioned Noah and climate change in the same breath. Anything threatening about their environmental stance?”
“Nah. The company seems invested in conservation and resource management. And they’re careful to get input from all concerned parties before they start a project. Farmers. Recreationists. Indigenous populations.” The wind ticked up, and he shoved his