“Ramon? Is he the Cuban part of the equation?”
Sin sipped her ice water and raised one eyebrow. “Using that sniper curse again, Garcia?”
Garcia pointed a finger and was about to speak when the smell of freshly brewed Cuban coffee wafted toward the table. “That smells like heaven,” were the only words that came out of his mouth.
In fact, they were the only words to come out of anyone’s mouth for the next twenty minutes. Forks down, bellies full, the four of them sat back with expressions of euphoria plastered across their faces.
The quiet was broken by Fletcher. “Why is this place called The Library? I don’t see a book anywhere.”
“Look down,” Sanchez grinned.
Under at least one leg of every table was a book.
“The library is what is used to keep the tables from wobbling,” Sanchez laughed. “I had the same question years ago, only I made the mistake of asking Cecilia, Trudy’s mother.”
“Why was it a mistake?” Garcia asked.
“This place is a hidden gem among the locals, and Cecilia wasn’t too fond of tourists. She gave me an earful in Spanish. The only thing that saved me was being able to respond in her native tongue. After that,” he looked around the small diner with what appeared fond memory, “Charlie and I became regulars. We ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner here, always ordering the special.”
Sin, who had been quietly drinking her coffee and observing everything in her surroundings, uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “So, what’s the real reason you brought us here?”
“The incredible food is not enough?”
Sin pursed her lips and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, the food was amazing, but you were chomping at the bit back in Miami to come with us. A man with that type of drive doesn’t take us to some out of the way place for lunch for no reason.” Sin looked about the small diner and spread her arms out wide. “What’s the real reason you brought us here.”
Sin could tell by Sanchez’s sideways grin that she had piqued his curiosity. He, too, leaned forward and in doing so, drew Fletcher and Garcia closer to the table. “Why do you think I brought you here?”
Sin removed the black scrunchie from her wrist, tied back her raven tresses in a tight ponytail, and leaned in even further. “When the waitress, Trudy, first came out of the kitchen, she hesitated slightly after seeing your face. I realize you both have aged since 1971, but she recognized you.”
“So, she has a good memory,” Sanchez played along, “I already told you that I had been here back when the Ash case was active.”
Sin smirked. “I might be young but don’t underestimate my intelligence or intuition. Your eyes dilated in an immediate response to seeing her. That is not the response of someone who saw an acquaintance from forty-three years ago. That’s the response of someone who knew this woman well.”
“Keep going,” Sanchez said, taking a sip from his cup.
“When the boys and I were in the Keys at Charlie’s place, we had a chance to look at the files of the Ash case. There were a lot of pictures of the scene and of his victims. Pictures of how they looked before they were kidnapped and of how they looked after they were found.” Sin could see his expression start to change. She could tell that he knew where she was going. “One of the victims was a young coed by the name of Melody Cramer. I can’t help but notice that Trudy has the same features as Melody. There is definitely a family resemblance.”
Sin’s right eyebrow rose incrementally with her words. “Should I keep going or would you like to fill in the blanks?”
Sanchez took a deep breath and blew the air out of his mouth. “Just when I think I have you pegged, you do something that reminds me how special of an agent you are.”
“You can bullshit me later, Mayor. Tell us what you know, or I will order you straight back to sunny Florida.”
“Melody was a first year grad student at Palmer College of Chiropractic. The campus is huge and sits right on top of Brady Hill in downtown Davenport.”
Sin leaned across the table and whispered through gritted teeth, “I don’t need a freaking tour guide, I need answers.”
“I’m getting there,” Sanchez said. “We first came to Davenport back in ’70 because a girl from the community college had been found dead. Melody was her best friend and the one who reported her missing.” Sanchez paused for a moment as if to collect his thoughts. “Trudy was Melody’s cousin.”
“And you started seeing Melody…in a personal way, that right?” Sin said.
“It’s not like that, but you have to understand. Melody was scared to death that she might be next. She clung to Charlie and me like glue.” Sanchez hung his head in what seemed like mourning.
Sin softened her tone. “How long after was she killed?”
“We received a call that another girl was reported missing in Des Moines. We left here on a Wednesday to check out the report. Trudy called me on Friday to tell me that Melody never made it home from school Thursday night.”
“Why Melody?” Sin asked. “She didn’t fit the mold. From what I recall—”
“Which is everything,” Garcia interjected.
Fletcher nodded his agreement.
“From what I recall,” Sin continued, “Melody was not one of Ash’s students, and from her picture, she definitely wasn’t plain looking. She was gorgeous.”
“At first it didn’t make any sense to us either, but when we found the body, the note left behind explained everything.”
“Note?” Sin exclaimed. “There was no mention of any note in Charlie’s files.”
“That’s because he didn’t know about it. I arrived at the scene a few minutes before him. I read then…destroyed the note.”
Sin slammed her spoon down on
