Sanchez white-knuckled the arms of his seat. His voice becoming angry. “You goaded her to attack, so you…” He eyed Fletcher and Garcia, “so your team could take her out.”
Sin scowled in his direction. “I did what I had to do in order to get her to spill the truth. She had free will to react to that truth in any way she chose. She chose to attack.”
Sanchez shook his head. “She had no choice. She reacted in the only way she knew. In a way you knew she would if you pushed her buttons.”
Sin didn’t respond.
“So what’s our next move?” Garcia said, breaking the tension.
“We get the mayor back to his city, we go talk to Joel, and I need to talk to Charlie,” Sin said.
“I thought I heard you speaking to him before we left the Quad Cities?” Fletcher said.
“The only person I spoke to was Evelyn. I needed her to start gathering some intel for us.”
“What kind of intel?” Garcia asked.
“The kind that will prove or disprove Miranda’s words about Ashley.”
There was a temporary lull in the conversation.
“I’m surprised you didn’t speak to Charlie,” Fletcher said, finishing his prior thought.
Sin glanced at him and then back at some notes she was writing. “If he is following his itinerary,” she said, “Charlie should be in the air heading home. I figured I would let him get on familiar turf before talking to him. I need to see him in person.”
“Why talk to Joel?” Sanchez said.
“Did you notice anything unusual about Miranda’s face?” Sin said in response.
“Besides the bullet hole?”
“Yeah,” Sin said flippantly, “besides that.”
“She wore a lot of makeup,” Sanchez answered. “Probably trying to cover her age.”
“She didn’t need to cover her age; she was still beautiful. She was covering her scars. They were slight, but she had a few scars from when she sliced up her own face,” Sin said. “Now picture Joel.”
Sanchez’s eyes opened wide in acknowledgement. “His face was scarred.”
Sin nodded. “From his art lessons with his mother.”
“George’s face bore similar scars,” Fletcher followed up. “They were faint, but you could see them on close inspection.”
“I’m sure if we checked his medical records, we would find some plastic surgery done in the past,” Sin said. “He is meticulous about his looks. It’s a safe bet, he tried to have them removed.”
“And Ashley?” Garcia asked.
“That’s the interesting part,” Sin leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her hair partially covering her face. “Ashley is a natural beauty. Wears very little makeup and has a spotless complexion.”
Sanchez squinted and shrugged. “So you think she was part of this all along?”
Sin raked her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. Her head hung down, but her piercing jade-green eyes veered up. “I don’t know. She wasn’t lying when she spoke of her hatred for her mother or about her abuse when she was younger, but I think her abuse may have been more psychological than physical.”
“Why? I mean, what makes you think that?”
Sin addressed Sanchez. “A couple of reasons. First, there would have been a physiological sign if she was lying, and there wasn’t; and, second, her fear and hatred of her mother was real. She was abused in some way, but there’s no visible evidence left over. She doesn’t even have a tiny scar. So I don’t think it was physical.”
“Or,” Fletcher pointed, “Miranda may have punished her and beaten her body, just stayed away from her face.”
“Possible,” Sin bit her bottom lip, “that’s one of the things I want to talk to Joel about.”
“If Ashley is part of this, shouldn’t you pick her up?” Sanchez asked.
“No, I want her free. She may let her guard down and give herself away. Besides, she’s not going anywhere.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I asked Sergeant Glenn of the PBSO to keep a watch on her. He is the sergeant who secured the Delray Beach scene for me. If she strays, he’ll let me know.”
67
It was late when they landed in Miami.
Sin tossed her backpack over her shoulder and walked Sanchez to his car. “I hope you were able to get some closure by going with us, Mayor.”
Sanchez stopped and turned to her. “Do you know why I insisted on going?”
Sin shrugged. “I assumed it was for the reason I just mentioned.”
“That was part of it,” he agreed, “but there was another part, a more important part.”
“And that was?”
“I always wondered if I’d made a mistake leaving the FBI. I never told anyone that I left because of this case, but it was the underlying cause. Everything that happened to those girls…to Melody…I couldn’t let it go. I felt as if her death was my fault. I left the Bureau out of fear and guilt. Now I’m sure I made the right decision.” Sanchez looked east toward Miami Beach. “This is where I belong.”
“It must have been hard for you to live with those feelings hanging over your head.”
“You have no idea.”
Sin said her goodbyes and turned to leave.
“How do you do it, Agent?” Sanchez said.
Sin stopped but didn’t turn back around. “Do what?”
“What you do. I’ve read your files, even private files. You’ve been in heinous situations and have dealt with the worst of humanity, but somehow you seem to come out of it unscathed.”
Sin turned to face him. “Every case has left its own scar,” she said, “but every case has left me more determined to make a difference.”
A smile crept across Sanchez’s face as he squinted from the morning sun. “La Perla Angel de la Muerte,” he muttered, walking away.
Sin stood in the hot sun watching him drive away before joining her men.
68
The next morning, the team split up. Fletcher headed to Delray, Garcia went to help Evelyn gather information, and Sin went to speak to Joel. He was in a county lockup in the Chrome Detention Center located in western Miami-Dade County.
Sin waited in an interrogation room for Joel to be brought to her. Accompanied by armed guard, he shuffled
