Startled, Callahan turned to find a young man with bloodshot eyes standing in the doorway. He wore a robe, cinched at the waist.
Alejandro Ruiz.
“She took it everywhere we went,” he said. “Every country, every city. Was always telling me what a work of genius it is. A gift from God, second only to the Bible.” His eyes shifted, staring at nothing. “A lot of good it did her.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Ruiz.” She offered a hand to shake. “I’m Agent Callahan.”
Ruiz didn’t seem to notice the offer. He was looking around the room, taking it in. “She didn’t know I knew about this place. Thought she could hide it from me, but she didn’t even bother to put on a lock on the door.” He paused. “The knowledge always felt like a betrayal, yet here you stand, exposing her secrets.”
Callahan ignored the jab. “Maybe she trusted you.”
He smiled. “Gabriela had high hopes for humanity, and a lot of big plans, but her trust was reserved for the voices inside her head.”
“Voices?”
“God. Angels. She was regular Joan of Arc.”
“She told you this?”
He nodded. “Late one night, in a moment of weakness. But when I pressed her about it, she pulled away as if she realized she’d just revealed some sort of state secret.” He paused. “Things were never the same between us after that.”
“And this didn’t worry you? Make you wonder if she had mental problems?”
Ruiz shook his head. “A lot of people hear voices when they pray, Agent Callahan. Especially people as blessed as Gabriela was. These last few months, she had a glow about her that’s hard to describe. A sense of purpose.”
“I can tell that you loved her very much.”
“Ever since she was seventeen years old,” he said. “Back when I had my own ministry. I still remember when she was busking on street corners, playing her music for spare change, struggling to overcome her addiction. I often thought she was in too deep to ever find the light. But she did.”
Callahan thought of Martinez’s cover story. “Do you think her addiction may have played a part in her death?”
“Not a chance. I saw how devastated she was when her friend Sofie died. She would never go back to that. Not after everything we’d accomplished.”
“So what do you think happened to her?”
“I wish I knew. I just know she couldn’t have done this to herself.”
Callahan nodded. “In your statement to the police, you said you smelled gasoline, right before you and her bodyguards found her.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“This was just before you heard Gabriela’s screams, right?”
He closed his eyes. “Yes.”
“How long had she been missing at that point?”
He thought about it a moment. Shrugged. “Three, maybe five minutes. Nothing more.”
“And between the time you heard her screams and found her in the storage room?”
“No more than thirty seconds or so. And by that time she was already . . .” He stopped himself and stared at the floor, looking as if he were about to be sick.
“I’m sorry to keep pushing, Mr. Ruiz, but I want to be absolutely certain that you smelled gasoline.”
He looked up sharply. “You think I’m lying?”
“I think you could be confused. How far away were you when you smelled it?”
“Pretty far. Gabriela was down a long hallway, around a corner. But there’s no confusion.”
Gas fumes are strong, Callahan thought, but would Ruiz have been able to smell them from that distance? And why hadn’t any of the bodyguards corroborated his statement?
Could he have imagined it?
Ruiz slumped against the door frame, and she could see that grief was weighing him down. “Can we be done with this, please?”
“Just a few more questions,” she said, then gestured to the wall behind the prayer desk. “You say you’ve been in here before. Do you have any idea what that symbol represents?”
Ruiz glanced at it and shook his head. “I probably should, but I don’t recognize it. I’m sure it meant something special to Gabriela. Her faith was deep.”
“I think that’s a pretty safe assumption,” Callahan said, then showed him the highlighted passage in
“Yes.”
“
Another shrug. “Could be anyone, I suppose. Gabriela dealt with a lot of people. Fans. Charity volunteers. Bible students.”
“What about crew members?”
He nodded. “We’re well staffed.”
“Do you know if any of them practice the occult?”
He seemed affronted by the idea. “Of course not. Everyone on Gabriela’s team has found the Way, including her bodyguards. Why would you ask such a thing?”
So he hadn’t seen the mark on the floor.
And nobody had bothered to mention it to him.
“My job is to look at all of the possibilities,” she told him. “Do you know anyone with the initials CSP?”
He thought about it and shook his head.
Callahan dropped the book to the prayer desk and gestured to the Saint Christopher medallion. “Any idea who gave her this?”
He looked at it. “It’s probably just one of her trinkets from the auction house. Are we finished yet?”
“Just one more thing. What about your cell phone? Were you able to find it?”
He nodded and reached into his robe pocket, pulling out an iPhone. “I spend half my life on this thing, but I haven’t touched it since Gabriela died.”
“Then you haven’t checked your voice mail?”
He waved a hand, dismissing the notion. “I’m sure there are dozens of messages. People calling with condolences. But I haven’t had the energy.”
“What about the one from Gabriela?”
His gaze snapped to Callahan’s. “What are you talking about?”
“The outgoing calls on her cell phone show that she dialed your number just before she died. She may have left you a message.”
His face went pale. “What?”
He looked down at the phone and, as Callahan watched, he immediately touched the screen, pulling up his voice mail application. He quickly scrolled through several dozen messages until he came to one marked
He stopped. Stared at it.
“Oh my God,” he said quietly. “Oh my God.”
11
