No One Heard Her Scream

'He made me watch, you know.' Sonja grimaced, and her lips trembled. 'Matt, the guys at the party, and his men after . . . the bastard made me watch it all. I thought I loved him once, but you don't love a guy like him. He's a user.'

Becca had a sudden appreciation for Sonja and Brogan's mutual attraction. But her heart ached for Isabel Marquez, the innocent girl caught in the middle. Her only fault was being a poor judge of character. And despite Rudy and Victor's efforts to protect their sister, the brothers couldn't be everywhere at once. At some point, they had to let go and hope Isabel would be safe and make the right choices. But that didn't happen. And Becca had a taste of how they must have felt after their worst imaginings had been trumped by the reality of her murder.

'What did she do? Threaten to go to the cops?'

'Not at first. I almost convinced her to forget it. I told her no one would believe her against rich guys like that. And she had no real proof it even happened. So much time had passed, but I guess it ate away at her. 'Cause after the argument she had with her brother Rudy, things changed.'

'So you killed her.'

Sonja shut her eyes tight and drew a frazzled breath. 'It's just that . . . Isabel was gonna ruin everything. I couldn't let that happen.' Silence. She clenched her teeth and stared off into space.

'Isabel was going to tell the police about her rape. Tell me what happened?'

'After her brother left the theater, she started talking about what happened at that fuckin' party. Right in the open. The workers took off after all the shouting, but anyone coulda heard her if they walked back in. She didn't care. Her brother Rudy got her all upset. Isabel never told him what happened, but she thought if she told the cops, it would be like confession and wipe her slate clean somehow. God would forgive her. She could be so stupid like that.'

Becca tightened her jaw after Sonja called Isabel stupid for wanting to do the right thing, trivializing rape as if it were a silly parking ticket. But she needed to keep her talking and resisted the urge to let her own emotions show.

'She was going to blow the whistle, and you couldn't let her do that.'

'Exactly. I had no choice. I kept thinkin' about how I'd be arrested and do jail time. Even if I could live with that, Matt would've been arrested, with his party guests dragged into it. A big mess. He had a lot more at stake. Just like now, I'd be better off in jail, away from him. And it sounds like he's headin' the same direction. Good for me.'

So she was protecting Brogan? Yeah, right, Becca thought. And oh what a difference seven years makes. Now she couldn't care less if he's put in jail. Sonja's smoke and mirrors were completely transparent now. How could she have been so blind to her lies? Becca resisted the urge to glance at Murphy. If Sonja had found out about Brogan being dead, this interrogation would have been over before it began.

'Tell me what happened,' Becca prompted.

Sonja heaved a sigh, her eyes engrossed in her memory. 'I stood in her way, shoving her. But she wouldn't back down. When Isabel slapped me, I lost it. The bitch! She didn't care what would happen to me. I grabbed the first thing I found. Some kind of hammer. And I hit her over the head with it. There was so much blood.'

She cried. Her sobs echoed in the room until a lumbering silence took over. Becca narrowed her eyes and caught Murphy's eye. He gave a slight nod, letting her know he thought the same as she did. Becca had gotten what she wanted—a solid confession— but it left her empty knowing Isabel's life had meant so little to Sonja Garza. A pawn in her sex play with Matt Brogan.

Becca kept her composure and moved on. 'What did you do then?'

Sonja wiped her cheeks with a sleeve of her sweat jacket, choking on her words. 'I panicked. Didn't know what to do. I shut all the doors and locked them, so no one would come in. The blood ... I couldn't. . . I called Matt using my cell . . . and waited.'

Just when Becca thought there would be no more twists to Sonja's story, the woman zinged a curve-ball over home plate. But Becca couldn't afford to react. If Brogan were alive and partial to talking, he would've mentioned something as trivial as disposing of a corpse.

Only Isabel hadn't been dead after Sonja struck her. She had been alive. Unconscious, but alive. Sonja waited for Brogan while Isabel's heart beat in her chest, a faint pulse. The outcome would have been the same, but the callousness of the crime made her sick. Becca fought the knot wedged in her throat.

'Tell me your version of the story.'

Sonja shrugged with depraved indifference. 'I can't believe I had to convince that son of a bitch to help me. I would have done much more for him.'

More than murder? Becca shook with anger, but held it in. Finally, Sonja looked up and raised her chin.

'You'll find Isabel buried in the old theater, to the right of the stage behind a brick wall. She's been there all along. Brogan bricked the body in the wall with the cement and equipment left behind. And he had Cavanaugh suspend the renovation for a while, to make sure no one would notice the smell and the finished wall. From what Matt said, he never told Cavanaugh what happened, but the old man did him a favor, no questions asked.'

Out of the blue, Sonja laughed, a coldhearted hollow sound. 'Matt dumped me after that. Threatened me with a knife to stay away. But knowin' what I did and where the body was buried had been his insurance I'd do what he said. Since he helped me, guess the insurance worked both ways.'

Becca couldn't hide her reaction this time. Sonja confessed to killing a friend and reduced the murder to nothing more than a catalyst to a breakup with her boyfriend. Unbelievable!

'Sonja Garza. You're under arrest for the murder of Isabel Marquez. In your own handwriting, I want you to make a statement, telling what happened to Isabel. Then sign and date it.' She shoved a notepad across the table, along with a pen.

Becca would wait until she had a written confession and a signature before telling her Isabel had been alive when Brogan bricked the girl in the wall. For most people, that knowledge would make a difference on the guilt barometer. But in this case, Becca suspected the news would have little significance, no more concern than a fender-bender in a rental car.

Sonja wrote a few lines and stopped. She looked up at Becca and asked, 'Can I have a cigarette now?'

The cold dead eyes of a killer stared back. No remorse in sight.

CHAPTER20

Two Weeks Later

This time, Becca had taken a real vacation, taking the first steps to mend her soul. Danielle spent a couple of days in the hospital but was eager to come home. Momma insisted both her girls live under one roof for a while. How could Becca refuse? The gesture touched her heart, along with her mother's willingness to join her and Danielle in therapy.

Dani wouldn't be alone on her road to recovery.

And today, another milestone had been realized. A bittersweet one. Isabel Marquez had come home, too. Over a week ago, a positive ID had been made using the family's DNA, and the bones had been released for burial. Although today's memorial had been a private affair, only a few close friends and family, Diego had pulled strings to make the day solemn for the Marquez family. And in his mind, only one church would do.

On Main Plaza in downtown San Antonio, the San Fernando Cathedral had the honor of being the first parish in Texas, its construction completed in 1755. The historic site was the crown jewel of the Old Spanish Missions, with an elaborate stone facade, ornate stained glass, an impressive pipe organ, and a hand-carved stone baptismal font. Pope John Paul had blessed the church with one of his visits. And politicians, ambassadors, and governors had become a part of the cathedral's distinctive history.

Diego had insisted Isabel deserved nothing less. And he spared no expense, paying for all the arrangements of the tasteful service.

Angelic voices of a small choir heralded the passing of a life cut short. Incense and the aroma of flowers filled the air, along with a sense of relief that the Marquez girl would finally be put to rest. A moving and solemn memorial service, no less extraordinary than Isabel's brief life.

Now, the meager funeral procession pulled into the San Fernando Cemetery on Castroville Road, not far from the Marquez home. Across a piercing blue sky, faint wisps of clouds graced the horizon. And the sun reflected off the glittery offerings left at other grave markers. To honor the dead, tinsel and baubles danced and fluttered in the