Chapter Seven
Danica
“Nice of you to join me,” I spat as Schilling let himself into my house. He headed straight for the chiller, pulling out anything vaguely edible.
“We do have actual, live cases you know? Ones we should be working on.”
“Bullshit.”
We were on top of our cases. Schilling made sure of it. He’d been distant since our visit to Leo last week. I’d chased up the leads on my own, all of them dead ends. Stacey’s pimp had been her ex, Maia’s father. At the time of her murder, he’d just started a long stretch for what he did to Maia. The woman Leo had been hiring had vanished. Moved on, dead, changed her name, who knows? She wasn’t around anymore, no-one could or would tell me where she went. That left only one way to turn.
“This timeline makes no sense,” I sighed, shoving Leo’s case file across the kitchen counter.
“What about it?” Schilling shrugged, glancing up from the salad he was preparing.
“The neighbour reported hearing screaming for an hour before he rang the Police, who turned up within fifteen minutes, according to the initial report. The neighbour then testified in court that the screaming stopped just after he called the Police.”
“Right?”
“You’re telling me Leo raped and bludgeoned to death two people, then fell asleep within the space of an hour?”
“It’s possible. He’s a well built guy. Stacey was an addict, she weighed less than a bag of sugar wringing wet, Maia was a kid. They stood no chance against a six foot four bodybuilder with a baseball bat.”
“How do you fall asleep within fifteen minutes of killing two people?”
“So, we talk to the neighbour again, put Mexico off a while, is that you want me to say, kid? You have my permission, in fact I insist. Mexico is cancelled. Let’s go see the neighbour.”
“I tried that last night,” I sighed. “When you were out on date night. He’s moved. Moved in a week before the murders, moved out a month after. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
“In that neighbourhood? No.”
“How’d your date go?”
“Fine.”
“That’s it, just fine? You abandoned me for fine? Risked Leo’s life for fucking fine?”
“Thursday is date night. Thursday’s always been date night.”
“And Monday is boys night, Wednesday is family night. A month, Schilling. I wanted one month from you. Is Leo’s life not even worth that to you?”
“No.”
I hated him. Truly despised him. He raked through the insulated food bag he’d dragged in with him, yanking out another casserole.
“What about me, am I worth it to you?”
“I’m here aren’t I? We have an early start tomorrow. Eat something, go to bed. And Kid, if you don’t get what you want from your dad, you gotta accept what’s happening. Leo has. It’s over, he wants it to be over.”
“I’ll never accept that.”
Schilling spooned the beef casserole onto the plates he’d set out, piling my plate high.
“Eat.”
“Fuck you,” I hissed, shoving my plate across the scuffed, laminated counter. It shattered over the linoleum floor with a satisfying crash, splattering the cupboards and cooker with sticky, brown beef casserole.
“Very grown up,” Schilling remarked, rolling his grey eyes at me.
Asshole.
I stalked out of the kitchen, slamming every door I passed through as I stamped up the stairs to bed.
My life had been on pause, the same as Leo’s. I’d waited to be saved by very own Prince Charming. He’d sweep me off my feet, teach me how to love and trust, mend the shattered pieces of my soul and live happily ever after with me. Only I had to save him first and no-one was helping me.
I threw myself into the bed, pulling the sheets over my head, still fully clothed. The tears came hard and fast, thick, heavy sobs tore my breath away. I don’t remember falling to sleep. The dreams, Leo on the gurney, strapped down, chains around his ankles and wrists, needles hanging from his arms, his face twisted with terror, those I remembered. The hideous images forever ingrained on my mind, taunting me. It’s too late, you left it too late, they chanted.
Schilling pottered around my kitchen for an hour or so, the radio playing classical rock, cutlery and plates clinking together. He paused at my door before heading to the guest room, listening for the steady rise and fall of my breath.
“I do care, Kid,” he whispered, “you have no idea how much I care.”
He had a funny way of showing it. The man I’d adopted as my father abandoned me in my hour of need for his real family. I’d never forgive that. I was alone in the world again. Tomorrow I’d face the man responsible for the shit show of my life, my father. Alone.
◆◆◆
I crept down the creaky stairs, hopping over the loudest one, my feet tapping lightly on the bare floorboards. The kitchen sparkled. Schilling had gone through the entire house, cleaning, tidying, undoing the chaos I’d created in his absence, as if that’d be enough to heal the rift he’d forced between us.
I slid the kitchen drawer open, slowly, my breath held. Fuck. That fucking asshole. The contents of the drawer crashed over the kitchen floor as I upended the drawer, falling to my knees, crawling through the mess I’d made, desperately searching through the odds and ends spilled from the drawer.
“Looking for this?” Schilling leant against the kitchen doorframe, the backdoor key swinging around his thumb. “You ain’t doing this alone, kid. I get it you hate me. I’d hate me too in your shoes, but you’re gonna have to tolerate me for a day ‘cause you ain’t leaving this house without me.”
“Give me the key, Schilling,” I snapped.
“Nope, not a chance in Hell,” he grinned, throwing it down the front of his pants.
“You disgust me.”
“That’s a shame. I’m quite fond of you. We’ll eat, then we leave.”
He’d locked all the doors and windows, snatched all the keys, including the keys to my station wagon and his mommy mobile people carrier. I stormed back into the kitchen, sighing dramatically as I sank to the breakfast stool at the counter, my arms folded over my chest.
He collected the contents of the drawer in silence, patiently tucking them back into place, grimacing when the drawer squealed in protest at being closed.
“You really need to sort this place out, kid. Clean it for once, it won’t kill you. Do some grocery shopping.”
“I’ve been busy, unlike you,” I hissed.
He didn’t react. That enraged me more, the lack of acknowledgement. I needed to cuss and scream, throw things, smash things, feel something other than helplessness. But Schilling happily hummed his way around my kitchen, throwing bacon, eggs and tomatoes onto the griddle without a care in the world, ignoring the bile spilling from my mouth.
Schilling refused to leave or hand the keys over until I forced down every last bite of the breakfast he’d made and finished off the fresh squeezed juice.
“Can we leave now?” I hissed draining the tumbler of sickly sweet juice.
“Yes.”
He retrieved the key from his underwear, holding my arm, dragging me to his car. He was doing this with me whether I liked or it. And I didn’t like it.
My father, if he hadn’t moved in the ten years since I’d least seen him lived in Nuevo Laredo, a border city along the Texas - Mexico border. A six hour drive in stifling heat, with a man I despised. Schilling sang along to the radio, chatting at me about his family. The family he abandoned me for.
The closer we got to my father, the tighter my chest grew. By the time we reached the border, my knuckles ached from gripping the edge of my seat, my chest burned, the eggs and bacon threatened to make a reappearance.
“I’ll keep you safe,” Schilling promised, easing his car into Mexico. In ten years nothing had changed. The same people buzzed through the streets, heavy load trucks streamed in and out of the city, a good portion of those trucks would be carrying my father’s drugs.
“If anyone recognises me…”
“They won’t get near you,” Schilling said, his hand rested on his gun. “You’re with me, you’re safe.”
In that moment, I was glad for his company.
“You want lunch first?”
“I can’t eat,” I sighed.
“Okay. Let’s do this.”
His sat nav led him through the busy streets. We pulled up outside my father’s house exactly 5 hours and 45 minutes after leaving my home. He had to have answers. Leo’s life, my happiness, depended on it. He was my final lead. The one I’d dreaded the most.
Security around the villa rivalled Fort Knox. Heavy iron gates blocked our access to the long, winding driveway. A camera zoomed in on Schilling as he exited his turquoise people carrier.
“Schilling?”
“Yeah?”
“My name is Danielle Ramirez, I don’t want my dad knowing anything about my life now.”
“Got it, kid.”
My palms itched, coated in cold clammy sweat. My heart thumped so hard I was sure it’d crack a rib. Schilling hit the intercom.
“Hola?”
Angel answered the intercom. His voice sent chills down my spine.
“I’m here with Danielle Ramirez, we’d like to…”
The gates opened, rolling smoothly on their tracks before Schilling finished speaking. Two armed men rushed from the house, their guns trained on Schilling. Schilling raised his hands, glancing towards me.
Angel ran behind them, his hefty frame as big as ever, his oily hair peppered with silver. He shoved past Schilling, heading straight for me. I eased the door open, my hand resting on my gun.
The gorilla like Angel paused, his face white, wide eyes fixed on me.
“He’s with me and if you hurt him, I’ll kill you,” I growled, flicking the edge of my jacket open, giving Angel a peek at my gun.
“Let him go,” Angel snapped.
His armed goons lowered their assault rifles, backing away from Schilling.
“You’d better come in,” Angel said, turning back to the house.
Schilling didn’t miss a beat, he was at my side, peeling my hand off my gun, pushing me towards the car, his arm around my waist, holding me up. He tucked me in the passenger seat, pulling my seatbelt over me.
“You still want to do this? It’s not too late to head home,” he said, sliding into the driver's seat.
“It’s Leo’s last chance. I’m sure. I have to stop running from my past.”
The car edge towards the house, slowly meandering up the winding driveway.
“Fancy,” Schilling remarked, nodding towards the fountain the garden centered around.
“This is what blood money will buy you.”
Angel stood on the steps, the double doors open behind him, glowering at Schilling. The beast hadn’t changed a bit, nothing had. It was like walking back in time stepping into that marble hallway. The floor shone underfoot, pale grey polished marble, a chandelier dripping with crystals hung above us from the high, ornate ceiling.
“Your father is out on business. I’ve called him, he’ll be here shortly.”
“Where else would he be when I need him?” I sighed.
“He loved you, Danielle.”
“Oh please, my father loves money and power.”
Angel didn’t reply. Schilling kept his hand on my shoulder as we followed Angel into the belly of the spanish villa.
We were led to the dining room. The armed guards from the garden lined the edge of the room, their fingers itching at the trigger of their assault rifles. Angel took his place at the top end of the long, mahogany table, nodding for us to sit. A maid hurried in, a tray of drinks and snacks rattling in her shaking hands, her face familiar. She’d been on my father’s payroll for years.
“Here,” Schilling tucked the car keys into my jacket.
“I have a feeling if this goes topsy turvy, you have a better chance than me. Don’t look back, kid.”
“Schilling…”
“I knew what kind of people I’d be meeting when I agreed to this, kid,” he smiled.
“We’re both leaving here in one piece,” I hissed. Schilling nodded, taking a seat halfway down the twelve person table. I placed myself between him and Angel.
“I’m sorry,” Angel breathed after an age of deafening, suffocating silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. They blindsided me.”
“How did they get in?”
“Front door, I assumed it was that kid you snuck out with coming to lay down the law. You weren’t responsible, they didn’t sneak in through your window, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I know I wasn’t responsible. My father was. This isn’t a social call, Angel. I’m here on Police business, I work with US law enforcement.”
“We know, Detective Milano,” he grinned.
My breath raced from my body. Schilling gripped my thigh under the table, stilling my tapping foot.
“Don’t worry. Your dad will stay away as long as you want him to.”
“What do you know about the kid I snuck out with?”
“Leo? Not a great deal, really. I’d rather your dad talk to you about this, Danielle.”
Maria, the warm, kind hearted maid I remembered from my childhood, bustled around, filling the table with more snacks than three people could eat in a lifetime. Tray after tray filled the long table; my favourite cookies, sandwiches, drinks, popcorns, you name it, Maria brought it out of the kitchen. By the time my dad finally deigned to give us his time, the table was groaning under the weight. Maria had started filling the sideboards with goodies.
“Danielle,” my father whispered. He’d aged far more than ten years. He’d lost weight. His once inky black hair hung in a dry silver halo around his head. Lines marked his forehead. Maria rushed to him, kissing his crumpled brow, her hand resting on the small of his back. That was new.
“Thank you, Maria,” he smiled, returning her affection with a chaste peck on the cheek. “We’ll talk later. I’m sure Danielle has enough snacks for now.”
“Good luck,” she whispered.
He took the seat by mine. I shoved my chair closer to Schilling.
“I’ve missed you.”
“The sentiment is not mutual,” I snapped. “I’m here to ask about your involvement on the Leopold Roman case.”
“My involvement?” He frowned, glancing at Angel. Angel shrugged his hefty shoulders.
“He’s been accused of murder. He’ll be executed for it. I have reason to believe he is innocent and that you’re involved.”
“That’s not true.”
“So the man who snuck me from my room, just walked away from that?”
“He looked for you, Danielle. As much as I despised that he’d encouraged you to sneak around behind my back, he looked for you. I’d never hurt anyone who was helping you. I arranged for his arrest when he got the Police involved with your disappearance. He was released without charge a few days later. That’s the last I saw of him. I heard about him, about the questions was asking on you, his trips to Mexico, but I never laid eyes on him since his arrest and I never killed that little girl and her mom.”
“Right, you’d never do anything like that, would you?”
“No, I wouldn’t. I have a daughter of my own, whom I love deeply. I’ve never hurt a woman or kid. The thought of someone doing to that you, I couldn’t bear it.”
“Someone did do that to me and you let them,” I hissed, rage boiling my blood. I hated this man with every fibre of my being.
“I know,” he sighed, fixing his eyes on the snack laden table. “And I’m sorry. I am sorry that you paid for my crimes.”
“You weren’t sorry enough to pay those men what they wanted for my safe return.”
“They wouldn’t have returned you, Danielle, they’d have killed you. If it was only a question of money, I’d have given up everything I had to save you. You’d seen them, you wouldn’t have walked away from that.”
“They wore masks.”
“Danielle, I know these men, paying them would’ve killed you either by their hand or another. Every Cartel in the land would be lining up to snatch you if I’d paid. I did what I could.”
“Bullshit,” I yelled. Schilling grabbed my hand, shaking his head. He took over the questioning. My father denied everything, gave up alibis even claiming to be paying for Leo’s lawyer.
“His lawyer is working pro-bono,” I snapped.
Leo’s supporters had set up a fund to pay for his legal defense, he’d insisted every penny went to Laura’s charity. The lawyer he has now, donated her time free of charge.
“Tamara Ellis doesn’t do pro-bono,” my father sighed, “I asked her to tell him that. I knew he’d never accept help from me.”
“And why would you pay for his lawyer?”
“He tried to help you. The man dedicated his entire life to finding you. My debt to him for that will never be repaid. I did not frame him. I have no knowledge of who did. Believe me Danielle, if I could help either of you, I would. Just tell me what you need?”
“For the real killer to come forward.”
Schilling reeled off the rest of our pre-planned questions. My father answered each one without skipping a beat.
“Thank you for your time, Sir,” Schilling said, gripping my hand as he stood to leave.
“Detective?”
“Sir?”
“Look after my daughter.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Maria hovered by the door as we made our way out. She dropped her duster when her eyes on landed on me. Her arms open, she rushed to me, pulling me into a tight, unwelcome hug.
“We missed you so much,” she sobbed into my hair.
“You’re sleeping with him now?”
“We love each other.”
“That man loves nobody but himself.”
Maria shrank, releasing me from her grip, tears soaked her face.
“That’s not true. He’s changed, gone straight. When he lost you…”
“If you believe that Maria you’re a bigger fool than he thinks I am.”
Schilling pulled me from the house, tucking me safely in his car.
“Let’s get you home.”
“He’s lying Schilling, he’s involved in this. I know it.”
“It’s over kid, you’re out of leads.”
We drove back to Texas in silence but for the phone calls Schilling made to a contact in the Mexican Police force. My father’s alibis checked out, like that exonerated him, like he’d never ask anyone to do his dirty work for him. It had to be him. I was out of leads. Leo would die, executed for a crime he did not commit and there was nothing I could do about it.