Read Online No One Heard Her Scream by Jordan Dane - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jordan Dane
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the bathroom even after you left. Typical brother-sister stuff, huh?"
"Oh, no. It wasn't like that. Isabel and Rudy got along great. They were inseparable, really. They shared—" He stopped himself.
"So Isabel and Rudy were close?" she asked.
The memory opened fresh wounds for the priest. Becca witnessed a dark haze spread across his face.
"Maybe Isabel confided in Rudy about the necklace and who might have given it to her. Do you know what she told him, Father?"
"How would I know that? I didn't even live here anymore. I can't help you, Detective. I have no idea what they talked about."
"Maybe Rudy can help me. Where is he now?"
"He's at work, but no telling when he'll be home. Is this really necessary?"
"How does he get to work, Father?" she persisted. She kept up the questions, hoping to distract him. And her constant use of his title was deliberate, reminding him of his calling.
"He drives himself, normally."
The man hadn't lied. The word "normally" was a smoke screen. Normally, a very clever one, but not today. Not when she knew about the truck outside.
"Why all the questions about my brother?"
And why all the resistance, Father? she wanted to ask. But if she did, his limited cooperation would dry up in a hurry. Evasive didn't begin to describe how Father Victor had reacted to her questions about Rudy.
"Excuse me, Father, but what kind of vehicle does he drive?"
She painted him in a corner to see if he'd lie about the truck. He took a long moment to think. His moment of truth, or not. But by the defeated look in his eye, she knew there was no point to continue along this line of questioning.
"You know, Father, it won't take me any time to run a DMV check on the red F—150 parked in front. You want to save me some time?"
"Why would you assume that truck belongs to my brother?"
Suspicion edged his face, but by his contrite tone, she knew the man was more on the defense than the offense. Becca was still in control. Yet for her to admit she knew for certain the truck belonged to the cleric's brother, she might tip her hand on Rudy's trip to the Imperial. And she wasn't ready to do that.
"Call it a hunch. Your mother doesn't look like the F—150 type, in red no less. Is the truck yours, Father?" She had no idea if Roman Catholic priests owned vehicles or not.
"No. I came in a few days ago. Rudy lets me borrow his truck when I'm in town. My parish, St. John's, is in Houston."
"So how did Rudy get to work today?"
It took him a long moment to respond. He knew she had gotten the better of him again.
"I drove him," he replied. Before she asked another question, he pressed, "Detective, what are you after? If all you want is to talk about that necklace and get a DNA sample, I can help you. There's no need to dredge up the past with my brother."
Tough cookie. A priest with street smarts and a stubborn streak to boot. Father Victor was not making this easy. Being the oldest, he slipped into his big brother role with ease. When it came to Rudy, the man put up one helluva roadblock. But after taking a deep breath, the priest softened his expression and tried another approach.
"Look. Tomorrow I promise to bring my brother by your precinct. We'll cooperate with the DNA testing, but I'd like to be present while you speak to Rudy. As kids, he and Isabel were very close. I'm afraid this will break his heart. Can you understand that, Detective Montgomery? I'm trying to protect my family. What's left of it."
Becca handed the priest her business card.
"When would be a convenient time to talk to your brother?"
"I'll bring him by after work, around six if that's not too late."
"That's fine. Just ask for me." Becca wanted him on her side. "You want closure for your family, don't you, Father?"
Without looking up from her business card, he nodded.
"Please . . . help me do that." She leaned forward, resisting the urge to touch him. "It must be hard for you, not living here."
For an instant, pain tinged his expression.
"Oh, no. It wasn't like that. Isabel and Rudy got along great. They were inseparable, really. They shared—" He stopped himself.
"So Isabel and Rudy were close?" she asked.
The memory opened fresh wounds for the priest. Becca witnessed a dark haze spread across his face.
"Maybe Isabel confided in Rudy about the necklace and who might have given it to her. Do you know what she told him, Father?"
"How would I know that? I didn't even live here anymore. I can't help you, Detective. I have no idea what they talked about."
"Maybe Rudy can help me. Where is he now?"
"He's at work, but no telling when he'll be home. Is this really necessary?"
"How does he get to work, Father?" she persisted. She kept up the questions, hoping to distract him. And her constant use of his title was deliberate, reminding him of his calling.
"He drives himself, normally."
The man hadn't lied. The word "normally" was a smoke screen. Normally, a very clever one, but not today. Not when she knew about the truck outside.
"Why all the questions about my brother?"
And why all the resistance, Father? she wanted to ask. But if she did, his limited cooperation would dry up in a hurry. Evasive didn't begin to describe how Father Victor had reacted to her questions about Rudy.
"Excuse me, Father, but what kind of vehicle does he drive?"
She painted him in a corner to see if he'd lie about the truck. He took a long moment to think. His moment of truth, or not. But by the defeated look in his eye, she knew there was no point to continue along this line of questioning.
"You know, Father, it won't take me any time to run a DMV check on the red F—150 parked in front. You want to save me some time?"
"Why would you assume that truck belongs to my brother?"
Suspicion edged his face, but by his contrite tone, she knew the man was more on the defense than the offense. Becca was still in control. Yet for her to admit she knew for certain the truck belonged to the cleric's brother, she might tip her hand on Rudy's trip to the Imperial. And she wasn't ready to do that.
"Call it a hunch. Your mother doesn't look like the F—150 type, in red no less. Is the truck yours, Father?" She had no idea if Roman Catholic priests owned vehicles or not.
"No. I came in a few days ago. Rudy lets me borrow his truck when I'm in town. My parish, St. John's, is in Houston."
"So how did Rudy get to work today?"
It took him a long moment to respond. He knew she had gotten the better of him again.
"I drove him," he replied. Before she asked another question, he pressed, "Detective, what are you after? If all you want is to talk about that necklace and get a DNA sample, I can help you. There's no need to dredge up the past with my brother."
Tough cookie. A priest with street smarts and a stubborn streak to boot. Father Victor was not making this easy. Being the oldest, he slipped into his big brother role with ease. When it came to Rudy, the man put up one helluva roadblock. But after taking a deep breath, the priest softened his expression and tried another approach.
"Look. Tomorrow I promise to bring my brother by your precinct. We'll cooperate with the DNA testing, but I'd like to be present while you speak to Rudy. As kids, he and Isabel were very close. I'm afraid this will break his heart. Can you understand that, Detective Montgomery? I'm trying to protect my family. What's left of it."
Becca handed the priest her business card.
"When would be a convenient time to talk to your brother?"
"I'll bring him by after work, around six if that's not too late."
"That's fine. Just ask for me." Becca wanted him on her side. "You want closure for your family, don't you, Father?"
Without looking up from her business card, he nodded.
"Please . . . help me do that." She leaned forward, resisting the urge to touch him. "It must be hard for you, not living here."
For an instant, pain tinged his expression.
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