“Then there is a possibility that you were here?”
“Ninety-nine percent sure I was in River Remez . . . unless I was taking a class at UNM. But that wouldn’t happen because Katie was abducted on Saturday and there wouldn’t be any school. There was no reason for me to be in Albuquerque unless I was with my parents.”
Then it dawned on him.
“Henry’s daughter’s birthday was on that Saturday. My family and I spent the entire afternoon at Santa Clara. I didn’t want to go home with my parents—the less time I spent with them, the better. Henry let me sleep over. He took me home the next day.”
“You were fighting with your parents?”
“Just the opposite. No one talked. Home wasn’t a happy place.”
“How about now?”
“Better. My little sister’s fourteen now. She’s a live wire. It’s a pleasure to have some energy.”
“Do you remember what time Henry took you home?”
“No, but it had to be after the TV announcement. Since I remember the names of the news anchors, you can backtrack.” A forced smile to Ortiz. “How’s that for being cooperative?” When the detective didn’t answer, Ben said, “Look, sir, I don’t care about answering your questions, but my old man does. I don’t want to rile him. He has enough to contend with.”
Ortiz turned his attention to Ro. “You mind telling me why you two went hiking here? Off-trail?”
“I’m a respectful daughter.”
“Detective Ortiz, we’re on your side.” Ben’s eyes went back to the grave. “I don’t know anything more about that than you do.”
“Wait here.” Ortiz trod up to the perimeter.
For the ground to sink that deeply and that uniformly, it was clear that the area hadn’t been disturbed in years. Deep down, Ben knew that Ortiz didn’t really suspect him. But finding the grave automatically made him a “person of interest.”
The detective walked back to the kids. “Okay. Let’s get some reception so I can call it in. You said you’d be willing to talk to me when your father gets here?”
“Absolutely.”
“Willing to give me a DNA sample, Ben?”
“Yep.”
“What about taking a polygraph?”
“Tell me when and where.”
“Not that I suspect you.” But of course he did. “Do you still see Detective Shanks?”
“All the time.”
“You should know the drill. Let’s go back.” As they were walking, Ortiz turned his attention to Ro. “Are you Ben’s girlfriend? Or won’t you answer that?”
“Just friends.”
“Your clothes are a little thin for hiking.”
Ro turned red. “My hiking clothes got dirty. This is a change that I brought along.”
Ortiz nodded. “Ben, how extensively were you questioned about your sister’s death? I mean, you are protecting your butt here. You do see that.”
“Of course I’m protecting my butt. My father would kill me if I talked to you alone. He’s an attorney.”
“Could you answer the question or won’t you do that?”
“Informational questions. ‘Who’d your sister hang out with? What’s the talk in the school? Did your sister ever talk about someone bothering her?’”
“There was a guy for a while, right?”
“Tim Sanchez. He’s in Missoula. Nothing came of him. He didn’t do it.”
“You found your sister’s remains if I recall.”
“Yes, I did.” Ben tripped over a tree root but caught himself. “That’s public record. I’m not going to talk anymore, Detective. I seem to have trouble speaking and walking at the same time.”
“I’m not talking either,” Ro said.
The lack of conversation helped Ben think. The depression could be anything—from a dog or horse grave to a hiding place for human remains. Ortiz was intense and solemn. Ro still looked vaguely ill. Ben, on the other hand, felt a range of emotions—from dread and agitation to anticipation. Now that the cop was here, the fear had worn off. All that was left was the adrenaline rush of discovery.
Chapter 18
As soon as Ben pulled into the parking lot of the Albuquerque PD station house, he said, “You know they’re going to separate us.”
“That’s okay,” Ro said. “One thing that I have is a big mouth. I’m not easily intimidated.”
“I know. Wait for your dad and then just tell them the truth.”
“Got it.” She gave him a forced smile, and then reached out. He intercepted her arms in a big bear hug. Ro said, “I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will.”
Time to face the music.
The building, like most of those in New Mexico, was dun-colored, low profile, and architecturally in sync with its brown surroundings. The Albuquerque PD had six divisions and Ortiz had worked the southeast part of the city for a number of years. The Doogan family lived in the district. Ben and Ro sat like two displaced people in reception; Ortiz was still at the trailhead waiting for the Scientific Evidence Division. A half hour later, a woman came in, introduced herself as Detective McLaren, and escorted Ben into an interview room—a small windowless cell consisting of a table, several chairs, and a video camera. Detective McLaren was short with black hair and dark eyes. “Detective Ortiz is on his way. Do you need anything in the meantime?”
“Just my father.”
“Yeah, Detective Ortiz said something about you wanting your father.” McLaren peered at him. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“You don’t need your father to answer questions, you know.”
“He’s my father and he’s also my lawyer.”
“Okay. Got it. I’ll be back.”
“Thank you.” He sat upright even though he wanted to put his head on the table and go to sleep. But that behavior was typical of criminals. Innocent people were supposed to be too nervous for sleep. Twenty minutes later his family charged into the room: Mom, Dad, and Haley, along with Lilly. Mom’s eyes were smoking. Dad seemed more sympathetic. “You okay?”
Ben gave them a practiced smile. “Fine.”
Detective McLaren came in. “We’re going to have to clear a few people out.”
Mom said, “I need a moment with my son.”
“Uh . . . sure,” McLaren said. “Call me when you’re done.”
Mom was dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans with heavy boots on her feet. She looked ready to do some logging. “William, take the girls out. I need a few moments.”
“Just a few, Laura.”
“I get it.” Once they were gone, she turned to her son. “You lied to me, Ben.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ben, if something had happened to you or Ro—an animal attack or a busted leg or a fall—we would have been looking in Mount Baldy instead of where you actually were. Don’t ever, ever do that again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
She stared at her son’s face. “Do you honestly think your father and I don’t know what you’re up to? Every time I come into your room, you slam your laptop shut. I’m not stupid. Behavior like that is going to arouse my curiosity. I’m your mother.”
“I’m not doing anything bad.”
“I know what you’re doing, Ben. I’ve been on your computer.”