Chapter Thirty

"Ricky Ricardo," Martinez announced, pinning the subject's mugshot onto the giant corkboard, which presented the progress of the Green Lawn killing's investigation. It had been a couple of days since Leah had dropped the bombshell on the potential newest victim. "I know. Creative name." He faced the group around him. "Last seen a couple of days after the heist."

Paul glanced at Jacob. "Black, know about him?"

Jacob shook his head.

"He was too low on the totem pole. Joined last year months ago," Martinez explained, then added with a smirk, "Jacob only knows the people on top. Lucky him."

Jacob snorted. "I wouldn't call that lucky," then to his captain, "Never seen the man before."

"What else you know about him, Martinez?"

"He was a shapeshifter, which makes sense because the Fangs only recruit wolves," the detective explained. "Grew up with mom who's still living in Miami. He moved up to St. Louis to live with his dad a few years back. Went to juvie for larceny. Dad disappeared in 2010, and the rest was history. He was a mule with some experience in taking things that weren't his."

"I notice you're using the past tense. Are you that sure he's gone?"

Martinez shook his head. "It's not looking good, Capt."

Paul sighed.

"You mentioned something about him going to juvie," Aisha pointed out to Martinez. "What about a rap sheet that actually counts?"

"There is none," Martinez said. "Even checked with Saint Louis PD and Miami PD."

"Feds have him on their radar?" Paul asked.

"No," Jacob said. "But we've notified the ATF since they're interested in the heist case."

"We notified the Bureau, as well," Leah added.

"How old was this kid?" Aisha asked.

"Couldn't be more than twenty-one," Martinez said. "He was definitely about that life all while avoiding the law. Last thing I heard, he was becoming the understudy of Eric's bodyguard—Robert James."

"Whose DNA was found lodged in one of the skulls found in the ditch," Leah said. "Bella strongly believes that he was one of the victims."

"Which means chances are, Ricky Ricardo was there as well," Paul deduced.

"Hence the usage of the past tense," Martinez mumbled.

It was unfortunate. Despite Ricky not making the best life decisions, he was still just a kid. Not even twenty-one. It made Leah sick to her stomach. "Yeah, chances are," she confirmed with a grimace.

"It'd make sense," Jacob said, then with an amused whistle, "Oh, look who finally decided to make an appearance?" Everyone watched as Embry rushed into the station, almost spilling his coffee along the way. Smirking, Jacob turned to Paul, "Captain, yell at him."

Everyone chuckled as Embry gave Jacob the finger before profusely apologizing to his supervisor about his delay. Something about meeting his girlfriend's parents out in Bloomington the night before and traffic… Paul effectively ended Embry's word vomit with a raise of a hand.

Embry mumbled yet another apology.

"Also, before we forget," Leah said before anyone else could open their mouths, "There's also the issue with a particular bloody animal part allegedly discovered by Tia's in front of Ricky's apartment door."

Everyone's faces contorted in disgust.

"Since when?"

Leah and Jacob exchanged a puzzled look.

"Oh," Jacob said, blinking. "We didn't tell you?"

Paul glared at Jacob. "No, you didn't." He shook his head. "Wait—A bloody animal part?"

"A paw, to be more specific," Leah clarified.

Everyone cringed.

Paul ran a hand down his face and groaned, "What the hell is this, The Godfather?"

Embry put up a hand. "I believe it was a horse's head—"

"Same difference," Paul snapped, not necessarily at Embry, but at the absurdity of the situation. He turned to Leah. "What did she do about the paw?"

"Flushed it down the toilet," Leah said.

Paul threw up his hands. "Of course, she did."

"That shit's disgusting," Martinez mumbled under his breath.

"Don't say you want us to fish for a paw," Embry practically whined to the captain. "Do you know how annoying that'll be?"

"Even if I wanted to, we don't have the time," Paul said. "Call the gang units and see if anyone recognizes this 'message'."

"The sender probably knew Ricky was a wolf," Martinez suggested. "Hence the paw."

"And suspected Ricky of being involved in the heist," Aisha added. "There are quite a few places around the world that cuts off hands as punishment for stealing."

"Good point," Paul said, then, stroking his chin. "But... I don't know. This doesn't sound like something the Volturi would do. A bloody paw. Leaving people out in the open? They're known for being discreet than this."

"But they're not here," Jacob said. "Their associates are. Maybe they wanted to stand out. Do something different."

"As a reminder, a certain source did suggest that the coven had outsourced the executions," Leah said, recalling her last conversation with Jane. "She's putting the blame on the Velasquez Cartel."

"Who are friends with the Olympic coven," Aisha pointed out.

"Some friends," Paul grumbled.

"I have a feeling they're more like an equal-opportunity partner," Martinez said with a shrug. "Hey, if the money's good…"

"Okay," Paul said, "So, we have Garret confirmed, Robert James more or less confirmed, Eric most likely confirmed, and Ricky Ricardo may be confirmed. That's four people. Eight sets of bones were found in that ditch. What about the others?"

"That's all we have so far," Leah said.

Paul raised an eyebrow. "So far?"

"They're not exactly giving us much," Martinez said, referring to the Fangs.

Jacob shook his head in agreement. "Because they want to solve the problem on their own terms. It's been really quiet."

"Too quiet," Leah commented.

Everyone nodded.

"Maybe they're just waiting for the right time?" Aisha suggested with a half shrug. "They suspect the Volturi ordered the ditch killings, but they can't do much if the movers and shakers are in another country. That may open yet another can of worms that no one wants to deal with. They probably believe that the Volturi has some major American interests and think someone's bound to pop up on this side of the pond...It's simply a waiting game."

"Any suspicions about the cartel?" Paul asked the crowd.

"Didn't even consider them until my source mentioned it," Leah said.

"Shit."

"How about a search warrant, Captain?" Jacob asked. "I think we can safely assume that the bullet found in Ricky's place had something to do with the heist. We can also assume that his apartment was used as a stash house for the stolen goods before being moved to someplace else."

"The bullet could've rolled out of the package," Martinez added. "We're going to need that search warrant.

"So, we can assume that a particular bullet came from of the stolen stash," Leah said. "You need a search warrant of his place."

"We need more than this," Paul said. "Jenks will only say everything is circumstantial."

Embry loudly cleared his throat. "Once again, sorry for my late arrival, but there's something that's been bothering me." He ran a hand across his forehead. "How did they not put up a fight? I mean, everyone knows shapeshifters and vampires don't mix, especially in that business. You're telling me that the victims just let some guys line up and shot them in the back of the head?"

Everyone exchanged looks.

Leah cleared her throat and pointed out that, "Bella didn't find any evidence of new injuries save for the bullet holes."

"Which doesn't say much because the only thing left behind was a bunch of bleached bones," Embry argued. "Look, maybe it's nothing, but unless these guys were suicidal, I don't see being them forced into a warehouse without something happening."

"He does have a point," Jacob said.

"Maybe a fight did happen?" Aisha offered.

Leah shook her head. "Everything, including the crime scene points peaceful meeting."

"Or they could've been drugged?" Martinez suggested with a shrug. "Or knocked unconscious."

"Nah, evidence points to all of them kneeling, backs straight a couple of feet away from the wall," Jacob said. "Except for Garrett, who was standing several feet away."

While the detectives continued to toss around scenarios, Paul focused his attention on the board in front of him. "Or," he started off, getting the attention of his subordinates, "The perps could've been inspired by the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre."

Everyone else exchanged curious looks.

Dropping his arms, Paul carried on, "Remember, that whole incident wasn't some big gunfight. Bugs Moran's guys were told to meet up at the warehouse for some meeting about illegal booze. Some cops-wannabes rolled in; the guys thought they were going to get busted, so they faced the wall, hands, and legs spread out, ready to get patted down… Obviously, that didn't happen. They didn't see it coming."

Leah hid her smile. See, what was why Paul became a captain. "That can explain the lack of resistance."

"Yes, it can," Embry added.

"It's a plausible theory, Captain," Aisha told Paul.

"So, real cops or imposters?" Martinez asked.

"I sure hope they're imposters or else we got an even bigger problem," Paul said. "Any traces of humans in that warehouse?'

"Couldn't find any, but that doesn't mean a human couldn't be there," Jacob said. "Remember, there are ways to mask your scent."

Leah slapped her forehead. Right, she had completely forgotten about that. "The cartel does employ humans, though rarely."

"We picked up scents belonging to several vampires," Jacob said. "The imposters or not don't have to all be humans."

"No, they don't," Paul agreed. "And we're not going to sniffing around for cops who are vampires. It's a little thing called profiling, and we don't need the brass up our or asses about this. Dirty cops will forever be a touchy subject. We need someone to talk. There had to be a reason why they were all inside that abandoned factory."

"I think it's time we get on the wire," Aisha suggested, earning a nod of agreement from everyone except Paul. "For lead purposes. The Fangs are being resistant. The Denali's are never going to talk to us."

"Snitches get stitches," Embry remarked.

"Plus, we don't have to get a subpoena for short term monitoring if we have reasonable suspicion," Martinez added. "And this is beyond reasonable."

Paul remained skeptical. "You're suggesting we should circumvent the interviewing process. The judge is going to have a fit."

"Why would he?" Leah challenged. "Yes, he's a stickler for the rules, but it's not like we're spying on random people. Everyone we're targeting is under some sort of investigating."

"I see what I can do," Paul promised, then, "Okay, this is what we're going to do. Martinez, check on the mother and see if she can provide further insight into her son. Don't tell her that we believe he's dead. At this moment, he should only be treated as missing. Which I really do hope is the case. Dead gang members aren't very helpful—Take Jared with you."

"Got it, Boss."

"Saint Pierre, take Call with you and scope Ricky's apartment building. Not his apartment," Paul said. "The building isn't that shady. I'm sure the building management has tapes and whatnot. Try to verify the bloody paw claim."

Aisha nodded. "Yep."

"Black and Clearwater, look into this so-called family business and talk to the girlfriend and see if she's willing to dish out more information."

"She doesn't even know his last name, I doubt she can provide much else," Leah argued. Tia had already provided a lot more information than Leah expected. But unsurprisingly, it wasn't enough for the captain.

"They were messing around for quite some time," Paul pointed out. "She must've picked something up during pillow talk."

"Fine."

Sometime later, as she walked into the squad room following a little chat with the other members of the unit, Leah noticed Jacob, standing in front of the board, scrutinizing that she assumed as Ricky's profile. He was tense with a deep frown on his face, something Leah wasn't used to seeing. "You said you didn't know the guy," she said, approaching her partner from behind. "The way you're staring at his mug suggests otherwise."

Jacob glanced at his partner and somewhat relaxed, through the frown was still present. "I don't," he insisted, shaking his head. "He just resembles someone I used to know."

"Tia said he worked for a family business. You think he's related to Collin?" Leah asked. "Or other founders of the club?"

"He doesn't look like my dad if that's what you're wondering."

"I'm not," Leah quickly replied. She honestly didn't want to go through that road with Jacob, not now. His relationship with his father might be even more complicated than her relationship with Emily. And that was saying a lot. "Though, based on the shit's that's been going on around here, would you honestly be surprised?"

"Yes," Jacob drew out the word, trying to convince himself. Trying to convince Leah, "Ricky's dad disappeared in 2010. Mine did in 2000. Collin's still roaming around in so-called retirement. Which leaves… Johnny."

"Assuming Ricky's related to any of the Fangs' bigwigs," Leah said, then, "Johnny's another estranged family member?"

"On Collin's mother's side," Jacob replied, sounding relieved. Not that Leah could blame him. "No relation to me. At least, any that would matter."

"What happened to Johnny?"

"Last thing I heard, he's dead."

"Does Ricky look like him?"

Jacob sighed. "He has his eyes…"

Leah cleared her throat. "I think you need to have a little chat with Wilson," she told him.

Jacob ran a hand down his face and let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I know."

Sighing, Leah dug into her pants pocket, fishing for a piece of gum. She tossed the piece into her mouth, glancing at her partner, "We're still down for tonight?" she asked, shifting the conversation. It looked like Jacob needed a break.

"Fuck yes," Jacob groaned, tossing his head back. "I need it like you wouldn't believe."

Leah blew a bubble and popped it. "It won't be a full moon," she quietly said, a little forlorn. She was still not at the stage when she could phase on command. "So, I guess I'll be running on two legs with the wolves again."

"Next week," Jacob assured Leah, squeezing her shoulder and giving her an easy smile. He was always more positive about Leah's progress than she would ever be. When he received a nod, he dropped his arm. "I'll keep you posted on this conversation I definitely don't want to have with Wilson."

"Please do."

The run turned out as expected.

It was much needed. Refreshing, even if the early July night was hot and sticky. The perfect outlet to release all of the stress, all of the frustration, and it was always nice to hang with the pack outside of work. But despite all of Leah's intentions, her wolf was still a stubborn sonovabitch, still refusing to make an appearance, just like the moon tonight. She dealt with it, had no choice, but damn it, was it frustrating.

"Maybe, it doesn't like me?" Leah suggested when it was all over. Leaning against the back of Jacob's jeep, she looked up at the cloudless, moonless, starry sky and sighed. The rest of the pack had already the area, leaving Leah and Jacob behind.

"You wouldn't be alive if you didn't."

Leah gave Jacob a dirty look, which somewhat died down at the sight of the man stretching his arms before putting his shirt back on. "Thank you for that," she said with sarcasm. "Much appreciated."

Jacob grinned at her. "Always here to help," he said with a wink. "Maybe you just weren't in the mood?"

Leah huffed and pushed herself off the car.

"Next week," Jacob promised, reaching her side. He stood in front of Leah, squeezing both shoulders, looking down at her with an infuriating yet reassuring smile. "Next week."

Jenks stopped by the station on a Friday afternoon.

"Counselor, give us something."

Paul wasn't pleading. He was never one to do so. It makes you look weak, he would always say, but damn, if it wasn't close enough. The tone Paul used was a product of desperation; a couple of weeks had passed since the discovery out in Green Lawn, and not much had been done on the court's side. Getting warrants with the current judge (enduring the fall-out from the last judge's downfall) was like pulling teeth.

Leaning against one of the desks with his arms crossed, the prosecutor observed the board in front of him. "There's not much I can do right now," he admitted. He had been doubtful from the start. "You need suspects. Suspects who are in this country. We already know the deal about the Volturi." He looked in Paul's direction. "Are you positive that these murders are connected to the Midway heist?"

Jacob answered for the captain, "It's the theory that makes the most sense."

"That's not what I asked, Detective," was Jenks' sharp reply.

Jacob bristled but remained tight-lipped.

Leah gave Jenks a barely-masked glare.

"Yes, that's what most likely happened," Paul quickly added, diffusing the tension. A shocking turn of events. "Even the feds believe so."

Everyone watched as Jenks took a few steps forward, standing only a foot away from the coveted board, full of leads and pictures relating to the GLD (Green Lawn Ditch) murders. Stroking his chin, Jenks scanned the contents for the umpteenth time. "Four out of eight victims," he said, glancing at the cops behind him. "Only two confirmed."

"Three," Martinez corrected. "And another one is most likely."

Jenks raised an eyebrow. "Most likely?"

"His ex's recollection led us to believe that Ricky Ricardo was also a victim," Leah clarified.

"The ex's Cassandra Meeks," Aisha informed the prosecutor. "Also known as Tia."

Jenks turned around, arms still crossed, and snorted. "You're relying on an ex? A prostitute who was picked up for trying to sell a UV?" His expression was one of disappointment. "Come on, you're going to have to give me something better than that."

Leah deeply frowned at Jenks' word. Cassandra, no, Tia might not have the best track record, legally-speaking, but had given them a significant lead and a potential victim. She reminded the prosecutor of this, but he wouldn't budge.

Jacob took a shot, somewhat hopeful. "Ricky Ricardo might be the son of one of the founding members of the Fangs."

"If we only use that, then what would stop me or anyone else from going after you?" Jenks said, giving Jacob a pointed look. He then quickly added, "No offense."

Jacob put up his hands and backed off. "None taken—"

Leah jumped in. "About Tia, who gives a damn that she's a prostitute?"

Jenks sighed. "The judge."

"Shouldn't he be impartial to that?" Aisha asked.

Jenks sighed. "Sullivan may not be anywhere near the vicinity of Sorio, but he has a holier-art-thou attitude that doesn't leave much to be desired," he explained, then, "Look, I'm not trying to give you guys a hard time. I only want to make sure that all your hard work doesn't get tossed out the window before the fun begins."

"A bloody paw print was literally found at his front door. A UV, which is technically illegal, was found at this apartment," Paul argued. "How is that not enough for a warrant?"

Everyone, sans the prosecutor, nodded.

It was a fucking bloody paw, for heaven's sake.

"It's called circumstantial evidence," Jenks maintained.

Paul tossed up his hands. "But the damn paw."

"How do you know the girlfriend wasn't lying?" Jenks asked everyone. "Where's the evidence?"

"In the sewer," Jacob said, rolling his eyes.

Jenks didn't look too impressed. "Yeah, I'm going to need more than that."

Paul grumbled. "We appreciate your consideration, Counselor," he said. "Any word of advice for us poor law enforcement folks?"

Jenks glanced at the board behind him. He took a few moments to mull over his options. "The UV the ex was trying to sell, it was found in Ricardo's place, correct?" He received confirmation. "Is there any way you can connect this particular UV to the UVs used by the Volturi? I know... it's a long shot, but it can be enough justification to show a connection to the heist. If you can do that, we may not even have to mention Cassandra."

"Tia," Leah corrected under her breath.

"And then, we can get our search warrant?"

Jenks nodded. "Then, you can get your search warrant, Captain."

The following Monday, Leah received the text as she was coming back from a bathroom break. You'll appreciate the fax coming your way. Lunch is an acceptable form of payment.

You can't eat lunch, she replied.

Sure I can. Just really limited in my options.

Chuckling under her breath, Leah bee-lined to the squad's fax machine. She didn't have to wait for the pages to start spewing out. One by one, Leah skimmed the pages, completely in awe. Her mouth twisted into a smile. "You, wonderful vampiric bastard…" she breathed out, holding a hand to her chest.

"Vampiric? Is that a real word?" Jacob remarked, coming from behind Leah. He looked over her shoulder. "What you got, oh dear partner-in-crime of mine?"

Leah's grin expanded across her face. She held up the pages for her partner to see and declared, "Our search warrant."

"The ATF confirmed that the bullets specifically designed for the Volturi matched the bullet found at Ricky Ricardo's place," Leah carefully explained to the prosecutor before her.

She and Jacob were lucky to be in Jenks' presence at this time of day. It was just after lunch, thirty minutes before Jenks had to scramble to court for the continuation of a trial. Though from the look on Jenks' face, it seemed that the man regretted his decision to meet with the detectives at such short notice.

Jenks pinched the bridge of his nose. "That doesn't—"

"Even if Ricky somehow wasn't involved in the heist," Jacob argued, not giving Jenks the chance to protest. "He must have known something about it. Allowed the other guys to stash the goods at his place. I don't know, but hey, you wanted us to get you evidence, well, we got you some damn evidence."

"That has to be enough for a search warrant," Leah added.

Jenks scanned the ballistics results one last time, dropped the pages onto his desk, and let out a loud sigh. "Give me an hour."

"Please make sure to take the door rug, as well," Leah informed the closest crime investigator to her as she walked further into Ricky Ricardo's Albany Park apartment. The specific rug was designed to allow people to scrape off any dirt and whatnot from bottoms of their shoes before coming to the home. The piece of carpet wasn't intended to be tossed into a washing machine. It had to be scrubbed clean.

If Tia was indeed telling the truth about the paw, then there should be some evidence left behind.

"Well, the place hasn't been cleaned head to toe," Jacob remarked, coming from behind Leah as he put on his latex gloves. "That's a good thing."

Leah nodded. "And Tia hasn't been here," she added, greeting cops and investigators along the way. There must have been a dozen people inside the medium-sized two-bedroom apartment. "At least, not since she got picked up by Vice."

"Love an undisturbed place," Jacob said, then, nudging Leah's arm with an elbow. "Trust your instincts. They're your friends. Friends, Clearwater, not enemies."

"Yes, master." Leah rolled her eyes, earning a laugh from her partner. With Jacob by her side, Leah headed to the least unoccupied room in the apartment, the main bedroom. "You have the UV detector?"

Jacob pulled the device out of his pocket and nodded, "Yep."

The bedroom wasn't scrubbed top to bottom, but it wasn't dirty. It was a standard room, with a made-up queen bed, dressers, a closet and a pile of clothes in one corner, undoubtedly for laundry—that could be a clue. Usually, people didn't leave dirty clothes around before disappearing for good. Usually.

Nothing flashy caught the detectives' eyes except for a safety deposit box found under the bed. "At least, he was smart," Jacob remarked, searching through the drawers. "He left nothing, indicating that he was a thief. No weapons, either."

"Maybe he took them with him," Leah suggested. "For protection. Any luck on the UV's?"

"Nope," Jacob said, slamming shut off the drawers before heading to the closet. The closet didn't show much except for a gym bag. He pulled off a button-up shirt from the hanger and picked up a gym bag off the floor in the corner. "Find anything worthwhile?"

Leah pulled out an unopened box of extra-large Trojan-brand condoms, "He practiced safe sex and through highly of himself."

Jacob laughed, then, "Here." He tossed Leah a shirt before rummaging through an unzipped gym bag. "Inhale."

Leah looked down at the piece of clothing in her hands and rolled her eyes. Thank goodness, no one else was in the room. "Really?" she argued. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not a member of the canine unit."

Jacob let out a hearty laugh, almost dropping a gym bag in the process. "You don't remember joining the club back in September?"

"Fuck you, Jacob."

"As appealing as that sounds, I don't want to start any drama—"

"Oh my god," Leah groaned, rolling her eyes at the comment, earning another laugh. He was messing around with her. They did it all the time. It was never a big deal, so why change things now? She swallowed down any sparks of interest. "You're immature."

"What?" Jacob gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "I just want to make sure Sam doesn't chase me around with a flaming pitchfork, and I don't want to hear Paul's mouth."

Leah actually chuckled at the thought. She honestly doubted Paul would care, and Sam? That would've been a sight to see. "A flaming pitchfork? And I doubt Sam would do that. He has a new woman in his life."

"But are you a hundred percent sure?" Jacob asked, feigning seriousness as he returned to searching the bag. He pulled out some clothes and an envelope. Five hundred dollars inside, wonderful. "Doubt isn't absolute."

Leah tossed Jacob an extra evidence bag. "Just do your job, Black."

"Remember that scent, Clearwater," Jacob said, pointing at the shirt. "And remember, the nose doesn't lie."

Mumbling under her breath, Leah held the garment to her nose and deeply breathed in. It hadn't been recently washed, but it wasn't too soiled. She could pick up the distant scent of detergent—it was probably worn a couple of times. "I feel like I'm a fucking dog…"

Jacob grinned. "Well, technically—" he stopped when an investigator appeared at the bedroom's entrance. "Hey, what's up?"

"I think you may wanna see this," the investigator said, holding up a large, familiar bottle with a gloved hand. "Is this what I think it is?"

Jacob made a noise in his throat.

"Wolfbane," Leah confirmed.

"Take it," Jacob told the other woman, "But we're not going to submit it into evidence unless we got no choice. Under the law, we're treating Ricky as a human."

The investigator nodded, "Understood, Detective."

"I think he was there…" Leah told Leah once the investigator left. She seemed surprised at the finding, pleasantly surprised. Holy shit, it looked like Jacob knew what he was talking about after all. "His scent, it's… familiar."

Jacob gave Leah a thumbs up. "Congrats for passing Level One."

"Shut up."

Jacob winked as he picked up a few strands of hair from a hat lying on the ground. "Unfortunately, just the sent won't do. He could've been at the factory before shit hit the fan," he explained, but he did appear pleased with Leah's discovery. He placed the hair strands inside the evidence bag. "Told you… the nose doesn't lie."

Leah scoffed, fondly shaking her head, "Is that your new slogan now?"

Jacob's expression was pensive. "Do you think I'll get rich if I trademarked it?"

"Doubt it."

"Damn it."

"What the hell is this?"

Everyone turned their attention to the front door. Standing under the threshold, shocked and confused, was a woman, Hispanic, upper twenties, dressed in casual clothes. Based on the suitcase around her and the fatigue displayed on her face, she must've just returned from a trip.

"What is going on?" She asked with a gulp. She leaned her suitcase against the door frame and took a step forward, drinking in the hectic scene. "Is Ricky in trouble? Of course, he is. You wouldn't be here if he wasn't." She brought a hand to her mouth. "He's a good man. I swear he is."

Leah and Jacob exchanged a look.

Pulling out her own copy of the search warrant, Leah carefully approached the woman, introduced herself. The woman was afraid (most people were), but not entirely stunned. Once finished, Leah directed everyone else to return to her duties and asked the newcomer the most pressing question of the moment, "And you are?"

"Miranda Perez," the woman slowly replied, clearing her throat a couple of times. "Ricky Ricardo is my husband."

This was new.

"Oh."

Martinez hadn't mentioned anything about Ricky being married. No one had. Leah checked with Jacob, who appeared just as surprised as her before silently agreeing to Leah taking charge of the conversation.

Miranda appeared to overlook the detectives' shock and asked, shaking her head, "I don't understand…" she trailed off as she stepped aside to let another cop enter the apartment. "What is this about? Why are you here with a search warrant?"

"We're investigating your husband's possible disappearance," Leah replied.

Miranda's eyes grew exponentially as she drew in a sharp breath. "Disappearance?" she choked out.

Leah nodded. "Why don't we sit down?" She suggested, gesturing to the small kitchen. No one else was inside the room. "I'll explain everything."

Inside the kitchen, Leah sat down at the glass table while Miranda retrieved a mug from the cabinets, went to the fridge and poured herself a glass of juice. Leah patiently waited as the woman sat down at next to her, eyes distant. She looked utterly beside herself.

"When was the last time you heard from your husband?" Leah asked Miranda in a calm, unhurried voice.

Miranda didn't respond immediately. Instead, she took her time sipping on her drink. When she was ready, Miranda pushed the glass aside. "A couple of weeks ago," she quietly replied, wrapping her arms around herself, rocking back and forth in the wooden kitchen chair. "I know. It sounds bad, but… our marriage is on the rocks. I needed a break from him. From this city… so I visited my family in DR. Just came from the airport."

"When did you leave, Miss Perez?"

Miranda stared at the empty glass. "About three weeks ago…"

Leah nodded as she jotted down the information in her notepad.

Three weeks ago—Around the time of the heist.

"I don't know," Miranda said, gulping. She didn't give Leah any indication that she was lying, or at least, intending to. "If not at work, then Saint Louis? Miami? He has family there."

"Where does he work?"

"It's a family business," Miranda said, though she didn't sound too sure of herself. "I didn't look into it. It paid the bills, enough for me not to work. That's all I needed to know."

Leah slowly nodded, though she held some doubt. She had dealt with spouses like this before, acting like they didn't know what was going on when they damn well did. And also dealt with spouses who truly believed ignorance was bliss but held suspicions. "So, you have no idea what your husband does for a living?"

Miranda shook her head, but it would take her a moment to find her voice, "He followed in his father's footsteps. Said he'd be the smarter one this time." She cleared her throat. "He was a transporter."

Okay, they were getting somewhere.

"Of?"

"Anything that has value," Miranda admitted, but then, insisted quite passionately, "Not drugs. He would never mess with drugs. Too messy."

"Where did his father work?"

"I don't know."

Leah let out a deep breath.

Miranda was now lying.

"Miss Perez, I'd hate to bring you in for obstructing a criminal investigation right after you came back from your trip. Now, let me ask you again: do you know what your husband does for a living?"

"I didn't do anything wrong," Miranda practically shrieked. "I wasn't involved in any of this shit."

Leah rose a hand. "All we want to do is find Ricky," she said. "We're accusing you of anything. Hell, we didn't even know you existed until twenty minutes ago."

Miranda rose from her seat, rubbing her hands together as she paced around the kitchen. She was nervous, terrified. "We had a big fight about a month ago," she said after a moment of tense silence. "About money—" She let out a humorless laugh. "What else?" She walked to the table, picked up the glass, and placed it in the sink. "I was tired of the BS, all of the disappearances, of the shady people—I wanted him to have an honest job. Is that too hard to ask?"

Leah shook her head.

"He said that he'd stop. Just one more chance, baby, he told me. Give me just one more week, and I'm out, he told me." She shook her head. "You don't understand how many times he told me that lie." She shook her head again. "I couldn't do it this time, so I left. Wanted a break."

Leah nodded. "Why one more week?"

"He said he was going to hit it big," Miranda said, eyes watering. "And everything will be fine. He and some of his boys from Saint Louis had this grand plan that would solve all of our problems."

"Good news?" Leah asked Bella a couple of days later during a pit stop at the Office of the Medical Examiner.

"Not for a certain family," Bella said, retrieving her latest report. "I sent Forensics the DNA sample from Ricardo's place and the rest of the unconfirmed bones to search for a match. Usually, the turnaround time isn't this quick, but they owed me a favor—don't want to talk about it. Why did I mention that?" She shook her head. "Anyway, it's a match. Unless you have a better explanation., Ricky Ricardo was one of the victims."

Leah closed her eyes and ran a hand down her face, "Well, fuck."

Jacob pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Paul's number.