"Ashlyn, is that you?" The familiar voice sounded from the speaker of Ashlyn's iPhone, and a thousand memories shot through her mind in the blink of an eye.
She thought, " This can't be," and a phrase that Jane had said to her over and over again came to mind: voices, melodies, and smells. All three things allow a direct connection to the brain and can open drawers that have been closed for a long time.
"Yes, it's me," Ashlyn replied, noticing the corners of her mouth turning into a smile as she looked at her parents' driveway from her car. "I hope I'm not disturbing you?"
"No, not at all. Perfect timing," Micaela Barboza replied, and Ashlyn thought she detected something like joy in her voice. 'So, why are you calling? Just because, or is there a specific reason?'
"Well," Ashlyn immediately came clean with the truth because she knew anything else would have quickly steered the conversation in the wrong direction. "Honestly, I came across your name concerning a new client. I know you've been working in the capital offenses division of the district attorney's office, and that's where the connection lies." She paused briefly before adding, "I hope there was a more friendly explanation. But if I had come up with something, you would have seen right through me anyway. As always."
"That's right!" laughed Micaela. "You were never any good at spinning a yarn. Well, maybe that's not such a bad thing."
While Ashlyn was glad she wasn't deceiving Micaela Barboza, she was secretly ashamed that it had taken a professional reason to get in touch after so much time. A phone call earlier was long overdue, even just to wish Micaela a happy birthday. But it was too late now.
What the heck, she thought, pushing the thought aside. There was nothing she could do about it now.
"I heard that you had the case of John Doe. The one from the Charles River."
There was a brief pause, and Ashlyn suspected Micaela was trying to decide how to respond to Ashlyn's statement.
"I'm not sure whether I should be impressed or annoyed that you have access to this information," the prosecutor replied, now more matter-of-fact. 'So, what makes you think that?'
Ashlyn thought for a moment about what to say. On the one hand, she didn't want to embarrass her mother, but on the other hand, it wasn't an option to play games with Micaela Barboza either.
Before she could answer, Micaela spoke up. "Maggie! You must have heard it from Maggie," she said, and the coldness in her voice gave way to triumph.
Ashlyn couldn't help but laugh. Micaela was quick as lightning and always had been.
"It doesn't matter where you know. I'm really interested in why you're asking me this!"
"Well, I have an idea who your victim might be. But I'd rather discuss it with you in person. What do you say, do you want to meet for coffee on Monday?"
"Hold on, I'll just check," Micaela replied, and Ashlyn heard a rustling at the other end of the line.
"Yes, Monday is fine. I have two meetings in the morning, but I should be accessible at 2:00 p.m. Instead of coffee, how about a late lunch at Delphin – Fish & Steak? A friend recently told me that the restaurant is supposed to be quite lovely. I haven't been there myself yet."
"That's fine," replied Ashlyn, noting the appointment on her cell phone calendar.
xxx
Marcus Cantu looked contentedly over the extensive 18-hole course from the expansive terrace of the elegant and all-white clubhouse of the Gatow Golf Club. Despite his typically busy schedule as a politician, Cantu always took the time to relax with a round of golf. Today, too, he was looking forward to the welcome change of scenery, even though the occasion was severe and he would combine business with pleasure.
With his eyes closed, he swallowed the rest of his Darjeeling tea, which he had enjoyed with a bit of milk since his studies in Great Britain. He put down his cup, grabbed his golf bag, and went to the first hole, where he had arranged to meet his guest. From a distance, he could already see that his guest had arrived. "Mr. Bauman," Cantu greeted the district attorney and shook Bauman's hand warmly. "How nice that you could find time today for a little sport."
"My pleasure," Bauman replied jovially, returning Cantu's handshake. He obviously appreciated this private meeting with the top politician. 'I always have time for you.'
"Well then, let's get started right away. Why don't we play a few holes and discuss the possibilities of future cooperation."
"Excellent, I'm in." In his equally self-confident and completely self-assured manner, Ryan Bauman pulled a driver out of his bag and placed the ball on the tee.
A good thirty minutes later, after the two men had chatted about the upcoming election and the political climate in Boston, Cantu got down to business.
"I want to be honest, counselor. As you know, if the election goes in our favor, the task of filling my current position will arise. And as you rightly suspected, you are my absolute first choice."
Bauman beamed at Cantu. "I'm at your disposal. And if I may make the comment, I believe I can continue your strict line with the same severity." He cleared his throat briefly. "I have proven in the past years that I have the appropriate expertise. And," he added, "I believe that together we can continue to clean up the city."
Cantu smiled and thought his part. He was convinced of Bauman's competence. And even though he was always a bit skeptical of his attention-seeking behavior, he was sure that this could be helpful in the last weeks of the election campaign. Bauman, who took every opportunity to present his successes as a tough investigator and prosecutor in the media, was as famous as a colorful dog in Boston. Even though his behavior was polarized without question, it would attract enough conservative voters to the polls to give him more votes. The fact that Bauman did not belong to any party was only an advantage. "Your experience and reputation are beyond question," Cantu agreed. "But we both know I need a completely unencumbered interior senator. And in that regard, we might have a slight problem, right?"
The prosecutor's face fell instantly. It took Bauman a few seconds to regain his composure. He seemed to know precisely what Cantu was hinting at. "Well, I'm sure it's a mistake, and it'll all blow over. As it stands, it seems to be more of an economic issue in which my name must have come up in passing," he said, obviously speaking casually, before turning his attention back to the next shot. He took a swing and drove the ball precisely from the fairway to the green, which was just under 330 feet away. "Nothing for us to worry about, do you disagree?"
What chutzpah, Cantu thought. What was needed in this position? 'We'll see,' he added, reaching for a nine iron. "I'll take care of it. Maybe the whole thing can be resolved."
xxx
Ashlyn had ignored her guilty conscience for not contacting Micaela for so long. She was looking forward to her first meeting after far too long. She parked her car on the opposite side of the Dolphin, where, to her great surprise, she had found a parking space immediately.
As Ashlyn had researched on the internet, the small restaurant, known for its Mediterranean specialties, seemed entirely out of place at first glance. It looked like an oversized single-story container in the middle of the small square, framed by an old building on one side and a shopping center on the other.
The design, however, looked modern and inviting. Ashlyn looked up at the sky. At a leisurely pace, white clouds drifted across the sky, creating an interplay of sun and shade. Compared to the weekend, the temperatures had dropped considerably.
"Ashlyn, you're already here," she suddenly heard a familiar voice behind her. And before she could turn around, Micaela Barboza was already at the restaurant's front door. The blonde couldn't help but smile as she held the door open. Micaela hadn't changed a bit. The same bright eyes, the same long dark hair. Only the dimples on either side of her lips, pronounced from all the smiling, were perhaps a little more pronounced.
"I've never seen you so speechless," Micaela continued as she sat at a somewhat secluded table. "You look good, maybe a little older, but good." She laughed at Ashlyn, and Ashlyn joined in the laughter. Micaela had lost no energy, and it felt like the two women had seen each other just yesterday.
"Yeah, kind of weird after all this time," Ashlyn said as she sat down, too, feeling unusually awkward. 'And somehow not at all.'
Micaela smiled broadly and leaned forward over the table. She looked the blonde directly in the eye. "That's right," she replied with a wink. 'So, Ms. Successful Defense Attorney, who has been in every newspaper in the last few weeks and months, how are you doing? What have you been up to?' She paused briefly and looked at Ashlyn with narrowed eyes, wondering what the answer to her question might be. "Married? Kids?"
Ashlyn smiled happily. "I'm in a relationship. And before you ask, no, not with Dominic Burke. I'm with a woman. And you?"
"Married."
The blonde nodded slowly. 'Really? Since when? And what's his name?'
"Two years. His name is Phil."
"Great, I'm happy for you. So, how are things with you?"
Micaela looked over Ashlyn's head and pursed her lips for a moment. But before she could answer, the waiter arrived with two menus. They agreed on a San Pellegrino bottle and ordered the grilled scampi with a side salad.
"I'm fine," Micaela replied. 'Busy at the DA's office, but that's not surprising. As you know, we have too many cases for too few lawyers. And it feels like it's getting more every day.' Ashlyn nodded slowly. The difficult situation in her former office was common knowledge.
She reached for a slice of white bread from the basket before her and broke off a piece. "It's not much different for me either. There's always far too much to do and far too much left undone," she said, raising her eyebrows briefly.
"So you're still a lone wolf, or how are you handling it?" Micaela followed up.
"Yes, that's right. It's enough in my office. It's not that unusual in criminal law. So, on the dark side." Ashlyn stuffed another piece of bread into her mouth.
"And your girlfriend? What's her name? How long have you been together?"
"Kim. We got together during the Nicholas Brandt case," Ashlyn continued, realizing that he was starting to feel a little uncomfortable with her small talk.
"Kim? The one you studied teaching within Denver back then? Oh man, that's not possible." Micaela also reached for the bread now. 'Delicious,' she said with relish. 'Do you think they bake it themselves?'
"To be honest, I don't know, it's my first time here too," replied the blonde, determined to change the subject now. "But tell me, you probably don't have all day either. Can I ask you about the thing I called about?"
Micaela paused, chewed, and looked at Ashlyn, somewhat irritated. Her smile lost its radiance from one moment to the next.
Damn, Ashlyn thought. She hadn't wanted that.
"The case, of course," Micaela said, somewhat more matter-of-factly. She poured a little more water for them and looked challengingly at Ashlyn. The latter regretted that it was no longer Micaela, her good friend, but rather prosecutor Barboza, the professional investigator and prosecutor, sitting across from her. "The floater. So you haven't just heard of John Doe, but you also know who he is? Tell me about it."
"Yes, actually, I have a hunch. I told you about my client who is missing a friend, and even though it may mean nothing, I have a fear that this could be your body."
Over the next five minutes, Ashlyn began to talk about the meeting with Garner and Payne, but without mentioning their names. She took her attorney-client confidentiality very seriously, no matter how familiar the person she was talking to was.
Micaela had only listened and then pulled a small pad and pen out of her handbag, on which she made some notes. Just as Ashlyn was telling about the Granther experiment, the waiter placed the plates of salad and six scampi in front of each of them.
"Careful, it's scalding," the waiter warned before wishing them a good appetite.
After he had disappeared again, Micaela looked Ashlyn up and down. "That's an incredible story. State-tolerated child abuse. I didn't think that was possible."
"Yes, that's what I thought. And I had never heard of it either until Payne, the editor of the Boston Observer, told me about it." Ashlyn took one of the scampi on her fork and carefully bit off a piece before continuing. "She told me that Tim Garner and Justin Booker have been doing things together for a while. They contacted the youth welfare office about two years ago. They were sure that someone would listen to them and that they would find someone interested in solving the case and holding those responsible to account. And at the beginning, things even looked quite good. The head of the office apparently made a few phone calls and then assigned a case worker to the matter."
"And what happened?"
"Well, at first, things went quite well. The editor said the responsible youth welfare office had waded through many files. There were also preliminary proceedings at the public prosecutor's office, which even the responsible senate administration joined. But the end of the story was sobering: the investigations were closed."
"Statute of limitations?"
Ashlyn took a deep breath and frowned a little. 'It matters too. At least, I assume so.'
"And then?"
"They didn't want to give up. It was just an important part of their lives, and they had already put so much time into it. So they went to the newspaper. Right to the Boston Observer. And that's where they came across Payne."
"But I haven't read anything about that yet. Or have I just not noticed it?"
"No, no," Ashlyn replied, shaking her head. "There's nothing. Not yet. Because the whole thing was supposed to start last Sunday with an interview --"
"... but that didn't work out because one of the two had disappeared," Micaela finished the sentence.
"That's exactly how it is. The editor showed up at my office with the other one."
"And what makes you think the missing friend could be my floater?"
"Two points. First, the description fits John Doe pretty well, as found in the corresponding time frame. And secondly, pure instinct. Somehow, it all fits together. Besides, I heard that there might be a unique feature about your corpse that could help with identification. Is that right?"
Micaela Barboza waited to respond to Ashlyn's question. It seemed to the blonde that the prosecutor considered how much she could tell her. Finally, Micaela looked at the blonde trustingly. "Well, there is that. And you know what? We basically take any relevant information that could lead to the identification of missing persons. So that should also apply the other way around."
Ashlyn nodded slowly.
"Even though the dead man no longer has a face that would have anything to do with his former appearance, there is actually something." Micaela paused and looked Ashlyn directly in the eye. "John Doe has three nipples."