She hadn’t been getting much information from the doctor. It would take a longer conversation for her to dig enough to let him know that she knew he wasn’t telling her everything. Then she would ask him to give her what those men had said to him in that alley, before the altercation with Luca.
But at that point, he might not trust her as his assistant, and this whole plan would be thrown for a loop.
She closed the door behind her. “What is it?”
“Mike went upstairs to check on Ralph Rousseau.” Luca winced. “He’s dead.”
Thirteen
Luca sipped from the paper cup of coffee and stared through the one-way glass into the interrogation room the morning after the gala. He wasn’t supposed to be here, technically. But after Detective Martinelli had explained to Deputy Marshal Butler his connection with the syndicate investigation, he’d been allowed to stay. It didn’t seem that Ethan even really believed their theory that the city was being controlled by some kind of shadowy syndicate. Or at least, he might not be ready to believe it.
On the other side of the glass, Detective Martinelli stood by the wall with his arms folded across his chest. Deputy Marshal Butler sat at the table, the cartel muscle that Luca had tackled across from him.
Ethan tapped his first two fingers on the table. Beating out a steady rhythm that might drive some people crazy.
Luca had withstood a whole lot worse than incessant tapping. Going through Army boot camp and then Delta Force training on top of that had pitted him against the worst things his trainers could come up with. Then he’d gone out in the field and met the real nightmares.
The cartel guy at the interrogation room table seemed a whole lot more bothered by Butler’s tapping. Shifting in his seat, darting glances at the two men. Gearing up to start talking—which was probably the marshal’s intention.
None of them said anything.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and a uniformed sergeant stuck his head in. He handed Detective Martinelli a file folder.
“Thank you, Sarge.”
The door shut and Martinelli opened the file. “Hector Carlos Ramirez. Twenty-seven years old, two counts of accessory to armed robbery. Four years in prison in San Diego before you were kicked back across the border. Now we find you here in Renegade, Colorado.” Martinelli paused. “What was the reason for your visit to the US this time?”
The guy sounded like he was auditioning for a job at Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
Hector muttered something in Spanish.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Martinelli said. “Is there something you’d like to tell us?”
So far, the guy had waived his right to an attorney. Probably a good idea, as the court would assign him someone for free. Who knew what kind of lawyer would show up to represent him?
Luca had his own lawyer on retainer even though he had no reason to require representation. Definitely not a risk he was willing to take.
Hector just stared at the two cops.
Luca’s coffee cup flexed in his hand, spilling a little of the hot drink on his skin. He winced. They might be closer than ever to real answers on the investigation, but if this guy didn’t start talking, they would only have as much as they had yesterday. Not a whole lot.
Despite the doctor’s insistence that someone must have given Ralph Rousseau the overdose of the drug that stopped his heart, there had been nothing on surveillance when they’d gone over the footage. Kira had watched the hallway and told them it was all normal, just medical staff doing their jobs—nothing and no one out of the ordinary.
Now someone was going to have to tell Destiny that her husband was dead. Kira would probably want to be there. They might even be doing that now. Sure, he could text her, but it was also in the early hours of the morning, and she might be trying to get some sleep.
Ethan shifted and placed an evidence bag with the suspect’s phone in it on the table. “This is an interesting device, Mr. Ramirez. How did you come by it?”
Hector said, “That’s not mine.”
“Sure. That’s why you were talking on it when you were detained.”
“That guy isn’t even a cop. I can’t be arrested by a guy who isn’t even a cop.” Hector’s expression turned deadly. “You can’t pin this on me.”
Ethan shrugged. “Pin what on you?”
Luca wasn’t a huge fan of the back-and-forth that went into interrogations. Or the subtext. He was much more into getting to the point—not allowing Hector to imply that Luca had planted the phone on him. Though, his preferred tactics meant he’d probably already have the suspect up against the wall and he’d be punching him to get answers. So maybe Luca should leave the interrogation business to the police.
Ethan pointed to the phone. “You were overheard talking on this. We know what you were saying, and we have the number of the person you were talking to. What you don’t know is that your friend, the one you left a message for, is in our custody. After the two of you followed Dr. Torres out of that restaurant earlier in the day, you ran off and your friend was arrested.”