Fool Me Once

“One more question if I may.”

He nodded for her to go ahead.

“If two deaths from the same team are that unlikely, how do you explain three?”

“Three? I’m not following.”

“I’m talking about Joe.”

He frowned. “He died, what, seventeen years later?”

“Still. You’re the probability guy. What are the odds that his death isn’t somehow connected?”

“Are you saying that your husband’s murder is somehow related to Theo and Andrew?”

“Seems to me,” Maya said, “like you already said it.”

Chapter 25

There was nothing more to learn.

Neville Lockwood walked her out a few minutes later. Maya sat in her car for a moment. Up ahead was the storied landmark of Franklin Biddle, an eight-story Anglican bell tower. The four notes of the Westminster chimes sounded again. Maya checked her watch. They went on the quarter hour, she assumed.

She took out her phone and started googling again. Theo Mora’s parents were named Javier and Raisa. She started searching “white pages” sites to see if they lived in the area. She found a Raisa Mora within the Philadelphia city limits. It was worth a try.

Her cell phone rang. The caller ID for Leather and Lace popped up. She lifted the phone to her ear, but of course, whoever was on the other end had already hung up. The signal that Corey needed to see her. Well, she was a solid two hours away, and she had other places to be. Corey would just have to wait.

Raisa Mora’s street was packed with seen-better-days row houses. Maya found the right address and headed up steps of cracked concrete. She pressed the buzzer, listened for footsteps, heard nothing. Smashed bottles lined the walk. Two doors down a man in an open flannel shirt over a wifebeater tee gave her a toothless smile.

They were a long way from those Westminster chimes.

Maya pulled open the screen door. It opened with a rusty groan. She knocked hard.

“Who is it?” a woman from inside called out.

“My name is Maya Stern.”

“What do you want?”

“Are you Raisa Mora?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to ask you about your son Theo.”

The door flung open. Raisa Mora wore a diner-waitress uniform of faded mustard. Her mascara was smeared. There was more gray than black in the hair bun. She wore socks, and Maya could imagine that she had just come from some too-long work shift and kicked her shoes into a corner.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Maya Stern”-then, thinking better of it, she added, “Burkett.”

That last name got her attention. “You’re Joe’s wife.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a soldier, right?”

“Former,” Maya said. “Do you mind if I come in?”

Raisa crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. “What do you want?”

“I want to ask about your son Theo’s death.”

“Why would you want to know about that?”

“Please, Mrs. Mora, you have every reason to ask me, but I really don’t have time to explain it all. Let me just say this. I’m not sure we know all there is to know about your son’s death.”

Raisa stared at her for several seconds. “Your husband was murdered recently. I saw that in the paper.”

“Yes.”

“They picked up two suspects. Saw that too.”

“They’re innocent,” Maya said.

“I don’t understand.” The facade didn’t so much crack as give way just enough for a tear to appear. “You think, what, Joe’s murder has something to do with my Theo?”

“I don’t know,” Maya said as gently as she could. “But is there any harm in just answering my questions?”

Raisa kept her arms crossed. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Come on in then. I’m going to need to sit down.”

* * *

The two women sat together on a threadbare couch that had clearly seen better days, but then again, so had the rest of the room. Raisa handed Maya a framed family photograph. The hues had been faded by age or too much sun or, more likely, both. Five people were in the picture. Maya recognized Theo with two smaller boys who she assumed were his brothers. Behind the three children stood Raisa, looking not all that much younger though a hell of a lot happier, and a stocky man with a big mustache and wide smile.

“That’s Javier,” Raisa said, pointing to the man. “Theo’s father. He passed away two years after Theo died. Cancer. That’s what they say. But…”

Javier had a good smile, the kind you could feel even in a photograph, the kind that made you wonder what his laugh sounded like. Raisa took the photograph back from Maya and gingerly placed it back on the shelf.

“Javier came here from Mexico. I was a poor girl living in San Antonio. We met and… you don’t need to hear this.”

“No, go ahead.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Raisa said. “We ended up in Philadelphia because Javier had a cousin who got him a job doing landscaping. You know. Mowing lawns for rich people. That kind of thing. But Javier-” She stopped, smiled at some memory. “He was smart, ambitious. Really personable too. Everybody liked Javier. He had that way about him. You know what I mean? Some people-they’re just kind of magic. They draw people to them. My Javier was one of them.”

Maya nodded toward the photograph. “I can see that.”