Chapter 8 - The Woman Who Saw Everything
The official report called the fire “suspicious.”
That was better than electrical.
Not much better.
By sunrise, half the bakery was blackened. The pastry case was cracked. The ceiling had collapsed over the prep area. Elena stood in the road staring at thirty-eight years of work covered in water and ash.
Mateo handed her coffee.
She did not drink it.
A woman in a green motel uniform approached from across the highway.
Her name was Denise Harper. She managed the twelve-room Desert Star Motel and had known Elena for years.
“I saw the truck,” Denise said.
Mateo turned. “What truck?”
“Before the fire. Dark pickup. No front plate.”
“Driver?”
“Couldn’t see the face.”
Elena asked, “Why didn’t you tell the deputy?”
Denise looked toward Shaw’s patrol car parked near the ruins.
“Because I enjoy breathing.”
Mateo said nothing.
Denise lowered her voice. “This isn’t the first business.”
She told them about a mechanic who refused to sell his garage and suddenly failed three inspections. A widow whose tax bill doubled after a paperwork “error.” A rancher whose well permit disappeared from county records.
“All of them sold,” Denise said. “Guess who bought?”
“Mercer,” Mateo replied.
“Different companies. Same lawyer.”
“Name?”
“Harold Pike.”
Mateo knew it.
Pike handled foreclosures for half the county.
Denise looked at Elena. “Rafael knew all this years ago. That’s why they hated him.”
Elena swallowed. “Did he tell you where he kept copies?”
Denise hesitated.
Then she glanced at Mateo.
“Your grandfather used to say the safest place in town was the one nobody respected.”
“That could mean anything.”
“No. He always said it while looking at the old church bell.”
Elena’s eyes widened.
Saint Agnes Church had been closed for eleven years.
Mateo was already reaching for his keys.
Denise grabbed his arm.
“There’s more.”
She pulled out her phone and showed him a photograph taken from the motel security camera.
The image was grainy but clear enough.
A dark pickup behind the bakery.
A man beside it carrying a bottle.
May you like
Not Wade.
Deputy Calvin Shaw.
