“But how does that work?”

  “Apparently he has outside help,” Frigg replied, “most likely his daughter.”

  “And he’s doing all this over the Internet? How does that work?” Ali asked. “I didn’t think prisoners were allowed access to electronic devices.”

  “I doubt prison authorities are aware this device exists,” Frigg answered.

  “But none of that matters anyway,” Ali continued. “Even if none of this is admissible, I’m assuming you’ve kept a copy.”

  “Of course,” Frigg replied. “I’ve placed the original in Mr. Muñoz’s permanent file. That is the correct terminology, is it not, Stu?”

  “Yes,” Stu agreed wearily. “That’s what it’s called and usually as a joke, but Ali’s right. This confession doesn’t do us a bit of good. It’s both inadmissible and illegal. If we were to take this to the cops, we’re the ones who would end up going to jail.”

  “But Frank Muñoz just said he’s getting ready to leave the country,” Ali objected, “so we’d better figure out a way to make anything that is admissible available to law enforcement without blowing our cover.”

  With that, Ali stood up. “I’m going home now,” she announced. “Go ahead and continue collecting material, Frigg, but I want you to collate it into two separate files—what’s legal for us to have and what isn’t. Once I review what’s legal, I’ll see if we have enough information leading back to Frank Muñoz to build a believable case against him.”

  “Of course, Ms. Reynolds,” Frigg said at once. “It will be my pleasure. Where would you like me to begin—with the murder of Alysha Morgan?”

  “Wait,” Ali said. “Who’s she?”

  “Alysha Morgan was murdered in a nightclub parking lot in Pasadena, California, in 1997. The investigation into that homicide appears to be what put three people in Frank Muñoz’s crosshairs—Jack Littleton, Hal Holden, and Danielle Lomax-Reardon.”

  By now Ali’s head was spinning. She didn’t know who Danielle was, either, but she was sure she was about to find out.

  “Yes,” Ali said at last, “by all means start with Alysha.”

  CHAPTER 37

  BEAVERTON, OREGON

  Friday, January 3, 2020, 4:00 p.m. (PST)

  By the middle of Friday afternoon, Ramon’s already bad day got infinitely worse. He had called his sisters as soon as he got back to the hospital after his interview with Detective Wallace. Lucy immediately hopped in her car and arrived at the hospital while their mother was still in recovery. Tina chose to fly in, and Ramon had agreed to pick her up at PDX.

  “You stink.” Those were Tina’s first words when she climbed into Ramon’s 4Runner. “You should shower.”

  How about ‘thanks for picking me up’? Ramon thought.

  There were any number of things Ramon might have told her about having to carry people out of burning buildings or about not being allowed inside his cottage other than to get his car keys because the investigation was ongoing. He could have said those things, but he chose not to.

  “Sorry about that,” he responded mildly. “I’ve been a little busy.”

  “Was it really a bombing?” Tina wanted to know. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “No idea,” Ramon replied.

  Not only did he suspect their father, he was also privy to some inside dope concerning the investigation, but he wasn’t prepared to pass any of that along to “the girls.” He could be trusted to keep his mouth shut. He doubted that was true for either one of them.

  “And Larry went ahead with his surgery, even though Mom just had a heart attack?” Tina demanded. “You’d think he’d have the good sense to reschedule.”

  “I’m sure he had his reasons,” Ramon said. Good ones, too, he thought.

  Tina’s interrogation continued. “What’s the deal with the house?”

  “It’s a total loss,” he answered.

  “So where are the folks going to go when they leave the hospital?”

  “I’ve been in touch with their insurance guy,” Ramon told her. “He’s found an assisted-living place where they’ll be able to sublet a unit on a temporary basis.”

  “Assisted living,” Tina huffed. “They’re too young for assisted living.”

  “It’s what they need right now.” Ramon told her.

  “But…”

  “No buts,” Ramon said, cutting her off. “It’s a done deal.”

  “Shouldn’t we all have been in on that discussion?”

  “I’m the one who was here,” Ramon told her. Like it or lump it, he thought.

  “If we can’t be at the house, where are Lucy and I supposed to stay?”

  “Lucy found a hotel,” an exasperated Ramon replied. “I suggest you bunk with her.” Because you’re sure as hell not coming home with me!

  By then Tina’s nose was clearly out of joint. The remainder of the drive was done in silence.

  Once they arrived at Portland General, Tina went straight to their mother’s room while Ramon went to Larry’s. The rooms were on different floors, and Ramon was grateful for that bit of physical separation.

  Ramon had visited the room earlier, but Larry had been too groggy to talk. This time, when he arrived, Ramon was amazed to see that a pair of physical therapists had Larry up and walking. Ramon waited until the attendants finished getting Larry back into bed.

  “Isn’t it a little soon for you to be up and about?”

  “I guess not,” Larry told him. “My surgeon told me that these days most knee-replacement patients go home either the same day or the next. I told him about what happened both with Mom and the house, so he’s made arrangements with the insurance company for me to have five days in a rehab facility. I believe Mom’s doctor will be able to do the same for her. After that, I don’t know where we’ll go.”

  “Not to worry,” Ramon told him. “I’ve got it handled. I’ve been working with Norm Williams, and it’s all arranged. When the time comes for you to leave rehab, you’ll be able to stay at an assisted-living place for the next three months.”

  A look of immense relief flashed across Larry’s face. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ve been worried sick about it. Norm’s a good guy. So are you.”

  The silence that followed that small compliment was a comfortable one.

  “I’m sorry the house is gone,” Larry resumed finally. “Before I had to take early retirement, your mom and I had talked about remodeling the place. Now we’ll have to.”

  “I guess so,” Ramon agreed.

  “But the truth is,” Larry went on, “I’m really grateful for that bomb.”

  Ramon looked at him in astonishment, thinking he must have misheard. “Really?”

  “Really,” Larry replied. “Mom’s doctor said it probably saved her life. Her heart attack came on with no advance warning. If the EMTs hadn’t been right there when it happened, she probably would have died.”

  Ramon nodded. That was vintage Larry Rogers. No matter what, he always managed to find the bright side.

  Yet another silence ensued. It went on for so long that Ramon assumed Larry had drifted off to sleep. Although they were no longer chatting, Ramon’s reluctance to deal with his sisters kept him where he was. When Larry spoke again, his voice caught Ramon off guard.

  “Your father used to beat her, you know,” Larry said quietly.

  “I know he beat me,” Ramon said with anger surging in his chest. “I didn’t know he beat Mom, too.”

  “You weren’t supposed to,” Larry said. “He was always careful to hurt her in places where it didn’t show—so people wouldn’t know what was really going on. She stayed with him years longer than she should have, but once she could see he was on his way to prison, she managed to make a clean break of it.”

  “Why did she stay for so long?” Ramon asked.

  “I believe she felt she owed him.”

  Ramon hesitated before asking the next question. “Because of me?”

  Larry nodded. “Exactly,” he said.

  Ramon let his breath out. “So you know about that?”

  “I knew about all of it,” Larry replied, “about the rape, the unexpected pregnancy, and the shotgun wedding. She told me the story long before we married. When did you find out?”

  “Just last week,” Ramon answered. “I’ve wondered about it for years, but I finally got around to doing a DNA test.”

  “Did you talk to Mom about it?” Larry asked.

  “I did,” Ramon told him, “right after the girls left.”

  “Good,” Larry said. “It’s about time we got all that bad old stuff out in the open, but it doesn’t change a thing between you and me, Ramon. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve been my son all along, and if Frank Muñoz did this, then the two of us are going to work like hell to see that he gets exactly what he deserves.”

  CHAPTER 38

  SEDONA, ARIZONA

  Friday, January 3, 2020, 7:00 p.m. (MST)

  When Ali arrived home, Bella was overjoyed to see her, acting as though Ali had been gone for years rather than only a couple of days. It took a while to shower and change out of her travel clothes into a comfy pair of sweats. At that point, plagued by jet lag, Ali took herself to bed but not to sleep. Propped against a mound of pillows with Bella cuddled next to her, she opened her iPad and summoned both Frigg and Stu for an online call.

  “Okay,” she said once they were there. “Tell me about the murders of both Alysha Morgan and Danielle Lomax-Reardon, so I’m on the same page with both of you.”

  Frigg delivered a short overview of both, along with Frank Muñoz’s subsequent incarceration on federal police corruption charges. After listening to those, Ali had a far better idea of where things stood.

  “From here on out,” she said, “all I want at my fingertips is open-source material I can freely share with law enforcement.”

  “Understood,” Stu said.

  “We know from the keylogger that Frank Muñoz is most likely responsible for what happened on I-17,” Ali went on, “but for now let’s leave Hal and B.’s situation out of the equation. Warren Biba isn’t going to accept any assistance from us, so there’s no point in wasting time. And we should probably take a pass on Jack Littleton’s case as well. Yes, we believe what happened to him is connected to everything else, but as long as his manner of death remains undetermined, I doubt anything we find will be enough to jump-start reopening the investigation into that.”

  “Which leaves us with today’s bombing in Beaverton and the murder of Danielle Lomax-Reardon,” Stu concluded.

  “I’m guessing the bombing is all hands on deck, so let’s leave that one alone for now, too,” Ali said. “Instead, let’s concentrate on Danielle’s case. From what you just told me, she’s been dead for almost three years. I’m betting there are some homicide cops up in St. Paul who would welcome a new lead of any kind.”

  “But again, for your purposes, we’ll be starting with Alysha’s murder?” Frigg inquired.

  “Correct,” Ali confirmed, “starting there.”

  The first file that flashed on the screen was an archived copy of an old newspaper article dated July 20, 1997:

  GUILTY VERDICT IN ALYSHA MORGAN HOMICIDE

  After a weeklong trial and twelve hours of deliberation spread over two days, a jury in the Pasadena Superior Court found accused killer Zeke Mathias Woodward guilty of second-degree murder in the 1997 parking lot shooting of exotic dancer Alysha Morgan.

  The prosecution maintained that Ms. Morgan was the victim of a premeditated homicide, which would have called for a sentence of up to life in prison without parole. Instead, the jury found him guilty of second-degree murder, where sentence guidelines come in at twenty years to life.

  During the trial, the victim’s good friend and fellow dancer, Danielle Lomax, testified that as she and Alysha were leaving the strip club where they both worked, Woodward was lying in wait in the parking lot and ambushed the victim when the two women stepped outside.

  BJ’s, the troubled adult entertainment venue where both women worked, was shuttered three months after the homicide when the owner, Betty Jean Parmenter, was taken into custody by the FBI as the result of an ongoing racketeering investigation.

  After the verdict was read, the lead investigator on the case, Pasadena homicide detective Jack Littleton, told reporters that he was disappointed with the second-degree verdict. “Alysha suffered through multiple instances of domestic violence, and when Woodward brought that weapon to the parking lot, he did so with the clear intention of murdering her.”

  Over the course of the trial, several of Ms. Morgan’s fellow dancers, including Ms. Lomax, testified that prior to the homicide, the victim often exhibited signs of bruising on her body, leading them to believe that she had been subjected to repeated instances of domestic abuse at the hands of her boyfriend.

  Sentencing in Mr. Woodward’s case is scheduled for two weeks from today.

  “Presumably Jack Littleton and Hal Holden were both involved in this case?” Ali asked.

  “Correct,” Frigg replied.

  “But there’s no mention of Frank Muñoz,” Ali objected.

  “Correct, but there should have been,” Stu said. “Show her, Frigg.”

  The next item to appear on Ali’s screen was an archived copy of a handwritten police report from one of the officers on the scene. Approximately thirty names were listed there, and Frigg had helpfully highlighted the name of Frank Muñoz.

  “But that’s the only place where his presence appears in the investigation,” Stu said.

  “Wait,” Ali objected, “you’re telling me an off-duty cop from Pasadena PD was present at BJ’s the night of the homicide and that he was never interviewed? That makes it sound as though Hal and his partner were covering for him.”

  “Frigg thinks they were covering for the FBI,” Stu replied.

  “The FBI?” Ali echoed.

  “That is correct,” Frigg agreed. “When I examined the unredacted information from the investigation into the mob-related activities at BJ’s, I learned that an FBI investigation was already underway at the time of Alysha’s murder. If Muñoz had become involved in the investigation as a potential witness, his presence there might have derailed what the FBI was doing.”

  At that point Frigg’s briefing veered into material she shouldn’t have been able to access, the court reporter’s version of Danielle Lomax’s testimony in front of the grand jury. In it, she spoke about her affair with Frank Muñoz and his involvement in the illegal gambling activities going on inside BJ’s, including his admission to Danielle in which he stated he had received a generous payoff from Betty Jean Parmenter for warning her in advance of an upcoming vice squad raid.

  “So Danielle Lomax and Frank Muñoz were having an affair and she testified against him in the grand jury hearing?”

  “Correct,” Frigg supplied, “although I believe that part of the story may not qualify as open-source material.”

  “Probably not,” Ali agreed, “but I think we can agree that someone who would go on an all-out revenge rampage so many years later is one angry dude—angry and dangerous. I wonder if physical abuse might be part of why she was willing to come forward and testify against him. What was Danielle doing at the time of her death?”

  “She was serving as the executive director of Dahlke House, a domestic violence shelter in St. Paul, Minnesota,” Frigg answered.

  “Where are you going with this?” Stu asked.

  “Women who make battling domestic violence their life’s work usually have good reasons for doing so lurking in their own personal histories. Is there anything in Danielle’s homicide investigation to suggest she was abused by her husband?”

  “Would you like to see transcripts from Mr. Reardon’s police interviews?”

  “Yes, please,” Ali said.

  At the time of Danielle’s murder, Danielle’s husband, Luke Reardon, had submitted to several police interviews, including one done on the evening of the homicide. In all but the first he was grilled about his marriage to Danielle. Were there any issues, monetary or otherwise, in their relationship? His answer to that question was a resounding no. At one point, the lead detective, Amos Anderson, asked Luke about Danielle’s previous romantic entanglements.

  Reardon: When we met, we both had past relationships, and we agreed they were best left in the past.

  Anderson: So you’re not acquainted with any of her previous boyfriends?

  Reardon: No, I’m not. Like I already told you, Danielle’s previous boyfriends were none of my business.

  Anderson: Have you ever harmed your wife in any fashion?

  Reardon: Absolutely not.

  Anderson: No physical altercations?

  Reardon: None. And how could I possibly have done this? You already know I was out trick-or-treating with our boys at the time this happened.

  Anderson: You could have hired a hit man.

  Reardon: (a barely audible snicker) I don’t know what the going rate is on hit men these days, but I doubt I could afford one.

  “It sounds as though Luke Reardon wasn’t even aware of Frank Muñoz’s name, much less of his relationship with Danielle,” Ali observed.

  “He could have lied about that,” Stu suggested.

  “Why would he?” Ali retorted. “If someone was grilling me about my involvement in my spouse’s death, and I happened to have some other suspect in mind, you can bet I’d say something.”

  “What about the Reardons’ financials?” Stu asked.

  “Everything appeared to be in order,” Frigg supplied. “No credit card debt to speak of. The amounts of life insurance weren’t excessive. They had recently purchased a home and carried enough insurance on each of them to cover the mortgage in the event either of them died. In addition, they each had $100,000 insurance policies that were purchased shortly after the birth of their first child.”

  “What did Danielle do between the time of Frank Muñoz’s trial and her death?” Ali asked.