16

Late morning, Avery stopped in front of the vending machine at the end of the precinct hallway and hesitated, wishing life were as simple as choosing between a candy bar and a bag of chips. Just when she thought the case was neatly wrapped up, it had somehow managed to blow wide open. The DA was now doubting the evidence to move forward with the arraignment for James Philips, even though they still needed more evidence on the Sourns for their possible involvement.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Carlos dumped his crumpled fast-food bag into the trash can beside the vending machine. “Clarissa needed me to go with her to take Chloe to the doctor, and you know how backed up things can get sometimes at the clinic.”

“It’s okay. The Sourns just arrived and are waiting in interrogation room one.” As far as she was concerned, letting them—and their lawyer—sweat a bit was a good thing. “How is Chloe?”

“Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be something serious. Because she was a preemie, the doctor thinks she’s not producing lactase well enough.”

Avery shoved her quarters into the machine, forgoing the junk food, and pushed the button for bottled water. “That would explain her constant crying and not sleeping well.”

“And my not sleeping well.”

Avery laughed. “I’ll be honest, I’m glad those days are behind me. It does get better eventually, I promise.”

“Let’s hope those days come sooner rather than later.” Carlos shoved his hands in his front pockets. “You ready for this?”

“I don’t know. I’m worried we don’t have enough leverage to convince them to talk, and worried that even if they want to talk, their lawyer won’t let them say anything.”

Avery grabbed her water from the slot and shot up a quick prayer for clarity of mind . . . and for the truth to be revealed.

Inside the interrogation room, the Sourns sat at the rectangular table with their lawyer, Ryan Blackburn. Avery had hoped to do the interview without a lawyer present, especially one like Blackburn, who made ten times as much as she did and was happy to ensure she knew it. She studied his expression that was too smug, too arrogant, and far too confident.

She took a seat across from them, set her water on the table, and plastered on her best smile. Carlos stood behind her, ready to play the game. “Mr. and Mrs. Sourn, I want to thank you for coming in and talking with us today. I know that you just recently received the news regarding the loss of your niece, and I am very sorry.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Sourn nodded while kneading a tissue between her fingers.

“We are doing everything we can to find her killer,” Avery continued, “but there are several discrepancies we need to clear up.”

Mr. Sourn took his wife’s free hand. “Finding our niece’s killer is our priority as well. We’re happy to help in any way we can.”

“Good.” Avery looked down at her notes. “You both told us that Tala had been living in your house since graduating from high school. Her diploma and driver’s license are from her home state of Arizona.”

“Yes, that is correct,” Mr. Sourn said. “Is there a problem?”

“Actually, we’ve discovered a couple discrepancies. The first one has to do with the autopsy. The ME who worked on her case found that Tala had an enlarged spleen. Now this could mean a number of things, from mononucleosis to a bacterial infection, or even cancer, but everything he tested for came up negative. Until he tested her blood for malaria.”

Avery caught the look of surprise in Mr. Sourn’s expression. “Malaria?”

“The test came back positive.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“We didn’t either at first. Because what makes this interesting is that malaria hasn’t been a problem in this country for over fifty years, meaning that Tala would have needed to travel overseas—to a place like Vietnam—to have contracted the disease. But you told me that Tala didn’t have a passport.”

Mrs. Sourn shook her head. “I . . . I didn’t think so.”

“According to the US Department of State’s Passport Records,” Avery said, “there is no record that your niece ever applied for a passport.”

“Which is why we started digging deeper and discovered a second problem.” Carlos took a step forward and dropped a copy of Tala’s high school diploma in front of the Sourns. “For starters, I applaud whoever worked on the execution of these documents. We almost didn’t catch it, but Tala never went to high school . . . at least not in Arizona. She was using a laundered identity.”

Mr. Sourn looked to his wife. “That’s not possible—”

“It’s clear what’s going on here.” Mr. Blackburn interrupted Mr. Sourn. “My clients are the victims here.”

“The victims?” Avery’s gaze widened.

“Tala told us—”

“You don’t have to say anything else, Mrs. Sourn.”

“It’s fine.” Mr. Sourn held up his hand. “We just want to get to the bottom of this. We believed Tala was our niece. If we had had any idea her paperwork was fake, we never would have let her live with us.”

Avery tried to swallow her frustration. “You are telling us, then, that you had no idea that Tala’s documents were fake.”

“Do you know how many people have fake licenses in this state alone?” Blackburn shook his head. “You can buy kits online that make authentic-looking IDs used for underage drinking. Some of the easiest to use are sold right here in Georgia. Tala . . . or whoever she was . . . arrived three months ago on my clients’ doorstep, claiming she was the niece they hadn’t seen for years, and now it’s clear that she must have been involved in some kind of con.”

“So now your clients are the victims?” Carlos asked.

“That is exactly what I’m saying. She stole a ring worth over ten thousand dollars and carried fake documents. What else could it be?”

“There is another possibility to this scenario.” Avery wasn’t ready to let things go. “Your clients were harboring an illegal immigrant. If we bring charges against them, they’ll be facing some stiff penalties.”

“My clients are innocent.”

“And a girl’s been murdered. Have you already forgotten?”

“Robbed and murdered by some homeless professor, I was told.”

“The new evidence brought forth by the ME casts doubt on his guilt.”

“Which is your problem, not mine, and certainly not my clients’. If Tala Vuong—or whatever her name really was—were still alive, she’d be the one who would be charged—for possession of fraudulent identification documents, for posing as the Sourns’ niece, and for theft. We’ve heard enough.” He signaled to the Sourns. “If you need anything else, Detective, you may contact me directly.”

Avery stood, fighting to control her anger. “Then let’s hope you’re right, because if you’re not, the next time we sit down in this room, I won’t just be talking to your clients about harboring an illegal alien. I’ll be talking to them about obstruction of justice.”

A minute later, Avery slammed her file folder down onto her desk, her head still spinning.

“Avery.”

“I blew it. I should have seen it coming. How did they become the victims in this situation?”

“Just because they won round one doesn’t mean they’re going to win the war. If you ask me, they’re guilty, and everyone in the room knew it.”

“But we can’t prove it.”

“Yet. They’re already running scared.”

“None of this adds up.” Avery ran her hands through her hair and slumped back down in her chair. “We have nothing to hold them on and no other suspects.”

“Which is why it’s up to us to find evidence that puts a hole in their story.”

Avery looked up at the knock on her door. Captain Peterson stood in the doorway, clearly unhappy.

“I listened to your interview outside, and I’m getting concerned about another case blowing up in our face.”

“Things just keep getting better and better.”

“You accused the Sourns of harboring an illegal alien.”

“The evidence I have points to that possibility.”

“I was under the impression that everything had already been wrapped up, and that the DA set an arraignment for James Philips.”

“Last night, the ME came to me with new evidence from the autopsy that places doubt on James Philips’s guilt.”

“You’re certain of that?”

“Yes. Enough for me to move Mr. and Mrs. Sourn—no matter what they say—from grieving uncle and aunt to the top of my suspect list.”

“That’s pretty strong. Isn’t it possible that they really were the victims here?”

“That is a possibility, but I’m simply following the evidence.”

“We just need to make sure this goes down by the book. Robert Sourn has been under investigation for money laundering in the past, but we never could prove he was involved. He ended up making the department look bad, something none of us want to happen again.”

Avery nodded, hating the politics that managed to entwine themselves in every case. “I’ll be careful, but if we don’t find out the truth soon, we’re going to end up with another victim.”