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Wilson downed another Red Bull while waiting for answers. His counterparts were out doing sweeps of every neighborhood in the city. While he couldn’t prove that Juarez took Natasha, he certainly gave Captain Reagan enough information to bring Juarez in for questioning.
Melody was Juarez’s niece. There were one hundred different scenarios running through his head at this knowledge. All of which made his head spin.
Wilson stopped pacing and sat down in one of the plastic chairs aligning the walls of the police station. He was so tired that his vision had become blurred. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept. Wilson’s eyes felt like someone threw hot sand in them. Eyes closed, he leaned his head back against the cold concrete wall.
“Wilson, wake up,” Officer Malcolm Ferguson yelled.
His eyes burned when he tried to open them.
“We got him.”
Wilson stood straight up. “Who?”
“Juarez, that’s who.”
His eyes flew open. “Where is he?” Wilson asked as he made his way down the hall.
“In the interrogation room.”
“Did you ask him about my sister?”
“Natasha wasn’t with him, Wilson.”
“What do you mean?”
“We haven’t finished questioning him yet?”
“How long has he been in there?”
“An hour or so.”
“Let me talk to him,” Wilson stated.
“Not gonna happen,” Captain Reagan said, interrupting their conversation. He gathered a file on his desk, then walked back to the interrogation room. “Wilson, go home. I’ll call you when I get solid answers.”
He stood there with feet apart and arms folded over his chest. “I’m not going nowhere.”
“Suit yourself.” Captain Reagan shrugged his shoulders and slammed the interrogation room door.
Wilson went upstairs to his desk and grabbed his travel kit. He strode into the bathroom and washed his face, put Visine in his red eyes and brushed his teeth. There was no way on earth he was leaving. He looked in the mirror and saw disappointment staring back at him. He had been so close to bringing Natasha home.
After going to the cafeteria for a large cup of black coffee. He stood around one of the desks closest to the interrogation rooms, waiting for an opportunity.
As soon as he had his chance, Wilson entered and walked over to the observation window and stared at Juarez. Strangely, he looked exactly the same as he did all those years ago.
Juarez was still clean cut and all American, except he was of Hispanic descent. He was dressed in an expensive blue suit that looked like it was tailor-made.
Wilson listened keenly to every question they asked him.
Juarez never faltered. He never wavered.
“Yes, I know Natasha. I’d seen her around campus and wanted to get to know her better.”
When asked why he was on a college campus, he responded, “A lot of my employees attend that school. I also mentor a couple of the students.”
“What was your interest in Natasha?”
Juarez smiled and said, “Who wouldn’t be interested in a gorgeous girl like that? She and I really connected. We spent time together. I’ve taken her to lunch and on dates.”
Wilson wondered if Juarez was sleeping with his sister? He banished the thought from his mind.
Leaning forward, he rested his head against the glass.
Juarez’s smile disappeared when it was suggested that he’d kidnapped Natasha. He looked straight into the two-way glass as if he could sense the presence of Wilson.
“I don’t have her. And when I find out who does they’ll be dead just like whoever killed my niece.” Juarez sucked his teeth. He looked up at Captain Reagan. “Have you considered that these two crimes are related?”
Something was amiss. Wilson couldn’t put his finger on it, but it didn’t feel right.
Wilson paced back and forth in the tight space. If Juarez didn’t have her, then who did? What were they missing?