Don't Look Twice by Andrew Gross Read Free Book Online Page B

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    â€œYou can tell her I’ve lost a daughter too,” Hauck said. “I understand what she may be feeling…”
    He waited while Rosa translated. The mother’s small, slightly wary eyes showed life in them. “May God shine his love on you…,” she said softly, in Spanish.
    Hauck put up his hand. “Tell your mother I understand.”
    â€œÃ‰l comprende, Mamá…” Anna Maria Ruiz forced a tight smile.
    â€œBut something bad happened today that might be related to your daughter.” Hauck went through the events as Rosa translated. The red truck at the station, the guy in the red bandana leaning out, shouting. The guy in the green vest.
    Anna Maria Ruiz shook her head.
    â€œHe was a very important man,” Hauck said to her. “There will be a lot of attention on this…”
    â€œWe need to talk to Victor, Mrs. Ruiz,” Artie Ewell interjected.
    â€œVictor no está aquí. ”
    â€œYou think my brother would ever try to kill a federal attorney?” Rosa said, her dark eyes lit with both anger and outrage.
    â€œNo,” Hauck said. “I don’t think that’s what he was trying to do at all.”
    Munoz took out the newspaper article they had found in the abandoned pickup. Rosa read, and the mother took one look at it and her eyes stiffened in fear. She shook her head.
    â€œVictor would no do something like this.”
    â€œThe person who did do it shouted out your daughter’s name,” Hauck said. “I was there, Mrs. Ruiz. With my own daughter.”
    â€œSu niña?” the woman said, wide-eyed.
    â€œWhere is Victor?” Artie Ewell pushed.
    The mother looked at Rosa and shook her head again. “Victor no está aquí. ”
    â€œHe made statements to some of the other families after the accident,” Hauck said. “Some of them interpreted them as threats…”
    â€œNo, no threats,” the mother said in English, seeming to comprehend. “I always feel bad, for those children. I never hold it against them, never, what happened. They were foolish. Foolish children. They were my daughter’s friends.”
    â€œMaybe Victor didn’t do it,” Art Ewell said. “Maybe someone he knows did. We just want to talk with him. We know he’s involved in a gang.”
    â€œNo. No gang …” The woman shook her head; this time fear shone in her eyes. “I tell you, we have nothing against that family. I no know them, but I know their son is good, like Josephina. He came to her Mass. This is not a thing we would ever wish on them…”
    â€œWhere is he, Mrs. Ruiz?” Artie Ewell asked again.
    Hauck’s gaze fell on something underneath the couch. The tip of a white high-top sneaker peeking out from under the upholstered flap. Munoz noticed it too, then Artie. They looked in the direction of the bedrooms.
    Anna Maria Ruiz saw it as well, her features suddenly twisted in alarm.
    Munoz took out his gun and kept it by his side. “Victor Ruiz!” he called out. “If you’re in here, I want you to identify yourself and come out with your hands in the air.”
    â€œHe wouldn’t do such a thing,” Rosa pleaded. She clutched her mother’s arm. “It wasn’t him, please…”
    Drawing his own gun, Hauck headed toward the bedrooms. He slowly opened one of the doors as Rosa shouted behind them, “Mama, tell them, please…!”
    It was a teenage girl’s room. Posters on the wall. Marc Anthony. Beyoncé. A baby-blue bedspread. Books on a makeshift desk. Like it hadn’t been disturbed for months.
    â€œVictor Ruiz!”
    No answer.
    Hauck made his way inside the larger bedroom. The mother’s room. A white work uniform was neatly draped over a chair next to an ironing board. On the dresser, there was a statuette of the Virgin Mary.
    â€œVictor?”
    He kicked a pair of slippers out from