Venezuelan.”
She was pretty sure that was a compliment. “The captain seems to think Mr. Danning might have taken a boat to the islands,” she said as they got into his car.
He drove a black Mercedes instead of a police cruiser, the siren built into the dashboard up front by the window. Pretty fancy car. He must be fairly high up the food chain himself. Maybe that bode well for her. Maybe she’d been assigned the best of the best, the Caracas police wanting to show off.
The motor purred to life under his hand. “He’s been missing for a month from what I understand?”
“Yes.” She was relieved that Roberto was familiar with the case. “Have you investigated his disappearance?”
“I only received the case files last night.”
After Elaine had called down to make appointments for her? “May I see them?”
“Of course. I’m here to assist you in any way I can. I’ll make sure you receive full copies.”
“Muchas gracias.” So far, she couldn’t complain about cooperation. “So you’re with the Cuerpo de Investigaciones Científicas, Penales y Criminalísticas?”
He flashed an approving look. “You’ve done your homework.”
She liked to do things right. She’d spent an hour or so on the plane researching Venezuelan law enforcement, split across various police agencies, which seemed pretty chaotic to her American sensibilities.
In addition to the Cuerpo de Investigaciones, they had the newly founded National Police. The National Guard was also part of law enforcement, reporting to the Ministry of Defense. Then DISIP, Venezuela’s CIA.
Each of the country’s twenty-three states also had its own police force. Law enforcement had vast overlaps and blind spots—a decentralized mess wrought with corruption, as far as she could tell at first glance, but she wasn’t going to worry about that until she had to. For now, she had to deal with only Caracas.
“Where do you think Danning is?” she asked.
He didn’t hesitate. He gave it to her straight. “Dead.”
She filled her lungs.
Body Retrieval. That seemed to be the consensus—except for the police captain, who sounded like he worked for the tourist board. Her heart tripped. Glenn and she hadn’t been close in years. And even back when they’d been together, she’d known that they were all wrong for each other. She’d been the one to end the relationship.
But she had missed the friendship. She wanted to find him alive. She needed to find him alive. Maybe because she’d left him. She owed him something. If she found him, it’d be one debt in her life she could consider paid. God knew, she could do precious little about the others.
“If he was alive,” Roberto said, “there would have been some indication. A ransom note if he’d been kidnapped. I’m afraid something bad has happened to him.”
At least, Roberto wasn’t scared of hard answers, she thought, and said, “The captain seems convinced of the opposite.”
He flashed a sardonic smile. “The captain is proud of his city and the job his men do here. He’s not going to admit to crime against tourists without a body. And even then, he’s likely to say Danning had too much to drink, tripped, and broke his neck when he fell.”
“What do you think happened?”
He thought for a moment. “Danning has a large fortune in the US. He’s been rich all his life. A man like that doesn’t run off to be poor. If we’re looking at murder, the two most basic reasons are love or money.”
She’d considered both on the plane. “He’s not attached at the moment. He has an ex-wife, but they divorced amicably five years ago. I don’t see her putting a hit on him suddenly.” Especially since Victoria was wealthy in her own right, happily married with kids.
“Which leaves money. As you said, he’s worth millions. People have killed for less.”
“Or he could have been the victim of random violence in Caracas.” Her least favorite option. Random crime was always the most