Criminal puzzles In Texas

Chapter Nineteen

Victoria stepped into the house just after 7 a.m., her keys clinking into the ceramic bowl by the door. The quiet hit her like a wall — no chatter, no movement, only the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant tick of the hallway clock. The scent of toast lingered faintly in the air, and the morning sunlight filtered lazily through the sheer curtains, painting pale gold stripes across the hardwood floor.
Her body felt like lead. Hours of adrenaline had drained from her bones, leaving behind an ache that settled into her shoulders and the space behind her eyes. But her mind was sharp, still turning over the details from the night before — the second body, the deliberate arrangement, the emerging pattern. The forest case had grown teeth, and now it was biting back.
In the kitchen, she noticed the small signs of Samantha’s morning routine: an empty coffee cup by the sink, a butter knife with a streak of peanut butter still resting on the cutting board, and a folded paper towel beside a half-empty cereal bowl. Victoria allowed herself a faint smile. Her daughter was getting more independent, more confident — and that was something to hold onto.
Her phone buzzed on the counter.
Alan: Meeting with the construction manager confirmed for noon. Sleep if you can.
Victoria exhaled a quiet breath and typed back:
Victoria: Can’t. Too wired. See you then.
By midday, Victoria and Alan sat in a small, cluttered office on the second floor of a construction site headquarters. Stacks of paperwork lined the shelves, and faded safety posters curled at the edges on the paneled walls. The window blinds let in slats of harsh daylight that lit up the dust floating between them and the tired man seated across the desk.
Tom Callahan, the site manager, was in his fifties, balding with weathered hands and a nervous energy that made him bounce the end of a pen against his palm over and over.
“We let Julian go last year,” he said, glancing between them. “Stuff started going missing. Shipments wouldn’t match. Pallets of lumber, heavy-duty tools — just gone.”
Alan leaned forward slightly, his tone calm but probing. “Did you suspect theft… or something bigger?”
Tom hesitated, then gave a cautious nod. “We don’t ask those kinds of questions. But yeah, there were whispers. He started showing up late, ducking out early. Some of the guys said they saw him talking to Marco Villanueva. Used to be on our site security team. Rumors said he had ties to the Lucetti family.”
Victoria’s pen moved quickly across the pages of her notebook. “We’ll need contact details for Villanueva. Anyone else who seemed close to Rivas?”
Tom tapped the desk twice, thinking. “Vince Delano. Accounting. Still works here. Kept to himself, but he and Julian were tight. If Julian missed a check-in, Vince always had a reason ready.”
Alan nodded, meeting Victoria’s eyes. “Let’s talk to Delano.”

At school, Samantha walked beside Dylan through the corridor that led toward the library, sketchbooks tucked under their arms. The hallway buzzed with noise — students talking, locker doors slamming, the distant echo of a teacher calling for order — but it didn’t press in quite as much as it had yesterday.
“So,” Dylan said, nudging her with his shoulder, “what’s your theme for the portfolio?”
Samantha shrugged, her gaze flicking to the mural on the far wall. “I’m not sure. Something with contrast. Layers. Light and shadow. I want it to mean something, not just be… pretty.”
“I like that,” he said with a genuine smile. “You want to stay after class and work on it together? I’ve got a spot behind the school — there’s this hill that catches the sunset perfectly.”
Samantha felt a flutter in her chest but kept her tone even. “Sure. Sounds peaceful.”
“It is,” Dylan said. “And quiet. Good for thinking.”

Back at the precinct, Victoria dropped a manila folder onto Alan’s desk. Her movements were swift, precise, as always. “Delano agreed to meet. Said he has nothing to hide.”
Alan flipped open the folder. “His record’s clean. No priors, not even a speeding ticket. But this…” He tapped the page. “Julian was funneling money into a shared account. Delano’s name is on it.”
Victoria’s brows knit. “So he’s either complicit, or someone used him to move funds under the radar.”
Alan pushed away from the desk, standing. “Let’s hear it from him.”

The hill behind the school was quiet, just like Dylan had said. Tall grass swayed gently in the breeze, and a thin canopy of trees filtered the fading afternoon sunlight into soft, golden dapples. Samantha and Dylan sat cross-legged with sketch pads in their laps, pencils scratching softly against paper.
“I come up here when everything gets to be too much,” Dylan said without looking up. “It helps me sort things out.”
Samantha paused her drawing. “What gets to be too much?”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “My dad. Expectations. The pressure to be someone I’m not.”
Samantha nodded slowly. “I know that feeling. Moving here… it was like erasing everything I had and pretending it didn’t matter.”
“You’re doing more than pretending,” Dylan said, his voice low but certain. “You’re holding your own.”
She met his eyes, then looked down with a shy smile. “Thanks.”
For a few moments, they said nothing. The breeze stirred the pages of their sketchbooks, and the world narrowed to graphite lines and soft sunlight.

That evening before work, Victoria stirred a pot of pasta on the stove, steam curling upward as the scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the kitchen. She sautéed vegetables with one hand, balancing a phone call on speaker with the other.
“Yes, we’ll bring Delano in for a formal statement tomorrow. No, we’re not ruling him out yet,” she said to a sergeant, voice clipped but steady.
The call ended just as she plated dinner. Samantha appeared in the doorway, her damp hair tied back, wearing an oversized T-shirt and pajama pants.
“You okay if I head out early tonight?” Victoria asked as they sat down together.
Samantha nodded, twirling her fork through her pasta. “Yeah. You’ve got a case to solve. Just don’t forget to eat next time you’re stuck at the station.”
Victoria smiled and leaned over to kiss her daughter’s head. “You’re my world. Don’t think I’d forget that.”
Samantha looked up, her expression soft. “Be careful.”
“I always am,” Victoria said, pulling on her jacket and grabbing her badge. But as she stepped into the night, her mind was already back on the case — and the shadows were waiting at the edges of the next clue.