Criminal puzzles In Texas

Chapter Twenty-Two

The air inside the station was sharp with brewed coffee and the constant hum of old ventilation. Victoria walked in, hair still damp, pulled back into a loose braid. She hadn’t planned to work today — but the gravity in Alan’s voice on the phone had erased any trace of rest from her system.
She moved with quiet urgency through the hall, nodding to a few officers who were still getting used to her presence. In San Antonio, she was still "the one they brought in from Phoenix." The one with the spotless case history and a reputation for solving messes no one else would touch.
Alan stood at the end of the boardroom, a USB in hand and a stack of printed stills spread out across the table.
“Morning,” he said, half a smirk on his face. “Didn’t think you’d come in dressed for war.”
Victoria shrugged off her jacket. “You don’t call me in unless it’s serious.”
He plugged the USB into the monitor. “Security cam across from the Hillside Apartments caught this — 2:17 a.m., twelve hours before we found the motel room.”
The grainy footage flickered on screen. A tall figure, hoodie pulled up, moved with purpose across the lot. There was a pause — then the faintest hitch in his gait.
“That limp,” Victoria said, leaning in. “That’s not Marco.”
Alan nodded. “Exactly. But look at this.” He fast-forwarded. “They come out carrying the duffel bag. Same one we found at the scene, but it’s bulkier.”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “So someone planted it. Staged the scene to throw us off.”
“Bingo.”
They poured over footage for the next hour, cross-referencing timestamps and camera angles, pulling DMV records and gang associate photos. Victoria’s mind switched into high gear. She didn’t just look at faces — she mapped out timelines, connections, movements. It was what she was known for. And Alan, despite having recruited her, hadn’t seen it in person until now.
“You’re a machine,” he muttered, watching her annotate a map of San Antonio’s southside.
“I didn’t get this job for charm,” she replied, not looking up.
He studied her for a bit longer. “I followed your career before I even met you, you know. Since Phoenix. That arson task force you led — textbook work.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying thank you for coming in?”
Alan grinned. “Yeah, something like that.”
“By the way,” he said after a moment, “when I called this morning, I heard voice in the background. Sounded like a kid.”
Victoria didn’t look up. “That was my daughter.”
Alan blinked. “Daughter?”
She glanced at him briefly. “Yeah. Samantha. Sixteen.”
There was a pause.
“I just — nothing in your file ever mentioned family,” he said carefully. “You were always solo. Especially back in Phoenix.”
“That was intentional,” Victoria said. “Personal life stayed personal. Easier that way.”
Alan nodded slowly. “Makes sense. Just caught me off guard.”
“I didn’t hide her. I protected her,” she added, her tone even but firm.
He raised his hands slightly. “No judgment. Honestly, I respect it.”
Victoria gave a small nod, then turned back to the footage. “We done with surprises now?”
Before Alan could reply, Victoria’s phone buzzed. A message from Samantha.
Sam: Can I go out with Dylan? Just coffee and Hayworth Books. His mom’s driving. I’ll be home by 6, promise.
Sam (again): You can call her if you want.
Victoria smiled slightly, thumbed a reply.
Vic: Usual rules — I want the address and pickup time. And phone stays on.
A few seconds later:
Sam: Sent you the map. Love you. Also I did not eat the rest of the pasta, even though I wanted to.
Victoria smirked. “Kid wants to go out. Already bribing me with leftover confessions.”
Alan glanced at her, surprise flickering across his face. “You’re raising a teenager while running homicide scene recon. That’s... a lot.”
“Tell me about it,” she said. But there was warmth in her voice — that rare softness Alan had only glimpsed in passing.
“There,” she said suddenly, pointing to the screen. “Gas station camera — two hours after the motel timestamp. Marco’s not heading toward the bus depot. He’s doubling back. South side of the city. Probably has a stash or a safe house.”
Alan moved in beside her. “You want to check it out?”
She looked at the clock. “Let me text Sam that dinner might be late.”