White Night

Chapter 22

        Amanda Campos was listed as twenty-five years old and living in Bushwick. Based on Weston's phone records, they'd been together almost a year.

Ross drove while Connors poured over the little information they had on Campos. No criminal record herself, but several complaints filed against a Mateo Castillo, her ex-fiancé—all minor disturbances, no arrests and no protection order filed.

Street lights flickered on as the red sun dropped behind the towering city skyscrapers to the west. She stared out the window as the buildings rolled by, blocks filled with 99-cent stores, bodegas, bars, and restaurants, including the tiny Mexican restaurant located inside a tortilla factory surviving against the odds in a city that demanded resilience.

Colorful professional street art brightened some of the older buildings, interspersed with rawer graffiti. The area was poor but getting richer as the hipsters and businessmen and women from the city continued their steady invasion.

"This is it," said Ross as he turned off the engine and looked up at the apartment building. It'd taken him longer to get here than it would have taken her, but he didn't know the area as well as she did yet.

The apartment building was small, only two stories and typical for this area of Bushwick, which was neither the best nor the worst in Brooklyn. In parts of Bed-Stuy or Crown Heights you kept your hand closer to your weapon, but here you could almost relax, almost.

Ross looked around nervously as she started up the steps to the building. Her leg was managing better than she'd dared to hope, but Ross was close behind her. Either he was spooked by the neighborhood or ready to catch her if her leg collapsed mid-stair. Both options were unnerving.

The nameplate on the cracked door buzzer indicated that Amanda was on the second floor. Connors pushed the button and a nervous voice answered.

"Hel-lo."

"Are you Amanda?" Connors asked.

They'd already agreed she would take the lead unless Amanda was uncooperative. A female voice would be more reassuring if she'd had trouble with an ex in the past. Ross scanned the neighboring buildings, resting his hand near his Sig as he stayed close to her back.

"Yes. Who wants to know?"

"NYPD. We need to talk to you about John Weston."

The speaker went silent.

"Amanda?"

"Okay."

The door whirred loudly as Amanda granted them access to the building, but after yet more stairs, Amanda's apartment door was still closed. Connors knocked on the door and the peephole went dark as Amanda checked out her visitors.

"Do you have ID?" she asked.

This was going to take forever. Connors pulled her ID from her jacket and held it to the peephole. Several bolts rattled and Amanda finally granted them entry.

"Sorry, had trouble with my ex." She waved them into the apartment.

Connors nodded.

The apartment was typically tiny for New York but well-kept despite the cracked linoleum and faded walls. Amanda's face was as tired as her surroundings.

"Please, sit." She motioned to the mix of chairs huddled around a low wicker table.

Connors suppressed a smile as Ross negotiated the narrow gap between the table and an unsteady plastic chair, which he carefully folded his tall frame into.

"Did you have trouble with John Weston?" Connors asked.

"Nah, it was my previous ex. I was devastated when I heard about John."

"How did you hear about it?"

"His mom, a friend of hers called me. I guess she was calling everyone to let them know."

"How long were you and John Weston together?"

"About a year." Amanda's face began to change. Her eyes reflected sadness and distance, but her mouth had the beginnings of a smile.

"Amanda?"

"Sorry, was thinking about John."

"What was he like?"

"He was the best thing that happened to me in a long time. I met him a couple of months after he left the job at the insurance company. He was kinda a mess when we first met."

"Why was that?"

Amanda looked away and shifted slightly in her chair.

Ross spoke this time, leaning in and smiling softly as the legs on his chair trembled precariously. "Amanda, we need to know everything if we're going to find out who killed him."

Amanda closed her eyes and nodded. Taking a long breath, she looked at the floor and continued.

"He'd just left the insurance company, but it wasn't his choice. He quit to avoid getting fired."

Now it was time to be quiet, learning more by letting people say what they wanted and listening to how they said it. Ross was attentive, busily writing notes. Notes Connors hoped he would be able to find later.

"One of the programmers on his team set him up. John was the team lead. It was his dream job right out of college—to work for a big company and use the best technology. I don't really understand all of it, but John said the other guy programmed a security hole in the software they were creating, then exposed it to John's boss."

"Why did he do that?" Ross asked.

"He wanted John's job. The guy was super ambitious."

"How did John take it?" Connors asked.

"Badly. We met in a bar and he looked used up. Like he had no reason left to smile. For the longest time, all he could think of was how to prove that it wasn't his fault."

"Why did you talk to him if he was a mess?" Ross asked gently.

"He didn't look like he belonged there," she said as her eyes began to redden.

"What happened then?" Connors pressed.

"We talked for a while that day and then more the next day. It took a few weeks but there was no rush. That was what attracted me to him, he wasn't pushy. After a while he started to smile again. He said it was time to move on. We were happy, spent time together. Money was tight, but he started working contracts, which helped with the situation with my ex."

Amanda's face looked young again for a moment as she smiled at the memories, and Connors could see what John must've seen—a young woman trying to get out from under an old life.

"How did it help?" Connors asked.

"John was here all the time, worked from here, slept here. It made me feel safer. My ex and I were engaged before John and I met, but he started to become jealous of everything and angry all the time. I broke the engagement almost two years ago but he wouldn't leave me alone."

"Did you call the police?" Connors asked.

"Yeah, he would kick at the door downstairs and call me in the night. I filed a couple of complaints."

"Did John ever confront him?"

"Nah, it wasn't John's style. After a couple of weeks, my ex realized John was here to stay and he quit bothering me."

"Why did you—"

The apartment door thundered on its hinges.

"Manda! Manda, you in there? I gotta talk to you."

Amanda's face aged twenty years as the color drained from her amber skin.

"It's Mateo. My ex!" she gasped.