“Better than being a big prick like Nash,” I said.
“I’m not sure about that. Nash, he doesn’t know any better. I’m sure he thinks everyone just naturally wants to do fifteen-minute rumbles for him—or dance ridiculously or sing bad karaoke. In his mind, using people is his birthright. I should know—I thought the same way. Funny how getting hit in the face with a couple of disasters, like Ashton disappearing and this stupid financial situation my family’s in, can change your mind.”
He stared solemnly at the Dr Pepper can for a moment before going on. “But Tres? He never had any self-confidence. He’s always been eclipsed by his sister. She was always such a supernova. I really did love her, I suppose. But you would think Tres was adopted from the way his parents treated him compared to her. It really has turned him into a snake. And snakes might be little, but they can be very poisonous.”
“So,” I said, “you think he might’ve manipulated his dad into taking over Gangland so he could grab a little of the spotlight?”
“Oh, I have no doubt of that. He probably played like he was all broken up over his sister and got his dad to give him Gangland out of guilt. But to tell you the truth, for a little while there, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t done something to get her out of the way himself.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. But maybe it was just bitterness over losing Gangland. After all, Tres doesn’t really have the intelligence to pull off something like that. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now with the way things have turned out.”
“What do you mean—the way what things have turned out?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “The fact that Ashton’s been found, of course. What did you think I meant?”
At that, I almost swallowed a whole mouthful of Chex Mix. “They found Ashton? Are you for real? When did this happen?”
Now it was his turn to be surprised. “You mean you haven’t heard this? It’s been all over the news this afternoon. That’s why I came over here. I thought you had something to tell me about it.”
“No.” I coughed a couple of times to clear my throat. “I called you last night. Nothing was on the news about it then.”
“I know,” he said. “But you being an investigative reporter, I thought you might’ve received a tip or something.”
He went on to explain that the police had located her around noon today, and she was safe back at home with her family.
“Do they have any suspects?” I asked. “Sure. They already made an arrest—the same guy who nearly broke your nose Saturday night—Alberto Hernandez.”
CHAPTER 40
Rowan was right—the story was everywhere. The local and even the national news couldn’t get enough of it, and over the next couple of days, I read and watched everything I could. Apparently, someone called the cops with an anonymous tip that led straight to Beto’s South Side apartment, where they found Ashton handcuffed to the plumbing in the bathroom. She had a black eye, but otherwise she was okay. After a trip to the hospital for a checkup, she was now home recovering with her family.
So far the media hadn’t been able to score even a half second’s worth of video of Ashton. The Brownings and their lawyer kept her under wraps, but apparently she had identified Beto as her abductor.
As for Beto, he didn’t have anyone to shield him from the press. His face looked out from the front pages of newspapers and websites from all over. TV news opened with his photo morning, noon, and evening. The cops arrested him at the body shop where he worked, and every TV station in town had a video of him in the police car and then as the cops dragged him from the car to the jailhouse.
On the way, reporters called out stupid questions like “Why did you do it?” and “Are you guilty?” and “Why didn’t you ask for a ransom?” He didn’t try to cover his face the way so many sleazebags do on their way to jail. Instead, he stared straight ahead and kept his mouth zipped.
Ashton’s parents didn’t have much to say either, except for a brief quote from Mr. Browning: “We’re glad to have our daughter back and hope that we will be left to heal in private as much as possible. We fully trust law enforcement to seek justice against the insidious criminal who could not conquer Ashton’s spirit.”
In all of this, nobody bothered to mention Hector Maldonado.
Sitting on Trix’s fancy patio Thursday afternoon, I told her and Audrey and Randy how that bugged me. “Beto was all about finding out who killed Hector,” I said. “He didn’t care about kidnapping anyone.”
Trix set her glass of Thai iced tea on the patio table. “Maybe he kidnapped Ashton as a way of getting revenge—or at least some information about what happened to Hector. Did you ever think of that?”
“Yeah, I thought of that,” I said. “But it just doesn’t go with what I know about Beto. It’s not in his character. I mean, the dude didn’t even want to hit me, and now he supposedly chained Ashton to a pipe and gave her a black eye? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe not,” Trix said. “But Ashton did give a statement to the police accusing him.”
“I know. And that’s weird. That makes things look bad. But maybe her parents forced her to say that to keep the cops from finding out what actually happened. What if Tres really was the one who nabbed her? They’d do anything to protect him. Or what if it was Nash? I’ll bet his parents are tight with the Brownings. They probably figured Beto didn’t matter. They’d easily sacrifice him to save their golden boy’s shining future.”