Alex Barclay - Time of Death

She looked at the destruction of the Sarvas family.

A terrible day that happened under a blue sky and a hot Texan sun.

The first photo was similar to the one of the SUV that Ren had seen online. But when you looked at the driver’s side, something was clearly wrong: Gregory Sarvas’ limp left leg was hanging out the open door. Ren continued through the sequential photos and focused on the car’s interior and the melting corpse of Gregory Sarvas. He was a big man with a full gray beard; more lumberjack than lawyer. He was dressed in a pale blue shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows and beige shorts to his knees. He was slumped across the passenger seat, his face turned toward the glove box. The gun had been fired point blank through his left temple. The hole ripped in his skull was filled with flies. The windscreen was spattered with red, like an exploded dye tag.

The next photo was of the back seat, an eerie reminder of the two people now missing. It was an incomplete picture of a terrible day.

Ren wondered what the chronology was. Did Luke and Michael Sarvas watch their father die? Did someone tell them to run before it happened, so that they wouldn’t have to? Did one of the boys pull the trigger? Did they plan this together? Are they lying dead somewhere else? Are they on a beach in Rio?

The last photo attachment was of the two boys. Luke Sarvas, the seventeen-year-old, had a surfer-dude look, messy blond hair, tanned, healthy, lean, smiling. His arm was resting around fifteen-year-old Michael’s shoulder. They were so clearly related, yet styled by a different hand. Michael was brown-haired, wore metal-rimmed glasses and had a more reserved but genuine smile as he looked up at his brother. The only concession to his age was a black long-sleeved T-shirt with skulls down one of the sleeves. Luke and Michael Sarvas looked like regular, happy kids.

Ren often wondered about mothers and whether their instincts about missing children were right. She had so often heard them say ‘I know he’s still alive’ or ‘I know she’s still out there’ even when there was no evidence, even when years had passed. Was it instinct? Was it denial? Or was it just hope? Fathers would usually stand quietly by, slow to comment but reluctant to hurt their wives by focusing on the facts.

Was Catherine Sarvas right? Were her boys still out there? Or was it the talk of a woman desperate to believe that, in the space of a few minutes on a beautiful summer’s afternoon, God would not choose to wipe out her entire family?

Ren went through the rest of the email. There was something missing.

She dialed Kenny Dade’s number. ‘It’s Ren Bryce again from Safe Streets in Denver. Thanks for that email on the Sarvases. Just one thing — I can’t see the original report on the rape, filed by Gregory Sarvas. All I’ve got here is the statement taken from Catherine Sarvas after he was killed.’

Dade paused. ‘Uh…’

Uh, what? ‘Yes?’ said Ren.

‘There was a slight problem with that request,’ said Dade. ‘See, Gregory Sarvas never filed a report.’

‘What?’

‘There was no rape reported.’

‘But…I spoke with Catherine Sarvas yesterday and she told me that her husband had reported the rape.’

‘I know,’ said Dade. ‘But the first we heard of Catherine Sarvas was when we found her dead husband. Then, when we were interviewing her, out of the blue she asked could his murder have been anything to do with her rape. We were kind of confused at this point. She said that her husband had reported it to Detective Juliana Hyde in our office. We kind of all looked at each other, because Juliana had been on maternity leave for three months at that point. So…well, I figured we would just get the details of the rape from Mrs Sarvas all over again, which we would have done in any case. She would have been able to give us more details than her husband.’

WTF? ‘Does Catherine Sarvas know that her husband didn’t report the rape?’

‘Well, we didn’t tell her,’ said Dade. ‘What was the point? He was dead. She couldn’t get any answers from him.’

‘Jesus, didn’t you find the whole thing a little strange?’

‘Of course we did.’ Dade sounded irritated. ‘But at least we knew he hadn’t reported it. We could factor that into our investigation. We weren’t the ones in the dark about it. So, yeah, we’ve been looking into whether there was any connection between the two things.’

‘Or the three things,’ said Ren: ‘the rape, the non-reporting of the rape and the murder.’

‘Well, we haven’t been able to connect them, either way.’

‘I’m going to have to tell her.’

‘What?’ said Dade. ‘And she’ll know we all lied to her? No way. No way.’

‘Trust me,’ said Ren. ‘She really won’t give a good goddamn about that. This is a woman whose two teenage sons are missing right now. She will want to know everything that has gone on, so that she can do everything she can to get those boys back. If they can be gotten back.’

‘Do you have to give her this information?’ said Dade. ‘Her whole family is gone. She-’

‘I have no choice,’ said Ren. ‘Because if she realizes that her husband did not report her rape, her brain might take another route, she might start thinking why and maybe we’ll all get something we want out of this.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You want to get your guy. I want to get mine,’ said Ren. ‘And Catherine Sarvas wants her boys.’

‘Your guy — is that the Erubiel Diaz you mentioned yesterday?’

‘Yes. Catherine Sarvas ID’d him.’

‘Any idea where he’s at?’

‘Not yet,’ said Ren. ‘We’re working on it.’

‘If you know anything more about the Sarvas family, I’d like to know,’ said Dade. ‘Our case dead-ended.’

‘I’ll keep you posted.’

‘OK,’ said Dade. ‘I appreciate it.’

Ren put down the phone.

Gregory Sarvas did not report his wife’s rape? WTF?

Ren re-read everything she had on the Sarvases. How did this all work? She thought again about the good neighborhood Catherine Sarvas said she lived in, the security at their house. Why would Erubiel Diaz choose to rape someone with those odds stacked against him and — of all the houses on that street — why did he choose the Sarvases? Had he been watching her? And could it really be a coincidence that, two weeks later, her husband is killed and her teenage sons go missing?

Why would Gregory Sarvas not report his wife’s rape? Ren flipped to a new page in her notebook and began writing the first string of questions that came into her head.

To protect her? He was ashamed? He was angry? He blamed her? His reputation would be tarnished? Or…he planned to take care of the problem without any police involvement? She underlined the last question. Had he already done that? Had he been killed in retaliation? Had he killed someone’s son and now his own sons were taken away/killed? Rape…Murder…Abduction???

Ren picked up the phone and called Catherine Sarvas. There was a depressingly hopeful tone to her voice.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Sarvas,’ said Ren. ‘I’d just like to go over a few things from our conversation.’

‘Yes, no problem. And please, call me Catherine.’

‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘You told me that your husband took care of reporting the rape.’

‘Yes, he did…I couldn’t bear going through all the details with a stranger…I mean, I knew I would have to talk to the police in the end, but at that time, I guess I was afraid that if I did nothing, if I waited too much longer, that he…the rapist…might…he…I just couldn’t bear the thought of one of my friends or my neighbors having to go through-’ She broke down.