Ben got the call the next morning—they’d found a body in a deep section of Big Bear Lake, weighted down. They needed someone to make a positive ID, and if that wasn’t possible, they would test the DNA.
He had to be the one to try and identify Efren. He couldn’t let Candy do it. After the body had spent over a week underwater, Ben wondered if he would be able to make the ID. The sheriff said that the water was cold enough to preserve the body. They were reasonably certain it was Efren; they simply wanted confirmation.
Ben headed out to San Bernardino early.
As sad as this day was, there was some comfort in knowing they could put Efren to rest.
The morgue was like every morgue he’d ever been in—cold, strong odor of formaldehyde, and depressing. The deputy in charge led him to the viewing room. He pulled back the sheet down to mid-chest. There was not much bloating, decay, or slippage. He was discolored, and it was obvious he’d been beaten.
Ben nodded, swallowed a lump, and wiped the tears forming from his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, buddy,” he whispered. After a few minutes he nodded to the attendant and the sheet was put back in place.
His next stop was Candy. He dreaded that interaction more than this viewing. But she needed to hear it from him in person. During the drive to Efren’s house, Ben rehearsed what he would say. In truth, there was nothing that he could say.
Candy collapsed in his arms when she opened the door. She sobbed and Ben’s heart broke.
“Where is he?”
“With the coroner in San Bernardino. I’ll let you know when we can plan a funeral.”
“And the guy who did it?”
Ben sighed. “He’s dead.”
“Why, Ben, why did Efren have to die?”
“He was doing his job. And his last act has helped us to arrest some really bad people. He died a hero, Candy. I know that doesn’t help much, but it’s all I’ve got.”
He held her until the sobbing eased. Then he called her mother to come and stay with her. By the time he left, he was tired and emotionally drained.
He still looked forward to having dinner with Lainie, but his sad mood weighed him down. She energized him, and she would understand what he’d just gone through. He planned to pick her up at six and had plenty of time to get home and shower and change. Being in the morgue always made him feel as if the smell of death hung on him like a necklace of garlic.
He sat in his car for a moment and then pulled out his phone to let Mark know that he’d notified Candy. He had three unread text messages. He clicked on them in turn.
Shea:Have you spoken to Lainie today?
Mark:Shea is trying to get ahold of Lainie. Have you talked to her?
Shea:I need to talk to Lainie if she is with you.
Ben hit Lainie’s cell number. It immediately went to voicemail.
Fear spiked and Ben started the car. He hit Shea’s number as he pulled away from Candy’s house.
“Ben, is Lainie with you?”
“No, I haven’t spoken to her. What’s going on?”
“We can’t find her. She’s not at home and she’s not answering her phone.”
“I’m on my way to the station. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Oh, Lord,” he prayed as he drove, “please let this just be a matter of a dead phone battery.”
CHAPTER 65
Lainie fought but it was futile. She feared she’d pulled out all her stitches and could feel a sticky wetness on her shoulder. She was not certain how long she stayed in the trunk. At some point, she fell asleep because she woke up in confusion with a nasty headache.
