Page 91 of Finlay Donovan Digs Her Own Grave
Ramirez, he’d said. Not Ruiz.
Vero and I both stiffened. No one in Virginia knew her by that name. It was the name she’d abandoned when she’d fled her charges in Maryland—the one she had been so careful not to use here for fear of anyone finding her.
Her voice was brittle. “Who wants to know?”
“We have a warrant from the Virginia Governor’s office. Would you please come with us?”
“A warrant for what?” I held an arm in front of her when theofficer reached for his handcuffs. Vero hadn’t committed any crimes in Virginia—at least any the state knew about.
“We received a report of a stolen vehicle on Thursday night—a purple 1979 Lincoln Mark V. The caller said he had reason to believe a Ms. Veronica Ruiz was in possession of the car.”
“Oh,” I laughed, “that was a very simple misunderstanding, Officer. See, the car belongs to my neighbor.”
“We’re aware of that. We were unable to reach her. I assume that’s the vehicle?” he asked, pointing to The Eggplant in my driveway, which Vero hadn’t yet gotten around to delivering to Cam.
“What gave it away?” My laugh fizzled when the officer didn’t smile back. “I can explain. You see, my neighbor doesn’t have a license, so she gave us the keys and asked us to hold on to it for her.”
The officer looked skeptical. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But it will be up to the court to hear any extenuating circumstances.” He reached past me and handed Vero the letter. “While we were conducting our search for the vehicle, we also found an outstanding warrant for Ms. Ramirez for theft charges in the state of Maryland.”
Vero paled as she opened the letter. There were tears in her eyes when she looked at me and said, “They found me, Finn. I’m being extradited.”
