Icy Betrayal: A Jack Keller Thriller

by David Keith

  The phone rang, breaking his concentration.

  “Hey, Mick, thought I’d check in.”

  “Geez, Mia, you’re already back from your interview with Lennox? That can’t be good.”

  “Yeah, we just finished. Lennox is lawyering up. Oh, and guess who we’re pretty sure sprung for the attorney?”

  “Well, if I had to guess, I’d probably say his old lady?”

  “Bingo. Can you believe that? He pulls this crap, and the jilted wife comes to his rescue. If he were my husband and he did that, he’d rot in hell.”

  “Duly noted,” Mick responded with a chuckle.

  “You said you wanted to see us after. Keller and I can come up in a few.”

  Keller began. “So when we get there the sergeant on duty tells us Lennox has already had an early morning visitor—none other than Mrs. Lennox. And the guard said she was beyond pissed. She must have worked him over pretty good because by the time they bring our boy into the interview room, he doesn’t look good. So I poured it on and told him about Lombard’s cancer. You could tell it messed up his mind. And Serrano gave him something else to think about that was pretty good.”

  “Oh yeah?” Mick asked.

  “I just told him maybe his wife wasn’t paying the lawyer to get him off but to help her take every dime she could out of his business and then let him hang for his sins.”

  “It was nicely played,” Keller added.

  “Not sure it did any good,” replied Mia.

  “It was impressive, Serrano. You planted a seed. You never know.”

  “Okay, well I need to brief the sheriff,” Mick told them. “I also need to call the DA and find out how he wants to play this thing. Although without Lisa Sullivan, we haven’t given him a lot of options. And he’s not going to be very happy about it.”

  Keller was direct. “Captain, arresting Lennox yesterday was the right call. We all wanted them both, but you had to grab Lennox while you had him in the cross hairs. He could have disappeared, and we’d be far worse off than we are now.”

  “I know. It is what it is. But thanks for that.”

  Mick briefed the sheriff then made the call to DA Dave Baxter.

  “Hey, Mick, hope you’ve got some good news for me on this Lombard case. That woman could make us look like fools if you can’t bring her in.”

  “I wish I did. She’s still loose, and Lennox has lawyered up.”

  “Can’t say I’m too surprised about Lennox. You know who’s taking the case?”

  “Not sure yet. Looks like his wife is bringing someone in. Love knows no bounds.”

  “No kidding. I’ll do some checking around and see if I can find out. Now what can you tell me about Lisa Sullivan?’’

  “Not much. The picture we released to the media generated a handful of calls, but so far nothing has panned out; unless you believe she’s serving up Grand Slam breakfasts at the Denny’s in Lone Tree. That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. I’m thinking maybe we should offer a reward. I’m authorized to go to $25,000, but I held off, worried it would be a distraction. But her face is in all the papers and on TV, and we’re getting very little. The money could trigger something with someone, and at the very least it will get another round of media interest going and keep her picture out there. I’m thinking maybe tomorrow we offer the money, that is, of course, if nothing breaks between now and then.”

  “Might not hurt, Mick. We have to get her into custody, pronto. I don’t have to tell you the clock’s ticking. We’ve got 72 hours to file, which means Wednesday, and I don’t have shit to show a judge right now.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “If we have to cut him loose it’ll look like we’ve failed on two fronts—Sullivan’s escape and Lennox walking. Either one of those is bad enough, but both is a double whammy. This is turning into a goddamn tire fire and we’ve got an election coming up, Mick.”

  Mick wasn’t sure if Baxter was talking about his own re-election efforts or Mick’s possible run for sheriff, but either way he was right.

  Keller laid an old road map across his desk. The computer would have been easier, but computers leave a trail. His finger traced Lisa’s path, and he guessed she was an hour or two from Phoenix by now. He’d feel much better once she made the connection with Roberto.

  Michelle, an investigations clerk, stuck her head in his office.

  “Jack, you had a visitor while you were out.”

  “Yeah, who was it?”

  “It was a priest. He left his card,” she said, handing it over. “He said it was important that he talk to you.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Jack knew who it was without looking at the card. He didn’t have time for Father Jon right now.

  Archer put a call into Anita Sanchez at the News-Press.

  “Hey, Mark, got any news for me on Lisa Sullivan?”

  “Geez, Anita, don’t I get a hello, Mark, how ya doing?”

  “Oh, sorry. Hello, Mark, how ya doing? Got any news for me about Lisa Sullivan?”

  Archer chuckled, “Just this, RCSO will be putting up a $25,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of Lisa Sullivan, effective tomorrow, provided of course we don’t scoop her up between now and then. If we go with the reward can you get us back on the front page with that?”

  “Sure, I can do that. Anybody else know?”

  “Not yet, I’m giving you a head start ‘cause I’m such a nice guy.”

  “So, what’s the deal with this woman? You guys were pretty vague yesterday with the press release and the news conference. I understand she’s an accomplice, but how exactly did things go down?”

  “Anita, you are asking for way too much. I can’t give you all that right now. When the time comes, I’ll see what I can do. But I may need some help in exchange.”

  “Okay, Archer, play your little game,” she chided. “Send me what you’ve got on the reward, and I’ll get you some play.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  After driving through Phoenix, Lisa Sullivan merged from Interstate 10 onto Highway 85. The highway sign read 119 miles to Lukeville, the border town where she hoped to cross quietly into Mexico.

  Lisa was surprised at the beautiful landscape of the Arizona desert. She found the scenery mesmerizing and strangely relaxing. She knew it wouldn’t last, but for the moment she allowed herself to melt into the solitude of the drive.

  At 2:45, Lisa took exit 39 and found the gas station where she was to meet Roberto. She didn’t know what he looked like, but Jack told her not to worry, Roberto would be making the contact. She pulled into the station, parked and looked around the lot, but didn’t notice anything or anyone unusual.

  A few minutes later, a short Hispanic man in his mid-thirties approached. He motioned for her to roll down the window.

  “Hello. You must be Lisa, no?”

  “Yes, I am. And you must be Roberto?”

  “My friends, they call me Frito.”

  “Okay, Frito,” she replied. “So what now?”

  “There is storage place just down the road. You follow me. I’m in Toyota pickup, okay?”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  Lisa followed Frito down to a storage yard. The worn, beat up sign out front read, Lotsa Storage. The office was a trailer.

  They both parked near the trailer and Frito walked to Lisa’s car.

  “My friend Jack said you have a package for me.”

  “Oh right,” Lisa said, digging in her purse. Jack had given her a small box when they said goodbye. “Here it is.”

  Frito opened the box and took out a wrapped stack of twenty dollar bills. Lisa was confused.

  “What is that for?” she asked him.

  “You wait here, señorita,” he said and disappeared into the trailer.

  The peace she felt on the road earlier was now gone, replaced with anxiety. Yesterday morning she had been sitting in her apartment in Rosebud, Colorado, and now she was in Arizona, in a place s
he had never heard of, waiting on a guy named Frito.

  After a few minutes, Frito motioned for her to come inside. The office was small and cramped. Two scary men sat behind desks and spoke Spanish to Frito. One of the men stared at her, and Lisa was afraid something very bad was about to happen. The older of the men walked to an old metal cabinet and opened the door. She held her breath, fully expecting him to pull out a gun.

  Instead, he pulled out a Polaroid camera.

  “Is okay, Miss Lisa. These men, they help us with ID to get you across the border,” he assured her. The men suddenly understood and wailed in laughter. She laughed along uncomfortably, feeling the fool.

  Frito explained the men had friends at the border office. They had digital files of identities that could be encoded onto cards with computers. The identities were apparently leased by these men from someone with access to the border control computers, then sub-leased to customers like Lisa. Her passport card would be good for one trip across the border.

  They took a headshot with the Polaroid and presented Lisa with a perfectly forged US passport card. The price was $1000 or a stack of twenty dollar bills.

  Once outside, she and Frito parked her car in an aisle among dozens of other vehicles, most covered in a layer of desert sand. Lotsa Storage was apparently a full service business. She climbed into Frito’s pickup, and within minutes they were headed south to the border.

  “So how long will it take to get there?” Lisa said, changing the subject.

  “We take about one hour to Gringo Pass. That’s where we cross over. From there, about one more hour.”

  “There’s a place called Gringo Pass?”

  “Lukeville—that’s the real name, but we say Gringo Pass because Americans come through there,” he said with a big smile. He gave her a tourist card to fill out. It was actually a piece of paper for anyone entering Mexico. Lisa matched the information from her passport card to the lines on the form. For the next two hours, Lisa would be Stephanie Clark of Chandler, Arizona.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “Hey, Mark… It’s Anita. Thought I’d give you a heads up. The News Press just received a fax from the law firm of Pabst, Kramer, and Solomon in Dallas, Texas informing us that none other than Mr. Branch Kramer will be defending your boy Scott Lennox. You should read this thing, it’s over the top. It goes on to say that he will be meeting with his client today at 5:15 at the RCSO jail in Castle Springs.”

  “Can you fax that to me, Anita?”

  “Sure, no problem. I especially like the fact that he’s timing his arrival at the jail to meet with Lennox at five fifteen… Gee, you think that will get any live news coverage from the Denver TV stations? What a transparent piece of shit.”

  “Fax it to me.”

  “It’s on the way.”

  Archer immediately called Captain McCallister.

  Satellite and microwave TV trucks began arriving at the Rocklin County Jail just after 4:00. After consulting the sheriff and DA, McCallister and Archer decided it was best not to give Lennox’s attorney any ammunition. They would allow Kramer his show and only counter with a news release on the new $25,000 reward for information on Lisa Sullivan.

  “Squeeze in people, the show is about to begin,” McCallister said as Keller, Serrano, and Archer shuffled into his office a little before five o’clock. It was a tight fit, but they all managed to find a spot in view of the TV in the corner.

  “Famed defense attorney Branch Kramer is in Colorado tonight to defend a Castle Springs man on murder charges,” the anchor said. “46-year-old Scott Lennox was arrested over the weekend in connection with the death of his business partner, 56-year-old George Lombard, also of Castle Springs. You’re looking live at the scene outside the Rocklin County Jail Complex where we’re expecting Kramer to address the media in just a few minutes. Once that happens we will bring it to you live.”

  The anchors moved on to other stories for the time being.

  Archer broke down what they were seeing. “Branch Kramer is the definitive media whore. He announces his arrival for 5:15, and since Denver stations have to spend all that money to send their satellite trucks down here he knows he’ll get play at the top of the news, too. He’ll do a little song and dance and promise to come back and talk to reporters again after he meets with his client. That’ll get him a plug at the end of the five o’clock and another teaser at the top of the six. Then, he’ll come out of the jail and do a longer bit between 6:10 and 6:15, which they’ll cover live. He’ll get another mention at the end of the six and a full wrap up for the ten o’clock news. If this were a public defender, this story gets 30-45 seconds, tops. The guy is a righteous blowhard, but he knows how to play the game.”

  “So why aren’t we out there trying to diffuse this character a bit?” Mia asked.

  “Branch Kramer would love nothing better than to engage us on the steps of the jail. That kind of story could play for a couple days. It’s better to let him have his little moment. If we were out there and got a little testy with him then that drama becomes the story. We don’t want that, so if we ignore Kramer and his antics, the media will pretty much have to use what we’ve put out today, which is the reward. So essentially, they’ll have to put up her picture and our tip line number—it’s all they’ve got from us. We’ll actually get more play on the reward that we might have without Mr. Kramer.”

  “We good on the phone bank?” Mick asked.

  “We scraped together six staffers and deputies to go 24/7, in eight hour shifts, at least for the first 48 hours. Most of the meaningful calls tend to come in early,” answered Keller.

  “Jack, Mia, after this little circus plays out, why don’t you two go down and sit on the phone lines for a bit?” Mick asked. “See what, if anything, pops.”

  They nodded in agreement.

  Back from a commercial break, the anchors tossed back to the live picture from Castle Springs. “Continuing coverage,” they called it.

  A reporter stood among the crowd, likely recruited by Kramer staffers. “Rob and Erin, Branch Kramer arrived moments ago here at the Rocklin County jail where he plans to meet with his client, Scott Lennox. As we’ve reported, Lennox was arrested in connection with the murder of his business partner, found dead on a rural county road in November. Kramer is making his way up the steps now, in his trademark western suit and cowboy hat. I’ve been told that Kramer will make a statement.”

  “Well, there’s a shocker,” Mia said to the TV as Kramer squeezed behind a stand of microphones.

  “Your presence is a testament to our thirst for justice in Rocklin County and the great state of Colorado. And I am here to see that justice is carried out for Mr. Scott Lennox. I can tell you that when I learned the details of this case, I was shocked and saddened, outraged really, by what has transpired here. An upstanding member of the community has been railroaded on trumped-up charges based on weak circumstantial evidence, all due to the political ambitions of the district attorney and the Rocklin County Sheriff’s Department. The case against Scott Lennox is a sham. But this case is about more than Scott Lennox. This is about bureaucratic power run amok. It’s about those bureaucrats running roughshod over the rights of hard working Americans in an effort to disguise their own inequities. And I am here to demand freedom for Scott Lennox and every person unjustly accused.”

  The crowd clapped and hooted their support. “Right now, I’m going to meet with my client, Scott Lennox, and I promise to brief you again shortly. Thank you again for your support, and God bless America.”

  The camera pulled back to the reporter as Branch Kramer turned toward the jail. “There you have it. Legendary defense attorney Branch Kramer characterizing the murder case against Castle Springs businessman Scott Lennox as a ‘sham.’”

  “He went from famed to legendary in like ten minutes,” Jack said.

  “Meantime, the Rocklin County Sheriff’s Office has yet to arrest a second suspect wanted in connection with this case and a short time ago announced
a $25,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of 32-year-old Lisa Sullivan of Rosebud. They ask if you have any information on her whereabouts to call the tip line on your screen. We’re live in Castle Springs. Rob and Erin, back to you.”

  Mick clicked off the TV. “Listen people, we’ve got to get Lisa Sullivan in custody or this guy’s going to turn us into a laughingstock. Get down to the phones and keep me posted.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  Frito’s truck inched forward as they approached the Lukeville border crossing. The line of cars stretched at least 300 yards and it took close to an hour to reach the front. There were three gates and he edged the truck toward the one marked, “Nothing to Declare.”

  At the gate, Frito nodded to the guards and the men shared a knowing glance. Both guards were intimidating and wore sidearms. As the taller of the guards talked with Frito, the other walked to the passenger door. She handed over the passport and tourist cards as the guard angled for a better look.

  The guard paid little attention to her documents and instead focused on her chest. After what seemed like an eternity to Lisa, he handed them back. “Umberto, está bien!”

  The other guard waved them through and Frito put the truck into gear and quickly pulled away. Lisa exhaled and they both burst into laughter.

  “I’m not sure why I’m laughing, my God, I was terrified! I thought he was about to climb in the truck with me.”

  “You did good, Miss Lisa. No worries now, we will be there soon,” he promised.

  Lisa smiled and sat back a little in the seat, trying her best to relax.

  “So, how did you get the name Frito? I’m guessing that’s not the name your mother gave you.”

  “When I was little there was Fritos; you know, the chips. They had the Frito Bandito in their ads and I used to act like him, all crazy. My friends thought it was funny, and everyone calls me Frito.”