Left for Dead

by J. A. Jance

  “Tell me about your wife,” Lattimore said.

  “Teresa’s great,” Jose said. “She just had a baby today. Six pounds, three ounces.”

  “How long have you been married?”

  “A little under two years.”

  “No marital discord?”

  Juanita gave a warning headshake, which Jose once again ignored.

  “With Teresa? Not just no, but hell no. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Are you saying you think she had something to do with this?”

  Jose had been answering the questions right along. For the first time, he seemed agitated. The beeping monitor sped up accordingly. Ali wondered if that was because Jose was offended by the direction of Lattimore’s questions or because the questions were coming too close for comfort or because he was just getting tired?

  “When it comes to suspects, the spouse is always on the short list.”

  “Not Teresa.”

  “She doesn’t work?” Lattimore asked.

  “Of course Teresa works,” Jose told him. “We’ve got two little kids at home. Three as of today.”

  “But she doesn’t work outside the home?”

  “No.”

  “Have the two of you been experiencing any money problems?”

  “No more than anyone else,” Jose answered. “We have kids. We have a mortgage. It’s not easy, but we’re making ends meet. At least we were. Now I’m not sure.”

  “Would it surprise you to learn that Teresa had a substantial amount of money lying around the house?”

  “Lying around the house? The only money we have lying around the house is in Lucy’s piggy bank.”

  “This wasn’t in a piggy bank. It was stowed in one of Teresa’s dresser drawers.”

  “You had no business digging through my wife’s dresser drawers.”

  “Mr. Lattimore evidently obtained a search warrant for your home, Mr. Reyes,” Juanita interjected. “They executed it earlier this morning.”

  “I’m the victim here. Why are you treating me like I’m a crook?”

  The beepers tuned up and began sounding more urgent as Jose’s heart rate quickened and his breathing became labored. Before Juanita Cisco could put an end to the interview, an alert nurse appeared in the doorway.

  “This visit is over,” she announced. “Mr. Reyes needs to rest.”

  Lattimore left without another word. Ali followed Juanita Cisco into the waiting room where the attorney stopped and looked around. “Mr. Reyes is a wounded cop, so here’s something I don’t understand. Where are his fellow cops? Why aren’t they here?”

  “I have no idea,” Ali answered.

  “If he’s a good cop, they should be all over the place. If he’s a dirty cop, it stands to reason the other guys in his department would want to distance themselves. I wish I knew for sure. In the interview, Lattimore was making noises like he thinks Teresa might be involved in the shooting—as though she might be behind it. If this were my case long-term, I’d send an investigator down to Nogales to sort out some background information. It would be an added expense, but do you want me to look into hiring a PI to do just that?”

  “Hiring a private investigator might be a good idea,” Ali said. “Let me think about it. I’ll let you know.”

  Juanita Cisco nodded and walked away, her rubber-soled clogs squishing on the white-tiled floor. Ali waited until the nurse was out of sight, then let herself back into Jose’s room. He was awake and upset.

  “If he thinks Teresa had something to do with shooting me, the man is nuts!” Jose declared. “And as for finding five thousand dollars in her dresser drawer? She’s always stressing about not having enough money to buy groceries. Where would she get that kind of money?”

  “They think she’s dealing,” Ali said. “They think you are, too.”

  “But I’m not,” Jose insisted. “Neither is she.”

  “Then someone’s trying to frame you. Who? Do you have any enemies?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Are you having problems with someone at work?”

  “No, not at all. Work is good.”

  “You were shot. Most of the time when cops are shot, fellow officers go to the mat for them. They come to the hospital. They offer support for the family. So tell me, why isn’t that happening? Why aren’t they here for you?”

  “They haven’t been?” Jose asked. He sounded surprised and hurt. Up to now he had been medicated enough that he hadn’t noticed.

  “Not as far as I know. Donnatelle Craig and I are the only cops or even semicops who have been here. I heard Sheriff Renteria dropped by for a while yesterday, but I have yet to see anyone else from the Santa Cruz Sheriff’s Department.”

  Jose seemed genuinely puzzled. “That makes no sense. Why wouldn’t they be here?”

  “Good question. What can you tell me about your sheriff?

  “Renteria’s a good guy. We go way back. He knew my dad. His wife knew Teresa’s mother.”

  “If he’s such a good guy, maybe I’ll go talk to him tomorrow,” Ali said. “Since Lattimore, the cop who’s supposed to be investigating your shooting, is apparently convinced you’re a crook, I’m hoping Sheriff Renteria doesn’t share that opinion.”

  Jose nodded vaguely. The nurse had administered some kind of medication, and it seemed to be working. He was starting to drift. “Did you see the baby?” he asked. “Did you see Carmine?”

  When Ali had seen the baby in the nursery, he hadn’t been given a name, at least not officially. “Yes,” she said. “I’ve seen him. He’s fine. So is Teresa.”

  “And the girls will be okay with your friend?”

  “They needed a break from the hospital,” Ali said. “And the hospital needed a break from them.”

  “Thank you,” Jose murmured gratefully. “Thank you for everything.”

  He was asleep before Ali was out of the room. She went straight to maternity. In the nursery, the nameplate on the Baby Reyes bassinet had been changed to Carmine Jose Reyes. Ali took that to mean that Teresa had recovered enough to verify the name. That was good. It was also good that the baby was asleep.

  Visiting hours were officially over. There was no sign of Maria Delgado in the waiting room. Ali hoped her brother had taken her home or else to a hotel to spend the night. When Ali poked her head into Teresa’s room, she was asleep, too. The entire Reyes family had been through enough in the past few days that they were all having an early night-night. Obviously, they needed it.

  Ali was on her way back to the ICU to check on Sister Anselm when her phone rang. The readout showed Stuart Ramey’s number at High Noon.

  “I have some information on your mysterious flower guy,” he said.

  “You ID’d him?” Ali asked. “How?”

  “We’ve done a lot of work for Homeland Security lately. I’ve got an in with some of their IT guys,” Stuart said. “I asked one of my contacts to run the photos we had through their beta-release facial recognition software. Guess what? We got a hit.”

  “Really?” Ali said.

  “Yup. His name’s Alonzo Gutierrez. He’s an agent with the Border Patrol. Works out of the Tucson sector. That’s all I’ve got right now. I’ve got a call in asking for more info on the guy. As soon as I learn anything, I’ll be in touch.”

  “Good,” Ali said. “And thank you.”

  It was shocking to think that the person possibly targeting Jane Doe was an actual Border Patrol agent, an active Border Patrol agent. It didn’t matter why he was doing it; it mattered only that he was doing it. That was vital information that Sister Anselm needed to have in her possession. Now.

  Ending the call, Ali took off for the ICU at a dead run.

  28

  8:00 P.M., Sunday, April 11

  Tucson, Arizona

  With the Reyes family no longer in attendance, Sister Anselm noticed that the ICU waiting room outside Jane Doe’s door was relatively quiet. According to Mona, the charge nurse, Jose’s condition had im
proved enough that he’d been moved into a regular room. Mona also said that Teresa and her new baby were doing fine.

  That was a relief. Sister Anselm was weary and feeling the effects of her long vigil. Jane Doe’s situation had worsened again during the afternoon. Sister Anselm had yet to go to All Saints. She was looking forward to it. She wanted to take a shower; to lie down; to sleep for a few hours. She knew that her phone would alert her if there was yet another crisis for her patient, someone the hospital officially listed as Jane Doe, although Sister Anselm knew otherwise.

  During the afternoon, Sister Anselm had gone down to the administration offices and printed out copies of the photos Ali had forwarded to her. They were easier to see in a larger format, even if the features themselves were a little blurry. That was the real reason Sister Anselm was sticking around the ICU. She was worried that Rose Ventana’s assailant would return to try to do her harm. If that happened, Sister Anselm would most likely be Rose’s only line of defense.

  While the machines murmured in the background, Sister Anselm slipped into a doze only to be startled awake by someone knocking on the door frame. The nun’s eyes popped open in time to see a man’s face appear in the doorway.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m looking for the woman who was found out by Three Points on Friday. Are you a nurse?”

  There he was, the very man Sister Anselm had been worrying about all afternoon. He was dressed as he’d been in the earlier security photos—jeans and a red-and-blue U of A sweatshirt. He was carrying the Mariners baseball cap instead of wearing it.

  At first Sister Anselm thought she was asleep and this was a bad dream. But no, she wasn’t. He was right there in the waiting room, outside Jane Doe’s door.

  Sister Anselm hustled to her feet and planted herself defensively between the doorway and her sleeping patient. Slipping her hand into her pocket, she searched for her Taser. As her fingers closed around the weapon, she pushed back the sliding cover, exposing the trigger button. That way, when she brought it out of her pocket, the Taser would already be activated; the red laser sighting light would be glowing.

  “This is an ICU,” she said firmly. “Are you a relative? If not, you’ll need to leave immediately. Only authorized relatives are allowed to visit patients in this unit.”

  “Mr. Gutierrez?”

  Sister Anselm heard what sounded like Ali’s voice speaking urgently from the waiting room but outside the nun’s line of vision. The man spun around to face the person who had spoken to him. As soon as he did so, Sister Anselm extracted her Taser and stepped toward the door, closing the distance between them. When she stopped moving forward, she was less than three feet from the intruder. At that distance, even a bad shot would hit the target.

  He took several steps backward and moved away from the door. He glanced warily first to the left, then back at Sister Anselm, and finally down toward his chest, where two bright red laser dots had appeared.

  “What the hell?” he demanded. “You’ve both got Tasers? Are you women nuts?”

  While he continued to back away from them, Sister Anselm moved farther into the waiting room, pulling the door to Jane Doe’s room shut behind her.

  “What are you doing here, Mr. Gutierrez?” Ali demanded. She was out of breath and gasping between words. “What do you want?”

  Sister Anselm had no idea how Ali knew the man’s name, but clearly, she did. At least he acted as though she did.

  “I’m trying to find out if she’s alive,” Gutierrez answered. “That’s all I want to know—if she’s alive or not.”

  The man didn’t appear to be armed, and he didn’t seem violent. Sister Anselm slid the lid back over the Taser’s trigger, dousing the red targeting light, but she didn’t return the weapon to her pocket. “Why do you need to know that?” She asked.

  Gutierrez shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “This was a bad idea.”

  “You don’t mean her any harm?”

  “Are you kidding? You’re both crazy. I’ll just go.”

  “No, wait,” Sister Anselm said. “You brought flowers to the hospital earlier today. Why did you do that?”

  “Because before I went to talk to her parents, I wanted to know for sure that Rose Ventana was alive. I’m the guy who found her.”

  There was a moment of stark silence.

  “You know my patient’s real name?” Sister Anselm said incredulously. “You know my patient’s parents?”

  “Not both of them. I only spoke to her stepfather.”

  Ali’s laser dot switched off as well.

  “You spoke to James Fox?” Sister Anselm asked. “In Buckeye?”

  Gutierrez nodded. “Yes.”

  “How did you know it was her?”

  “I didn’t, not for sure,” Gutierrez admitted. “But I remembered seeing the rose tattoo when I found her out in the desert on Friday. Everybody thought she was an illegal. I tried to tell them that I didn’t agree, because she spoke English not Spanish, but no one paid any attention.”

  “You reported that?” Sister Anselm asked.

  “Yes, but it didn’t do any good, so I did some looking on my own. Then this morning I ran across a website dealing with missing persons. That’s where I found out about Rose Ventana, who went missing in Buckeye, Arizona, three years ago. I couldn’t tell from the photos if she was the one, but it seemed like a good fit. So I drove up to Phoenix to give her parents what I thought was good news. Instead, Mr. Fox sent me packing. He claims he’ll talk to the Buckeye Police Department, but until he has some kind of official verification from them, he won’t even tell her mother. I was on my way back from Buckeye, and I decided to come by the hospital. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t already dead.”

  “She’s not dead,” Sister Anselm said. “She’s getting better.” Those two sentences constituted a serious breach of patient confidentiality, but at this point, she was prepared to give Mr. Gutierrez a break. She held out her hand. “I’m Sister Anselm,” she said. “This is my friend Ali Reynolds. And you are?”

  “Al,” he said. “Al Gutierrez. I’m with the Border Patrol. I found her on Friday and had her airlifted to the hospital here.”

  “Glad to meet you, Mr. Gutierrez. I’ve been assigned to serve as Jane Doe’s patient advocate,” Sister Anselm explained. “I’ve done my own research on the topic, and I happen to agree with you. The woman in that room most likely is Rose Ventana, but at this juncture, I must ask you to make no further effort to contact her or her family.”

  “Why not? If she’s getting better, if she’s not going to die, why not tell them?”

  “Because earlier this afternoon, when I asked her if she wanted me to be in touch with her family, she answered with an emphatic no.”

  “She spoke to you?”

  “Not in so many words. With her jaw wired shut, all she could do was shake her head, but that’s enough of an answer for me. As her patient advocate, I’m honor-bound to abide by her wishes. Like you, I tracked down the family’s current address in Buckeye. Unlike you, I’ve made no effort to contact them, and I won’t until I have her full permission to do so. I’m asking you to do the same. To let it go.”

  Al had stumbled backward into the waiting room far enough to collide with a chair and collapse into it.

  “But why wouldn’t she want to see them?” Al Gutierrez demanded. “Her parents, I mean. And whether she’s dead or alive, why wouldn’t they rush right down here to see her? If she were my kid, I’d want to know the minute somebody found her.”

  “Not all families are alike,” Sister Anselm said. “And until she tells me otherwise, I want to abide by her wishes. Are you with me on that, Mr. Gutierrez?”

  “I suppose so,” he agreed reluctantly. “But you and your friend here drew Tasers on me. You both drew Tasers. All I did was knock on her door, and you were ready to take me down.”

  “I’ve been sitting here guarding her with my life,” Sister Anselm said. “Someone tried to murder her the other day.
I was afraid that you were one of her assailants and that you had come back to finish the job.”

  “I never meant her any harm,” Al objected. “In fact, it’s just the opposite.”

  “I understand that now,” Sister Anselm said. Al Gutierrez seemed very young to her right then. Reaching out, she patted his knee. “And I’m sure Ms. Doe—we need to continue referring to her that way—will be better served if we all work together rather than at cross purposes.”

  Al looked at her questioningly. “You really are a nun?” he asked.

  Sister Anselm nodded. “I really am.”

  “What about her?” He nodded in Ali’s direction. “Is she a nun, too?”

  “No,” Sister Anselm replied. “She was with the Yavapai Sheriff’s Department for a while. Now she’s a reserve officer.”

  Al looked from one woman to the other. “Well,” he said, “if you ask me, Rose is very lucky to have the two of you in her corner.”

  “She’s lucky to have you in her corner, too,” Sister Anselm told him. “Even if it didn’t work out the way you expected, you weren’t wrong to try contacting her family.”

  He nodded and stood up. “Okay,” he said. “I guess I’d better be going.”

  As the young man left the waiting room, Ali glanced at her watch. “It’s been a long day. I’d better go, too. I need to find a place to sleep.”

  “How about a convent?” Sister Anselm suggested.

  “A convent?” Ali asked. “I can’t quite see myself staying in a convent.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Sister Anselm said. “All Saints is right up the road. That’s where I’m supposed to be staying, I just haven’t made it that far. But Sister Genevieve, the reverend mother there, is an old pal of mine. Since you’re here on an errand of mercy, I’m sure she’d be glad to take you in for a night or two.”

  “Isn’t that a little presumptuous?” Ali asked. “After all, I’m not even Catholic.”

  “No, you’re not, but the fact that you’re one of my friends makes up for a lot. Let me give her a call.”