SIXTY
Thurston woke with a pounding headache. He put his hand up to his head, then jerked it back in surprise when he realized it was no longer cuffed behind him.
“Easy, Kevin. You’re okay, but you’ve got a nasty lump on your head.”
He squinted into the white light as he looked up to find the source of the voice that had spoken. A Native doctor in white scrubs smiled down at him.
“How?” he said, unable to form the rest of the question.
“A couple of your men came knocking on our doors an hour ago. They found you in your car in our parking lot. They’re going to want to know how you managed to cuff your own hands behind your back and lock yourself in the cargo area.” The doctor chuckled at his own joke. Thurston didn’t find it so funny.
“Where?”
“In the parking... oh, you mean where are your men? They’re waiting outside. Do you want me to send them in?”
Thurston wanted to talk to them, but not until he was certain he could form a coherent sentence. He tried again. “Not yet.” There, that was better. He needed to try to remember what had happened to him. “Where am I?”
“In the hospital, in Sells. Now that you’re awake, do you need anything for headache?”
“Yeah, please. Can you send my guys in, maybe in about ten minutes?” he asked.
“Can do. It’s late, but, if you’re hungry, I can get them to send you up some dinner. We’re going to admit you for overnight observation.”
“Yeah, hungry. Thanks.”
The too-cheerful doctor gave him a half-salute and left. In a moment, a nurse came bustling in with a tiny paper cup holding two white pain pills, and a glass of water with a straw. Thurston swallowed the pills before taking the water and gulping it down, without benefit of the straw. Belatedly, he remembered to thank her as she headed out the door.
A few minutes later, the deputies he’d left guarding Wanda Lopez came in. What the hell? Why had they left Wanda? Before they could ask what had happened to him, he demanded an answer. The headache, which had started to diminish before they came in, came back worse than ever as they detailed the cluster-fuck that had been this day. When they got to the part about Lt. Wells coming and taking over, releasing Dylan and ordering them to leave Wanda alone, he threw his hands in the air in a gesture of total exasperation.
“So what are you doing back here?”
“Well boss, when no one could find you for hours and then I remembered seeing one of our units in the parking lot, Wells sent us back to investigate. You were in the back of the car. We got in and got the cuffs off you, but you were unconscious. So we came and got the doc.”
It was the longest speech he’d ever heard from his taciturn deputy, but Thurston was finally beginning to put it together. “Was there a kid in the car with me? Looked a lot like Dylan Chaves?”
“No, boss, why would there be?”
“Never mind. Listen, the doc says they’re going to hold me here for observation. Talk to Wells and have him call me here.”
“You bet, boss.”
The angry man at the place where the kid had taken him must have decided that a kidnapped cop would bring them too much heat. Too bad he hadn’t made good on the threat to tie the kid up and leave him here too.
What was it the kid said about an old man? He put something in the bag. Was he talking about Hector Lopez? Could Hector have been murdered right under his deputies’ noses? He needed to let Wells know an autopsy would be required on Lopez. And, he needed to re-think the whole scenario around the Alvarez murder. He may have jumped to some unwarranted conclusions.
The kid and his boss sounded sure the cartel murdered Alvarez. He had no reason to believe Chaves or Wanda Lopez had any cartel connections. He thought it was some kind of family argument. So much for his deductive capabilities.
If Los Reyes had done it, they’d never close the case. The shooter was probably half-way to Guatemala by now. The only remaining question was, who was Jimmy, and who were the kid and his angry boss with, if not Kings? Hopefully, Wells could straighten it out. Thurston was ready for a nice, long vacation, away from the craziness that had overtaken his town.
SIXTY-ONE
Dylan returned to Thurston’s office to join Wells, Alex, and her dad. Rick followed him in, dragging a rolling chair from behind one of the empty desks in the outer office.
“I just talked to Jimmy Chaves. He refused to tell me how to find the Gila enclave again. Said one of them was his cousin. I guess I shouldn’t have told him Hector died.”
“What’s done is done. We’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves; we’ll find them. So, let me see if I have this straight. Herman Alvarez was great-uncle to Wanda Lopez, and a distant relative of Jimmy Chaves, who is what, a cousin of yours?”
“Second cousin, I think. I don’t know anything about my mother’s family. She didn’t mention them at all when I was a kid. Wanda could tell you more.”
“Okay. So Jimmy — this cousin or second cousin — was on the run from the Kings because he let slip some information on one of their big shipments to yet another cousin, who is part of the Gila cartel. And that information was used by Gila to stage a raid on the Kings’ shipment. Do I have it right so far?”
“As far as we’ve figured out, yes.”
“So, for some reason, Herman Alvarez met someone, presumably a Kings enforcer, to try to get them to leave Jimmy alone, and he ended up dead for his trouble. But no one, including Jimmy, knows who this shooter was.”
Dylan tried to be patient with this slow, detailed summary. It was Wells’ process for understanding, and they certainly needed that to happen if this was all going to turn out no worse than it already was. He was certain, at this point, that Alvarez’ murderer was not going to be apprehended.
“That’s right. I’d bet he’s south of the border by now. Probably was, even before we found Alvarez.”
“We?” Wells spoke sharply. Dylan replayed the conversation mentally. Hadn’t he mentioned he was one of the two park rangers who found Alvarez’ body? He corrected the oversight.
“That must have given you a scare, Dylan,” Wells remarked. He was right, but what did he know that would have brought him to that conclusion?
“I’ve spoken in your behalf before the tribal committee. About the adoption,” Wells explained.
Dylan flushed as he recalled the coincidence that had brought him under suspicion in the first place. “Yeah, I realized I’d be a suspect. And Thurston has reason to hate me.”
“Well, if you’d quit showing him up, he might like you better,” Wells said, trying without success to keep a straight face.
Dylan smiled faintly. “I’ll try, sir.”
“So, let’s get back to this. First, Wanda recruited you to help get Jimmy somewhere safer. Then, she and her husband went looking for Jimmy to persuade him to go. In the course of that search, someone snatched them and were holding them. You found Jimmy when you went looking for the Lopezes, because their house had been broken into, and he led you to them.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“Couple of things don’t add up for me. First, Jimmy led you right to where they were being held, yes? And then, this rival cartel, the Gilas, just handed them over?”
“That’s the way it happened. Put that way, it does seem strange.”
“Okay. Then you dropped them off at the hospital, took Jimmy to his girlfriend’s house...”
“I wouldn’t call her that.”
“Okay, to the house of the girl who claimed he was her baby’s father, where he packed and you subsequently put him on a plane to Salt Lake City with a continuing flight to Anchorage. And you’ve spoken to him on a phone with an Anchorage area code.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, so Jimmy’s out of danger and out of the picture for now. Wanda and Hector were at the hospital, and the rest of you came home, bringing Jimmy’s… uh… the girl, with you. Please explain to me again how and when Thurston
picked you up, Dylan.”
Dylan’s head was beginning to swim. Had all this happened in just four days? A week, if you started with Alvarez’ murder. It didn’t seem possible. Once again, he recited the circumstances of the ridiculous situation that landed him in jail. Wells was taking notes, so maybe some sense would come of it.
Wells was about to say something, or ask a follow-up question, when the phone on Thurston’s desk rang. He answered it, listened for a few minutes, and then said, “Okay, give me the number.” He wrote something on the pad, said thanks and hung up. He looked up at the others.
“Excuse me. Thurston has been found and wants me to call him. Don’t leave; this will only take a moment.”
He dialed from the desk phone, looking at the number he jotted down for reference.
“Kevin Thurston’s room, please. Yes, I’ll hold. Thurston! What are you...? Okay. Okay. Yeah, I’ll get on that. Thanks for the heads up. Hope you feel better.”
Dylan saw his own frustration etched on the faces of the others in the room, as the one-sided conversation hadn’t given them anything to go on. Wells hung up, lifted the receiver again, and dialed. “Get me the ME.” A moment later, he spoke again. “John, I need you to get to the Sells hospital right away. A Hector Lopez, died today. They’re probably putting it down to injuries he received in a beating. I need a tox screen on him. Yes, as soon as possible.”
Dylan and the others exchanged shocked glances, as Wells hung up and dialed one more time. “Dave, are you guys still there? Good. Find out where they’ve got Wanda Lopez and make sure she’s okay. Then watch her like a hawk. I want one of you with her at all times, no exceptions. No, I don’t think she’s a flight risk. I think her husband was murdered while the two of you were right there. Let’s not let it happen again.”
By the time Wells was through with his calls, Dylan and everyone else in the room were in shock. Hector murdered? Wanda in danger? Where had Thurston been, and what had he told Wells? Their curiosity was soon satisfied.
“Thurston was jumped, by a kid he says looks just like you, Dylan, on his way into the hospital earlier. He was cuffed, driven in his own vehicle quite a distance from Sells, and overheard a conversation that solves all but a couple of the puzzles we have left.
“You were right, Dylan, Herman Alvarez was murdered by a cartel enforcer, who is undoubtedly beyond our reach now. Evidently, the people who had Thurston were the same ones who kidnapped the Lopez couple. One of them, a cousin of Jimmy’s, according to what Thurston heard, was sent to finish the job on Hector, and possibly put something into one of his IVs.”
“That must have been the cousin Jimmy mentioned in his phone call,” Dylan said.
“I wouldn’t doubt it. Thurston believes the kid is low-level and has been taking it on himself to make some poor choices, among them kidnapping him. He was apparently coshed and driven back to the hospital, then left in the parking lot where the deputies found him. He’ll be okay.
“I’m having a tox screen run on Hector, just to confirm. The only thing left to do is to find your look-alike, Dylan. He and the crew he’s running with are facing charges of kidnapping, and probably murder. If Hector didn’t die of some poison, it was because of his injuries at their hands. If you folks will excuse me, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Dylan was reeling with lack of sleep and leftover adrenaline. He walked outside with the others, but drew Alex aside for a private word.
“Baby, we never got a chance to talk. I’ve got to work tomorrow, but can I see you tomorrow afternoon?”
“Sure, Dylan. We do need to talk,” she said.
It was the first time he’d heard her voice in hours. She’d been so quiet, during the long evening. Was it Hector’s death that had her so subdued, or something else? If he weren’t about to drop, he’d try to talk with her tonight, but he was going to be lucky to get home without running his pickup... wait, he didn’t have his pickup.
“Uh, baby? I’m sorry to ask, but Thurston brought me here in his car. Can I get a ride home?”
She smiled. After days of nothing but pinched worry on her face, it was like a rainbow after a thunderstorm. His whole body relaxed. His Lexi smiling was one of the most beautiful things in his world.
“Sure,” she said.
SIXTY-TWO
Alex couldn’t remember a time she had done the driving when they were together. It felt awkward, and that annoyed her. She was a competent driver. Heaven knew she did enough of it. The silence was awkward as well, as if they had nothing to say to each other until tomorrow, when everything could change.
“Do you have enough on the Alvarez story for the paper on Wednesday?” Dylan asked. That was a good subject; nothing about their personal lives.
“More than enough,” she answered. “I don’t know where to draw the line, actually. I don’t think I should say anything specific about what happened yesterday or today. Maybe just ‘the investigation is ongoing.’ They’re never going to find the killer, are they?”
“Alvarez’ killer? No, it isn’t likely. They’ll have to note it as an unknown Los Reyes cartel member and close the case. They may get to the bottom of Hector’s murder, especially if they find fingerprints on the IV bag.”
“That’s good, but poor Wanda! This is going to change her life. I wish I knew what to do for her.”
“I can think of one thing. Whoever searched her house left it in a mess. Maybe we could go and straighten up some.”
“Shouldn’t we leave it as evidence?”
“We should, if we think it’s a break and enter. But remember, we found a search warrant on the table. I think the sheriffs left it that way.”
“That stinks! Don’t they have to put things back where they found them?”
“No, unfortunately, they don’t. Do you want to do that while we talk tomorrow?”
“Sure.” She actually wanted to look into Dylan’s eyes when she asked some of the hard questions tomorrow, but he was right. It wouldn’t do to let Wanda come home to that mess, after all she’d been through already.
“Dylan?”
“Yeah, baby. What is it?”
“Are you going to be involved in any investigation on the reservation? Are you still in danger?”
“No, baby. But you may be, if you go sniffing around the investigation. You think you can leave it alone? For me, it’s out of my jurisdiction, and out of my league. But I can see how it would be a big story for you. If you do stay involved, please be careful. Don’t go anywhere on the rez alone, okay?”
“I won’t. It is a big story. The one I want to tell is how the O’odham lands got divided up and left them with no say in it. And how that led to the cartels recruiting so many of the young men. That’s a tragic story.”
“Like your interest in unidentified remains. You realize those stories are connected, right?”
“Of course.”
“Do you realize how much danger it could put you in if the cartels got wind of what you were doing?”
“I think so. Don’t you think that’s why Joe took me, and why Antonio tried to kill me?”
“I do, and you’re smart to pick it up. I wish you’d back off, at least until you’re not so accessible.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, you’re talking about moving to Phoenix, aren’t you?”
“Um, that gets into something I wanted to discuss with you tomorrow. Can we hold off on that?”
They were at his house anyway. She pulled across the driveway, since there was no room behind or beside his pickup and the old car she assumed was Ange’s.
“Yeah, I’m beat. Let’s wait.” Dylan leaned over to kiss her. Alex wouldn’t object if he put his arms around her and kissed her like he meant it, but it was just a peck and then his lips were gone before she had a chance to savor it. He got out of the car, and then leaned back in.
“See you over there at four-thirty?”
“That’ll work.”
And then he was g
one, leaving her alone with her thoughts to make the short drive home. She’d rather go anywhere else.
SIXTY-THREE
Monday Morning, 7:30 a.m.
Monday’s workday was what Dylan would have called a snafu, if anyone had asked him. The moment he arrived, he was called into his supervisor’s office, where the man reamed him a new one for calling in on Saturday and dumping his shift for a personal day. After that, he demanded an explanation for why the sheriff called and complained that Dylan was still meddling in the case.
However, the moment he opened his mouth to explain, his supervisor went on a rant about why the murder hadn’t been solved yet, and why the sheriff was blocking the park service out of the investigation. It was a good half-hour before Dylan got his say.
Reciting the whole convoluted story and the series of events on Saturday and Sunday, complete with interruptions and answering questions, took another couple of hours. Dylan endured another tirade when he concluded with the opinion that the murder on ORPI lands was never going to be solved.
That Lt. Wells agreed with him was no comfort to his supervisor. After more questioning and tying down details, the meeting finally seemed to be over, but Dylan’s supervisor had one more bombshell.
“This had better be the last of this personal involvement you seem to have with any of the crap that goes down around here. I’m putting a reprimand in your file because you disobeyed a direct order to stay away from this case. One more, and you’re done.”
“But, sir, when I agreed to help my aunt, I had no idea I’d run smack into matters of the investigation. Please reconsider.”
“You should have known. I’d hate to lose you, Chaves. You have a knack for investigation, and you’re a good ranger. But, you’re a trouble magnet. I can’t have you taking time off every time your girlfriend looks like she might be in trouble, and I definitely can’t afford to get crossways with local law enforcement. My decision stands.”
Fatal Divide Page 21