The Ties That Bind

by Andi Marquette

  "Excuse me," I interrupted, looking at Tonya. "Do you have a Farmington phonebook?" I figured she had to have one. Phonebooks were still around, especially in rural areas like these.

  "Sure," she said. "Let me get it." I waited as she retreated into the house, Sage looking at me and raised an eyebrow.

  "Does she have someone coming to fix the door?" I asked, deflecting.

  "Yes. And what do you need a phonebook for?"

  So much for deflecting with Sage. "A hunch. I'll tell you later."

  Simmons started to say something but Tonya reappeared with the requested item. "Thanks," I said, taking it. I walked over to the porch railing and set the phonebook on it, flipping through the letter P as the conversation behind me resumed. Three different Purcells, but only one Jamison, and the address listed was his house. I programmed the number into my phone and closed the phonebook, which I handed back to Tonya with another thank you. She took it and managed a smile.

  "We'll make sure somebody keeps an eye on the house," Simmons was saying. "In the meantime, if you notice anything strange, or if the truck comes back, call me. Here's my direct cell phone number." She handed Tonya a card. "Same goes for you," Simmons added, this time looking at Sage, who nodded and put her sunglasses on.

  "Thank you so much for all your help," Sage said.

  "You're welcome."

  "And thanks, Tonya, for the photos."

  "I think he would've wanted you to have them," Tonya said, a catch in her voice.

  Sage paused. "Call if you need to."

  Tonya smiled and nodded and Sage took my hand and pulled me down the two porch steps to the driveway. "Let's go," she said under her breath, squeezing my hand as we walked toward the rental car. "It's time."

  We got into the car and as I pulled out of the driveway onto the dirt road that would take us back to Highway 64, I thought that yes, it was time to leave Tonya's. But maybe not quite time to leave Farmington. Yet.

  Twenty minutes later, I had briefed Sage on my suspicions and pulled over at a convenience store where I went in to get something to drink, which was a large Diet Coke from the fountain. As an afterthought, I grabbed a bag of beef jerky off a rack. I paid and went outside to the payphone in front where Sage was waiting and I handed her my beverage. I leaned into the car and tossed the jerky onto the driver's seat and took my cell phone out of my pocket to look up the number for Purcell that I'd gotten out of the phonebook. Once I had the number ready on my screen, I dropped two quarters into the payphone and dialed. One ring. Two. Three.

  "Hello?" Purcell answered.

  Gotcha. He's at home. Okay, think fast. Make something up. "Uh, yeah," I said in a fake Texas accent. "I'm tryin' to reach Mark." My famous wrong number with a fake accent ploy, useful when calling people on a land line to see if they're where they say they are.

  "Sorry, nobody by that name lives here."

  "Geez, sorry about that. Thanks." I hung up and looked at Sage. "Busted. He's for sure not in Shiprock, like he told Shoshana." Who then told Kara, because he knew that'd get back to me and Sage. He'd been playing us this whole time.

  She nodded, lips set in a tight, grim line.

  "Call Simmons and tell her this interesting little bit of news. And tell her there might be a connection between Purcell and Surano and that she'll probably find that the dark blue truck's license traces to Purcell."

  Sage took a sip of my drink and handed it to me. "I will. And maybe we should go by on our way out of town, see if he has any visitors," she said, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

  "I don't think so," I said, worried. "We know he's lying, which means he's tied in to this deeper than we think. Besides, some asshole just ran you off the road."

  "And?"

  "And I think it's best we just get home. Once Chris gets a lead on Surano, we can pass it along to Simmons. Or Simmons might get that lead herself."

  "It's a perfect opportunity to see if there's a connection between Purcell and the guy who was at Tonya's. If she did manage to shoot him, and he is somehow connected to Purcell, he might go there first. And if you're right about the truck, then he may need to ditch it there for safekeeping. Get it off the road."

  I chewed my lip, debating. What could it hurt? We'd just drive out there, keep a safe distance, and see if the dark blue truck was in the vicinity of Purcell's house. Then we'd call Simmons and drive back to Albuquerque. After all, we were in a rental car so even if Purcell or Surano--I was willing to bet money that the asshole who ran Sage and River off the road was Surano--saw us, they wouldn't recognize us.

  "We'll just do a quick look, honey," Sage said in a tone that could get people imprisoned in places like Mexico. "Just one more tequila shot, honey..."

  My better judgment warred with my research-gathering compulsion. I did want to see if the truck was back at Purcell's and, if possible, see who had been driving it. "All right," I acquiesced as I got into the car. "But call River and tell him." Just a quick look. And then I'd get Sage home.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I TOOK THE proffered binoculars from Sage and panned them across the clearing in which Purcell's house sat. "I love that your brother has all kinds of gear," I said, adjusting the focus, thinking, too, that spying on people with my girlfriend, in most circumstances, might not be considered a perfectly normal thing to do.

  "And that I forgot to give these back to him before he and Kara left."

  "Good thing." I trained the binoculars on the dark blue pickup parked in front of Purcell's house. Unfortunately, it was positioned in such a way that I couldn't tell whether the front bumper was bashed up and from our vantage point--standing at the mouth of Purcell's driveway--I couldn't see the license plate. Damn. I lowered the binoculars and handed them back to Sage. "What do you think?"

  She took a turn with them and I glanced to my left toward the car, about fifty feet away, pulled as far off the dirt road to the right as possible, pointing toward the highway in case we had to make a quick getaway. Chris would so kill me if she knew what I was doing right now. Then Kara would kill me again, just on principle. But Sage might be able to talk them both out of it, if I was lucky. I licked my lips, anxious. Quick look, my ass. We'd been out here for twenty minutes already.

  "It looks like the truck that ran us off the road," Sage said, lowering the binoculars. "Wish we could see the front of it." She put them back to her eyes again and I scanned the road then glanced at my watch. Not yet three. I hoped Nan worked regular hours and wouldn't be showing up until five or six.

  "Somebody's coming out of the house," Sage said.

  "Purcell?"

  "No. Wait--Purcell's behind him."

  "What are they doing?"

  "Talking out in front...now that's interesting," she said. "The guy's got something wrong with his left arm." She handed me the binoculars and I aimed them at the front of Purcell's house. I saw Purcell, who was blocked a little by the size of the other guy. He was broad across the chest and shoulders and he had dark hair, like what River had described. I focused on his arm. Sage was right. The way he was holding it--close to his side, like he wanted to keep it from jostling, like maybe somebody had shot him earlier.

  He turned and gestured toward the truck with his right hand, but if this was the man Tonya had shot a couple hours earlier, he had changed his shirt. No big blood stain or gore marred his shirt, a yellow tee. Bad color, I thought, if he wanted to keep a low profile. Of course, he could have changed out of the old shirt. Maybe he borrowed this one from Purcell. I looked at Purcell again. He was nodding and then he pointed at the man's left shoulder but the guy shook his head.

  "So Tonya shoots him and he heads right over to Purcell's. Call me nuts, but that's just a tad suspicious." I gave the binoculars back to Sage.

  "Not the first thing I would do if I'd just gotten shot," she concurred, tone dry. "Unless I was doing shitty, illegal things like threatening people, running them off the road, and maybe killing one."

  "Of course. If I'd bee
n doing those things, I'd totally head over to a friend's house to chat about it. Hey, bro, would you patch me up? I got shot when I busted into somebody's house. No biggie."

  Sage laughed, still watching the front of Purcell's house. "They're still talking--now they're looking at the front of the truck. Purcell's not happy."

  "Huh," I conjectured, sarcastic. "Maybe he's a bit pissed that his pal bashed up his truck."

  She made a noncommittal noise in response and I looked to my left again, toward the highway. A black pickup was turning right, onto the road toward Purcell's driveway. "Um, honey?"

  "Mmm?"

  "We're about to have company. Back to the car." I grabbed her arm and started pulling her.

  "What--"

  "That looks a lot like Clint Monroe's truck," I said on the way to the car. "Open the doors on your side," I instructed as the pickup drew nearer. Only a couple hundred yards between us now.

  Sage did as I asked and took the tourist map of New Mexico that Mr. Junior Universe had insisted she have out of the glove compartment. She opened it up on the hood of the car. "Come here and act like you're lost," she said, pointing at the map.

  I ran a hand through my hair and feigned irritation, pretending to look over Sage's shoulder just as the black pickup was passing. The driver slowed down and I looked up, glad I had put my sunglasses on after my last look through the binoculars because Clint Monroe was indeed the man behind the wheel. He, too, was wearing sunglasses and he seemed to look right at me, but if he had any idea who I was, it didn't show on his face but he slowed even more and every muscle in my abdomen clenched until I realized he was turning down Purcell's driveway.

  Maybe he thought we were just a couple of ditzy tourists. I fought an urge to run back to the driveway and watch him. As it turned out, I didn't have to because Sage did just that.

  "Honey, wait," I called after her. "Give him time to get there."

  "I did," she shouted back over her shoulder. "Come on," she entreated, waving the binoculars.

  My girlfriend is insane. Maybe I'd take her to another doctor in Albuquerque to check her head again. I ran after her, catching her at the edge of the driveway, binoculars to her eyes.

  "Didn't you say he and Purcell had a big fight day before yesterday?" she asked.

  "Yeah. Monroe was shouting at Purcell, but I couldn't tell what he was saying."

  "And Purcell gave you the impression that Monroe had threatened him." She lowered the binoculars and looked at me.

  "Yeah. And he said that the phone threat he'd gotten was Jimmy Surano--" I stopped, realizing where this might be going and held out my hands for the binoculars. I trained them on Purcell's house and there stood Monroe, talking earnestly to both Purcell and Surano. I looked at Sage and shook my head with an "I'll be damned" expression. I'd been right. "Yep. Purcell played us. Shit, he's been playing us all along. He's been in on this with Monroe and Surano from the start."

  "What, specifically?" Sage lowered her sunglasses over her eyes. "I don't think he killed Dad."

  I thought about that for a bit. Purcell was a sneaky bastard, but was he a killer? "Okay, maybe he's playing Monroe for something." But what? "The notebook," I blurted. "That's it. Purcell says he was driven out of Ridge Star because of his back injury. What if that's true? And what if he knew what Bill was up to with the notebook, so Purcell thinks that maybe he has a shot at getting his job back or getting a settlement of some kind." "It's not like a guy like me has options for good-paying jobs..." He'd said that to me and Kara. He had told us what his motive might be for getting caught up in something like this.

  Sage nodded and took the binoculars back. She pulled her sunglasses off again so she could watch the proceedings at Purcell's.

  "And Bill shows Purcell his notebook," I continued, picking up steam. "So Purcell decides he's going to call Monroe and--hell, I don't know. Blackmail him. Or maybe he tells Monroe he knows where the notebook is and for a certain amount of money, he'll produce it. Then he hits up Surano to help him get the notebook. With Bill gone, Purcell thinks Tonya might have it. Maybe Nestor. But then you and River show up, and Purcell thinks maybe you have it, after visiting with Tonya yesterday. And that's why Surano went after you."

  Sage turned back to me. "But why Surano? Why is he invested in this?"

  "He has to be. He was on duty the day Nestor got injured. He didn't check the string. He's culpable and Nestor said he has a criminal record. He needs to keep this job. And if he's in on what happened to Bill, he's desperate. Besides," I added, "he's got some kind of connection to Purcell beyond former coworkers. Purcell must have something on him, too." I stared toward the house, but without the binoculars, I couldn't see much. "What are they doing?"

  "Talking."

  "Just talking? No arguing or yelling?"

  "Nope. Purcell's on the phone. Oh, now Monroe's going to his truck. And Surano--if that's him--is following. He's getting in, too."

  "Jesus." I grabbed her arm again. "They're leaving. And so are we."

  She didn't need any urging and we ran back to the car, tearing out of there in such a way that our tires kicked up a dust cloud. So much for inconspicuous. I accelerated.

  "Go back toward Farmington," Sage ordered when I stopped at the point where the dirt road intersected with the highway.

  I started to tell her what I thought of that nutso plan but she cut me off. "Chances are, they're going back into town. Let's see if they do and at some point, let them get ahead of us so we can see where they go so I can call Simmons and tell her."

  I turned left, back toward town.

  A STAKEOUT. THAT was the only way to describe what we were doing, parked between an abandoned mobile home and a rundown suburban-style home that looked like it might not have any residents, either. We were positioned about the distance of a block from Nestor's place. A sagging brown station wagon that looked like it hadn't been driven since the early 1970s hunkered on a patch of hard-packed earth near the trailer's front door, the right back wheel missing. A white van of similar vintage was pulled up behind the station wagon, where it rested on two flat front tires and two bald rear ones. Most of the glass was broken out of its windows.

  I had parked the rental car parallel to the van, backing in next to it in such a way that the nose of the car jutted just a bit past the back of the van. If we leaned forward, we were able to just see Monroe's truck--driver's side toward us--which stood in front of Nestor's house. No other cars were there, so I guessed that Nestor had been alone when Monroe and Surano came calling. That may have been the phone call Purcell had made--to see if Nestor was alone for a while.

  "This can't be good," I said for the tenth time. I chewed on a piece of beef jerky for something to do that might ease my anxiety. My window was down and so far, we hadn't heard any shots fired or loud noises that might indicate somebody slamming against a wall inside Nestor's. I scanned the mixture of houses and mobile homes, looking for signs of life beyond a couple of ratty dogs snuffling a ripped-up bag of trash in front of the house across the road. Did nobody else live down here?

  "It's not," Sage concurred. "But until they actually do something bad or questionable, Simmons can't do much." She toyed with her phone. She had called River again, right after we left Purcell's, but didn't get him so she sent him a text message as well, just to cover her bases.

  I leaned forward again, watching Nestor's house. Almost six. We'd been out here for over an hour. I wondered if Chris's stakeouts were this boring. Speaking of which, I checked my phone, which I'd turned to "no sounds," to see if I'd missed any messages. Nope. She was probably thinking I was already back in Albuquerque and she'd stop by the house with the info. And when she saw I wasn't there, she'd call. River could run interference for us. I chewed my lip yet again, thinking. Kara hadn't called, either. Still pissed, I guessed. I sighed and shut my eyes, trying to keep calm though my stomach was tied into a bunch of different knots.

  "Something's happening," Sage said as she leaned over me. "
That's Monroe."

  I turned my head. Clint Monroe was indeed standing on Nestor's front porch. He lit a cigarette, and it reminded me of a cheesy crime drama because he looked so furtive doing it. He took a drag, tapping his other hand, all nervous, against his thigh. Surano appeared in the doorway behind him, his frame almost filled it. Monroe looked at him and nodded and Surano disappeared again, leaving Monroe smoking on the porch. Less than a minute later, Surano appeared with Nestor, the latter's left arm over Surano's right shoulder. Nestor sagged against Surano, his head hanging. I couldn't see his face, thus. Only the top of his head. Surano moved awkwardly, favoring his left arm, and maneuvered Nestor to the porch steps.

  "What the fuck? What are they doing?" I leaned forward even more, but Monroe's truck blocked my view though I could tell that Surano was half-dragging Nestor down the front porch steps.

  "Looks like they're putting Nestor in the truck," Sage responded. And indeed, Monroe tossed his cigarette onto the ground and went to the driver's side of his truck. He opened the door and leaned in, pulling on something, from his body language. I guessed it was Nestor he was helping haul into the cab. Satisfied, Monroe climbed in and shut the door and Surano did the same on the passenger side. I heard the truck start and Monroe backed it up.

  "Get down," I commanded, slipping down in my seat and leaning across the car toward her. She did the same, leaning toward me, and I held my breath, hoping that Surano wasn't sitting high enough to look down over the dashboard of the car and see us trying to hide. Monroe's truck rumbled past and Sage started to sit up but I threw my arm over her, preventing it. "Hold on." I counted to twenty, let go of her, and we both sat up.