Cold Betrayal

by J. A. Jance

  Ali did the math. Enid was sixteen now. The Kingman Jane Doe, most likely another refugee from The Family, had been found dead twelve years ago. What if Jane Doe turned out to be Enid’s mother? The time lines might just match.

  “You said Amos Sellers was the one who brought you back?”

  Patricia fidgeted before she answered. Ali could see that Patricia wasn’t at ease discussing any of this. “Brother Amos wasn’t a deputy sheriff back then. He got hired to do that a few years later.”

  “Would he have been the one sent out to retrieve Anne Lowell?”

  Patricia shrugged. “I’m sure he looked for her, but he never found her.” She frowned. “Why are you so interested in Anne?”

  Ali wasn’t prepared to answer that question, not right then, so she deflected it. “Looking for connections is all. Did Enid know any of this?”

  “I told her who her father is,” Patricia admitted. “I thought she had a right to know that. I didn’t tell her all of it. It was bad enough that her mother ran away. Knowing the rest wouldn’t have done her any good. If anything, it might have made things worse. Besides, it was more gossip than anything else.”

  “Look,” Ali said, changing the subject. “It was brave of you to leave with David here last night. It was also smart of you to trust him. I think you could tell immediately that he meant you no harm, but those other women at The Encampment have most likely spent their entire lives being taught that everything outside The Family is evil. Will you go with us this evening and help convince them otherwise?”

  “Yes,” Patricia said at once. “I’ll go.”

  Agnes had to think for a moment; then, rather than speaking aloud, she simply nodded.

  Ali turned to Andrea. “It’s going to be cold up there tonight, and we’ll probably be outside a lot of the time. Can you have someone take them shopping for clothing suitable for that—for coats, boots, and whatever else is needed? Whatever it costs, I’ll handle.”

  “I could take them shopping,” David Upton offered, “but I don’t have a car right now.”

  Without a word, Andrea handed him a set of car keys.

  “Okay,” David said. “Tell me where we’re supposed to go when we finish.”

  “Their apartment should be ready in about an hour or so,” Andrea said. “It’s being stocked with linens, pots and pans, and a minimal supply of food. Come back here, and I’ll give them the key.”

  Ali reached into her purse, found her wallet, and handed David a fistful of cash. “Thank you for handling this,” she said. “It’s a big help.”

  David exited the office, taking Patricia and Agnes with him, and leaving Ali and Andrea alone.

  “What’s the real score?” Andrea asked.

  “According to Governor Dunham’s estimate, there’s a good chance that, before the evening is over, you’ll have between four and five hundred displaced homemakers and children dropped in your lap. Some are bound to want to stay where they are, but we have to be prepared for the worst. I expect you’ll be hearing from the governor in person. I gave her your name and number.”

  “Okay,” Andrea said. “I’ve made a few calls and already have some contingency plans in place. This isn’t an exceptionally busy time for tourists, and I know if there are vacancies, a lot of the hospitality folks will step up until we can make permanent arrangements.”

  There was a tap on the door. The receptionist stood in the doorway looking uneasy. “Excuse me, Andrea,” she said. “Sorry to interrupt, but the governor’s office is on the phone.”

  As Andrea reached for her phone, Ali headed for the door. “Wait,” Andrea said. “What about that box of floppies? Do you still want them?”

  Ali stopped in the doorway. “Thanks, but no thanks,” Ali said. “We don’t need them. I thought if we searched through them, we’d find out how Irene’s phone number ended up in Enid’s pocket. Now, thanks to Patricia and Agnes, we already know. Good luck with Governor Dunham. See you later.”

  33

  Ali had turned her phone ringer on silent when she finished speaking to Governor Dunham. During her talk with Patricia and Agnes, Ali had felt the buzz of at least three incoming calls and had ignored them all. Now checking the recent call list, she found two calls from B. and one from Sister Anselm. She called B. first.

  “It’s a fine mess you’ve gotten us into this time,” he said. “We have two drones in the air with secure feeds going to both the Department of Public Safety and the FBI. One is keeping an eye on the landing strip until a SWAT team shows up, and the other is working its way around the perimeter of The Family’s property, looking for signs of disturbances that would indicate places where anti-intrusion devices might have been installed.”

  “Finding any?”

  “Not so far. I’ve also had two phone calls from someone who’s apparently a close personal friend of yours—Governor Virginia Dunham. She tells me you’ve been appointed to be some kind of special deputy.”

  “The DNA trail has led to twenty human trafficking victims at last count,” Ali told him. “This joint operation is being launched to forestall any attempt to smuggle one last load of girls out of the country. Governor Dunham wants to roll up the operation before that happens rather than after.”

  “Does The Family have any idea about what’s coming?”

  “I hope not.”

  “I’d prefer a straight-out no,” B. said.

  “Believe me,” Ali said. “So would I.”

  “Even after your meeting this morning, you’re still worried about Alvarado?”

  “Very much so, but my opinion on that score doesn’t carry much weight. The governor insists that since Colorado City is inside his jurisdiction, the sheriff and his department must be part of the program.”

  “If someone leaks intel to The Family, then anyone going there tonight may be walking into a trap,” B. said. “Please don’t tell me that you’re going, too.”

  Obviously B. Simpson knew Ali far too well. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t be on the front lines. I’ll be with the governor as part of a rearguard action. Our job will be to convince members of The Family who are interested in leaving the cult that they are free to do so. Patricia and Agnes, the two Brought Back girls David Upton walked off with last night, have agreed to come along and reason with the others. And guess what? Now, thanks to them, we have a solid lead about the identity of Sister Anselm’s Kingman Jane Doe. I believe DNA comparisons will reveal her to be Anne Lowell, Enid Tower’s birth mother.”

  “I don’t understand. Why do you have to be so personally involved?” B. insisted.

  “Because Sister Anselm and I are the ones who started this whole saga. We both feel responsible. That’s why she took Enid to Tucson. That’s why I’m going to Colorado City. Don’t worry, B. I’ll be safe.”

  “I’d rather you stayed out of it.”

  “I still have my bulletproof vest,” Ali said. “It’s in the back of the Cayenne.”

  The vest was a relic from her brief stint with the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Department.

  “Being safe would mean avoiding places where you might need a bulletproof vest,” B. countered. “Still, the more I say, ‘Do not go in the basement,’ the more likely you are to go there anyway, so why don’t I shut up and save my breath? But here’s the deal. If you’re going to be part of a ‘rearguard action,’ so am I.”

  Ali started to argue the point but stopped. If B. wasn’t going to try to talk her out of going, she wouldn’t badger him about it, either.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “We’re to meet up at the DPS headquarters here in Flagstaff at six P.M.”

  “What are you planning to do between now and then?”

  “Do we still have that hotel room we paid for earlier this morning?”

  “We paid for it by the day not the hour. Why?”

  “Becaus
e I think I’m going to go there and grab a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Tonight won’t be much better.”

  “Do you still have a key?”

  “I never had one to begin with.”

  “All right. I’ll call and tell them that you’re coming and that you’ve lost your key.”

  “Thanks for throwing me under the bus,” Ali said with a laugh. “See you at six.”

  “Wait,” B. said. “Don’t you want to hear Stu’s and my news?”

  “What news?”

  “He managed to collect some images from the security tapes on those ATMs at the casino in Minnesota. He ran them through a facial recognition program, and we now have a good idea of who’s been lifting the money out of Betsy’s accounts.”

  “Who?”

  “Her daughter-in-law, Sandra.”

  Ali sighed. “I wish I could say I was surprised. Have you told Athena?”

  “Nope,” B. said. “This is your investigation. As far as I’m concerned, that means delivering the bad news is your job. After all, as you pointed out to me just a moment ago, you’re the one with the bulletproof vest.”

  Ali hung up then and dialed Sister Anselm. “I think we have a possible identity on the Kingman Jane Doe.”

  Her announcement was greeted by a sharp intake of breath. “No! Are you serious?”

  “I am. I have reason to believe Jane Doe is a girl named Anne Lowell who ran away from The Family compound when her daughter, Enid, was three or four.”

  “Jane Doe is Enid’s mother?” Sister Anselm’s shock was audible. “However did you learn all this?”

  “Last night, after David Upton left the hospital, he drove up to Colorado City and rescued two of Enid’s friends.”

  “Agnes and Patricia, the two Brought Back girls?” Sister Anselm asked. “Enid spent the whole night muttering about them, saying that they might be in danger, but I thought it was just the meds talking. I didn’t pay that much attention.”

  “David did,” Ali answered. “They’re the ones who gave Enid Irene’s number. They must have been worried, too, because when David showed up and offered to bring them here, they didn’t hesitate.”

  “But how did they get Irene’s number in the first place?”

  “Someone from here in Flag—someone who knew Irene—offered Irene’s information to Agnes when she showed up at a grocery store in Colorado City with a crop of fresh bruises showing. When Patricia and Agnes took off a few weeks later, they had Irene’s number with them. They never got this far, but they kept the number. When Anne Lowell was getting ready to run away, they offered the number to her, too, but Anne said she didn’t need it. She claimed someone on the Outside was helping her. Now, all these years later, Patricia and Agnes are the ones who gave Irene’s decade-old information to Enid.”

  “You said someone on the Outside was helping Anne,” Sister Anselm interjected. “Do we know who?”

  “A boyfriend most likely. At the time she was married to Richard Lowell, the guy who’s now in charge of the compound. She evidently had a relationship on the side with someone who wasn’t her husband—maybe even with someone outside the cult—and was afraid of what her husband would do to her if he found out about the affair.”

  “That’s why she ran away—because she was carrying another man’s child?”

  “So it would seem.”

  “Should I tell Enid? She’s sleeping right now, but she’s improving.”

  “No,” Ali answered. “Don’t tell her anything yet, not until we know for sure that the Kingman Jane Doe is Anne Lowell.”

  “How do we ascertain that,” Sister Anselm asked, “especially since the evidence box in that case has gone missing?”

  “The box may be missing, but Jane Doe and her baby aren’t. They’re right where you left them in a common grave in Holy Name Cemetery in Kingman, Arizona.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “We have a possible ID,” Ali answered. “Bishop Gillespie is the one who paid Jane Doe’s burial expenses. If we can’t get a court order to have the body exhumed, maybe his previous involvement will give him leeway to request an exhumation.”

  “It’s a Catholic cemetery,” Sister Anselm mused. “He might be able to make that work, but won’t he need a court order? How would he get one of those?”

  “I’ll check with my new BFF, Governor Dunham. She’s busy with planning tonight’s raid, but I’ll ask her to look into the exhumation problem as soon as possible.”

  “Wait,” Sister Anselm interjected. “Did you say raid? What raid?”

  “How long have you been gone?” Ali asked. “It turns out a lot has happened.”

  She spent the next ten minutes telling Sister Anselm everything that had transpired, ending with her long conversation with Governor Dunham.

  “So you’ll be going to Colorado City tonight?” the nun asked when Ali finished.

  “Yes.”

  “I wish I could be there, too,” Sister Anselm said.

  “But you can’t. We need you to look after Enid. Let other people handle the rest of it.”

  Once off the line with Sister Anselm, Ali spent the next fifteen minutes on hold with the governor’s office, waiting to be put through to Virginia Dunham. By then more than an hour of Ali’s four-hour naptime window had evaporated, and she had yet to make it back to the Crown Inn.

  “Yes, Ali,” Virginia Dunham said finally. “Sorry to leave you on hold so long. I was trying to clear up the tour bus situation. For arrestees, I’m bringing along a Department of Corrections bus that’s used to transport prisoners back and forth for court dates. I’ve also hired two motor coaches. They’ll be available to handle the transportation needs of any residents who wish to leave the compound immediately. The coach company was giving my chief of staff fits about possible liability issues. I’m afraid I had to get involved and kick a few asses to make it happen.”

  Ali couldn’t help smiling at that. Governor Dunham was definitely living up to her advance notices.

  The governor listened patiently while Ali laid out the most recent wrinkle in The Family’s complex history.

  “It sounds to me,” Governor Dunham said when Ali finished, “like you’re using the Kingman Jane Doe thing to go after Sheriff Alvarado again. You really don’t like the man, do you?”

  “Liking has nothing to do with it,” Ali asserted. “And it’s not just the sheriff. There are things inside his department that don’t pass the smell test, Amos Sellers being a prime example. His being a deputy and The Family’s bounty hunter at the same time isn’t right. In fact, it’s a conflict of interest. I’m worried that Sellers may have been personally involved with what happened to Anne Lowell. He may also be the person behind the disappearance of that critical evidence box.”

  “Let’s cross one bridge at a time,” Governor Dunham cautioned. “I can see that having DNA evidence constitutes a new lead in the Kingman Jane Doe case. No matter what the fallout is from tonight’s raid, I owe you an enormous debt for bringing this ungodly mess to my attention. So please let Sister Anselm know there’s no need for her to involve Bishop Gillespie in this matter. My attorney general has a cold case unit that operates statewide. I’ll turn this exhumation issue over to him, but not today, mind you. My whole team, including the AG, are up to their asses in alligators at the moment. You’ll have to trust me on this.”

  “I will,” Ali said. “Thank you.”

  “See you at six?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ali said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  On the way back to the Crown Inn, Ali called Sister Anselm back and told her she could stand down from tackling Bishop Gillespie—that the exhumation problem had been handled. Once off the phone, she realized it had been a very long time since breakfast. She would have stopped by the Pancake Castle to grab a bite of lunch, but they closed at two-thirty.
It was more than an hour and a half beyond that.

  B. may have called ahead, but getting let back into the hotel room wasn’t easy. The discrepancy between B.’s last name and Ali’s was noted and required a detailed explanation. Ali could tell by the disapproving frown on the clerk’s face that she was better off claiming their having married recently for the name difference. She had a feeling that the gray-haired woman behind the counter would not approve of someone who had no intention of ever changing her name.

  Once Ali managed to talk her way into the room, she was sorry. The bed hadn’t looked all that inviting early in the morning, and nothing had changed in the intervening hours. The faded flowered bedspread was well beyond its expiration date, and even from a distance the lumps in the worn mattress were clearly visible. Ali turned off her ringer, placed the phone on a charger, and set the alarm on her iPad for five-fifteen. Then, slipping off her shoes, she lay down on top of the covers and pulled her coat over her to keep warm.

  With so many pieces about to be set in motion, she more than half expected to toss and turn. Instead, she fell asleep instantly. When the alarm went off, she awakened from a dreamless sleep, rested and ready for action.

  She and Sister Anselm had started this, and now was the time to finish it.

  34

  While Ali slept, a text had come in from David. He said he’d been called away, but he had taken Patricia and Agnes back to their new temporary housing unit and gave Ali their address.

  When Ali rang the bell at an upstairs apartment, the Patricia who answered the door was barely recognizable from the woman Ali had first seen; Agnes looked totally different, too. David Upton had done exactly as he’d been asked, and the Brought Back girls were transformed. The clothing he’d helped the two women purchase was inexpensive, off-the-rack-type fare, most likely from Target, but it worked. Dressed in jeans, sweaters, and lace-up boots, the two Brought Back girls looked like normal thirtysomething Americans rather than bewildered immigrants from a bygone era.