by Jance, J. A.
“It’s my specialty,” she said. “Best thing I ever learned at the Arizona Police Academy.”
56
Laguna Beach, California
When they arrived at Velma’s condominium building at two o’clock in the morning, it seemed to Ali that the doorman leered at them a little as he let them into the building. She didn’t bother explaining to him that their being together didn’t mean they were together. If the doorman had a dirty mind, it was none of Ali’s business.
Once in the unit, they took one cursory look at the nighttime ocean view from the balcony, then they disappeared into their separate bedrooms. Ali fell asleep immediately. The next morning she was up bright and early. She went for a morning stroll on the beach with Maddy Watkins and the three dogs. Two hours later, she was drinking coffee and typing an e-mail to B. when Gil finally made his tardy appearance.
He wandered over to the kitchen counter and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“There are bagels on the counter and cream cheese in the fridge,” she said. “Help yourself.”
Gil found what looked like a bread knife in a utility drawer. When he sliced a sesame bagel in half, he was amazed at how much sharper the knife was than the sole remaining one in his knife block at home. Something else to put on the list for his next household goods extravaganza.
He put the sliced bagel in the toaster and pushed down the button. “How’s your friend this morning?” he asked.
It had taken them close to an hour and a half to drive to Laguna Beach from the hospital in San Diego. They’d done a lot of talking on the way. In the process Ali had told Gil about her dying friend, Velma Trimble.
Ali shook her head. “Not well. I went for a walk on the beach this morning with Maddy and the dogs. She said Velma’s not doing well at all, and she seems anxious about my getting the check she gave me deposited. She’s evidently concerned that there might be some kind of blowback from her son about her making that donation. She wants to be certain all the t’s are crossed and i’s dotted.”
“You’d better handle that today, then,” he said. He sat down across from her and took a sip of his coffee. “Have you heard from Camilla Gastellum?”
Ali nodded. “Valerie, her other daughter, and her husband drove all night. The three of them got to the hospital in San Diego this morning about eight. Brenda is out of the ICU. Her condition has been upgraded from critical to serious. They’re treating her for dehydration. There’s some concern about blood clotting issues as well. She was evidently left sitting in that chair for so long that there’s concern about her developing DVTs.”
“What’s that?”
“Deep vein thrombosis from sitting for long periods of time. Blood clots that form in your legs can break loose and travel to the heart or lung or brain.”
“I’m glad her family is there,” Gil said. “I’ll need to talk to Brenda once she gets back north. It sounds like the actual kidnapping took place in Sacramento, but that all needs to be sorted out. That was my chief on the phone, by the way, calling to give me hell.”
Ali had heard Gil’s cell phone ringing earlier. That was evidently what had propelled him out of bed.
He retrieved his toasted bagel, put it on a plate, and brought that, a butter knife, and a container of cream cheese to the table.
“Chief Jackman told me yesterday that he wanted me to take comp time to make up for all the overtime, but it turns out he didn’t mean I should take it now. And the fact that you and I managed to track down Richard Lowensdale’s killer on our own time and that we saved Brenda Riley’s life in the process barely registers in his little bean-counting skull. I told him I’ll be in tomorrow. With that in mind, I guess I’d better rent a car someplace and head north.”
“No,” Ali said.
“What do you mean no?”
“As you pointed out last night, I’m the one who got you down here and I’m prepared to get you back. I’ve called You-Go. They’ll have yesterday’s CJ at John Wayne Airport, KSNA as it’s known in aviation circles, at one p.m. You should be back in Grass Valley, KGOO, by about two thirty.”
“You can’t do that,” he said. “I can’t let you do that. It’s too expensive.”
“You can’t stop me because it’s already done. Here’s your tail number. They asked about catering. I told them to order you a chicken salad. Hope that’s okay.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Ali said. “I owe you, Gil. Brenda’s alive. If it hadn’t been for you, she probably wouldn’t be.”
“All right,” he said. After a moment’s reflection he took the piece of paper with the tail number on it and slipped it into his pocket. “But I won’t be able to pay you back anytime soon. I did a lot of thinking about the money situation last night,” he said. “I’m not going to keep it.”
Ali looked at him and smiled. “I never thought you would,” she said. “You’re not that kind of guy.”
He raised his coffee cup. “You aren’t either.”
By noon, the kitchen was back in order. They were packed and ready to leave. “I need to stop by and see Velma one last time,” Ali told him.
“You do that,” Gil said. “I’ll take the bags downstairs and wait for you in the lobby.”
As soon as Ali rang the doorbell on the penthouse floor, there was the expected response—frantic barking from the three dogs, followed by a stern “Quiet,” followed by “Get on your rug.” When Maddy Watkins opened the door, the room was perfectly quiet.
“I’m not sure she’s awake,” Maddy said.
“Who is it?” Velma asked from her hospital bed by the window.
“It’s Ali,” Maddy replied. “Ali Reynolds.”
“I’m awake,” Velma said. “Send her over.”
Ali was surprised by the difference even a single day had made. Maddy was right. Velma was losing ground, physically if not mentally.
“Have you been to the bank yet?” Velma wanted to know.
“Not yet,” Ali said. “I’m on my way to the airport. I’ll probably see a bank branch somewhere along the way.”
“Good,” Velma said. “I want you to have that money. Actually, I want your scholarship kids to have the money. If I put it as a bequest in my will, my son might figure out a way to keep it from happening. I love him, you see. I just don’t trust him.”
Ali went over to Velma’s bed and gathered Velma’s rail-thin hand in her own. “I have to go now,” Ali said, leaning over to kiss Velma’s weathered cheek.
“I do too,” Velma said with a slight smile. “Don’t bother coming to the funeral,” she added. “It’s going to be what my son wants, not what I want, but it won’t make a bit of difference to me. Having you here to drink Maddiccinos with Maddy and me was a lot more my speed. Goodbye, Ali. Thanks for everything.”
Blinking back tears, Ali paused long enough to hug Maddy on her way out. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.
Maddy nodded. “So am I,” she said.
The day after a bank holiday was a busy one at the Bank of America branch Ali found on their way to the airport. Ali was halfway through the teller line waiting to deposit Velma’s check when her cell phone rang. It was Chris.
“Hey, Grandma,” her son said. “If you want to see your grandkids make their grand entrance, you’d better head home. We’re on our way to the hospital in Flagstaff right now. Dr. Dixon said she’ll meet us there.”
“Did you say right now?” Ali asked.
“I said right now.”
“Okay,” Ali said. “I’ll do my best.”
Her next call was to operations at You-Go. “Do you have another CJ available this afternoon?”
“From where to where?”
“The first one is due to go from John Wayne to Grass Valley. I’d like to take that one for myself and fly from KSNA to Flagstaff, Arizona. When the second aircraft arrives, that one can take Detective Morris from KSNA back to KGOO in Grass Valley.”
“The soonest I could have another a
ircraft at John Wayne is two thirty,” the operations clerk said. “That’s an hour and a half after Mr. Morris’s scheduled departure. Are you sure that’s all right with him?”
“It’ll be fine,” Ali said. “He doesn’t care what time he gets home as long as it’s today. My son and daughter-in-law are on their way to a hospital. They’re about to have twins, and I want to be there.”
“Your aircraft is about twenty minutes out,” the young woman said. “I’ll advise your pilot of the change in plans and that you need a very short turnaround. What about catering?”
“We’ll both have chicken salad.”
Gil was waiting patiently in the car when Ali emerged from the bank.
“It seems there’s been a slight change in plans,” Ali told him. “I’m going home to Arizona in your plane, and they’re sending another one for you.”
Gil looked at her anxiously. “I hope it’s not some kind of emergency.”
“It’s not an emergency of any kind. I’m about to become a grandmother,” Ali said with a smile. “And I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J. A. Jance is the top-ten New York Times best-selling author of the Joanna Brady series, the J. P. Beaumont series, four interrelated thrillers featuring the Walker family, and the Ali Reynolds series: Trial by Fire, Cruel Intent, Hand of Evil, Web of Evil, and Edge of Evil. Born in South Dakota and brought up in Bisbee, Arizona, Jance lives with her husband in Seattle, Washington, and Tucson, Arizona.
PRAISE FOR FATAL ERROR
“Jance keeps firm control of a believable yet complex plot that spins on contemporary issues of cyber stalking and the economic downturn … the plot never stalls and leads to a logical and exciting finale.”
—PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
“In her inimitable, take-no-prisoners style … main character Ali manages to disarm.”
—KIRKUS REVIEWS
“A captivating page-turner.”
—LINCOLN JOURNAL STAR
“An exciting and carefully fashioned plot, [resolved] with a very satisfying ending.”
—I LOVE A MYSTERY
ALI REYNOLDS INVESTIGATES two shocking cases of victims brutally left for dead in New York Times bestselling J.A. Jance’s latest mystery-thriller.
When Santa Cruz County deputy sheriff Jose Reyes, Ali’s classmate from the Arizona Police Academy, is gunned down and left to die, he is at first assumed to be an innocent victim of the drug wars escalating across the border. But the crime scene investigation shows there’s much more to it than that, and soon he and his pregnant wife, Teresa, both fall under suspicion of wrongdoing.
Ali owes Reyes a debt of gratitude for the help he gave her years earlier when she was dealing with a troubled friend. When she’s summoned to his bedside at Physicians Medical Center in Tucson, it’s impossible for her to turn away. And knowing Reyes as well as she does, Ali finds it hard to believe that he’s become mixed up in the drug trade, despite evidence to the contrary. Upon arriving at the hospital, Ali finds that her good friend, Sister Anselm, is there, too—working as a patient advocate on behalf of another seriously injured victim, an unidentified young woman presumed to be an illegal border crosser, who was raped and savagely beaten.
Ali becomes determined to seek justice in both cases and secure safety for both victims. Together with Sister Anselm and a conscientious officer who won’t let the case drop despite pressure from above, Ali digs for clues to find the true culprits.
Fast-paced, tension-filled, and intriguingly complex, Left for Dead is J.A. Jance at her riveting best.
J.A. JANCE is the New York Times bestselling author of the Ali Reynolds series, the J.P. Beaumont series, the Joanna Brady series, and four interrelated southwestern thrillers featuring the Walker family. Born in South Dakota and brought up in Bisbee, Arizona, Jance lives with her husband in Seattle, Washington, and Tucson, Arizona.
www.JAJance.com
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COPYRIGHT © 2012 SIMON & SCHUSTER
ALSO BY J.A. JANCE
ALI REYNOLDS MYSTERIES
Edge of Evil
Web of Evil
Hand of Evil
Cruel Intent
Trial by Fire
Fatal Error
JOANNA BRADY MYSTERIES
Desert Heat
Tombstone Courage
Shoot/Don’t Shoot
Dead to Rights
Skeleton Canyon
Rattlesnake Crossing
Outlaw Mountain
Devil’s Claw
Paradise Lost
Partner in Crime
Exit Wounds
Dead Wrong
Damage Control
Fire and Ice
J. P. BEAUMONT MYSTERIES
Until Proven Guilty
Injustice for All
Trial by Fury
Taking the Fifth
Improbable Cause
A More Perfect Union
Dismissed with Prejudice
Minor in Possession
Payment in Kind
Without Due Process
Failure to Appear
Lying in Wait
Name Withheld
Breach of Duty
Birds of Prey
Partner in Crime
Long Time Gone
Justice Denied
Fire and Ice
Betrayal of Trust
WALKER FAMILY MYSTERIES
Hour of the Hunter
Kiss of the Bees
Day of the Dead
Queen of the Night
Touchstone
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by J.A. Jance
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Touchstone Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
First Touchstone hardcover edition February 2012
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jance, Judith A.
Left for dead: a novel / J.A. Jance.—1st Touchstone hardcover ed.
p. cm.
1. Reynolds, Ali (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. 3. Arizona—Fiction. 4. Mexican-American Border Region—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3560.A44L44 2012
813'.54—dc23 2011029102
ISBN 978-1-4516-2858-6 (Print)
ISBN 978-1-4516-7578-8 (eBook)
To the REAL Patty Patton
LEFT FOR DEAD
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Prologue
2:00 A.M., Thursday, April 8
Phoenix, Arizona
Seventeen-year-old Breeze Domingo lay on a sagging leather couch in a filthy apartment that Thursday morning and tried to sleep, but sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned and spent the time wishing her life had been different. She wished she had listened to her mother and stepfather and stayed in school. She wished she had never set foot on Van Buren Street in downtown Phoenix and discovered how easy it was to make money if you didn’t care what you had to do to get it. And she wished she had never hooked up with Chico Hernández.
Some of the other girls had warned her to stay away from him, but Chico was a smooth operator. When she first met him, she’d been new to the life, a fourteen-year-old runaway living on the streets. Chico was the one who had told her what she wanted to hear—that she was beautiful and that he would take care of her. That was the day a john had busted her in the jaw rather than fork over his money. Chico had taken her to urgent care and waited while she got stitched up. After that she owed him. After that she was his. She had ditched her given name of Rose in favor of becoming Breeze Domingo. Three years later, she still was.