Left for Dead ar-7

by J. A. Jance

  “These are your daughters?” Lattimore asked.

  Teresa nodded.

  “Cute kids,” he said. He held out his pen, offering it to Carinda. She immediately reached out and grasped it with her short fingers. Before she could stick it in her mouth-ink end first-Teresa took it away

  “She’s two,” Teresa said. “That’s too young for pens.”

  When she handed the pen back to him, Lattimore immediately dropped it in his pocket and went searching for another one.

  “Now back to business,” he said. “Where were you on Saturday night?”

  “You mean where was I when my husband was shot? Wait. Are you asking me if I’m the one who shot him?”

  “Where were you?” Lattimore insisted.

  “I was at home with my kids-these kids, Carinda and Lucy.”

  “Can they verify that for us?”

  “Are you kidding?” she demanded. “Look at them. They’re preschoolers. The younger one can barely talk. Neither of them can tell time. But I wouldn’t go off and leave them alone, and if I were capable of doing what you suggested, I certainly wouldn’t take the girls with me. What kind of a person do you think I am?”

  “Perhaps someone called you at home that night,” Lattimore suggested. “If you used your landline phone or your cell, we can use presence technology to verify exactly where you were at the time your husband was shot.”

  “I didn’t talk to anyone on the phone. When the girls go to bed, I usually unplug the phone so it doesn’t wake them.”

  “What about your cell phone?”

  “Same thing. I turn it on silent or vibrate when they go to bed, but nobody called me on Saturday night. I went to bed as soon as America’s Most Wanted was over.”

  “You watch that?”

  “Every week.”

  “Why?’

  “Because we live in a place where we might see some of those people.”

  “I see,” Lattimore said, sounding as though he didn’t. “Back to the phone situation. In your husband’s line of work, isn’t turning off the phone when he’s on duty a bit unusual? What if there was an emergency? What if his department needed to reach you?”

  “There was an emergency,” Teresa reminded him, feeling a flood of anger surge through her body. “Sheriff Renteria didn’t call me on the telephone. He came to the house to let me know what had happened. In person.”

  Lattimore moved closer to her and lowered his voice. “Are you involved in the drug trade, Mrs. Reyes? Is it possible that both you and your husband are in this together?”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’m a mother with two kids. I’m expecting another one. Of course I not involved in the drug trade.”

  “Tell me about the money we found in your underwear drawer.”

  “What money?” she asked.

  “Five thousand dollars in a plastic Ziploc container-all of it in hundred-dollar bills.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. There’s no money in my underwear drawer.”

  “You’re right about that,” Lattimore said with a knowing chuckle. “Because it isn’t there anymore. It’s in an evidence bag and on its way to the crime lab.”

  “That’s enough,” a woman’s voice said. “Leave her alone.”

  Teresa and Lattimore looked up in surprise as the blond woman Donnatelle had introduced as Ali Reynolds came striding across the room, cell phone on hand.

  “And who might you be?” Lattimore asked. “The lady’s attorney, possibly?”

  “I’m a friend of the family. My name is Alison Reynolds. I’m not an attorney, but I have one on the phone right now.” Ali handed her iPhone over to Teresa. “Her name is Juanita Cisco,” Ali went on. “She’s a criminal defense attorney here in town. I called her while you and this nice police officer were having your not so pleasant conversation, and she’s been listening in on the speakerphone. You might ask if she’s interested in representing you. If you can’t afford her, I’m sure you can have an attorney appointed by the court, but given the circumstances, it seems to me that you need someone to represent you right now.”

  Teresa held the phone and looked at it warily, as though it might be an incendiary device set to explode. The same was true of Agent Lattimore’s face. It, too, appeared close to exploding.

  “I don’t know who you think you are …” he began, shaking an outraged finger in Ali’s direction. “You’re interfering with an officer of the law.”

  That outburst was enough to move Teresa to action. She held the phone up to her ear, even though, with the thing set to speaker, holding it up to her ear wasn’t necessary.

  “Mrs. Reyes?” The voice over the phone bristled with urgency. “Did you hear what your friend said? My name is Juanita Cisco. I’m willing to serve as your attorney. All you have to do is say yes.”

  “Yes,” Teresa whispered. “Yes, please.”

  “All right, then, hand the phone over to the officer.”

  Teresa did as she was told. She gave the phone to Lattimore. He took it reluctantly, scowling as he did so.

  “Did you hear that?” Juanita asked. “Mrs. Reyes wants me to serve as her attorney in this matter.”

  “Yes,” Lattimore muttered. “I heard.”

  “Would you like me to represent your husband as well, Mrs. Reyes?” Juanita asked, her voice booming through the cell phone speaker.

  At first Teresa only nodded. Then, glancing at Ali’s face, she realized her mistake. “Yes, please,” Teresa said. “I want you to represent us both.”

  “And what’s your name, Officer …”

  “Lattimore,” he replied. “Lieutenant Duane Lattimore. I’m an investigator with the Arizona Department of Public Safety. And there’s no need to involve an attorney at this time. I’m merely asking Mrs. Reyes a few questions. After all, she’s not a suspect.”

  “It sounded very much like you were treating her as a suspect, Mr. Lattimore,” Juanita said. “So for right now, you’re done. The conversation is over. Neither she nor her husband will be speaking to you again without my being present in the room. Understood?”

  Lattimore knew he’d been outmaneuvered. “Understood,” he said.

  Without another word, he ended the call and thrust the phone back in Ali’s direction. Turning, he strode out through the doors of the waiting room and disappeared down the hall.

  To Teresa’s surprise, the waiting room seemed to have filled with people without her noticing-nurses, orderlies, other visitors. They had all heard what was being said, and they understood instantly that this was a case where, against all odds, the little guy had beaten the big guy. Quietly, one person began to applaud. Soon other people joined in, and in a moment they were all clapping.

  Teresa Reyes sat there, looking from one face to the other. Then her eyes rolled back in her head. Seconds later, as she slumped forward in her chair, the large purse that had been perched in her minimal lap fell to the floor, scattering possessions in every direction.

  “I think she fainted.” Teresa heard the words, but they seemed to be coming from very far away.

  “Help me lower her to the floor,” Sister Anselm said. “And somebody call a doctor.”

  That last remark was unnecessary, because the ICU charge nurse was already sounding the alarm.

  22

  12:00 P.M., Sunday, April 11

  Tucson, Arizona

  Ali watched as orderlies and nurses sprang into action. While one of them pushed an unoccupied bed out of one of the ICU rooms, a nurse slapped a blood pressure cuff on Teresa’s arm and pumped it up. By the time the nurse finished taking the reading and listening to a stethoscope held to Teresa’s chest, the expression on the woman’s face was grave.

  “We’ve got to get her to maternity,” the nurse ordered. “Now!”

  Several people stepped forward. Together they lifted Teresa from the floor and onto the makeshift gurney. As the gurney rolled toward the doorway, the two little girls tried to fol
low.

  “Mommy, Mommy,” Lucy wailed. “Where are you taking my mommy?”

  Only Donnatelle’s timely intervention kept the screaming children from following their mother down the hall. As they went through the door to the waiting room, the group almost flattened a uniformed hospital volunteer coming in the opposite direction, carrying a massive foil-covered, potted, and blooming Easter lily.

  While Ali gathered the scattered contents from Teresa’s bag, Donnatelle and Sister Anselm took charge of the children, trying to calm them. Pocketing Teresa’s fallen cell phone, Ali handed the purse over to the charge nurse for safekeeping. Just then Ali’s cell phone rang.

  “Somebody hung up on me,” Juanita Cisco complained when Ali answered.

  “That would be Lieutenant Lattimore,” Ali said.

  “Maybe I should talk to my client again when we’re not on a speakerphone.”

  “That’s going to be tough,” Ali said. “She fainted dead away. They put her on a bed and are rolling her to the maternity ward as we speak.”

  “She’s pregnant?”

  “Very.”

  “When do you think I’ll be able to talk to her?”

  “I have no idea. The nurses didn’t say anything, but I have a feeling that whatever’s going on is pretty serious. Do you think Lattimore meant what he said-that he suspects Teresa has some involvement in her husband’s shooting?”

  “The spouse or significant other is always suspect,” Juanita replied. “You’re the one who knows these people. What do you think?”

  “I know Jose,” Ali said. “I met Teresa for the first time this morning, but that’s not the reading I’m getting.”

  “Lattimore was trying to scare her into talking to him. Which is why you were absolutely right to put me on the phone. So what about the husband?” Juanita asked. “When can I talk to him?”

  “He’s still in the ICU.”

  “Is he able to communicate?” Juanita asked. “If I talk to him, will he make sense?”

  Ali glanced toward the charge nurse, who had taken the volunteer and her load of flowers in hand. “Those can’t go in any of the ICU rooms, because they’re supposed to be fragrance-free zones,” the nurse was explaining to the woman, who was evidently new. “You can park them on one of the tables here in the waiting room. Then, when the patient is moved to a regular room, we send the flowers along. Who are they for?”

  “The guy didn’t give us a name. Just the woman who was found near Three Points on Friday.”

  The nurse gestured toward the room from which Sister Anselm had emerged much earlier. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll just write Jane Doe and tape it to the side, here. That way we’ll know they’re hers. I’m not sure how long she’ll be in the ICU, but you can take charge of them, right, Sister Anselm?”

  Bouncing the weeping Carinda on her hip, the nun nodded. “Will do,” she said.

  “Excuse me,” Ali said, interrupting the flower discussion. “This is Mr. Reyes’s attorney on the phone. She wants to know if she can come to the hospital to talk to him.”

  The nurse shook her head. “Not at this time,” she said. “Family members only.”

  “You heard that?” Ali asked.

  “Good,” Juanita said. “If I can’t talk to him, neither can Lattimore. At this point, I’m working as your attorney as opposed to theirs. I’m assuming you want me on the job?”

  “Yes,” Ali said. “I want you on the job.”

  “Very well, then. At their earliest convenience, Ms. Reynolds, I’ll need to have a signed document from all of you, saying that you, Ali, are paying for their legal services, but you might want to reconsider.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you might be wasting your money. In order to have a search warrant in hand, Mr. Lattimore had to convince a judge that he had some reason to believe illegal activity had occurred. You may believe these people to be friends of yours, Ms. Reynolds, but I must warn you, search warrants aren’t issued easily.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Ali said.

  “So let me ask you one more question,” Juanita said. “Did you have an affair?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You and Jose? I’m trying to figure out why you’re riding to the rescue here-calling Victor; calling me. What business is this of yours?”

  “Jose and I didn’t have an affair,” Ali declared. “He helped me once when I needed it, and I’m trying to help him in return. I’m also trying to help his family.”

  “No good deed …” Juanita said with a sigh. “Have it your way. Are you staying at the hospital?”

  “For now I am. I don’t know for how long.”

  “Okay. Keep me posted. Call me as soon as Mr. Reyes is moved out of the ICU and can have visitors. If that’s what he wants, I’ll come by at that point and sign him up. By all means, see to it that he talks to me before Lattimore gets in to see him. But be advised, if Lattimore decides that Teresa is really a legitimate suspect in the attempt on her husband’s life, then all bets are off. If that happens, I’ll have to represent one or the other of them. I won’t be able to represent both.”

  “I understand,” Ali said. “I’ll call if anything changes.”

  By the time the call ended, the room was mercifully quiet. Donnatelle had collected the two girls and taken them to the cafeteria. Sister Anselm, in the meantime, was busy examining the flowers.

  “That’s odd,” she said to Ali.

  “What’s odd?”

  “I was looking for a card so I could let my patient know who sent them and who should receive a thank-you note. Usually, when people send flowers to hospital patients, they don’t do so anonymously. They want to get credit where credit is due.”

  Ali pointed to the small orange tag on the side of the potted plant. “Those lilies came from Costco,” she said. “That’s a Costco product number.”

  “I wonder who delivered them,” Sister Anselm mused, but Ali was far more concerned about Teresa than she was about the appearance of the flowers.

  “What do you think happened?” Ali asked.

  “To Teresa? If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say preeclampsia,” Sister Anselm answered. “I advised her to talk to a nurse earlier this morning, when I noticed that her hands and ankles were swollen.” She turned to the charge nurse. “Did she mention anything to you?”

  “Not to me, and not to anyone else, as far as I know.”

  “Preeclampsia is serious?” Ali asked.

  “It can be,” Sister Anselm said. “It’s potentially very serious for both the mother and for the baby.”

  Leaving the flowers where they were, Sister Anselm excused herself and returned to the room evidently occupied by her patient. In the meantime, Ali pulled Teresa’s phone out of her pocket and scrolled through the list of recent calls. The most recent one was an outgoing call listed as MOM. Punching send, she waited until a woman answered.

  “My name is Ali Reynolds,” she said. “I’m calling from Physicians Medical Center. Are you Teresa Reyes’s mother?”

  “Oh, no,” the other woman breathed. “Don’t tell me. Is Jose gone?”

  “You are Teresa’s mother?”

  “Yes. My name is Maria Delgado. I can’t believe this. Please let me talk to my daughter.”

  “She’s the one I’m calling about,” Ali said. “Teresa can’t come to the phone because she passed out here in the waiting room a few minutes ago. They’ve rushed her to maternity.”

  “But it’s too early for the baby,” Maria objected.

  “I don’t know any more about her condition than just that, and the staff here isn’t going to tell me. I think you should come to the hospital right away.”

  “That’ll take at least two hours. I can’t drive that far. My brother will have to come from Tucson to get me, or maybe I can ask my neighbor again.”

  “Get here as soon as you can,” Ali urged. “And you might want to come prepared to spend the night. I probably won’t be given any more infor
mation about Teresa’s condition, but if I hear anything, I’ll give you a call. Is this a landline or a cell phone?”

  “Landline,” Maria answered. “I don’t have a cell phone.”

  “All right. I have Teresa’s phone. You can call me on that if you need to reach me.”

  As Ali ended the call, the phone gave her a low-battery warning. Remembering that there had been a charger among the items from Teresa’s purse, Ali went to the nurses’ station to retrieve it. By the time the phone was charging, Sister Anselm came back into the waiting room. She looked unhappy.

  “What’s wrong?” Ali asked.

  “The flowers,” Sister Anselm said. ‘’I don’t like the idea that they were dropped off anonymously. I checked with the lady at the main reception desk. She said the same thing the volunteer said earlier, that the guy who dropped them off said they were for the lady who was found over by Three Points. I asked what he looked like. She said he was a young guy wearing jeans, a U of A sweatshirt, and a baseball cap.”

  “So?” Ali said, not following. “That sounds pretty ordinary.”

  “My patient was savagely beaten and left for dead,” Sister Anselm said. “As far as I know, there have been no published news items about the attack, at least none that I’ve been able to find surfing the Net.”

  Ali still didn’t get it.

  “Most of my patients never receive flowers of any kind,” Sister Anselm continued. “That’s usually because their friends and relations have no idea where they are, much less that they’ve been seriously injured. Call me paranoid, but I’m worried that whoever sent these lilies has something in mind besides well wishes. So far the victim doesn’t have a name. We know which patient she is, but no one else does. If there’s someone out there who is interested in finishing the job, sending a distinctive flower arrangement or other gift is one way of locating her room inside the hospital.” With that, Sister Anselm carried the plant away. Just as she left, Ali’s phone rang.