by J. J. Cagney
“Juan,” Cici panted. “Was he in the service today?”
“N-no.” Jaycee shook her head, voice trembling. “He went hiking with his dad.”
“Where?” Cici asked.
“B-big Tesuque.”
Cici bit her lip and shut her eyes.
“You’re sure?” she managed to rasp out.
“Yeah. They were going to . . . I don’t know. Bond, I guess.”
Cici whirled around, slamming straight into Kevin Loomis. She shoved the note into his chest. He’d have the evidence needed to hopefully link this note to Carole via handwriting analysis. Finally, Sam would have something concrete to build off of. Cici shoved her other hand into Officer Loomis’s pocket.
At his yelped, hey! Cici muttered an apology even as she wrangled her keys from his pocket. He stood there, gawping much like Jaycee was, as Cici turned on her heel and ran from the building.
“Reverend?” Kevin called just as Jaycee let out a low wail.
“Juan!” Jaycee cried.
She must have read the note Cici shoved at Officer Loomis. Cici didn’t have time to comfort the girl. Instead, she shoved her way through her congregants, who stared at her, wide-eyed. She burst out the doors.
Cici ran to her car. Buckled in as she shoved the key in the ignition. Kevin ran toward her car as she backed out from her spot. Cici shook her head and whipped the car out of the parking lot, laying on the horn to get everyone to scatter out of her way.
Once on a main street, Cici wrangled her phone from her pocket and tried Sam again. The big jerk sent her to voice mail.
She punched the gas, shooting around slower cars, desperate to reach the hiking trail up in the Santa Fe National Forest in time.
“You better have a good reason to have your phone off, Samuel. I know who killed Aci,” Cici yelled into the phone. She took a deep breath. “I’m going to Big Tesuque now. I . . . Carole’s involved, Sam. I didn’t know. I’ve told her about the investigation—just some basic things. I was feeding her information.”
Cici’s breath shattered.
“She said she’s going to hurt Juan Sanchez.”
Cici dropped the phone as she slammed on her brakes, breathing hard as she avoided rear-ending the car in front of her by an inch. She didn’t bother to pick her phone up again as she wended her way up the side of Mount Baldy, hands clutched tight to the wheel as she said a constant prayer refrain.
Please don’t let me be too late to save Juan.
Please don’t let Carole hurt anyone else.
Please let Sam get my messages.
Cici exited her car as soon as she arrived. Nothing moved. She edged her way around the small building that housed the no-flush toilets. Cici stepped up the concrete steps to the flat, grassy expanse that served as the head to the trail.
The single lonely picnic table was empty, devoid of more notes.
Nothing.
She walked with slow, careful strides through the thin rows of aspen and pine trees guarding the narrow path to the trickle of a stream.
Nothing.
Frustrated and unsure what to do next, Cici returned to her car with care.
She had no idea how close Carole might be to her car right now. She climbed back in and slammed the door shut. She locked it and gripped the steering wheel, trying to calm her racing heart.
She bent down and over the center console, trying to hold back a scream, when something struck her side view mirror, causing her to jump and scream. An arrow. With a piece of paper around the shaft.
With shaking hands, Cici managed to unroll the window and pull the paper from the arrow, leaving the metal tip embedded in the cracked glass.
You have ten minutes to get to the mile marker.
She couldn’t take the chance of talking into the phone. Carole was a crack shot. Probably the person who’d shot Rodolfo. Cici never imagined her secretary, her friend, could hurt a dog. But, then, if Carole was involved, she’d murdered a seventeen-year-old boy.
Carole was definitely not the person Cici assumed her to be.
Cici’s breath escalated as she rolled up the window. The mechanical whir hissed in seemingly slow motion.
Sam needed to know where she was. Sam would bring help. Cici couldn’t wait—she could not let anything bad happen to Juan, to Miguel. They’d suffered too much pain already.
Cici glanced around as she pulled her hiking boots from her bag. Good thing she’d worn slacks today since she didn’t have time to change. That thought caused her to chuckle, which quickly turned into a near hysterical laugh. Why was she worried about flashing her butt to the trees and her would-be killer? There were more important things at hand.
Bending down to tug off her pumps, Cici dropped her phone onto the floorboards between the gas and brake pedals of her car. She sat up and settled her pumps on the passenger seat and picked up the boots she kept in a duffel bag in her back seat. She bent down and pressed the on-off button on the side of her phone five times in quick succession.
A gray screen popped up. Cici gulped as she slid the red SOS tab across the screen. With quick, efficient movements, she put on her socks and boots and managed to slide her phone into the right boot, under her sock.
She exited the car, aware of the light breeze ruffling her hair. Carole could shoot her, here, now. Cici walked forward.
Each step she took felt heavy, as if it were her last. She hurried up the trail as fast as she could move. Someone called her name. Cici froze as footsteps pounded up from behind.
“Thank god I caught you,” Justin gulped, breath ragged and face flushed with exertion. His gaze darted around as he dragged her from the path into the stand of nearby aspens.
Cici began to struggle, twisting and trying to break free. She darted toward one side of a tree just as Justin captured her arm.
“Stop. I’m not going to hurt you. I swear, Cee. Listen to me. This is so much bigger than you think. Worse than you know.”
Cici positioned herself on one side of a tree, most of Justin on the other side of the tree’s trunk. His hands were wrapped around her wrist, but she thought she might have a chance to break his grip if she used the tree as leverage.
“Talk,” she said.
“I tried to warn you. I don’t want . . . Anna Carmen never should have died. That’s why I went to talk to her.”
“And Donald?” Cici snapped.
“He knew. He worked with Ernesto. Took a cut of the money.”
Not new information, but Cici was putting the pieces together. J.R.’s warning came back to her. He must have become aware of the laundered money. That also explained why Evan lost his job offer and Donald was forced into retirement. J.R. needed him out of the firm to clean up his business and image.
“But why take Anna Carmen to see Donald?” Cici asked.
She glanced around, body stiff. Carole was here, somewhere nearby. Cici needed to keep moving.
“I thought Donald would talk sense into her. Explain what a bad guy Ernesto was—what he could do. But Anna Carmen told us she knew about Ernesto’s wife. How she planned to use that knowledge as leverage. To ensure the safety of the rest of the Sanchez family.”
Cici frowned, her mind feeling sluggish, unable to process the information. “I know, too.”
“Ernesto, hell even Donald, protected her. His wife. And their son.” Justin swallowed hard, his gaze darting around, too.
“I need to go,” Cici said.
“It’s not about the drugs, Cee,” Justin gave her a shake hard enough to clack her teeth together. “Those are old news. The DEA shutting down the operation isn’t the problem. It’s who takes the fall for it. That’s what the killings are all about.”
“The baby,” Cici said. She gaped up at Justin. “If Ernesto’s wife goes to jail now that Ernesto’s dead, there’ll be no one to raise the baby.”
“Exactly. That’s why you have to leave,” Justin cried.
“I can’t leave the Sanchezes here to be hurt because of me.
”
Cici pulled back, stumbling farther when Justin let her go. She fell over a tree root just as a multitude of gun shots rang out. Justin gasped and fell. Cici slid behind the tree, heart thrumming as her ears rang. Silence. At least, she thought it was quiet. Hard to tell with her ears ringing. She peeked out from behind the tree to see Justin clutching his arm to his chest, blood dripping between his fingers.
Cici scrambled forward, but Justin shook his head, hard. Eyes wild. “Run.”
“I can’t leave you,” Cici gasped. “You’re hurt.”
More shots rained down, one clipping her bicep while more spat up the leaves and bits of rock and other debris into Cici’s face. She turned her head and dove deeper into the woods.
26
One may smile, and smile, and be a villain. — Shakespeare
Cici stopped running after she fell again, thanks to another protruding tree root. She lay on the ground for a long moment, trying to catch her breath. How long had she been out here now? Twenty, thirty minutes at least. Maybe more.
She stood on shaking legs and began to walk. She wasn’t sure how long she walked overland or whether she was heading toward or away from the parking lot. She wasn’t sure her car was safe, anyway.
On the plus side, she retained her phone—which was still at seventy percent charge—and her Camelback water pack.
The temperature began to drop, meaning another storm was rolling in over the mountain range.
She squeezed her arm with her free hand, trying to stop the slow drip of blood onto the trail. She staggered, trying not to fall into shock. She’d left Justin, wounded. Didn’t matter if he was involved in Anna Carmen’s death. Leaving him behind like that was wrong. Cowardly.
“About time you showed your face,” a voice said in front of her.
Cici stopped, rolling up onto the balls of her feet. Her breaths came in short, sharp pants as her gaze slid through the thin white tree trunks, searching for the body to go with the voice. Though, she already knew who spoke, and her heart ached with the pain of that realization.
“Come on out, Cici. Much as I hate having to shoot you, better to get it done clean rather than leave you to bleed out like I did with Justin.”
The shadow stepped into a narrow patch of sunlight and the revolver in her hand gleamed.
“Carole?”
“Not quite the bad guy you’ve been imagining, eh?” Carole raised the gun. “More of a Saul moment. No one ever expects the sweet little church volunteer.”
The black hole that led to the chamber seemed to grow and Cici couldn’t look away.
“What?” Cici choked. Was Carole insane?
“The drug show filmed in Albuquerque. Better Call Saul. You know.”
Cici stared at her, heart fluttering against her ribs.
Carole shook her head. “Never mind.”
“You shot Justin? Rodolfo?” Cici’s breath caught on a sob.
“You weren’t listening. The dead birds, the notes. You just had to keep searching for answers.”
“You killed my sister,” Cici gasped. “And I wasn’t looking alone.”
Carole’s lips twisted into a vicious sneer. She lifted her gun.
“True, but I managed to bury the police investigation before, thanks to Justin. Your friend Sam wouldn’t have managed to wrangle so much information out of people by himself. Not with all that glorious money and prestige people had to lose.”
Carole’s finger caressed the trigger. “Goodbye, Cici.”
A body slammed into Carole, sending them both sprawling.
Justin rose, panting, on a growl.
“No more, Carole. You can’t keep killing to protect Regina.”
“Ernesto did marry your daughter!” Cici cried. The words burst out of her because she’d guessed that Regina must have been involved earlier—and Cici had tried to confirm her suspicions with Carole at the church. “Wait . . . how’s Regina alive?” Cici asked.
Justin panted, his face coated in a sheen of sweat. His arm was wrapped in his T-shirt so his chest was now bare. The thin white cotton was already saturated with his blood from the wound in his arm, near his elbow. Cici couldn’t believe he was upright, let alone trying to protect her.
“Not only is Regina alive,” Justin panted. “She ordered her mother, Carole here, to kill Anna Carmen.”
“No, she didn’t. You know nothing. Shut up!” Carole screamed. She searched the ground for her gun, which must have fallen when Justin tackled her.
Cici remembered Gina in those last months before her death. Anna Carmen had sent Cici a picture of Gina’s last week, where the young woman’s skin appeared sallow with deep, bruised circles around her eyes. Cici had assumed the cancer treatment took its toll, but Cici had seen similar issues with the men and women who came to the shelter for food and a place to sleep. That group—the opioid addicts—never stayed long.
Many ended up in the morgue.
“Gina was hooked,” Cici said. “On opioids.”
Cici raised her eyes to Justin’s. He fell to one knee, both his forearms resting there. His skin was sallow, his hair wet with sweat. He managed a brief nod.
Cici shivered, ringing her hands together.
Regina used drugs. Carole was the purveyor of illegal substances.
None of this made sense.
Carole, who’d been privy to Cici’s schedule. Who knew probably more of the church gossip than Cici did. Who had access to the church computers and printers.
Justin took an unsteady step toward Carole. “You don’t want the truth to come out? Too late for that, Tía.”
Cici pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. “But . . . Gina killed Anna Carmen?”
“No!” Carole screamed. “I did. Just like I killed the boy. No one could know she was alive. No one. Not once she was involved with Ernesto.”
“Rosalia knew,” Justin puffed, his voice weak. He swayed, resting his hand on a tree trunk. The white bark smeared with red. “So did Donald, Anna Carmen, Marco, Susan, and now Cici and Sam and the whole SFPD. I called it in,” Justin said.
Cici stepped forward, but Justin shook his head. “She married Ernesto before he went to jail. He was her only chance, see. He had the money for the experimental treatments.”
Carole growled again, launching herself at Justin. At least she hadn’t found the gun. Yet.
“I said stop it.” Carole slammed her fist into Justin’s chest. Justin grunted and swayed again, wrapping his good arm around the tree trunk to regain his balance.
“Ernesto kept her down in Cabo after he was arrested,” Justin wheezed. “But Donald snuck her into the prison once, maybe more. I don’t know. To tell Ernesto about . . . about the baby.”
“You know nothing,” Carole screamed.
“Miguel must have seen her. That’s the only part of this whole situation I can’t figure out,” Justin said, his words starting to slur.
“Miguel suspected Ernesto was the man providing his wife with the opioids,” Carole seethed. “He caught Regina with Ernesto when he went to confront him.”
“And Miguel told Rosalia,” Justin said with a nod. His eyelids drooped.
“Doesn’t matter,” Carole said. “It’s in the past.”
“My sister’s dead, so many people died—a child, Carole! Because of your lies,” Cici said. “I think it very much does matter.”
Carole pulled a switchblade from her pocket. The handle was three inches long, black. The blade, when she flipped it up, was closer to five. The same blade Cici saw in her window the other night.
“You can join her in death and hug it out,” Carole said, lunging at Cici.
Justin intercepted the blade, catching Carole’s wrist in his hand. He dropped to his knees, clearly no longer able to stand.
“Get out of here, Cee,” he gasped.
He tugged, hard, causing Carole to curse and hit him in his bleeding arm. Justin fell forward, passed out.
Carole’s eyes gleamed with triumph or hatr
ed—Cici didn’t know which—as she ripped her wrist from Justin’s grasp. Cici bent and grabbed the closest fallen tree branch. Thankfully, it was only about three feet long with a few smaller branches sprouting from its length. She swung it and caught Carole in the arm before she could stab Justin. Carole slammed into another tree and faltered, sliding to her knees.
Cici ran to Justin, trying to help him rise.
Carole rose with a laugh, the gun she’d dropped earlier once again clasped in her hand.
Thrashing through the underbrush sounded from Cici’s left, along with male voices.
“Reverend!”
Miguel burst from the trees. Carole raised the gun, but before she could shoot, Juan tackled her behind the knees from the other side.
Carole went down, screaming. She flailed turning over. She shot the gun.
Miguel grunted. He clutched at his leg as he slid to the ground.
“Papa!” Juan cried, lunging over Carole. She twisted and buried the knife in the boy’s calf just as Cici rose, unsteady, and slammed the tree branch into Carole’s back. Cici meant to aim for her head, but she was so shaken, she barely caught Carole’s shoulder. The older woman grunted before turning and firing at Cici.
The shot went wide, the bark from the tree behind her exploding as the bullet hit the trunk. Carole advanced toward her as Cici tried to blink the bits of debris from her eyes.
Another bullet passed Cici’s ear as she dove behind the dubious protection of the tree.
Carole simply walked around it as Cici scrambled away, trying to think of how she could save not just herself, but Justin, Juan, and Miguel.
Nothing came.
Cici’s breath came in sharp pants. “How could you kill him? Marco.”
Carole raised the gun higher, aiming for Cici’s face. “It’s not like I had a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” Cici managed to say.
“Not when your only child has stage three breast cancer at age nineteen, and you can’t get insurance or cover the cost of treatment.” Carole’s chin trembled, and she blinked rapidly.
“You think I wanted to be related to a drug lord, Cici? I was a homemaker and happy with that lot. It’s all I ever wanted to be. But my daughter needed help and no one—not the church, not my friends or family, no one would help her. Except Ernesto.”