by J. A. Jance
“What are you saying, Stu?”
He took a deep breath before answering. “Look,” he said, “Mateo’s been out of prison for nearly a year. During that whole time, despite having a degree in computer science, he hasn’t been able to land even so much as a simple coding job. But he’s smart, Ali, really smart. He completed all the problems in less time than one of our official candidates took to solve one.”
Ali sat for a moment, studying Stu’s demeanor. He wasn’t someone accustomed to dishing out effusive praise.
“Using the word ‘official’ to refer to our candidates would suggest you’re of the opinion that there’s an unofficial one,” Ali observed. “Is that what you’re thinking—that we should consider interviewing Mateo for one of our two openings?”
Stu gazed at his feet before he answered. “I know it’s not standard operating procedure.…” he began.
“It’s okay, Stu,” Ali said. “Give Mateo a call and see if he’s interested in flying down for an interview.”
Stu looked thunderstruck. “Really? Are you sure?” he asked. “Don’t you want to talk this over with B. first?”
“B. trusts your judgment, and so do I,” Ali assured him. “If Mateo says yes, give Cami his contact information so she can set up his flight arrangements.”
|CHAPTER 13|
COTTONWOOD, ARIZONA
Harvey was beyond furious as he peeled out of the parking lot later that morning. He’d looked for the telltale signs of surveillance equipment as he left the office, but he hadn’t seen anything. Where the hell had that come from? And how dare that bitch walk in on him when he wasn’t even dressed?
There’d been only one bathroom in the double-wide back in Butte. He’d been fourteen when his mother barged into the room moments after he’d stepped out of the shower. The lock on the door had broken years earlier and never been fixed.
“Mom,” he said, quickly covering himself with his towel. “How about a little privacy?”
“I need an aspirin, and Mr. Hot Stuff thinks his privacy is more important? Well, get over yourself,” she told him. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Who the hell do you think changed your diapers when you were a bare-assed baby?”
She’d stomped out with her aspirin in hand, slamming the door shut behind her and leaving her son awash in humiliation. That was the last time Broomy showered at home. From then on he limited himself to showers at the school gym, or else he bummed them at friends’ houses. But that had been a critical moment for him. Standing there dripping wet and holding his towel was when he made up his mind that one way or the other, Ida Mae had to go.
And this morning’s events seemed eerily similar. The idea that Ali Reynolds could use a passkey and barge in on him with complete impunity was unacceptable. Just as he had with his mother, Harvey was going to make Ali Reynolds pay for her transgression—no matter how long it took.
|CHAPTER 14|
RENTON, WASHINGTON
Mateo was eating lunch in the break room when his phone rang. The number wasn’t familiar. Fearing it might be a spam call, he almost didn’t answer.
“Mateo?” Stu Ramey said when he answered. “How’re you doing?”
At the sound of Stu’s voice, Mateo’s heart seemed to skip a beat. “Pretty well,” he answered after a moment. “How are you?”
“Amazing results on those hacking problems,” Stu said, “completely amazing.”
Flushing with pleasure at the praise, Mateo fled the break room and hurried back to the loading dock.
“So I did all right?”
“You did more than all right. I’m impressed.”
Mateo could barely believe what he was hearing. “I’m glad,” he managed.
“So here’s the deal,” Stu continued. “We’re looking to take on a couple of new hires, and I was wondering if you’d like to fly down for an official interview.”
Mateo thought about the state of his finances. “When,” he asked finally, “and how much would it cost?”
“It wouldn’t cost you anything,” Stu told him. “High Noon will pay your way. As for when, we need to hire someone now, so we’ll have to conduct the interview as soon as possible. However, the exact timing isn’t up to me. My colleague, Cami Lee, is in charge of scheduling the interviews. Would it be all right if I gave her your number so she could call you?”
Mateo looked at his watch. “My break is almost over,” he said, “and I can’t take personal calls out on the dock. Could you have her call me around four?”
“Will do,” Stu said, “and I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
For a long time after the call, Mateo stood staring at the phone resting in the palm of his hand and marveling at what had just happened. How was this possible? How had his stumbling across B. Simpson’s name in a magazine article led to this kind of result mere days later? Was it even real? Maybe he’d dreamed the whole thing up.
The two hours Mateo spent on the loading dock that afternoon were the longest he’d ever endured. Alive with hope and anticipation, he felt time slow to a crawl. He’d work his way through a box of donations and then glance at his watch, only to discover that almost no time had elapsed. Once he was finally able to punch out and head home, however, his phone rang before he made it past the sound-barrier wall.
“Mr. Vega?” an unfamiliar female voice inquired.
“Mateo,” he answered, “yeah, that’s me.”
“My name’s Camille Lee, but everybody calls me Cami. Congrats on solving those hacking problems, by the way. Scoring five out of five is awesome.”
“Thank you,” Mateo murmured.
“We’d like to schedule your interview as soon as possible. Is there a day next week that would be convenient for you?”
“I have to work during the week,” Mateo said. “Is there any chance I could do it on a weekend?”
“Just a moment,” Cami said.
She was off the line for a period of time. Mateo could hear conversation going back and forth, but he couldn’t make out the words. He was too busy castigating himself. Why hadn’t he just said he could come any day they wanted him to? The truth was, he didn’t want to jeopardize the job he had now when he didn’t already have another one lined up, and with jobs as scarce as they seemed to be…
Cami’s voice came back on the phone. “I just found out B. is coming home a day early and is willing to make time for an interview over the weekend, so what about tomorrow? We could fly you down in the morning and back home to Seattle on Sunday afternoon. Would that work for you?”
Mateo could barely believe his ears. High Noon would fly him down for an interview tomorrow?
“Sure,” he managed. “That would be great.”
“What’s your preferred airline?”
“What do you mean?”
“Which airline do you usually use?”
“I’ve never flown on an airplane in my life,” he said.
“Never?”
“Not once.”
“All right, then,” Cami said. “I’m looking at the schedules right now. Alaska has an eight-fifteen a.m. flight that would have you in Phoenix around eleven thirty. Have you ever used Uber?”
“Never.”
“What about car rentals?”
“I’ve never done one of those either.”
Mateo heard what sounded like an exasperated sigh. “Just a sec,” she said. Again he heard mumbled words in the background before Cami returned to the line.
“Okay,” she said, “I’m guessing that renting a car will be a bit of a hassle, so Stu will pick you up at the airport and bring you back there. But since I’ll be making your flight reservation, I’ll need your name as it appears on your official photo ID.”
“My driver’s license, you mean?” Mateo asked, digging his wallet out of his pocket.
“I’m not sure a driver’s license will work unless it’s one of the enhanced ones.”
“I think it is,” Mateo replied. “I’m pretty sure I paid
extra for that.”
Once he had the card in his hand, he saw the word “ENHANCED” in all caps across the top of it. “Yes,” he told Cami. “That’s what it says here—enhanced.”
“Okay, I’ll need your full name as it appears there and also your date of birth.”
“Juan Mateo Vega,” he replied. “Born December second, 1979.”
“All right. And will you be checking luggage or doing carry-on only?”
“For one day, carry-on should be plenty.”
“All right,” Cami said. “I’ll get back to you once I’ve purchased the tickets. I’ll need your e-mail address so I can send you the reservation info. And if you’re not accustomed to traveling by plane, you’ll need to be at the airport at least an hour and a half before your flight in order to clear security.”
“Will do,” Mateo said.
“Okay,” Cami replied, concluding the call. “See you tomorrow.”
Once Mateo was back at the house and still not quite believing what was happening, he stripped off his work clothes and jumped in the shower. He stood under the pounding water and marveled. He was flying to Arizona? He was actually going to do a job interview with B. Simpson? Was there a chance that after so much time he might be able to pick up the lost strand of his life? It all seemed way too good to be true. Maybe he was only dreaming. When he woke up, would everything vanish into thin air?
But it didn’t. Forty-five minutes later, an e-mail arrived from Cami telling him that his airline reservation from Alaska Airlines should arrive at any moment and that when it did, he should go ahead and print his boarding pass if he could. If not, he’d have to do that at the airport in the morning.
When Randy got home that Friday afternoon, Mateo was waiting on the porch.
“Would you mind giving me a lift to the airport in the morning? I should probably be there around six thirty.”
“The airport,” Randy said. “Where you going?”
“Arizona,” he said. “I’ve got a job interview.”
“In Arizona? Hell, man, good for you, but bad for me. You’re the best damned renter I’ve ever had.”
|CHAPTER 15|
SEDONA, ARIZONA
For the second day in a row, Ali left the office at two o’clock in the afternoon and headed for Sedona Shadows. Her timing was deliberate. Theoretically this was when her father took his afternoon nap. If Ali was going to have any kind of meaningful health discussion with her mother, now was the time to do it.
And she wasn’t wrong. The day before, her mother had been put together—makeup on, hair fixed, dressed to go out. Today when she opened the door, she looked a good ten years older. She appeared defeated and distraught. With her hair a mess. Without the benefit of makeup, her face looked drawn and haggard. Edie’s greeting matched her appearance and wasn’t especially welcoming.
“I didn’t know you were stopping by,” she grumbled. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because I wanted a surprise visit,” Ali told her.
Shaking her head, Edie reluctantly stepped aside and allowed Ali to enter.
“Your father’s napping,” Edie said.
Ali nodded. “I was counting on that. You’re the one I wanted to talk to. This is serious, Mom. Yesterday when I was here, Dad had no idea who I was.”
Edie bit her lip. “I was afraid of that,” she said with a helpless shrug. “Some days are better than others, and mornings are better than afternoons and evenings, but there are times when he doesn’t know who I am either.”
“Look,” Ali said, using her most take-charge tone of voice. “I understand why you’ve been keeping this a secret and covering for him, but the cat’s out of the bag now, and clearly you need help.”
“What do you expect me to do?” Edie asked. “Am I supposed to ship him off to one of those so-called memory homes?”
Ali shook her head. “I’m not suggesting anything of the kind. The two of you are settled in here—settled in and comfortable, right?”
Edie nodded.
“And even if Dad doesn’t go to the dining room anymore, you can—and you should. You’ve made friends here, Mom, and friends are what you need right now. It’s important for you to maintain connections to the outside world and not shut yourself away with him inside this unit.”
Edie started to object. Waving aside the attempted interruption, Ali continued. “You can’t make your whole life about him. He wouldn’t want that, and if he were in his right mind at the moment, he’d be the first one to tell you to stop. What you both need is someone to come in every day—a home health worker/caretaker who can look after him and give you time to look after yourself. Dad needs nursing care. You need respite care.”
When Ali stopped speaking, Edie said nothing. She kept her eyes averted, but Ali caught sight of a single tear dribbling slowly down one cheek.
“I understand why you’ve resisted the idea of going to a doctor on the grounds that there’s no cure for all this,” Ali resumed. “You’re right about that. There is no cure, but B. and I talked about this. There are meds out now that have the potential of easing some of the symptoms and perhaps even slowing the progress of the disease. In order to access those medications, however, Dad’s going to need to visit a doctor—a qualified geriatric physician or a neurologist so he can be properly evaluated. Once there’s an actual diagnosis and we’re told what, if any, therapeutics may be helpful, then we figure out the next step, and I do mean we. You’re not in this alone, Mom. B. and I will help you. The kids will help you. Betsy will help you, but you’re going to have to let us. That’s the only way this is going to work.”
Ali fell silent again. For a moment neither of them spoke. This time Edie broke the silence.
“In the mornings he seems to know who he is and realize that he’s losing it. Later in the day, he has no idea that anything’s wrong. By the time evenings roll around, he seems like a complete stranger,” Edie said with a sigh. “The thing is, I don’t want our problems to be a burden on you, Ali. I don’t want to put anyone out.”
“You’re not being a burden,” Ali insisted, reaching over and taking her mother’s hand. “We love you, Mom, and we love him. The two of you have spent your whole lives looking out for the needs of others. Now it’s time to let someone else look out for you.”
A thumping noise from the bedroom alerted them to the fact that Bob Larson had awakened from his nap.
“He’s up,” Edie said quickly, laying a finger on her lips in a shushing gesture.
Ali understood. Edie wasn’t yet ready to take the next step—not just now—and Ali didn’t want to throw her mother under the bus.
“Hi, Dad,” she said cheerfully when Bob appeared in the doorway. “Did you have a good nap?”
“Hey, Ali,” he said after a moment as he tottered over to his recliner and settled into it. “Are you here to watch the game?”
Dutifully Edie reached for the remote. As she did so, mother and daughter exchanged a meaningful glance, and Ali nodded her understanding. No wonder her mother felt like she was riding an emotional roller coaster. She was.
A few minutes later, Ali took her leave. Preoccupied with the baseball game, her father barely noticed. This time Ali didn’t cry as she drove home. She had done what she could by at least starting the process. She had broached the issues and opened the door for some very difficult discussions. She was helping her mother in the only way a daughter could—by asking questions and helping her parents search out answers.
That was the best she could do, and under the circumstances it was also all she could do.
|CHAPTER 16|
COTTONWOOD, ARIZONA
Harvey’s anger simmered for the remainder of the day. He wanted to tear into Ali Reynolds and rip her apart, but he knew better. She and her husband were a big deal around here, and when bad things happened to big-deal kinds of people, important people, law enforcement climbed all over themselves trying to solve the crimes. When bad things happened to little people, t
he unimportant ones, cops didn’t give much of a damn. Harvey McCluskey was living proof that was true.
Take that bitch of a prostitute whose body he’d left behind after a drunken night on the town in Munich. He’d gone there on a weekend pass with some of his buddies not long after returning from his mother’s funeral. In a sleazy bar near Munich’s central train station, he’d cut a likely-looking girl named Brigitta out of the herd, bought her a beer or two, and suggested they retreat to an equally sleazy nearby hotel, where he had willingly forked over her asking price. The problem was, Brigitta had turned out to be a bit too likely. Once she thought he was asleep, the conniving bitch had tried to roll him. Not cool. He strangled her on the spot. She was already naked, and he left her that way. She’d been wearing a bracelet and a pair of hoop earrings. He had stripped those all away. Then, after wrapping the body in the coat she’d been wearing, he flung her over his shoulder and carted her down the fire escape to the narrow alley behind the hotel. The street out front might have been alive with neon lights and drunken partygoers, but the alley itself was black as pitch. Harvey had to be careful where he stepped in order to avoid the human waste left behind. Three blocks away from the hotel, he pulled off the coat and dumped the naked body into an open dumpster, then found a homeless bum asleep a block farther on and wrapped Brigitta’s coat around him.
Once in the army, Harvey had asked to be assigned to the military police. By then he’d learned a good deal about forensics and crime-scene investigation. He went back to the hotel room and cleaned it up. He used a pillowcase from the bed to wipe down every single surface in the room that might possibly contain his fingerprints—or hers either, for that matter. He gathered up the clothing she’d worn and stuffed that into her very large purse, which he smuggled out of the hotel under his jacket. Once outside, Harvey walked as far as the train station and took a cab to the Deutsches Museum. If the cabdriver wondered why this crazy American was going there when the museum was closed for the night, he didn’t ask. When the cab drove out of sight, Harvey walked to the nearest bridge across the Isar.