Текст книги "Dance of the Bones"

Автор книги: J. A. Jance

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

“I tried to get JFA to take a look at her,” Amanda said. “They were so focused on the prosecutorial misconduct issue that they saw no need to go any further.”

“We do,” Brandon told her. “In fact, we already are.”

“Good,” she said. “In the meantime, I need to pack up and get going.”

“Going where?”

“To Mesa, where else?” she said. “Since I’m the one who put my father in that hospital, I’m going to go there to see him whether he likes it or not.”

“You do know why John Lassiter refuses to see you, don’t you?” Brandon asked.

Amanda had turned her scooter and was on her way to the bedroom. She paused and turned back to Brandon. “Why?”

“Because he wants to clear his name first.”

Amanda’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you understand? As far as I’m concerned, his name was cleared a long time ago.”

BRANDON WAS JUST LEAVING AMANDA Wasser’s driveway when J. P. Beaumont’s friend Todd called to give him Ava Richland’s address. It was somewhere in the far reaches of Tucson’s Ventana Canyon, and Brandon was making his way there when his phone rang again.

“Warden Huffman,” the caller said when Brandon answered. “This is not an official call, by the way, but I’m hoping you might be able to help us get ahead of this thing.”

“In what way?”

“I’m sitting here studying the surveillance tapes,” Huffman said. “Over the years I’ve been around plenty of prison riots. This one simply doesn’t add up. I can tell that the action in the center of the room was clearly designed to pull attention away from what was happening in the far corner, which turned out to be a well-organized hit on two individuals.”

“John Lassiter and who else?”

“The other victim was a young guy from Sells, Max José. A priest showed up in the middle of all the mess, asking to see Max and saying that he had come, at Max’s mother’s request, to let him know that his two younger brothers had been murdered near Sells earlier today and that his youngest brother is missing.”

“Max is dead now, too?” Brandon demanded. “Are you kidding?”

“Unfortunately not, so here’s my question. Can you tell me if there’s any connection between the José family out in Sells and John Lassiter?”

“Not right off, Warden Huffman,” Brandon answered. “But if I come up with one, I’ll let you know.”

The GPS led Brandon to a house perched on the mountainside high above the rest of the city. The spectacular window-lined structure seemed to wrap itself around the contours of the mountain. A wrought-iron gate at the end of the driveway was open. He was about to turn in when an aid car, lights ablaze, came tearing down the drive. Brandon pulled aside to let it pass.

When he arrived at the front of the house, a fire truck was just departing. A woman in what appeared to be hospital scrubs stood on the front verandah, wringing her hands. Brandon got out of the Escalade and walked toward her. She turned on him. “Who are you?”

“My name is Brandon Walker,” he said. “I’m a friend of the family. I was hoping to speak to Mrs. Richland.”

“Mrs. Richland isn’t here. That was her husband in the ambulance. He had another stroke. They’re taking him to TMC. I’ve been trying to reach Mrs. Richland to let her know what’s going on, but she isn’t answering her phone. She’s probably out in the middle of the desert somewhere where there’s no signal.”

“Do you know where she was headed?”

“Their condo in San Carlos, down in Mexico,” the nurse answered. “I tried calling there, too. That was strange. When I spoke to the housekeeper, she had no idea Mrs. Richland was coming there today.”

“What kind of car does she drive?” Brandon asked.

“A black Mercedes S550.”

“Did you notify the authorities in Mexico and ask them to look for her?”

“Not yet. Do you think I should?”

“How bad off is her husband?”

The nurse bit her lip. “Pretty bad,” she answered.

“In that case,” Brandon said, “if I were you, I’d make that call.”

CHAPTER 24

NOW SHINING FALLS, WHO WAS neither all asleep nor all awake, lay in a place where the water was very deep. She was not able to move much, but she still held Little White Feather tightly in her hand.

Evil Giantess came to look for the girl, but Owl was free. His feet were no longer tangled in her hair. Owl spread his wings over the water and made it very dark so Evil Giantess could not see Shining Falls lying beneath it.

Finally Evil Giantess gave up and went away.

The next morning the White-Winged Doves went to the village and called and called. At last Shining Falls’s mother heard them call and followed them to the big water hole, which is always full of water. It was daytime when they arrived, so Owl was asleep.

The mother of Shining Falls looked everywhere for her child but could not find her. She could not understand why the doves had brought her there.

HENRY ROJAS’S SHIFT THAT DAY was pure agony, primarily because he’d had so little sleep the night before. A couple of times during those endless hours, he had tucked himself into out-of-the-way spots in hopes of grabbing a power nap, but sleep wouldn’t come. As soon as he tried closing his eyes, images of those two bullet-ridden bodies danced in his head. The only thing that made them disappear was reopening his eyes.

Finally off work, Henry was tired to the bone, far too weary to drive straight into town. He thought about stopping by the garage to check on things but nixed that idea immediately. Instead, he went home to shower—and to think. With Lucy over at the hospital working the night shift, he stood under the shower for a good long time.

He had connected with Jane Dobson years earlier through somebody who knew somebody who knew somebody else. He met with her periodically or stopped by the house to drop off goods and pick up cash. The woman lived in a nondescript house in a marginal neighborhood. Nevertheless, she seemed to have more money than God. She struck him as a sweet little old lady with silver hair who wore colorful dresses, got around with the aid of a walker, and depended on a portable oxygen tank. How was it possible for someone who looked so harmless to be so ruthless? Yes, the José brothers knew too much and they had to go, but still, the idea that Jane had ordered their deaths without so much as blinking an eye came as a shock.

Henry had always let Jane think she was the only game in town. That wasn’t entirely true. He had developed a second thriving side business specializing in smuggled prescription drugs. Occasionally, when the meds arrived in his hands before they could be passed along to the buyer, he kept them stored in a safe in his garage out at the airport, along with a growing stash of greenbacks and a number of weapons. He knew that if anyone ever took a close look at the guns, they would lead straight back to what the newspapers were always referring to as “Fast and Furious weapons.”

One of the benefits of being on the Border Patrol’s front lines, especially as a patrol supervisor, meant that Henry knew what was going on and could make the best of it. He was the one who posted patrol schedules, so it was easy for him to work around them. He also didn’t believe for a minute that he was the only member of the Border Patrol who earned way more money on the side than he did on the up and up.

It had been a piece of extreme good fortune that, on the night Jane ordered him to take the José boys out, he’d had his latest shipment of succinylcholine stashed in his safe awaiting delivery the next time he drove up to Phoenix. A year or so earlier, when he’d delivered his first load of that to a well-heeled customer up north, he’d asked Lucy, his wife, who was also an L.P.N., about it. She’d answered his question without having any idea why he was asking, but that was how he knew the medication’s primary use was in paralyzing patients prior to surgery. Henry had a feeling that the guy who bought it from him in boxes containing a dozen vials of the stuff was using it for something a lot more interesting than prepping surgery patients.

The point was, Henry had been in possession of a supply of the medication when he’d needed it most. And because Lucy was a diabetic and on insulin, he’d had easy access to a supply of syringes as well. Once he had collected those, he was good to go.

First he’d set up a meeting with Carlos, assuring him that Jane had agreed to come through with the extra cash. Henry had suggested Rattlesnake Skull charco as the site for their meetup because most people on the reservation avoided the spot whenever possible. The two men had been sitting side by side in the cab of Carlos’s Jeep Cherokee having a little chat when Henry had plunged the loaded syringe into the man’s bare upper arm. Henry had been both amazed and gratified to see how quickly and thoroughly the drug had worked.

By the time it wore off, Henry had Carlos cuffed and secured to a cottonwood sapling growing on the edge of the charco. After that it was just a matter of collecting the other two brothers and bringing them along for the ride. Henry had come to the meeting with one of his stash of unregistered weapons, knowing and dreading the whole time that he might be forced to use it.

Yes, Jane may have ordered him to do it, but Henry had reasons of his own for being willing to. Henry had needed the José brothers gone on his own account, and Gabe Ortiz as well. They all knew who he was and could identify him. Henry couldn’t afford to be sent to prison any more than Jane Dobson could.

Henry’s real problem with carrying out Jane’s order was that, despite all his years in law enforcement, this was the first time he had ever killed someone. He had assured Carlos and Paul that if they’d just tell him where the shipment was, he’d let them go. That had been a lie, of course, but they’d believed him—or at least Paul had. Once Paul spilled the beans and admitted that Timmy had put the shipment somewhere safe, that was it. Henry had covered their faces with grocery bags before stepping back and pulling the trigger. Then, after barfing his guts out, he’d fired again. Carlos and Paul were dead after that first round of bullets hit them. The second volley was just to be sure. After that Henry had gone looking for the kid, who, in all the hubbub, had managed to get loose and make good his escape.

He’d called Jane while he was looking, thinking she’d appreciate having an update. That had backfired. He could tell she was pissed, but so was he. It was easy for her to sit on her lazy ass in Tucson and issue the orders as long as she had Henry working his own butt off to carry them out.

From Henry’s point of view, that was what was wrong with this whole arrangement. He was tired of being bossed around, not just by Jane, but by Lucy, too. He was done. He’d give the woman her damned diamonds, pick up his money, and that would be it. He’d take care of Tim and Gabe, of course. That was a must, but after that, Henry was out of there.

Most of the illegal commerce crossing the border was headed north rather than south, but Henry knew people who could and would help transport him and his wad of cash in the other direction. Why work for a living? Why bust his balls herding a Border Patrol SUV all over hell and gone, when he could shuck the whole thing and live like a king in Mexico?

Yes, Henry thought. It was definitely time for him to ride off into the sunset.

Out of the shower, Henry dressed. He was almost out the door when one last thought occurred to him. Jane had promised him a bonus for cleaning up her mess, but what if she considered him just another part of that same mess? What if Jane was planning on cleaning him up, too? That was definitely a possibility. After all, wasn’t Henry as much, if not more, of a threat to Jane than the José brothers had been?

In that case, Henry had best be on guard. He was determined that Jane Dobson wouldn’t take him down without a fight. He already had one weapon on him, but when he went to the garage to pick up the diamonds, he’d grab another one as well. If one gun was good, two were better.

Henry wasn’t due at Jane’s until after dark. Since he still had time to spare, he sat down and made a single phone call to a number in Nogales. The call that would show on his bill would lead to what was ostensibly an aboveboard shipping and expediting company that specialized in cross-border transportation issues. Inside the company, however, were people who handled far more questionable transportation arrangements.

Henry’s call was patched through to one of those. These were people Henry dealt with often. It took only a matter of minutes for him to negotiate a deal that included a time, location, and price for having him and his goods carried across the border and deep into the interior of Mexico. Early the next morning, he’d drive out to the Organ Pipe National Monument, park his truck at the appointed spot, lock it, and walk away.

As Henry hung up the phone, he was in a much better frame of mind. Tim José had been locked in the back of the truck for going on twenty hours, Gabe Ortiz for only half that long. Still, without water, they wouldn’t last much longer. A few hours of being parked in a black vehicle in direct sunlight would finish them off. Yes, people would know it was Henry’s truck, but Henry would be long gone by then. And so would Gabe and Tim. Other than parking the truck, Henry wouldn’t have to lift a finger or pull a trigger. That might not be better for the two boys, but it would sure as hell be better for Henry.

WHEN LORRAINE JOSÉ FINALLY FELL into an exhausted slumber, Lani made her escape. Out in the hallway she ran into Lucy Rojas. “What are you doing here?” Lucy wanted to know. “Isn’t this supposed to be your weekend off?”

“It is,” Lani answered, “but Mrs. José needed me. You’ve heard about her sons?”

Lucy nodded. “It’s terrible.”

“Yes, it is,” Lani agreed, “so if she wakes up and asks for me, call me immediately.”

“I will,” Lucy said. “Where are you going?”

“There’s a group over at the airport searching for Tim José and Gabe Ortiz. I’m going there to help.”

“I hope you find them,” Lucy said.

“So do I.”

Out in the parking lot, Lani hopped into her Ford Fusion and headed for the airport. That was something of a misnomer, however, since the airport in Sells was an airport in name only, one that saw few planes land or take off in the course of a year. These days it was mostly a hangout for teenagers who went there to neck and drink.

Decades earlier the tribal chairman had been a pilot who had kept his own small Cessna there. At the time the airport had consisted of a single landing strip/runway as well as several outbuildings. When the chairman’s plane had crashed, killing all on board, the tribe had stopped doing upkeep on the runway. Most of the outbuildings had been repurposed or rented out. One of those was the sturdy metal Quonset hut that Henry Rojas used as a garage and workshop, leasing it from the tribe for a nominal sum.

Even though few planes came and went these days, the airport’s metal cattle guard still kept grazing animals from straying onto the property. As Lani approached, she saw a collection of cars scattered along the fence line. Taking a hint from where the other cars were parked, she stopped along the fence line as well. Leo Ortiz’s tow truck was pulled up close to the door of a Quonset hut. Then she saw what looked like the flare of something that might have been a blowtorch. She was shading her eyes and squinting in that direction when someone knocked on the window next to her head.

Startled, Lani looked around. Henry Rojas stood just outside. She rolled down the window. “Have they found something?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said, “maybe.”

She didn’t spot the syringe until it was coming through the open window. She tried to dodge away, but Henry caught her wrist with his other hand and held it motionless while the needle bit through the sleeve of her lab coat and plunged into her arm.

“What the hell?” she demanded. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Saying nothing, he maintained an iron grip on her wrist until Lani felt a strange lassitude spread through her body. She tried to yell for help, but the people gathered by the Quonset hut were too far away and totally focused on what was going on there.

The next thing Lani knew, she was being shoved roughly to one side as Henry moved her from the driver’s side to the passenger side by lifting her useless legs over the center console.

As the paralysis closed in, her mind stayed focused long enough for her to realize that he’d given her something powerful. Depending on what it was and the dosage involved, she might awaken in as little as half an hour or it could take far longer. And when she did wake up, would she have her wits about her or would she be stuck in some kind of date-rape-drug confusion and fog?

Henry was behind the wheel now. When they reached the highway, he turned the wheel sharply to the left and sped away.

How soon before someone comes looking for me? Lani wondered. How long before they realize I’m gone?

A NOISE AWAKENED GABE—A METALLIC noise of some kind that meant someone was coming. If it was Henry, Gabe knew he had to be ready, but where was the knife? It was no longer in his fingers and for several desperate seconds, he was afraid he’d lost it. But then he found it again—right where he’d left it—in his pocket.

Tim José lay beside him, burning with fever and still as death. Gabe could hear his friend’s shallow breathing, but that was all. In the coming battle, there would be no help from that quarter. It would all be up to Gabe and nobody else. Henry had left the two boys bound and helpless. He had no way of knowing that they were loose. The fact that Gabe was armed and ready to fight was the only element of surprise the boy had on his side.

Flicking the knife open, Gabe gripped it tightly and willed his cramped muscles to obey him when the time came. That was when he realized that, for the first time in his life, he didn’t need anyone else to do the fighting for him. Gabe Ortiz himself was ready to do battle—ready to kill if necessary—if that’s what it took to save Tim’s life and his own.

For several long seconds, the only sound in the oppressive darkness was the dull hammering of Gabe’s own heart. Then he heard something else, someone shouting his name. The sound seemed to come from somewhere far away. When he tried to answer, Gabe was surprised to find that his tongue was swollen. No words came out of his mouth, only a hoarse croak.

The shout came again. In the background Gabe heard the frantic barking of a dog and the wail of a siren.

“Gabe, where the hell are you?” Gabe heard the desperation in his father’s voice and tried his best to answer.

“We’re here,” he said, “right here.” But it didn’t seem as though anyone outside the box could hear him.

Then, to his immense relief, there was a sudden shaking and rattling as someone opened the tailgate on the truck. And then a dazzling beam appeared in the darkness as light entered through one of the ventilation holes. A moment later, the box itself moved, as though it was being pulled from the bed of the truck and placed on what felt like solid ground.

“I hear you, Gabe. We’ll get you out. Hold on. There’s a padlock,” his father said. “Somebody get me a fucking crowbar.”

Gabe almost giggled at that. He had never heard his father say a bad word before—not ever, not once. That was when Gabe remembered. He and Tim had both soiled themselves. He’d grown accustomed to the stink, but what would happen when other people saw them that way? What would they think? Would they point at them and call them babies?

No, he realized. They would not. He and Tim were supposed to be dead, but they hadn’t died. It didn’t matter how they looked or smelled. They were alive.

As the hasp gave way, Tim stirred beside him. “What’s happening?” he mumbled. “Is he coming back?”

Gabe flicked the knife closed and pressed it into his friend’s feverish hand. “No,” he said. “It’s my dad. They found us.”

The lid opened. Fresh air and more blinding light flooded their prison. The first face Gabe saw belonged to his father. “Son,” he said, reaching for Gabe. “Come on.”

“No,” Gabe said. His voice was starting to work now. “Get Tim first. He’s worse off than I am.”

Several willing hands reached into the box and lifted Tim out. A moment later a single pair of strong arms—his father’s—grabbed hold of Gabe and lifted him out, too. The next thing he knew, Leo Ortiz was holding his son against his chest, cradling him as though he were a newborn.

“I thought we’d lost you,” his father sobbed. “I thought you were gone forever. We thought both of you were.”

Gabe had never seen his father cry. “I’m all right, Dad,” he said, wiping away his father’s tears. “I’m all right.”

Just then he caught a glimpse of Tim on a stretcher with a bottle of some kind of fluid attached to his arm. For just a moment, the knowing spirit that had been with him in those long-ago hospital rooms returned to him. In a flash of joy, he realized long before anyone else that Tim José was not going to die.

Someone in the background—Dan Pardee, Gabe thought—passed him a bottle of water. He took a tiny sip. It tasted wonderful, better than any water had ever tasted before, but his mouth and throat were so parched that at first one sip was all he could manage.

“I’m okay,” he told his father again. “And Tim will be okay, too.”

Leo took a ragged breath. “Come on, Dan,” he said. “Since you and Hulk are the ones who found them, how about if you give us a ride to the hospital?”

Outside with people milling around and still in his father’s arms, Gabe was surprised to discover that it was dark—that the flash of light that had seemed so blinding had come from the fluorescent overhead shop lights in the garage. In the fresh air, Gabe could smell himself. The rank odor was almost overpowering. He was ashamed when his father placed him in the back of Dan’s Explorer and crawled in after him.

A woman’s face appeared in the window next to Leo. She pounded on the glass and held up a badge. She wasn’t someone Gabe recognized, but since her badge said FBI, that wasn’t too surprising.

“We need to speak to him,” she demanded.

“After,” Leo Ortiz said firmly through the still closed window. With that, Dan hit the gas pedal, and they sped away.

They arrived at the hospital entrance less than two minutes later. Gabe more than half expected that Lani would come out to meet them. When she didn’t, he decided she was probably busy taking care of Tim.

Leo helped Gabe out of the SUV and was leading him toward the door when Lucy Rojas came running through the door and stopped directly in front of them. “Is it true what they said,” she demanded, “that the boys were in Henry’s garage and locked in his truck?”

“It’s true,” Leo said, trying to brush past her, but she didn’t budge.

“Where is he?” Lucy’s face was filled with anguish, and Gabe realized that the woman knew nothing about what her husband had been doing.

“I saw your Toyota parked out by the airport,” Leo said. “Henry probably saw what was happening and used it to run off somewhere.”

Dan Pardee nodded. “That’s what I heard, too. They’re planning on organizing another search—for him this time.”

“But I don’t understand,” Lucy objected. “What’s this all about?”

Gabe was still holding the bottle of water. He swallowed another drink and spoke almost normally for the first time. “It’s about diamonds,” he said, “diamonds in a peanut butter jar.”