“Sounds good. You do that; I’ll call Palmer and Wells and see if they can meet with you to hear your theory,” Rick said.
Paul nodded. “It makes sense to me.”
“Paul, all this is theory,” Dylan cautioned him. “You can’t print it.”
“Give me some credit, son,” he said. Then, he had another thought.
“Do you think Alex is safe? With that guy at large?”
~~~
It was all over town. Paul Ward’s daughter had been found, alive. Now she was awake and remembering things. If he hadn’t already killed Joe Hendricks, he’d do it now.
Why had the pendejo thought kidnapping her was going to solve anything? All it did was complicate an already bad situation. Bad because Joe took matters into his own hands in the first place.
The matter had drawn the attention of the president of Reyes del Desierto and el presidente was not pleased. Too much attention, too close to the cartel’s operation. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up dead in the desert as well. Could the girl identify him? She knew him, but had she recognized him before he dove out of the car? Or his voice, outside the RV?
He’d thought she was dead. He’d given Joe plenty of time to kill her, even if he intended to play with her first. And then, she turned up alive. Not only alive, but she remembered things. He couldn’t take the chance. Even if she already talked, if they couldn’t put her on the stand, they couldn’t prove anything. He had to act tonight, finish the job.
~~~
Alex asked the person who came to clear away her dinner dishes to turn off the room lights, leaving only the reading light above the bed. She was exhausted. Glad she got to see Dylan and her dad, but now she was ready for sleep. Sleep didn’t come, though. Her brain wouldn’t quit working on what happened, and most of all, why. Joe’s behavior the night he pulled her over baffled her.
She remembered now she’d been furious with him after he interrogated her about Rufio Mendez. She still didn’t know why he wanted her to believe the identification was tentative, when according to Dylan and Lt. Wells it was confirmed. Nothing about the facts made sense. The only clue she had was Joe’s reaction when she said something about it that night.
Who was the guy in his car? Alex had been too stunned by what was happening to ask. If he was the one who showed up at the trailer, there was a very good chance he was the one who killed Joe. Why hadn’t he come back for her? He and Joe were arguing about someone named Mendez, and even though it was a common name, she assumed now, as she did that night, they were talking about Rufio. If only she could think of something tying the unknown Latino, Rufio and Joe together, then maybe she could figure it out. The most obvious thing she could think of that tied the Latino to Rufio was maybe the Latino was the one who shot him. It would be more helpful if she knew why, though, and what Joe had to do with it.
In a hospital, there’s always a lot of background noise. The steady beep of the monitor, people talking in the halls, overhead pages for doctors, nurses and other technicians. Alex supposed in a big city hospital it never stopped, but here in the little Dodge hospital, it gradually grew less as the hour grew later. Or, maybe she was just getting used to it and ignored it, as she did the monitor. She turned off her reading light and then the room was pitch dark. Even the tiny lights on the monitor didn’t pierce the gloom.
Because she was still not asleep, Alex heard the doorknob turn. She didn’t feel like talking, so she played possum and pretended to be asleep, making an effort to make her breathing deep and even. Whoever was there would probably just check her monitor and leave. Soft footsteps approached her bed, then paused. Get on with it and get out. It was annoying; she was trying to sleep and now she was fully alert again because of this. Suddenly, a pillow covered her face and pressed down.
At first, she couldn’t believe it. Then, she was fighting for her life, thrashing with her legs and arms, twisting her head back and forth to get some air. Her hand fell on her call button and she pressed it, trying to shout through the pillow between gasps for air. Hurry, please hurry. Her attacker seemed to hesitate, then the pressing stopped though the pillow was still on her face. She snatched it off in time to hear the door open, close. A minute later, it opened again and she tensed, only to hear the night nurse ask her what she needed. She startled herself even, when she shouted she’d been attacked, and then the room lights came on.
“Miss Ward, what are you saying? Did you have a nightmare?” The nurse was checking the monitor, making tsk sounds as she found a lead or two detached.
“No,” Alex sobbed. “It wasn’t a dream. Someone tried to kill me.”
“Now, dear, I’m sure you’re wrong. You’ve been through a bad time. It was probably just a dream.” Her calm voice was maddening. Alex wanted her to call someone, make them come and sit with her in case the attacker came back.
“Miss Ward, you’ve pulled your IV out again,” she said, disapproval evident.
“No, I didn’t! He did it! Or rather, it happened when I was fighting. He put a pillow over my head!” Alex sounded hysterical now. She needed to calm down to make the nurse believe her. “Please, call my dad. I need someone here with me, in case he comes back. I wasn’t dreaming.”
“I’ll call Dr. Rowley,” she answered.
“Please don’t leave me!” Where did the attacker go? Maybe he was still here, just waiting until she was alone to try again.
“I have to go to the desk to get his number,” said the nurse, reasoning with Alex as anyone would reason with a child after a nightmare. Or a young woman, hysterical and making wild statements.
“Then leave the lights on. I want to see him coming this time,” Alex adjusted the bed so she was sitting up. The nurse shook her head and left the room, but did as Alex asked and left the light on.
~~~
Half an hour later, Alex’s room was filled with people. Her dad, Rick, Lt. Palmer, Dr. Sam and a subdued nurse. The first to arrive had been Dr. Sam. He listened to her story, checked her hands and arms and found bruises, then called Dad. Dad called Rick, and Rick called the detective. Alex told them what happened, and now Dr. Sam was telling them the bruises and more importantly, the skin under her nails, corroborated her story. Alex glanced dismissively at the nurse and she stiffened.
“I don’t want to stay here. I don’t feel safe.” Alex hugged herself and shuddered.
“We need to document your attack, take scrapings from your nails. Then if Doc here says you can go, your dad can take you home,” said the detective.
“We don’t do discharges in the middle of the night,” said the nurse, frowning in official indignation and looking to Dr. Sam for support.
“You do now, unless you want to be sued,” said Rick. Dr. Sam made a conciliatory gesture.
“I’ll square it with admin,” he told the nurse, who left with her lips pressed together in mute disapproval.
Alex submitted to the evidence gathering, the photos of her bruises and the chilling feeling of someone else scraping beneath her nails. “You got him pretty good,” the detective said. “There’ll be a visible scratch. Good job, young lady.”
Alex didn’t want to be told that scratching someone who was trying to kill her was a good job. He was gone, but who knew when he could try again? The worst part was not knowing why. Someone must think she knew something, but she didn’t. She just wanted to go home, curl up in her own bed, and for all this to go away.
When it was all done, Dad took her home. She was surprised Rick followed them. Was she ever going to get to sleep?
“Dad, where’s my car?” It wasn’t in its usual spot.
“It’s evidence,” he answered. “I think it’s still out where you were found in that RV.”
“How did it get there?”
Dad turned and stared at her, then parked the car and came around to open her door. He took her arm as she got out, and escorted her to the front door. Rick was coming up the sidewalk by the time they got to the door, and Dad called to him, �
�I’m going to get her settled, come on in.”
To Alex, he said, “Baby Girl, I’m sure you want to go to bed, but can we keep you up just a little longer? Rick and Dylan and I were talking earlier about what’s going on. I want to get Dylan back over here and see what he thinks about this latest incident.”
Incident. Like it wasn’t attempted murder. Dad had no idea what she was going through; the weariness she felt. But, if he thought they could get to the bottom of why she was suddenly so interesting to bad guys, she would try to do as he wanted. And having Dylan there would make her feel even safer. “Okay, Dad, but I’m really tired.”
He guided her into the living room and had her sit on the sofa, then picked up her legs and swung them up, tucking a throw pillow behind her back. Rick came in right behind them and took a seat in a chair no one ever used. Dad had told her before that’s where Mom always sat, and she guessed he’d kept it waiting there for her all these years. Alex didn’t think she was coming back. Why was she thinking about that now? It was old news, and had nothing to do with the situation now. She must be rattled, and no wonder.
Dad had his cell phone out and was talking to Dylan, who must have been in bed for hours. Alex felt terrible everyone was up because of her, but she had to admit she felt safer with so many protectors surrounding her.
“Dylan will be here in a few minutes,” Dad said. “I’m going to make coffee.” Alex sighed. She didn’t want coffee, she wanted to be able to sleep. It looked like that wasn’t in the plan.
Rick went to answer the door and Dylan rushed in, saw her tucked up on the sofa like an invalid and stopped abruptly. He sank to his knees in front of her and took her in his arms. “Are you all right?”
Actually, right this minute, she was more all right than she had been in days. “Yes.” Alex spoke the rest with her eyes. She’d be all right if they could work out the things that were keeping them apart. Assuming whoever wanted to kill her didn’t succeed.
Dad came in with a tray bearing the coffeepot, several cups, cream and sugar and spoons. Dylan twisted and sat on the floor next to Alex on the sofa, where she could touch him and reassure herself he was really here, and that what seemed like the longest nightmare of her life was over. When they all had their coffee in their hands, Dad started the conversation.
“Alex gave me an idea earlier,” he said, drawing a look of surprise from her. What did I say? “She asked where her car is,” he went on. “Which made me wonder, how did it get out to the RV place?”
They worked it out. She’d been put in the squad car, leaving her car on the side of the road. Now she learned Dylan had been searching that stretch of road for a possible wreck. He would have seen her car if it had still been there.
“Could Joe have gone back for it?”
“He could have, but it would have taken him at least half an hour, more like twice that in the dark, to drive you to the RV, and then he’d have had to walk back to your car, maybe another hour or two. I think I was already searching by that time,” Dylan said. “Tell us again what happened after you got into the squad car.”
“Okay. First, the guy got out, and then Joe drove off the road,” She paused, unsure what to say next, but Dylan was already looking significantly at Dad and Rick.
“The Latino guy, I’d bet on it. How did I miss that? Did you tell us there was a Latino guy in the car before?” he asked.
“There was a guy. I didn’t see him, and he didn’t say anything, so I don’t know if it was the same guy. I was thinking that’s who Joe was arguing with at the RV, but I didn’t see him. I don’t know why I thought that.”
“Did you hear him drive up, before he knocked on the door?” Rick asked.
She paused to think. “Yeah, now you mention it, I did. Of course! He drove my car out there. I left the keys in it when Joe made me get out. What a stupid move.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Dylan said. “They’d have made you give up the keys anyway. So that’s why I didn’t see any trace of your car when I went past. It was already gone.” The significance dawned on her then.
“So who is this guy? He wasn’t some random guy Joe picked up hitchhiking or something, he was with him while Joe waited for me to drive by.”
“Probably also the guy who attacked you in the hospital, killed Joe and maybe killed Rufio. We…at least I…think he’s cartel.”
“Why? What does Joe have to do with the cartel? It doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Rick said. “But that’s because we don’t have the big picture. We need to figure that out.”
Alex was falling asleep, despite the coffee, as the others kept talking around the idea.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Saturday, July 26
Dylan’s half-day shift began at noon the next day, so he had time to meet with the state police detective and Lt. Wells when they arrived at Paul’s house around ten a.m. Alex was still asleep, according to her dad. Lt. Wells wanted to get his own version of her statement about last night’s attack. But Paul wanted her to be able to sleep as long as possible, so they agreed to hear the theories first. Rick indicated Dylan should tell it.
“And you don’t know who this alleged cartel member is,” said the state cop, when he’d gone through the circumstantial evidence.
“No, sir, I haven’t had time to track down the old man from the casino to see if he knows a name. I figured to do that this morning, but then Alex was attacked last night.”
“Why don’t we take a drive out there when we’re finished here?” Wells suggested. It was fine with Dylan, although he wasn’t sure the cops could get anything out of the old man. He explained his methods to Wells, who cracked a smile.
“I’m not sure we’ll be lucky enough to win ‘his’ jackpot,” he said, leaning on the word to let Dylan know he understood how it went down. “But maybe a badge will impress him. We’ll see.”
It was time for Paul to wake Alex and ask her to join the party. She must have taken time to wash her face, comb her hair and get dressed, because she didn’t look as if she’d just crawled out of bed when she appeared. In fact, she stopped Dylan’s heart. It hit him again, how close he’d come to losing her twice in the same week, and swallowed a lump in his throat again. When this was over, and they could get some privacy, he intended to hold her tight and kiss her breathless, like in the old days. She was his, now, and he wouldn’t let her go again. She looked at him as she came into the room, and he would have sworn she read his thoughts, because she blushed. Then she looked away, and once more she belonged to the room.
Alex seemed more composed this morning, maybe because she’d had a chance to sleep and to process what had happened. Even the state detective, who Dylan understood had already taken her statement, took notes. Dylan was caught up in her description, feeling her annoyance that someone came into her room while she was trying to sleep, and then the terror when the pillow came down on her face. He was sweating and breathing heavily when she finished talking about how she fought for air and how fortunate she was to have found the call button.
Thank God the nurse had responded promptly! It didn’t always happen that way.
As shaken as Dylan was, hearing it repeated, Paul seemed to be similarly affected. He moved to sit beside her on the sofa and took her hand, squeezing it. She smiled at him. “It’s okay, Dad. I made it.” Any other woman Dylan knew would have been reduced to a quivering, fear-filled heap by what Alex had been through in the last five days. He added respect for her bravery to the reasons he was attracted to her, sliding it in above her beauty and right below her intelligence. Alex was a rare combination, one he had to keep at all costs. And then a niggling doubt sneaked in. All costs? What about his brothers? No, he couldn’t sacrifice them. He’d have to find a way to have both.
“I’ve got to head out if I’m going to stop at the casino before I go to work. Do you guys still want to go with me?”
Alex turned confused eyes on him, and he explained there was an old man th
ey wanted to find to question about the case. The two detectives stood when he did and waited while he walked over to her and gave her a peck on the cheek and quick squeeze. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he didn’t need to subject their personal business to the scrutiny of strangers. Her hand found his and squeezed back. Shaking hands with Paul and Rick, Dylan left with the two detectives right behind him.
~~~
Dylan wasn’t entirely sure he’d recognize the old man. To be polite, he hadn’t stared him in the face during their previous talk. The old guy was a type, one of probably hundreds of elders of his generation who lived out their golden years gambling and drinking away their stipend and depending on daughters to keep them from starving. Of course, liquor wasn’t allowed on the reservation, which made the casino a bit of a joke for people who were used to free drinks as they gambled. Las Vegas, it wasn’t. Lack of table games was another turn-off. But the oldsters didn’t care. They’d sit for hours, or as long as their money held out, staring at the reels in the slot machines and waiting for their jackpots to hit.
As it turned out, the old-timer wasn’t in the casino. As soon as Dylan walked in the door, a younger man confronted him.
“What did my grandfather tell you?” he demanded. Nonplussed, Dylan took a step back, only to run into Lt. Wells.
“He told me my stepfather had been seen with a cartel boss. I’d like to ask him if he knows the man’s name.” Wells had stepped into the casino and was standing at Dylan’s left hand, while Lt. Palmer had joined him on the right.
“He can’t tell you anything,” the man spat.
“Nevertheless, we’d like to talk to him,” said Wells.
“You can’t.”
“And why not?” said Palmer, oozing menace.
“Because this asshole got him killed,” said the young man, pointing at Dylan with his chin. Dylan stared at him in horror. How? But it was obvious. Someone had heard the conversation. A word to the cartel the old man had spoken out of turn, and his fate was sealed. Sorrow flooded him. If not for him, the old guy would have spent his last days in peace. Instead…
Fatal Exposure Page 21
