by David Keith
“Well, I’m going to call you Roberto. Is that okay with you?” Lisa said with a smile.
“Sí, señorita, sí,” he replied with a smile.
“So, tell me about Rocky Point?”
“Puerto Peñasco. The gringos call it Rocky Point. It is on the Sea of Cortez. Very beautiful.”
“How long have you lived there, Roberto?”
“All my life. I work at one of the big hotels. I fix things; they break, I fix.”
“Are you married?”
“Yes, Juanita is my wife, and we have four children.”
“Wow, big family. What does your wife do?”
“She cleans rooms at the Grand Sonoran. She works very hard and gets good tips from the American tourists.”
“Where do you live?”
“Just outside of town. Costs much to live in Puerto Peñasco. My truck gets me and Juanita to our jobs.”
“What about your kids?”
“We have two boys and two girls. The boys are twelve and six, and our girls are nine and seven.”
“Where do they go to school?”
“Only the boys go to school. The girls stay home and help with sewing and other work. My Juanita also works for Americans who have homes here, doing odd jobs, and the girls help her.”
An hour later, Lisa was able to see the ocean in the distance. They must finally be getting close to town, she guessed. She was taken aback by what Roberto had told her. The boys go to school, and the girls stay home and help the family eke out a living. What kind of a chance would they ever have at a better life?
“We are close, Miss Lisa. If you look towards the ocean, you can see a beach with many condominiums. Our friend Jack owns one of them, and that’s where you will stay. It’s very nice there; you will like it very much.”
The Sea of Cortez shimmered in the distance. Roberto was right; it was beautiful. She could understand why Americans would come here.
“Jack asked me to get you a new passport with a different name. Do you know what you want your new name to be?”
She hadn’t thought about a new identity, but it made sense. She couldn’t be Lisa Sullivan anymore.
“I haven’t even thought about it. When do you need a name from me, Roberto?”
“Jack said as soon as possible.”
“Okay, then I will get you a name. Once I get settled into the condo, how will I contact you?”
“Jack gave me your cell number so I can call you and I will give you my number. But I come by each day to check on you and see how you are doing.”
A minute later, they were driving along a sliver of road winding down to the beach. Down below, Lisa could see clusters of white condominiums standing three stories tall. Roberto slowed the truck and pulled onto a long stretch of private road that served as access to a dozen or more of the condos. He pulled into the driveway of a large unit that sat directly on the beach and parked in a space marked 2B.
“Welcome home, Miss Lisa.”
The condo was large, sparsely furnished but tasteful. There were two bedrooms and two baths, along with a living room with high ceilings and a huge picture window looking out onto the beach at the breaking surf. It was a gorgeous setting, and Lisa found herself excited at the prospect of this place as her new home. The kitchen was a bit dated, but the bedrooms and bathrooms were spacious. The master bedroom had a king size bed and a veranda that looked out onto the beach. Her dad had done well with this place, she thought.
“I got you some food and put it in the refrigerator and cabinets. You need more, I can get it tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much, Roberto. You are very kind to do all this for me.”
“No problema, señorita.”
The doorbell rang. Lisa was startled.
“Is okay, Miss Lisa. Just someone to help you. Mr. Jack said it would be good.”
Frito opened the door and a pretty, middle aged woman equipped with a large tackle box came inside. “This is Berta,” he said. “She is my sister and the best hair stylist in Puerto Peñasco.”
“Nice to meet you,” Lisa said.
“Muy bonita,” Berta said as she gave Lisa the once over. “Sí, muy bonita.”
Berta led her to a chair at the table. “I give you new look,” she announced as she tossed a drape over Lisa and fastened it behind her neck. “You no worry, I make you muy more beautiful. I give you color, too.”
She had trusted Frito with her life. He and her father had done everything they’d promised. So, she would trust Berta as well.
Two hours later the makeover was complete.
Frito looked at Lisa and hardly recognized the person standing before him. Berta had given her a medium length bob-style that looked fresh and casual. The vibrant, light brown color had a reddish tint that gave her a relaxed, cosmopolitan look. It was a big change from the long, straight, dirty blond style she’d worn for years. Berta had indeed made her beautiful.
“Muy bonita… Sí, señorita Lisa?” Berta asked.
“Oh, yes, sí, sí, thank you so much. It’s beautiful! Gracias!”
Lisa went to her purse, drew out a hundred dollar bill, and offered it to Berta.
Berta’s eyes got big when she saw the cash. She thanked Lisa profusely and packed up. Frito saw her to the door.
When Frito returned Lisa turned to him and said, “Jack told me to pay you for your help today. He said that I was to pay you $500, is that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lisa counted out ten one hundred dollar bills and handed them to Roberto.
“Oh, señorita, this is too much.”
“Nonsense. Roberto, you’ve been exceptionally kind to me today. Please, take the extra money and help your family. I insist.”
Frito stuffed the cash deep into his front pocket.
“I thank you. You are very kind, Miss Lisa.”
“It’s nothing, Roberto. Thanks for being my very first friend in… Puerto Peñasco, is that how you say it?”
“Sí, señorita. Your Spanish is good.”
“Well, it’s bound to get even better. Thank you again.”
“De nada. You call me if you need things—day or night.”
After Roberto left the condo, Lisa slumped down onto the sofa in the living room, exhausted. The life she had in Colorado was now gone. The father she never knew was keeping her out of jail. She was alone in a place far away from everything she knew.
Keller and Mia left Mick’s office and headed downstairs to the makeshift phone bank that had been assembled in a conference room.
“I’ll meet you down there in a minute,” Keller told his partner. “Gotta hit the men’s room.”
Keller peeled off and headed toward the clerical offices on the second floor. The area was all but abandoned after five o’clock, and he knew the men’s room would be empty.
Inside, he checked the stalls and pulled out his burner phone. Lisa should be in Mexico by now, he thought. He dialed her new cell number.
“Hey.”
“Well, how’s Mexico? Everything go all right?”
“Mexico is beautiful, and your place is great. I’m just trying to get my bearings.”
“So everything went well with Frito? Any problems at the border?” Jack asked.
“Not really, we got stopped by the guards but after a minute or two they let us in. Roberto has been great. I really like him. He’s been a huge help to me.”
“Roberto?’
“Yes, that’s Frito’s given name, and I’m going to be calling him that.”
“Oh, okay. Did his sister show up?”
“Yes she did, and she was amazing. You’ll hardly recognize me.”
“Well, that’s the goal. Look, I hope to get down there soon. But I have to wait for the right time. I hope you understand.”
“I understand, I just wish you could be here. What’s going on there?”
“Lennox lawyered up, he’s not talking.”
“Wow, that didn’t take long.”
/> “And his lawyer’s a big shot. Branch Kramer. Ever heard of him?”
“Wait, is he that cowboy that’s always on the cable shows?”
“He’s the one.”
“Wow. How did…”
“From what we understand, his wife hired him.”
“Seriously?”
“That’s what they say. Oh, and listen… they put out a $25,000 reward on you.”
There was no easy way to say it.
“Oh my God.”
“With this Branch Kramer character involved, this story could grow and your picture could end up everywhere. So we need to get you a new ID ASAP. You’re going to need a new name.”
“Roberto and I are working on it,” she assured him. “What if Scott and his new attorney decide to lay the whole thing on me? What if they say I killed Lombard so Scott would leave his wife and run away with me and all the money. What happens then?”
“They won’t play that card. At least not yet. Their best strategy, in my opinion, is for Scott to clam up and make the prosecution prove its case. It’s working so far. There’s not enough physical evidence, so as I see it, the only way Scott goes down for this is if you testify against him. The prosecution needs you. They’ll want you to turn state’s evidence—in other words, testify and tell what happened. If you did that then Scott would almost certainly go down, and you’d be offered a deal of some sort in exchange for your testimony. So, the last thing the defense wants is for you to be found. As long as you are in the wind, I think they are pretty safe. And they know it.”
“Just thinking about it makes my head hurt.”
“Let’s just get you settled in and take things as they come. Even though you’re in Mexico, you still need to keep a low profile, especially now.”
“Okay, I will. So we’ll talk tomorrow, then?”
“Absolutely. Now, get some rest.”
The calls from the five o’clock news generated mostly sightings of Lisa in and around the town of Rosebud. People reported seeing Lisa Sullivan at the grocery store, gas station, dry cleaners and the gym. There were a few calls putting her as far away as Longmont and Pueblo, but they weren’t strong leads. All would have to be checked out, regardless.
Branch Kramer made another appearance in the six o’clock news and stations again showed Lisa’s picture and mentioned the reward. It too generated calls. The operators were told to hand over anything remotely promising to Mia or Keller.
Ralph Bumgartner just about ripped Kit’s arm off as she arrived home from her shift at the Mountain View Café.
“C’mon, Kit, you gotta see this. That Castle Springs murder fella’s got some fancy lawyer, and the sheriff is puttin’ up a $25,000 reward for that lady you seen. Here sit down, he’ll be back on in a minute.”
The picture of Lisa Sullivan was back on the TV screen moments later, and Kit was more certain than ever Lisa Sullivan was the woman she’d seen at the café.
“That’s her all right,” Kit said.
“Kit, that’s $25,000. That’s the brand new RV tent trailer we want and enough to take it all over the country. You gotta call. Here, I wrote the number down for you.”
“Okay, Ralphie, I hear you, just bring me the phone.”
“I got it right here,” Ralph said, handing Kit the wireless handset.
Kit dialed and waited as the call went through.
“Hello, I’m calling about the missing woman you’re looking for. I think I seen her, and I thought I’d call it in… Well, how do y’all pay that reward anyway? I told you I seen her at my work… at the Mountain Cafe off I-70… Okay, I’ll hold.”
Belinda turned to Jack and Mia, “I have a lady on the line who she says she saw Sullivan a few weeks ago at a cafe off I-70 near the ski resorts. Who wants to take it?”
“I’ll take it,” Keller said.
He took the phone from the clerk. “This is Investigator Keller, how can I help you?”
Jack listened for a few moments, then turned to Mia and rolled his eyes.
“Well, the sheriff’s department is offering $25,000 for information that leads to the arrest and conviction of Lisa Sullivan. I’m not sure what else I can tell you about it… Like I said, there has to be an arrest and conviction—assuming, of course, your tip is the one that leads us to her, then you’d get paid… Tell me where you saw her.”
Keller swallowed hard. The woman’s voice confirmed his fear—it was the waitress who gave him the attitude.
“Um, okay, when was this? And you’re sure it was Lisa Sullivan?” Keller asked.
After several seconds, Keller lowered his voice and continued, “Have you told anyone else about this?”
“You told Ralphie? Who’s Ralphie?”
Keller turned away from the others sitting at the phone bank. “No, ma’am, you don’t need to call anyone else. But I will give you another number, and if you think of anything else, you can call me directly. Now can you give me your contact information?”
Keller offered Kit Baumgartner his private cell number. He jotted down her name and contact information and promised to investigate. He thanked Kit for the assistance and handed the receiver back to the clerk. Keller then waited for Mia to get off another call.
“Well?” he asked her.
“A big nothing. You?”
“Same,” Jack said, trying to look disappointed.
THIRTY-SEVEN
After morning mass, Jack went to the sacristy to see Father John.
“Good morning, Jack. Guess you heard I came by your office?”
“Yep.”
“Would you like to come back to the rectory for a cup of coffee?”
“Sure, we can do that.”
Keller followed the priest across the side parking lot and into the rectory.
Keller started. “So, your visit yesterday to my office… It was just a social one?”
“Hardly, Jack, and I have no doubt you know what’s on my mind.”
“Actually, I haven’t a clue.”
“I saw the news about the arrest of the man in the murder case. I also saw the news about the woman they’re searching for.”
“Did you want to report a sighting, Padre?”
“Jack, don’t be a smart ass. My concern is about the conversation we had a couple weeks ago on Castle Trail. You told me about a struggle you were having about a daughter you had recently come to know. How she was in trouble and you felt an obligation to help her.”
“I remember.”
“You said you were willing to risk your career for her, and you asked me if somehow you helping her could be justified given the mistakes you had made with her early in her life.”
“Yeah, I remember that too, but—”
“So, is this woman on the run your daughter?”
He would have been a great cop, Jack thought.
“Like I said, Father, it’s not a big deal.”
“You aren’t answering my question. I need to know, is the woman they’re looking for your daughter?”
Jack looked down at his coffee cup on the table. Then he spoke, “Let me ask you something, Father, just a hypothetical question. Do you mind?”
“Go ahead.”
“If you and I talk about something, something private, isn’t that, like, protected? Isn’t what a priest hears from a parishioner held in confidence? Doesn’t the priest have an obligation to keep quiet about it?”
“I think you are mistaking an ordinary conversation a priest might have with someone with what is said in the confessional. Clearly, anything said under the sacrament of reconciliation is held in the strictest confidence. Neither the police nor the courts can order that conversation be disclosed. I guess it could be compared to the attorney-client privilege. But something that is disclosed in the course of an ordinary conversation, like the one we are having right now, is not protected.”
“It seems to me that’s a pretty fine line. I mean, who’s to say what you interpret as ordinary conversation, as you put it, isn’t
something much larger in the mind of the person who is saying it. I mean, you hear stuff all day long from people; it’s your job. Just another day at the office. But for the ordinary person, the conversation they are having with their priest is huge, and they in fact wouldn’t have said the things they said if they thought there was any risk of the priest going public with what was said. Make sense?”
“You are making a lot of assumptions here, Jack. When the conversation starts out with ‘Father, I need to confess something’ or ‘Father, it’s been six months since my last confession, these are my sins…’ that falls under the confessional rule. When things are discussed in the normal course of conversation, then that is obviously something different. I think there’s a pretty clear delineation between those two scenarios.”
Jack shook his head. “I disagree. If someone is sharing with you things that could never be shared with anyone else, and they are asking not only for guidance, but really for permission and ultimately forgiveness, then that clearly falls under your confession rule.”
They were at a standstill.
Father Jon leaned forward. “Jack, I think you know the right thing to do. Please, don’t put me in an awkward position.”
“That almost sounds like a threat, Father.”
“I have a moral obligation to do what is right. This is a very difficult situation.”
“So, what are you going to do, Padre?”
“For the time being, I’m going to pray on it, Jack. I’m going to pray really hard for guidance.”
Jack stood and walked to the door. Father Jon didn’t see him out.
Jack was livid. The priest was playing a very dangerous game. If Father Jon came forward and revealed their earlier conversation on Castle Trail, everything would come apart. The focus of the investigation would shift to him, and he’d be forced to tell what he knew about Lisa. If he told authorities about his role in Lisa’s escape, then she would certainly be captured and charged as an accomplice to murder and likely for evading arrest. Under that scenario his daughter could be looking at a sentence of 20 years or more.
He was also growing increasingly concerned about Branch Kramer and the media attention he brought to the case. Kramer knew there would be a phalanx of reporters following his every move, and those reporters would spread the story far and wide. That meant a story that wouldn’t normally get much play outside Colorado could easily become national or even international news. The last thing he needed was for Lisa’s picture to be shown on CNN and the other networks, especially the ones that reached into Mexico.
