False Witness

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  Sister Agatha, in position and over the rattle of raindrops atop the roof of the car, made the call from her cell phone. The static was bad, and the rain was coming down so heavy it was nearly dark around her, but somehow she managed to get a connection.

  “This is Sister Agatha, Ralph,” she said. “Let me speak to John. I’ve got some news for him.”

  A moment later John got on the phone. He sounded distant, but not short of breath.

  “We’re in the middle of packing up everything here. We’ll be leaving tonight. Is there something I can do for you?” John asked.

  “I just heard from Sheriff Green. A woman he believes is Angie Sanchez was found walking down a Bernalillo side street, dazed and frightened. All the deputy could get from her was a muddled story about being kidnapped. I’m on my way to see her now. If she’s the woman who also goes by the name of Terri Montoya, I think she’ll talk to me.”

  “Where’s she at?” he asked quickly.

  “The sheriff asked me not to disclose her location for security reasons,” she said. “But I’ll stay in touch.”

  “Let me know immediately if it’s my niece,” John said. “It’s very important to me, but of course you know that already.”

  Sister Agatha called Tom back. “The bait’s set. If they’ve got Angie, they’ll have to go check and make sure she didn’t escape.”

  “We better hope that there’s no third player they can call, or that they haven’t killed her already. But we’ve checked and they’ve had no visitors, so that supports our theory that either John or Ralph is Garza.”

  “If Angie was already dead, they wouldn’t have stuck around. We just have to sit tight and be ready. At least the rain is letting up, so they can’t sneak out without us spotting them.”

  “I have department backup on the way now, too, so if you see either man reach that sedan, tell me. A second deputy will be in position shortly, and he’ll take over for you and tail our suspect if need be.”

  “If this is going to work at all, we shouldn’t have long to wait,” she said, disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to take a more active part in the final part of the operation.

  “Heads up!” Tom said suddenly. “One of the pair is coming out now, but I can’t see his face clearly enough to ID. He’s wearing jeans and a baseball cap.” A few seconds passed. “He just got into the van. I’ll tail him myself.”

  Sister Agatha remained where she was. The man Tom had seen leaving could turn out to be a decoy. Less than five minutes later, her hunch paid off. John Gutierrez came down the sidewalk wearing a jogging suit and climbed into the car.

  Sister Agatha contacted Tom on the phone immediately. “He wasn’t in any hurry, but Ralph’s boss is certainly more mobile than he’s been pretending. He just walked up and ducked into the sedan.”

  “My deputy’s caught in traffic. Can you follow Gutierrez? Don’t get too close, but don’t lose him until my officer can catch up to you.”

  Sister Agatha smiled broadly. Alleluia! “I’m on it.”

  She started the Antichrysler, which backfired as soon as she let off the gas. The ear-shattering sound was quickly disguised by the roll of thunder that followed immediately. Saying a prayer of thanks, she waited, and once the sedan was halfway down the block, Sister Agatha followed.

  She’d just pulled out into traffic when the Antichrysler began losing power. She pressed on the accelerator, but there was no response. The engine stuttered and appeared about to die, then, miraculously, began chugging forward.

  “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered. “If this was a highspeed chase, we’d be lost, but so far so good.”

  Tom called back just then. “Keep the line open between us.”

  As they moved through the waterlogged streets in a southerly direction, Sister Agatha periodically reported her position.

  They soon entered a neighborhood that bordered one of the main irrigation canals. The homes became fewer in number here. Traffic was very light, and half the lots, most of them at least an acre in size, contained fields or orchards.

  Forced to stay farther away because the country was more open here, she almost lost sight of Gutierrez’s car when he turned a corner filled with tall tumbleweeds. Finally, when his sedan came to a stop, so did she, pulling to the side of the road by a ditch bank overgrown with sunflowers.

  “He went into a house in the middle of what looks like an old cornfield, Tom. There was a fire there at one time from what I can see. There’s smoke damage on the side and the windows are covered with sheets of plywood, but the front door works.”

  “Do not get out of the car. The deputy’s ETA’s less than a minute. Sit tight.”

  Sister Agatha placed the phone down, rolled down her window halfway to let in some fresh air and clear the traces of fog from the windshield, then turned the ignition off. But before the car wheezed its last breath, it backfired. This time there was no thunder to obscure the sound.

  Less than ten seconds later, John appeared on the front porch, pistol in hand. She ducked down, then remembered Pax was beside her in the front seat. When she looked up again, Gutierrez was walking straight toward the Antichrysler.

  “Oh-oh, Pax. We’re leaving,” she said, reaching for the ignition. As she turned the key, the Antichrysler coughed and died with a rattle and a whine.

  As he drew near, Pax spotted the gun in John’s hand. Responding to his training, he barked furiously, and tried to squeeze through her partially open driver’s side window.

  “Pax, no, stay!” she ordered, knowing he’d be no match for a firearm. She fought the ignition system, trying to will the Antichrysler to start. If John got much closer, Pax would smash through the glass and attack. But in the process, he’d certainly lose his life.

  “Come on, car, start!”

  John was less than twenty feet away when the Antichrysler roared to life. As John raised the pistol, Sister Agatha slammed on the accelerator, but instead of flying forward, the engine suddenly died.

  Sister Agatha saw John smile. At this distance he couldn’t miss and the glass would be no protection. Pax was doing his best to squeeze through the window, but in a few seconds they’d both be dead.

  “Oh, Lord, help!” The plea came from the depths of her heart. She grabbed Pax, trying to pull him down out of view, and placed both their lives in God’s hands.

  22

  YOU CAN SIT UP, SISTER AGATHA. I’M SURRENDERING to you. It’s over for me now.”

  She raised her head to look. John took the pistol by the barrel with his other hand, bent down, and placed the weapon on the ground. Then he stood and raised both hands in the air. His face was pale, and she suddenly realized how just old and tired he looked—burned out.

  “I almost lost you on the drive over here. If you’re going to continue playing detective, you should find a more reliable car. But let me warn you about Angie Sanchez before you go inside. I’m a thief, that’s true enough, but she’s a liar and a killer. I had Ralph leave you a message in the Harley warning you to watch your back because of her. She’s dangerous.

  “Unfortunately, I’ve run out of time. You and the sheriff caught on too quickly—and I’m out of options now. I’ve had a relapse.” He began coughing, and Sister Agatha saw the blood on the handkerchief he held up to his mouth. “I’ll go to jail, but I’ll be dead in a few months anyway, so that doesn’t matter to me anymore,” he said. Holding her gaze, he continued. “Sister Agatha, grant a dying man’s last request and don’t let Angie get away with what she’s done. I tried to get a confession from her, but she’s held out and I’ve got nothing. She’ll walk away free as a bird and rich to boot, unless you can figure out how to stop her.”

  Sister Agatha stared at him, still uncertain what was going on.

  “Don’t move!”

  Sister Agatha turned and saw an armed deputy standing about ten feet from John, just beyond the ditch bank.

  John obeyed, and the deputy advanced, gun pointed steadily at him. “Okay, faced
own on the street.”

  Working quickly, the female officer quickly handcuffed Gutierrez. “I’m Deputy Sims. Are you all right, Sister?” she shouted, glancing toward the Antichrysler.

  Sister Agatha nodded, then managed to speak. “We’re fine,” she answered weakly.

  “Good.” Deputy Sims took her prisoner to her unit and placed him in the backseat of the white squad car, which had been parked beside the ditch. She then walked back to the Antichrysler. “Are you sure you’re all right, Sister?”

  Sister Agatha nodded, though she’d been trembling for several minutes now and couldn’t make herself stop. John’s abrupt surrender had taken her by complete surprise. “I think there’s a kidnap victim in that house,” she said, her voice still very shaky. She started to open the car door, but Pax pushed his way in front of her again. “Pax, stay!”

  The dog obeyed but his ears remained pricked forward, his eyes on the house. “You’ve seen or sensed something, haven’t you?” She studied the animal, then grasped his leash firmly and opened the door all the way, sliding out first. “Heel!”

  “Let me call this in,” Deputy Sims said. “There might be another perp in there.”

  Sister Agatha, with Pax alongside her, approached the house from the side, keeping an eye out for any sign that would indicate someone was inside. Once she was close enough, she called out from behind cover, hoping her voice would carry through what she suspected was an open bathroom window. “Hello? Anyone there?”

  “Yes, I’m here!” came a muted cry.

  She recognized Terri’s voice instantly. “Terri, it’s Sister Agatha. Are you alone?”

  “Yes. Jimmy Garza was here, but he left a few minutes ago. I’m handcuffed to the pipes in a bathroom.”

  Her voice seemed thick, but Sister Agatha was certain it was Terri. Sister Agatha hurried to the front door, then released Pax. “Search!”

  Following the dog as he raced down a narrow hallway, Sister Agatha and Deputy Sims, who’d followed them in, quickly discovered Terri handcuffed to a drainpipe below the sink in a small bathroom. Her face was bruised, as were her arms, and her left eye was almost swollen shut.

  Pax sat about three feet from Terri and waited for a command. Sister Agatha called him back to her so that the deputy could work to free Terri.

  “Take it easy, Terri. You’re going to be okay,” Sister Agatha reassured as the woman began to cry.

  __________

  The scene became one of orderly chaos as the paramedics arrived and Terri was freed, then taken by ambulance to the hospital.

  Sister Agatha and Pax waited by the Antichrysler. The sun had come out, and the warmth felt wonderful against her face. As the minutes ticked by, she watched the steam rise from the wet fields, giving an otherworldliness to the normally dry environment.

  Twenty minutes later, Tom arrived. “I spoke to Deputy Sims on the radio. Terri’s weak and pretty shaken up,” he said. “She hasn’t had any food since the kidnapping, and the only water she had came from the sink. They destroyed her cell phone, which was why we couldn’t reach her before. Terri’s only contact was with the kidnappers, doing whatever they could think of to force her to talk. She says that they wanted to know where the money was and were sure she knew, though she claims she doesn’t. But my gut tells me that Terri—rather Angie—knows a heck of a lot more than she ever admitted at the trial.”

  “And John Gutierrez? What about him?”

  “Deputy Sims said he surrendered to you. Is that right?”

  “He had us cold, Tom. Then he just put down his gun and gave up. He said he knew that I’d been following him.”

  “That heap of yours isn’t exactly subtle.”

  “True. But here’s something else. First he confessed to being a thief. Then he warned me about Terri, claiming she was the killer and that he was trying to get the evidence to prove it. He’s Garza, right?”

  “Yes, without a doubt. His scars are a combination of makeup and plastic surgery. But his fingers haven’t been altered. The prints are a perfect match,” he said, his gaze methodically taking in the crime scene. “His ‘confession’ may be just another attempt to con us, but it fits his behavior so far. I’m going to the hospital now to talk to Angie, but I intend on being very careful with what I tell her. Why don’t you come along? One of my deputies can take Pax to the station.”

  Sister Agatha drove the Antichrysler to the hospital in Rio Rancho, the vehicle backfiring from time to time but moving forward at a decent pace. Once there, she waited with Tom in the ER lobby. Several long moments later a tall, thin nurse with short-cropped silver hair came down the long hallway.

  “The doctor said that you can question her now.”

  Tom took a step, then turned to look at Sister Agatha. “I’m going to ask the doctor’s permission to have you present, too. You might be a calming influence.”

  “Or not. Remember that she may blame me for leading John—Jimmy—to her.”

  “Good point. I’ll see how this plays out first.”

  Sister Agatha watched him walk down the hall, weighing the events of the last few hours. There were still too many secrets being kept by the parties involved, and nothing was adding up right. After what had happened today, she still wasn’t sure who else should be in jail.

  A moment later, Tom appeared in the hall and motioned to her. She joined him inside one of the curtained partitions. Terri was lying down, her cuts now cleaned and her bruising even more pronounced under the harsh lights. An IV was hooked up to her arm, providing glucose, according to the labeled plastic bag.

  “Terri, I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Sister Agatha said softly.

  “It was my own fault, Sister. I decided to go to the Siesta Inn and check things out on my own. When the maid was there the windows were open and, although I didn’t see either man, I saw a bed filled with crossword puzzle magazines. That’s when I knew. Jimmy Garza was addicted to those.”

  “So you decided to run?” Tom asked.

  “Yeah. I wasn’t about to stick around and take dumb chances. I drove back to my place, packed a couple of suitcases, and took off. But I think either Jimmy or Ralph must have seen me peeking in the window and then followed me home. I figured I was safe when I checked into the motel in Albuquerque, but again, I must have been followed. When I left my room to get something to eat, I got tasered and passed out. When I woke up, I was in that awful house.”

  “I’m missing something,” Sister Agatha said. “If James Garza wanted revenge, why didn’t he just kill you? What do you have that he wants?”

  “Nothing. He just thinks I do—that’s what kept me alive. I let him think that I knew where all that stolen money was—but I don’t. I think Mark Rio took it, and since he’s dead, we may never know,” she said. “But don’t kid yourself, Sister. Jimmy wanted revenge, too, so I doubt he would have ever killed me outright. He not only wanted the money, he wanted me to suffer. My testimony forced him to hide and change his entire life. He’s hated me ever since the trial.”

  “We have both your kidnappers in custody,” Tom said in a hard voice. “Ralph Simpson was heading out of town, but I was able to set up a roadblock and corner him. Simpson, who’s now facing a kidnapping charge, has the most to gain by talking. We’ll get the whole story soon enough. If you’re holding back on me, lady, I’d advise you to reconsider before it’s too late.”

  “I don’t know how many lies they’ll spin for your benefit, Sheriff, but Jimmy Garza is not only a killer, he’s sick inside—a sadist. Just look at what he did to me,” she said through busted, swollen lips. She started coughing and asked for a drink of water.

  A nurse walked in then and shook her head at Tom and Sister Agatha. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut this short, Sheriff. Her room is ready and she needs to rest.”

  Tom remained silent as they stepped out of the curtained enclosure and walked down the hall. “She’s lying to us,” he said at last. “Or at least not telling us all of the story
.”

  “I agree with you,” Sister Agatha said. “There’s something else that just doesn’t add up. If Terri does know where the money is, why didn’t she just take it once the heat was off?”

  “It’s got to be somewhere inaccessible to her. That’s the only answer that makes sense.”

  “What does Garza have to say about all this?”

  “He’s insisting that Terri—Angie—is the killer, and that he was framed. He admits stealing the money, but claims that Rio was his partner and had the bulk of the cash in his possession. Garza’s story is that Angie had to be the one who killed Rio. Her testimony during the trial revealed just how much she knew about what was going on. Garza says he didn’t come back here for the stolen cash, only to make sure Angie was caught and made to pay for what she’d done to Rio. Turns out he really is rich. He bought himself a fake identity using the Gutierrez name when he relocated in Colorado. Under that name, Garza made a fortune in real estate.”

  “So I was right, but wrong as well. What about his illness? What’s the story there?” Sister Agatha asked.

  “He’s in the last stages of cancer. He had a brief remission, but faked some of the more serious symptoms to get your sympathy. I checked with his doctors in Denver and they believe he’ll be dead inside two months.”

  “Some of his story has checked out, so we’ll have to see how it goes with Angie now,” Sister Agatha said. “Will you be returning to the station?”

  “Yeah. When you get there, why don’t you stick around for a while. Unless I miss my guess, Simpson will crack soon. Then we’ll see how close his story is to Garza’s.”

  “Just put Pax in the room with him,” Sister Agatha muttered. “That’ll speed things up.”

  Tom laughed. “Why, Sister, what a positively diabolic—though admittedly satisfying—suggestion.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” she said.

  “Now you know how a cop feels … and how some brutality cases are born.”

  “It still doesn’t excuse either of us,” she answered with a sigh. She’d be doing penance over it later.