by Dianne Emley
She stepped on the accelerator and made a hard right onto the next major street. The old car fishtailed and she struggled to hold it steady. The SUV cleanly made the turn and caught up with her. She blew through a light just before it turned red. The SUV didn’t stop, the driver leaning on the horn. In her rearview mirror, Nan saw the SUV swerve to avoid pedestrians and nearly collide with a florist delivery truck.
The street turned into a highway that looked like an arrow heading out of town and into the desert. She dodged around cars, driving as fast as she dared. In the rearview mirror, she saw bright headlights weaving in and out of traffic, following her. She clutched the steering wheel between both hands and floored the Bronco, going over a hundred, but the more powerful black SUV caught up with her and began perilously riding her bumper.
The traffic grew sparse the farther into the desert they drove and the two cars quickly put miles behind them. The Bronco shuddered when the SUV tapped its bumper. Nan struggled to hold the car steady. The SUV was now pushing the Bronco’s bumper, trying to shove her off the road. She sought more speed but the Bronco was already giving all it had. The SUV veered to the left and rammed against the Bronco’s side, sending it barreling off the road and down a sloped embankment. Nan steered around rocks, cacti, and manzanitas as best she could. She turned the steering wheel hard to avoid a ditch, her tires kicking up dirt and gravel, but the Bronco hit it and both tires on the right side went over.
The old car didn’t have air bags. Even with her seat belt on, she smacked her head against the steering wheel with the impact. She might have lost consciousness. She wasn’t sure. The car was tilted toward its right side and was creaking and groaning.
She opened her eyes to see a bright light shining through the broken windshield. It blinded her. She put up her hands to block the light while she tried to blink away the confusion in her brain. It took her a few moments to realize that someone was yelling at her: “Put your hands up out the car window.”
Still disoriented, Nan did as she was told, sticking her hands out the open driver’s side window. She couldn’t see him but she was well familiar with Andrew Tovar’s voice.
“Leave your hands up,” Tovar said. “I’m opening the door.”
Nan maneuvered her raised hands to block the light.
The Bronco’s driver’s-side door opened.
Feeling nauseated, she took the hand he offered. The Bronco’s top left wheel was slightly above the ground and still spinning. When Nan stepped from the car, her feet didn’t touch the ground and she fell forward, scraping her hands.
“Move away,” he ordered.
On her hands and knees, she crawled a few feet. She leaned back onto her heels, supported herself with her hands on her thighs, and shook her head, trying to clear it. “Turn off that freaking flashlight.”
When Tovar walked past her, moving the light from her eyes, she saw that he was holding a pistol. The waning moon was still bright enough for Nan to see that they were about a hundred feet from the highway and concealed by the embankment from the occasional car that drove past.
He reached inside the Bronco, shut off the engine and the headlights, and then stepped behind her. “Clasp your hands behind your head and spread your knees.”
She complied and he patted her down with his left hand, still holding the pistol in his right, and took her Glock and cell phone. Walking a few feet in front of her, he checked to make sure there was no bullet in the chamber before sticking her gun beneath his waistband. He turned off her cell phone and put it inside his shirt pocket next to his pen.
He told her, “Get up,” gesturing with his pistol in the direction he wanted her to move.
She painfully got to her feet. Her head throbbed. She stood with her feet apart for balance, wrestling with her legs, which kept buckling, threatening to give out. She touched her forehead and drew her fingers away, wet with blood. Wiping her fingers on her jeans, she saw him grinning.
Chapter 55
Tovar said, “I can shoot you and claim that you resisted arrest and attacked me.”
“You could. But how would you explain that you knew I’d show up at Yvonne Zuniga’s house? I’ve been off the grid ever since you murdered Ashton McCarthy, after you got your Montblanc pen back.”
“I’m surprised to learn that you’re a conspiracy theorist, Nan. Just like your new friend Melissa Hayword.”
Nan huffed out a mirthless laugh. “You should have paid cash at Shakers. I saw you reach for the black-and-gold pen that you always have in your shirt pocket, but it wasn’t there. It wasn’t there because Ashton McCarthy had picked it up at the murder scene in the Arroyo. I can’t wrap my mind around you putting the pen back into your pocket at Ashton’s murder scene after you got it back from him. Or did Nacy Dena get it from him and give it to you?”
Tovar still held his gun aimed at her heart. “The pen I reached for in the diner was the one my wife had given me for our tenth wedding anniversary. I’d left it in my car. This pen.” Nan saw him pat his breast pocket with his left hand. “Ashton claimed to have picked up a Montblanc pen at the crime scene? Interesting, but isn’t it a stretch to think it’s my pen? Jared Hayword was a lover of fine pens and stationery.”
“True, but he didn’t have a motive to murder Erica Keller. You did. She was looking into what happened to David Zuniga and Jack Hayword. She flew to Reno to talk to Yvonne Zuniga, but Yvonne wouldn’t talk to her because you’d terrorized her to keep quiet. Were you driving the car that ran David Zuniga off the road? Ryan Keller was the investigator on that hit-and-run. Mrs. Zuniga said he did a cover-up on the case. I don’t know why Erica was looking into what happened to David, unless she got wind of Ryan’s participation and wanted more ammunition to use in their nasty divorce. There’s another thing I can’t figure out. Maybe you can help me. You and Ryan went to high school together and played football and all that rah-rah stuff, but why would he protect you?”
Tovar remained stock-still. The headlights of the occasional car that passed briefly cast light his way.
“Commander, you’ll never come clean, will you? Even though it’s just you and me out here and you’re holding the gun.” Nan wasn’t faking her self-assurance. She felt physically shaky and had a blinding headache, yet she felt clear and focused about what she needed to do. Her life depended upon what happened in the next few minutes.
“You had to stop Erica from poking around David’s Zuniga’s death. I originally thought she’d been attacked and got that head injury in her home, but now it makes sense that she was abducted from her classroom. Maybe you went there just to talk to her and find out what she was up to, but things didn’t go your way. For some reason, you lost control and hit her. Maybe she smacked her head against the corner of her desk.”
Nan’s legs felt weak and her vision grew blurry. Sheer adrenaline was keeping her going. “You had a big problem. You could have killed her right there, in her classroom, and set up Ryan to take the fall, but you didn’t. And the only reason I can think you didn’t is because you and Ryan share a bad secret. So you decided to take Erica off campus to someplace neutral to make it look like she was killed by a random lunatic. You remembered to grab Erica’s book bag with her laptop and tablet, and you took her cell phone. Who knew what sort of damaging records she’d been keeping? She was semiconscious and you got her into her car and started driving. Then fate shined upon you and you saw poor hapless Jared Hayword following you. He had a habit of following Erica. You knew about the kid who was obsessed with her. That’s why Ryan was on administrative leave, because he’d threatened Erica and Jared. You decided to take Erica to a place where kids go—Stoner Glen. Jared followed you. You had your gun and a Taser to ensure they complied. Maybe you forced Jared at gunpoint to drag Erica into that ravine. Erica was already severely injured. I think you killed Jared first, to get him out of the way. How am I doing?”
Tovar remained standing still and aiming the gun at her, as if he had all the time in the world.
“Storytelling at its best. Go on.”
Nan’s stamina was fading. She guessed he was letting her talk because he wanted to make sure she didn’t leave any incriminating loose ends after he’d gotten rid of her. She was waiting for the cavalry to come and wondered if Early had even gotten her message.
She went on. “You hoofed back to your car at Coopersmith. You had to have been covered in blood. Did you strip before you killed them or did you have a change of clothes in your car? Somehow, you solved that problem but you soon found out that you had a new one—you’d lost your pen. You weren’t too worried. You thought you’d just drive around, waiting for the call out about the murders, and you’d just happen to be in the area and arrive first-on-scene. You’d retrace your steps and find your pen. No biggie. But you didn’t count on two teenagers getting there first. How close am I?”
“Continue.”
“I guess you don’t know that Ashton sent Emily a photo of the pen he’d picked up.”
She couldn’t see his face but saw his body jerk slightly. “I’ve sent the photo to Jim Kissick to have it enhanced to see if there’s engraving. I remember that pen. You’d just gotten it when you were my FTO and we rode together. You pretended that you were annoyed that your wife had spent so much money on it, but I knew you loved it. She’d had it engraved, right? Something about your anniversary, I remember. I thought that was so sweet.”
She shuffled her feet as she struggled to remain standing. Her speech slowed and became slurred. “By the way…” She put a hand to her forehead as she wobbled. She laughed. “How are those dog bites on your legs?” She collapsed onto the ground, falling onto her back. Her eyes fluttered closed.
She held herself still as she waited to hear his footsteps approaching. Certainly, he’d come to see if she was still breathing. Finally, she heard his shoes crunching on the pebbly dirt. She didn’t move when he shined the flashlight in her face. She felt his fingers pressing against the carotid artery in her neck. She opened her eyes to slits and saw the white snowcap on the top of his pen in his shirt pocket. He’d moved his gun into his left hand. She waited, timing the best moment to raise her knee up and ram it between his legs.
When she did, he fired a wild shot as he went down.
She propelled herself, rolling into the ditch as he fired again, nearly hitting her, even though he was struggling against curling into a ball. She crawled on her belly, wincing against the rocks and thorny brush, until she reached the Bronco’s hatchback, which had popped open.
Tovar was getting to his feet, crouched over, but firing where he thought she had gone as he got hold of his flashlight.
She hoisted herself into the back of the Bronco. The many guns and bullets in their cases and boxes had slid against the right side of the car that was tilted into the ditch. She unzipped the case with the shotgun and found the box of shells. With nervous fingers, she loaded the gun.
Tovar was pacing beside the Bronco and firing into it, the bullets shattering the windows.
Nan squeezed against the back of the rear seats, broken glass crunching beneath her, as she tried to shield herself from the flying bullets.
Tovar’s gun went silent.
Nan shoved herself across the tilted car and looked out the broken window to see Tovar pulling her Glock from his waistband, his gun apparently out of bullets. She racked the shotgun. Hearing that sound, he froze, holding the Glock pointed down in front of his belly. He was only a few feet away and she could have blown his head off. He’d tried to kill her daughter and her and she could easily blow his head off right now and would get away with it. Her finger stroked the trigger. It felt good and right as she imagined his head exploding from his neck. Instead, she shouted to him, “Toss the gun into the ditch.”
He threw the gun away, dropped to his knees, and laced his hands behind his head.
They both turned at the sound of a helicopter approaching, seeing its searchlight scanning the ground. There were sirens. Flashing lights appeared in the distance.
When the police helicopter bathed them in its bright spotlight, Nan thought about how close she’d come to killing Tovar. It would have been morally and legally wrong, but it would have felt so right.
Chapter 56
Nan awakened after a deep sleep. The first thing she was aware of was a slight headache. After a moment, she remembered that she was in a hospital in Reno and what had happened to put her there. She winced at the bright sunlight, which filled the room through thin drapes over a window. Hearing movement to her left, she turned her head on the pillow and had to blink a few times to make sure she was awake when she saw Jim Kissick getting up from a chair beside her bed.
He set his tablet on a table and came to take her hand. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“You’re really here.”
“I am.” He leaned over, kissed her on the lips, and pressed his face against hers as he cradled her cheek in his strong, warm hand.
She ran her fingers up the back of his neck and into his wavy, sandy-brown hair.
He leaned back to look at her. His deep-set hazel eyes picked up the sunshine, revealing all the colors they held. “How do you feel?”
“Fine, I think.” She tentatively touched a pronounced bump high on her forehead, which was covered with a bandage. She had sustained a concussion and had been admitted to the hospital for observation.
Jim stopped her when she started to push herself up, saying, “Stay where you are,” while he found the button to raise the head of the bed.
“I’m so happy to see you.” She grabbed his hand between both of hers.
He leaned in to kiss her again. “I’m relieved that you’re okay. The past two days were hell for me, not knowing where you were.” He let go of her and slid the chair closer to the bed so he could sit and hold her hand.
“I know.” Her mood grew dark as she remembered all that had happened. “I’m sorry about Jolene.” She grimaced, thinking about his favorite car.
He sang, “Jolene, Jolene,” and added made-up lyrics that fit the old Dolly Parton tune. “Please don’t go to the junkyard. Jolene, you’re the prettiest car by far.”
She laughed. He could always make her laugh.
“The Reno PD had her towed to a shop there. They sent me pictures. Old Jolene’s not too bad off. We’ll get her rollin’ again.”
“Good. I’m happy about that.”
“When I was cleaning out the Bronco, I found something intriguing.” He got up, went to a closet in the room, and took out a plastic bag. From it, he pulled out the blond wig.
Nan huffed out a laugh. “Kaitlyn’s wig. My disguise when I was on the lam.”
“I think you’d look hot as a blonde.”
“That’s what Kaitlyn and Em thought.”
“Maybe you can borrow the wig a little longer.” He smiled crookedly.
“Maybe I can.” She smiled back. “Speaking of my daughter, do you have any idea how she is?”
“Emily is doing great. I spoke with her earlier. They’re coming home from Santa Barbara today. She’ll commute to school from Calabasas until you get back on your feet.”
“There’s no need for her to do that. I’m just supposed to take it easy for a few days. That’s too long a drive.”
“No worries. Kaitlyn will drive her and spend the day in Pasadena while Em’s in school. Kaitlyn’s gym has a Pasadena branch. She’ll work out, have a massage, do some shopping, have lunch, and maybe go to one of the museums or something until Em gets out.”
“Nice work if you can get it.” Nan rolled her eyes. “Still, it’s generous of Kaitlyn to go to the trouble.”
“A lot happened while you were off the grid. Melissa Hayword received the results of the private autopsy she had done of Jared. She released the report to that guy who does the Pasadena Per Se blog.”
“Luther Prevett,” Nan said. “Melissa had spoken with him early on about doing an independent autopsy. What did the report say?”
“Jared bled to death fr
om the cuts in his wrists. No surprise there, but the ME found wounds on his body consistent with Taser marks and his right kidney was bruised.”
“Kidney punch.” Nan shook her head. “Tovar slugged him.”
“Toxicology showed only a small amount of alprazolam, or Xanax, in his blood. No alcohol or marijuana.”
“The Xanax was prescribed to Jared. Melissa was right about Jared not drinking or doing drugs. No clue why he had that joint inside his locker. What else?”
“The enhancement I had done of Ashton’s photo of the Montblanc pen came back. It shows engraving on the cap. Says ‘Ten years of love.’ ”
“It’s definitely Tovar’s pen.”
“Forensics did a search of Erica’s classroom. Luminal revealed blood on a corner of her desk and on the floor. Forensics also took a closer look at Erica’s car. Found spots of blood, which are probably Erica’s, and a coarse black hair that’s hopefully Tovar’s.”
Nan let out a long breath. “That’s awesome, but how do we prove motive? Even what Yvonne Zuniga told me is just speculation.”
“I’ve got more information about that. Early this morning Deputy Chief Wales had a briefing.”
“He’s in Reno?”
“Yep. Alex Caspers and Matt Cordova are here too and were in the briefing. They’ll be going with Wales to escort Tovar back to Pasadena with a couple of our SES guys who came out.” Jim looked at his watch. “They might be in the air now, flying Reno to Burbank.”
Nan drank ice water through a straw in a plastic cup. “Does Tovar have dog bite marks on his legs?”
“He does.”
“I hope they get infected. Bastard. I knew Tovar was the one who attacked Emily. He’s too smart to have trusted a two-bit criminal like Nacy Dena with something like that. Nacy’s only useful for spiking a teenager’s drink or buying stolen property.”
“You think Nacy slipped Emily the roofie?”
Nan raised her eyebrows. “That’s my guess. On Tovar’s orders. He enlisted Nacy to buy the pen from Ashton the night of the memorial, but Ashton wouldn’t go for it. So Tovar told Nacy to spike Em’s beer. That led to the warrant to search the Balsam home, which Tovar personally supervised. And he still didn’t find his pen. Then I think Tovar got Nacy to lure Ashton to Bobo’s, where Tovar took care of Ashton himself.”
