“Yes.”
“Then let me fax you this note. I received it by fax as well, so it’s going to be a bit blurry, but perhaps you can rule out her writing.”
Sumner’s office phone rang. He punched on the speaker and answered. A voice that Banner recognized as the man in the control tower poured out of the speaker.
“You wanted to know about this air jockey, right?”
Sumner nodded, then seemed to catch himself. “Yes I did.”
“Well he disappeared for a while, then reappeared, but he’s changed his course.”
“Okay,” Sumner drew out the word. “Where’s he going now?”
“The Midwest. Not Miami.”
Sumner frowned. He thought a minute. “Then he’s not hauling cocaine. Miami would be his first stop if he was. Midwest route through Chicago?”
“Most likely.”
“So he’s hauling either meth or marijuana,” Sumner said.
“Yep. You want to fly intercept?”
“You bet I do.”
“Think you can beat this guy? I mean, Jorge couldn’t.”
“No disrespect to Jorge, but I think I can beat this guy,” Sumner said.
Banner heard the man laugh over the line. “Okay. I’ll keep you posted.” Sumner got up and walked over to the fax machine to remove a piece of paper. He gazed at it a moment.
“Well?” Banner said.
Sumner nodded. “It’s Caldridge’s handwriting.”
Banner heard Stromeyer blow out a breath. He felt the same way, as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Sumner just stared at the page. Banner couldn’t tell what the man was thinking.
“Okay, so we know that her GPS watch is in Ciudad Juarez, but she somehow made her way to La Valle’s compound.”
“Or was taken there against her will,” Stromeyer said.
“Absolutely,” Banner said. “Taken against her will. But why the phone numbers in a Range Rover?”
“To get a message to the outside?” Stromeyer said.
Sumner’s office phone rang again, and once again he put it on speaker. “Sumner here,” he said. This time a woman’s voice poured out.
“I’ve got a call from a sheriff in some small town in the Arizona hills. He wants to speak to Mr. Banner.”
“Me? Why?” Banner said.
“He won’t say. Let me transfer him.”
“This Edward Banner? The man who’s looking for a woman named Emma Caldridge?”
Sumner sat forward. Banner felt a twist in his stomach.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“I’m Sheriff Reimer. We had a meth lab in the mountains explode. Two men dead, one seriously wounded and an injured woman.”
“The woman is Emma Caldridge?”
“Nope. The woman is Shelby Warren. She’s in the hospital and not saying a word. The man is Timothy Conway. He’s also in the hospital, but he’s saying a lot. He told us that Emma Caldridge and another guy came by his trailer right before it exploded, looking for a lab to make meth. He says they shook up a batch, but did it wrong. It blew up his trailer and his Harley Davidson motorcycle. He’s fighting mad and is demanding to press charges.”
Banner looked at Sumner, who raised his eyebrows. “Is he well enough to be interviewed?”
“He’s got some burns, but he can talk. You want to come on over?”
Sumner leaned into Banner. “I’ll fly you. I want to be present when you talk to him.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good, because there’s something more. The two dead guys are members of the Black Eagles motorcycle gang. Conway claims that the Caldridge woman and two other men went into the house right before the explosion and they ran out with two of the Eagles staggering behind them. Conway says the Eagles were bleeding from everywhere and died on the lawn before the explosion. Bodies are pretty beat up from the explosion, so it’s hard to verify his account. There’s an autopsy scheduled for tomorrow.”
“I’m on my way,” Banner said. He and the Sheriff exchanged information and Banner rang off.
“That’s an unusual story. Caldridge knows how to cook meth?” Banner said.
Sumner nodded. “I imagine she knows how to make a lot of different substances. The question is, why would she?”
“Perhaps she was coerced.” Stromeyer’s voice poured out of the cell phone. Banner had forgotten she was there.
“Perhaps,” he said.
“I wish I could join you guys, but something’s heating up and I have to deal with that. You’ll keep me posted?”
“Yep,” Banner said.
“Then I’m out.” Stromeyer rang off.
“Do you think she would make meth?” Banner said.
Sumner thought a moment. “Perhaps. I can’t tell for certain. But one thing I can tell you, if she did make it, she’d do it right. No explosions when she cooks.”
Banner stood up. “Let’s go talk to this guy. The situation is getting stranger by the minute.”
Chapter 21
Banner stood next to Timothy Conway’s hospital bed, with Sumner at his side. He’d already been briefed on Conway’s arrest record. A long history of theft, some petty and some not so petty, drug possession, and two arrests for armed robbery, as well as three domestic-abuse calls. The domestics all were dropped within three days of filing. Two were filed by Shelby Warren, who was currently resting in another wing of the hospital. Banner intended to talk to her next. Conway was also a reputed member of the Black Eagles motorcycle gang, a small startup enterprise that dabbled in crime, prostitution, and drug dealing. They were part of the 1 percent, a term used among motorcycle members to indicate their status at the top of the gang food chain. Banner took stock of the man.
Conway’s bandaged arms and battered, bruised face gave testament to the force of the blast he’d survived. Most of his hair had been burned off and the rest cut close to his head by the doctors, but the pungent, almost metallic smell still seemed to surround the man. A plastic bag hung from a hook near his bed, with a snaking tube that ended in an IV needle, still unused and wrapped, ready to be stuck into a vein on his arm. Banner noticed the open, red sores on Conway’s arms and his jittery affect despite the painkillers he must have received. Meth addict, Banner thought.
His sly, dark eyes looked a challenge at Banner, despite the fact that he couldn’t possibly know why Banner was there. He struck Banner as the type that would forever fall on the wrong side of everything.
“Who the hell are you two?” Conway said.
“I’m Edward Banner, and this is Cameron Sumner. We’re here to ask you some questions.”
“You can ask, but I ain’t promising to answer,” Conway said. He yanked on the bell cord by his pillow. A nurse’s voice came out of a speaker that hung from the wall above the bed.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah. Come put this IV in and make this damn pump work. I’m in a lot of pain here.”
“I can’t. You’re not due for another dose until five o’clock.”
“Screw that, I need it,” Conway said.
The nurse stood his ground. “Not until five. There’s a cup containing two ibuprofens on the tray by your bedside. Feel free to take those. They should help with the pain.” Conway gave the speaker the finger.
“Tell me what happened when Emma Caldridge stopped by your trailer,” Banner said.
Conway fixed Banner with an angry stare. “She blew up my bike, that’s what happened. If I’d ’a known she was going to cook some meth, I wouldn’t have let her in.”
“You told the sheriff that she was with a man. Did you know his name?”
Conway shook his head. “He followed her around like he was her lap dog.” Sumner, who had been leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hospital room with his arms crossed in front of him, straightened.
“Can you describe him?”
Conway shifted in the bed. “Not too tall, maybe five ten, eleven. Skinny. Long hair past his ears. Real pretty bo
y.”
“Pretty? In what way?”
“Like them guys on television. Or from the city.”
Banner was getting annoyed with Conway’s vague description. “Guys on television? Like a news announcer?”
“Nah, like one ’a them models in magazines.”
Banner looked at Sumner, who shrugged and shook his head.
“So he was handsome?”
Conway’s face twisted in a sneer. “If you can call them sissy types handsome.”
Banner tried a different tack. “Did you get the impression she was a hostage?”
Conway snorted. “Hell, no. She was marching around givin’ orders like she owned the place.”
“The man with her didn’t have a gun?”
“No. Listen. You gonna send out an arrest warrant on her or what? She blew up my trailer, killed two friends of mine, and trashed my bike.”
“Seems to me that you should be a bit worried about warrants, as you have an outstanding one for possession, and you appear to have been operating a meth lab up there in the hills for some time.”
Conway frowned. “You can’t scare me with that shit. That warrant is five years old and from a whole different state. I did my time waiting on trial, but it never got recorded. They picked me up already on it once, but this state won’t enforce it, and the other said it costs too much to ship me back just for a technicality.” Conway grinned. “Piss-poor economy helped me out there. And I told you, I didn’t have no meth lab until those two jokers showed up and asked to use my trailer. They musta’ brought the stuff with them. You want to arrest someone, you arrest them.”
“Do you know where they went?”
Conway shook his head. “How the hell would I? I nearly got killed in the blast. Now get the hell out of here. I’m done talking.” Conway reached to the tube by the IV bag, pulled off the sterile wrapping on the needle, and jammed it into the vein on his arm with the ease of long practice. He reached out and flipped the switch on the machine.
“You know how to get this thing pumping?”
Sumner pushed off the wall and sauntered past the foot of Conway’s bed. Banner watched Conway stare at Sumner, as if deciding something.
“You this guy’s gofer?” he said to Sumner. Banner sighed. True to form, Conway didn’t know when to steer clear of trouble.
Sumner stopped. Turned. And leveled a stare at Conway. Then he strolled over, reached down and grabbed Conway’s forearm, squeezing directly over a bandaged portion. Conway’s face turned pale.
“Hey. That arm’s burned. What the hell you doing?” Conway spoke in a voice tight with pain. Sumner didn’t reply. He held Conway’s limb in place and yanked out the IV. He turned off the pump, removed the needle from the tubing, and gave the equipment a push with his foot sending the machine rolling away, out of Conway’s reach.
“They call you ‘Tico,’ don’t they?” Sumner said.
Tico got a wary look on his face. “Who do you mean by ‘they’? ”
“La Valle and his crew. The ones that are going to come for you in the middle of the night.” Sumner tossed the IV needle onto a nearby tray.
“What you talking about? Coming for me?” Banner continued toward the door, and Sumner started to follow him.
“You know what I mean,” Sumner said. “La Valle never lets anyone stay in custody for long. They all end up dead before they can testify before the grand jury.”
“Hey!” Tico pulled himself up higher on the pillows propped behind his back. “I ain’t in custody. They ain’t coming for me. They got no reason. I didn’t blow up the lab, the lady they sent did. They go after anyone, it’s her.”
Banner put a hand out to stop Sumner from passing him. “What do you mean, ‘the lady they sent’? I thought you said she showed up on her own.”
Tico leaned forward. “They sent her. Treated her like some queen. She pulls up in a brand new Escalade with two of their best men riding protection and the lap-dog dude, all of them treating her like she was special.”
Sumner shrugged. “If that’s what you want to believe.”
“That’s the truth!” Tico said. Now he appeared agitated.
Sumner snorted. “You haven’t said one true thing yet. Maybe you start. We can help you.”
Tico shook his head in disgust. “I talk to you, La Valle kills me for sure. I’ll take my chances with the Eagles.”
Sumner shrugged again. “I don’t give a damn either way. But just remember, the Eagles are no match for La Valle. None at all. You’ve already got two dead.” He strolled out of the room, and Banner followed.
Chapter 22
Carlos pulled the ambulance over to the side of the road two hours after the explosion at Tico’s lab. Mono waved his gun at Emma.
“In the ambulance. We’re meeting up with La Valle again and he expects you to be inside.” Mono marched her up to the ambulance and tied her up, this time with her hands secured in front of her. It would have been easy enough to break the ties, but two others had joined the caravan in a beat-up Chevy, and so the possibility of escape was far less than before. She closed her eyes and tried to gather her tired thoughts together. She’d been given a fast-food hamburger and some fries to eat over an hour ago, and her hands reeked of animal fat and stale ketchup.
After another hour, the ambulance rumbled to a stop, and Emma watched the doors swing open. Sunlight poured into the rear compartment. Carlos stood in the opening. He waved to her impatiently. She scooted to the edge and held out her hands. Carlos snipped the ties with a scissors.
“To the car,” he said.
Emma walked out and looked around. They were on an interstate, parked on the shoulder. Cars whizzed past them. The Escalade idled in front of the ambulance, but the Chevy was gone. Carlos walked to the car and opened the front passenger side door in an open invitation to have her ride there. Mono emerged from the back. Carlos pointed a thumb in the direction of a nearby tree.
Emma gazed around, her eyes stopping on an incredible sight. Fifty feet away was a crooked tree, its limbs reaching to the sky. Clothing hung from nearly every branch. Women’s bras, underwear and tank tops hung from the limbs. More clothing lay scattered on the ground.
“What the hell is that?” Emma said.
Mono looked at the tree and a smirk covered his face. “That’s the trophy tree.”
Emma frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Carlos appeared from behind a closer tree, still in the process of zipping his pants. He jogged to them. Mono pointed to the trophy tree and said something to Carlos in Spanish. Mono grinned and swaggered up to Emma.
“That’s the stopping point for the coyotes and their cargo. We stop here, and take the women. Each time we do, we throw their clothes on the tree.” He shoved his face closer to hers. “Once La Valle is done with you, you’re next. I got thirty pieces of clothes on that tree.”
Emma steeled her face to remain composed, but her stomach roiled at the idea of the helpless women that were raped under that tree. She stared at Mono and watched Carlos chuckle, and at that moment she wanted to kill them both. It was all she could do to stay still. Mono waved at the car.
“You ride with him.”
Emma wasn’t sure why they were participating in this game of musical chairs, but she was thrilled to be out of the ambulance and back with Oz, especially if it meant that they would be alone and able to talk freely. She slid in the passenger side and settled against the leather seat.
“I’m not leaving until I can be sure that Mono and Carlos are arrested. Or dead,” she said. She turned to Oz. He stared out the window, a vacant look on his face. As if he hadn’t heard her.
“Why are they suddenly allowing me to ride in comfort with you?” Emma asked.
Oz didn’t turn his head. “They don’t want to be near me.”
Emma felt dread form in the pit of her stomach. “What’s wrong?”
Oz closed his eyes, but still didn’t turn to look at her.
“Tell me,�
� she said.
Instead of speaking, he held out his hand. Red sores covered the tips of the fingers of his left hand.
“Oh God, no.” The words were out of her mouth before she could censor them. Oz closed his eyes again. He leaned his head against the headrest. She stared at his profile while trying to make sense of the situation.
“Did you touch the leaves?” she asked. Her voice broke on the word “leaves,” and she swallowed.
He shook his head. “Never. The migrant workers loaded the vehicles.”
“From when you smoked some of La Valle’s stash?”
“That wasn’t from the tainted field. If it had been, I would have died like those Black Eagles did back at Ticos. This disease must be much more contagious then we think.”
“Where did the others go?”
“They’re ahead. Once Carlos saw my hand, he asked to stop long enough to be able to switch and ride with the ambulance.”
Emma fought down the panic that threatened to engulf her. More than ever they needed to get away. To get Oz to a hospital.
“We need to escape. Now,” she said.
Oz looked at her for the first time since she’d entered the car. His eyes held a desolate expression.
“You need to escape. I’m finished.” Emma’s simmering anger surged to the surface again.
“What bullshit! You don’t give up until you’re dead, you understand?” Oz locked eyes with her, but it was clear that he had little fight left in him.
“It’s better this way. They’re going to kill me at the end of this run anyhow. I decided back at the compound that I wouldn’t do what they want. I don’t care if they draw and quarter me alive, I’m not delivering this shipment. Somewhere between here and the DOD, I’m going to destroy it.”
Emma slammed her hand on the dashboard. She got some satisfaction from seeing Oz jump at the booming sound her palm made.
The Ninth Day Page 13
