Sonoran Sun

by Sharon Canipe

  Lin felt sure now that she was being followed, and all she could think about was getting home as quickly as possible. There were several miles of travel ahead of her though as she was now south of the city proper and the place they were staying was in the northwest. She tried to think about the best route to follow, wishing she knew more about the surface streets but realizing that she didn’t; her best bet was to get on the interstates and head north to the area she was more familiar with.

  Just as she entered I-19 she heard her first clap of deep thunder, and by the time she merged onto I-10 north, large raindrops began to fall. The sky was dark ahead and that didn’t bode well for driving out of the thundershower. The rain began to worsen, now coming with steady force. Lin needed to pay close attention to her driving, but she managed to glance back briefly into the line of traffic. The white truck had pulled into the left lane but was still well behind her. Maybe, she thought, I can get off at some exit, and he won’t be able to follow me if I can put more traffic between us. She decided to try that and headed for the Grant Rd. exit. She was reasonably familiar with that area and knew that there were several cross streets that would take her north from there. Still, taking care because of the wet highway, she tried to put a bit of distance between her car and the white truck, managing to pull far enough ahead that there were two or three vehicles behind her in the right lane while her pursuer was still in the far left.

  Seeing an opening in the lane to her right, Lin once again increased her speed just a bit, and when she approached Grant she quickly moved into the exit only lane—almost too quickly as she felt the car hydroplane slightly. She didn’t lose control though and she was soon down the ramp, waiting at the light to turn onto Grant Rd. So far there was no sign of the white truck. Maybe I’ve lost him, she thought, hoping that was indeed true. The light changed and she proceeded east on Grant.

  There was no sign of the white truck when she reached Stone Ave. She decided to proceed on to First Ave. knowing that it would connect north to Orange Grove or Ina Rd., both of which led toward their neighborhood. The rain had not let up at all and was coming down in steady sheets punctuated by periodic lightning and thunder. Lin longed to be off the streets but didn’t dare stop before reaching the casita. The rain was too heavy for her to distinguish the vehicles behind her very clearly, but so far, she hadn’t spotted the white truck since leaving the interstate. The rain was so heavy on First Ave. that the curbside lanes were flooded. Cars that ventured too far to the right pushed cascades of water toward the sidewalks. Lin continued slowly through to the left wishing the rain would let up so that she could see better and make better time. All she wanted to do was get home. She tried to call Neal while stopped at the River Rd. light, but the call went straight to voice mail. He must be on the phone or else it’s turned off, she thought. The light changed and she proceeded north. She’d just passed Foothills drive when she glanced back and there was the truck, just turning on to First Ave. from River. Where had he come from? She felt a bit panicked realizing that he must’ve figured out what she was going to do. That meant he knew where she was going and was able to catch up to her. There were still a couple of cars between them so Lin plowed ahead. Sticking to the left lane she tried to put more distance between them. She knew that she would soon be at Orange Grove where she could turn left, or should she try Ina Rd. instead?

  Just then she saw a car ahead of her turn left onto a side street. The approach sign indicated that this was Rudasill Rd. That name struck a chord in Lin’s memory. Rudasill Rd. connected over to Oracle and right across from that intersection there was a Starbucks Coffee shop. Lin hadn’t been there but she recalled seeing it when they’d been out earlier in their stay. She remembered thinking what a good location for drive thru coffee, as there was a traffic light just at the driveway making access to the busy boulevard much easier. She quickly made the turn hoping that the white truck might not see her but feeling assured that even if he followed she could seek refuge in the coffee shop.

  Almost as soon as she entered Rudasill, she began to have misgivings. This small residential bystreet was almost like a roller coaster—full of ups and downs—and, right now, full of water. She could barely see through the torrents of rain but she could see that the lower parts of the road were filling and soon enough the road dipped down and what she saw below looked like a rushing creek full of water. Heeding the DoNotEnterWhenFlooded sign, she slowed down and stopped the car several feet above the verge of the now rushing wash. Now, too late, she remembered something else she knew about Rudasill Rd. After the last heavy storm she recalled seeing a news story on TV that described a car being swept down the wash several feet from the road. A woman had to be rescued from that situation. Glad that she’d stopped well before entering the water, Lin looked about to determine if she had room to turn around and reverse her course.

  The rain seemed to be letting up, but the sound of the rushing water was just as heavy as ever. It would be several hours before the wash quit running. She started to back up and try to turn when suddenly she felt a jolt and her head was flung forward hitting the steering wheel. For a moment she saw stars then, lifting her head, she saw the leering smile of her pursuer through the rain streaked rear window. The white truck had deliberately rear-ended her and now was steadily trying to push her forward down the remaining hill and into the flooded wash. In spite of hitting the brakes and shoving the car into reverse gear she still felt it sliding. The brakes were likely wet from the roads and the street beneath her wheels was like a water slide.

  What to do now? If the car hit the running water it would be swept downstream and she would go with it. If she jumped out, she’d be right in the hands of this man—whoever he was. She saw no way out of her dilemma. Just then she heard the truck rev its engine and her car slid further forward. She couldn’t wait she had to do something. She killed the engine and grabbed the keys reaching for the door at the same time. Flinging it open she leaped from the car and started to scramble back up the road. It would’ve been better to head away from the white truck, but her car was still sliding forward and she knew she couldn’t escape that way.

  The truck was still running—maybe the man would stay inside—otherwise he might risk losing his vehicle to the rushing waters also. Lin tried to scramble over to the wet shoulder seeking to put at least a few extra feet between herself and the truck, but just as she drew parallel to the truck door, it opened wide and the man leapt out toward her. She dug in and ran as fast as she could but felt her feet slip out from under her. She fell into the wet rocks on the shoulder scraping her legs and arms. This was a losing proposition. There was nowhere to run without heading into the water or into the prickly desert plants beyond the rocky shoulder. Lin heard the man approaching rapidly and realized that she wasn’t going to escape. She felt rough hands grab her, jerking her to her feet.

  She swung at the man’s hands with her car keys and managed to make contact, scratching the top of the fingers that gripped her shoulder. Her assailant yelped in pain but didn’t loosen his grip. Instead he yanked her harder, shoving her up against the warning sign. Her keys fell from her hands and she felt the man’s hot tobacco breath against her face. “ You bitch,” the man almost spat the words, “you’re a busybody. You need to learn to mind your own business.” The man gripped her harder by both shoulders and started moving her toward his still-running truck. From the corner of her eye, Lin could see that the car she’d been driving was barely on the road, the front wheels now in the running water. Evidently, he’d managed to put his truck in park and engage the brake before jumping out after her, but Lin realized he wasn’t going to be able to get out of here—not unless he could manage to turn his truck around—what was he going to do? Lin glanced around fearfully; this was an impossible situation.

  Just then someone shouted from the road behind. “Stop, what are you doing? Let her go?” Lin’s assailant stopped abruptly and looked back toward the shouter. Suddenly, Lin realized that there w
as a flashing light and the sound of someone running toward them. The man abruptly loosened his grip on Lin, dropping her bodily down onto the pavement. He took off running, through the brush and cactus toward some nearby homes. Lin saw him disappear behind a patch of cholla, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to avoid getting stuck by the prickly plants. Just then someone stopped beside her, yelling for someone—probably a companion to call for backup. “Are you OK ma’am, what was going on here? We were told to come down and close this road because of the wash running. What were you doing here? This is a dangerous place when it rains like this.”

  Lin nodded that she was OK , just some scrapes and bruises. Her rescuer was a county worker, here with a utility truck with a flashing yellow light. His companion approached. “I called the cops and told them to send someone out here. I couldn’t describe that guy who ran away very well though.”

  “I can,” Lin responded, “and I can explain how I got here.”

  Chapter 14

  It was well after dark by the time Lin and Neal sat down with Chris in the bar at the Whole Foods market at Ina and Oracle. They were both hungry and this had seemed like a good spot as it was nearby. The rain had ceased shortly after the utility workers had rescued Lin but the washes were still running all over town. The authorities had succeeded in contacting Neal. Lin’s cell phone was still in the flooded rental car that had narrowly escaped being completely washed away but still had sustained a good bit of damage. The rental company had offered to deliver a new vehicle to them tomorrow, but they had declined. Given what had happened, Chris had decided to wait on leaving until Wednesday and he was available to provide transportation and take them to the airport. Hopefully, if they recovered Lin’s cell phone in good, dry condition, they could send it to her, otherwise…

  The sheriff’s deputies that arrived on the scene had taken extensive statements from both of them and Lin had given them as detailed a description of her pursuer as possible. She thought she’d seen a glimmer of possible recognition on the face of one deputy when she described the man’s toothless grin. In addition, of course, they had information regarding the registration of the white truck he’d abandoned at the scene.

  “They should be able to identify that bastard within a few hours, I’d think,” Neal said as he returned to their table with a tall glass of red wine for Lin and a beer for himself. Chris was right behind with his own brew. Lin had opted for a large salad from the nearby food bar while the guys had ordered burgers. “ I’m glad we’ll soon be out of here. I’d have maybe tried to change our tickets for tomorrow if that deputy hadn’t wanted you to come in again to review all the information. I don’t see the necessity for that but…”

  Lin spoke up, “He seemed to think that this incident might be related to these murder cases and I certainly agree. In fact, I heard him questioning why this person was pursuing me if, indeed, the cases were solved already. Personally, I think this proves that Doug Davison didn’t kill Mark or Dave Jennings. At least, if he was involved, he didn’t act entirely on his own. Someone out there is still worried about being discovered.” She’d certainly been frightened, but now she felt somewhat vindicated by what had happened.

  Neal had to agree with her conclusion, but he was still worried and eager to get away from all of this. “You’re probably right but I’m not sure there’s anything more any of us can do about this—other than share the information we have with the proper authorities, that is. Maybe tomorrow you’ll be able to wrap all that up when you talk to the deputies again.”

  “I hope so,” Lin responded, “and I also plan to talk to Sgt. Montoya before I go to the sheriff’s department. I’m hoping he might’ve gathered some more information on the reservation. In fact, I may try to call him tonight. He gave me his personal number.” She took a drink of wine and dug into her salad. The burgers arrived and all talk was temporarily suspended while they busied themselves with the meal. Finally, their hunger satisfied, they got refills on the drinks and settled back to enjoy them while they explored the events of the day once more.

  After they’d dissected everything they knew, going back to the very beginning of this story, Chris sat back and shook his head. “The bottom line, at least in my view, is that something was going on behind all of this, something other than a rivalry over building a shopping center. I think Lin is right, the origins of this problem lie on the reservation, probably with the drug business there. I think that’s why Mark Garcia was killed—he was on to something or someone and they felt threatened.”

  “Dave Jennings death may have come about because he encountered someone who was involved in the same business. Maybe he knew or guessed who killed Mark and he was killed to keep him from talking—I’m not sure, but the fact that Dave and Mark were both shot with Dave’s gun indicates that the same person killed them both. Someone probably stole the gun from Dave’s truck and used it on Mark first, then on Dave himself. I know for a fact that the gun was kept in the truck but Dave didn’t take it out very often. He probably never knew it was gone. That doesn’t let Doug Davison off the hook though. Apparently, he was a frequent rider in that truck himself. The whole thing is just so complicated…” Chris shook his head in perplexity.

  “I’m not entirely convinced that it’s so complicated,” Lin responded, “I think folks just haven’t been looking for information in the right places. Everyone says that the key to a murder case is to look at the victim. Our first victim was Mark Garcia and he lived on the reservation and worked for the tribal government. The investigation should’ve started there—started with his family and what they thought and knew.” Lin felt she was right in her conclusion. She was less sure about the death of Dave Jennings. She agreed that he must’ve learned something that made him a threat to the killer or killers. She just wished she knew what that was.

  They finished their drinks and headed back home. Even though it was late, Lin decided to take a chance on calling Sgt. Montoya and borrowed Neal’s cell phone for that purpose.

  “Good to hear from you,” the young sergeant greeted her when he answered, “I’m glad you got my message, I’ve been trying to reach you all evening but couldn’t get through.” Lin quickly explained what had happened and how her phone had been lost, at least for now.

  “Interesting,” Montoya replied, “I’m glad you’re safe and I think I know who your assailant might have been. I think his name is Jose Lucas. At least the description you gave fits him. He’s a small time bad boy here on the reservation— works for Mendoza on the fringes of the drug business. We’ve picked him up before for harassing folks, issuing threats, etc. Unfortunately, he’s never led us to his bosses, at least not so far. All we have is a laundry list of minor offenses for him. Sometimes he spends a few weeks in jail but that’s all we’ve been able to do.”

  “Perhaps you could share that with the sheriff’s department here in Pima,” Lin asked. “Maybe, they can charge him with assault in my case. If they can catch him, that is.”

  “I’ll put the word out here on the reservation and I will talk to the Pima authorities too. My guess is, that he probably managed to hide there until someone could pick him up and bring him back here. We’ll find him. I promise you that.” Montoya sounded determined. “Meanwhile, let me share some of the background information I’ve learned today talking with folks in these parts.”

  Lin was eager to hear what Montoya might’ve learned. She sat down with the phone to hear him out.

  “My best source of information was Mark Garcia’s widow,” Montoya said. Lin was surprised. She’d found Mark’s widow to be close-mouthed, revealing almost no information. Perhaps she didn’t trust talking to an outsider. When she expressed her surprise, Sgt. Montoya agreed with her. “She really wasn’t inclined to talk to me either,” he replied, “I guess she changed her mind when I pressed her more and tried to explain why it was important that we get to the right people in this case. The bottom line is that she wants Mark’s killer caught and punished and she doesn’
t believe that Doug Davison would’ve killed him—not for any reason. She claims that the two of them were friends. In fact, she alluded to Doug sharing information that was helping Mark track down the guys who were responsible for his nephew’s death.”

  Lin was eager to learn more, “So, what did she tell you?”

  “She said that shortly before he was killed, Mark told her that he was close to uncovering direct links to Jose Mendoza here on the reservation. He apparently had the names of the operatives who had actually killed his nephew, but he didn’t give her that information. He said that there were some other folks in Tucson who were also helping the drug runners move their stuff from the border crossing through reservation lands to the city itself. Informers were letting the runners know when and where to bring their stuff through safely. They were key to his uncovering what happened to his nephew and he planned to get more information from someone who apparently knew these people.”