Sonoran Sun

by Sharon Canipe

  “He told his wife that he was going to meet with a man in Tucson who would give him the information he needed to go to authorities and persuade them to look into the case further. She didn’t have the names, but she implied that Mark had already made contact with the person or persons he needed to talk to; he just hadn’t confronted them yet. My guess is that somehow the operatives learned what he knew and took him out before he could get them in trouble. That’s where I think Doug Davison might’ve come into play. Doug was thought to be selling drugs to kids from time to time, but we’d never actually caught him doing that.”

  “I also spoke with Susan Davison and she told me that Doug wanted out of the drug business altogether; he intended to help Mark. She thinks he knew whom Mark needed to contact in Tucson and might’ve helped him. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a name or names.”

  Lin tried to digest all of this information. Somehow, she had the feeling that if they could sort through all these bits and pieces, track the contacts of both Garcia and Davison, they could come up with the people who were responsible for all of this. The only problem was that there wasn’t much time and the authorities thus far seemed uninterested in pursuing these questions further. Well, she knew one thing. She had a date the following morning at the sheriff’s department and she had no plans to leave until she’d laid all this information out. Hopefully, that would spark some action on their part.

  ***

  After her ordeal of the afternoon, Lin was more than ready to call it a day. She relaxed with a hot shower and then fell into a deep dreamless sleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  The sound of Neal’s cell phone ringing on the nightstand broke into her consciousness. She struggled to shake the cobwebs from her head as she heard him answer. Glancing at the clock she saw that is was almost three—who’d be calling in the middle of the night like this?

  “That was Chris,” Neal sounded puzzled, “He sounded strange—apologized for waking us but said it was important. He said he has some information he needs to share with us and it can’t wait until tomorrow…he said it was urgent but he still sounded really weird. I’m not sure what’s going on.” Neal got up and put on the shorts he’d taken off earlier and a T-shirt. Lin barely managed to grab some shorts and a shirt herself before there was a knock on the door. Neal went to let Chris in.

  “Whoa!” Lin heard him exclaim. “What’s going on here?”

  “Just shut up and get back in the house. Make it fast or I’ll use this,” the voice sounded frightened and nervous to Lin. She hung back in the bedroom while trying to see into the living room beyond. Something was clearly wrong. She hadn’t heard Chris utter a word.

  “I know you’re there, Ms. Hanna,” the shaky voice continued, “Just get out here and fast.”

  Lin moved to comply, stepping from the shadows of the bedroom door. She was stunned by what she saw. Sam Stevens stood just inside the door. He carried a handgun that was directed straight at Chris Dawkins head. He motioned for the three of them to sit on the sofa while he took the chair opposite. The gun remained pointed toward them. Lin saw that he was frightened, that his hand was shaking and that troubled her most—this was a terrified young man and he might easily shoot someone either intentionally or accidentally. She decided to try to calm him.

  “Sam, why don’t you put that gun down and talk to us. Tell us what’s troubling you. We don’t have any weapons here. We can’t hurt you so…” Lin tried to reason with him.

  “Can’t do that,” Sam waved the gun from side to side sweeping them all in his range. “You could’ve called someone before…”

  “I didn’t do that,” Neal spoke up. “You heard what Chris said for yourself. I thought he was coming here alone—to give us some information. Why would I have called for help in that case?”

  Still, Stevens didn’t drop his weapon. “No dice,” he said. “You’re all going to help me or someone will get hurt.”

  “OK.” Lin said, “What sort of help do you need? They’ve dropped all the charges against you where the murders are concerned. You’re not a suspect any more so what’s the problem…” Almost before the words left her mouth Lin realized what the problem must be. Stevens was afraid, but not afraid of the law. He was afraid of someone else, of someone more dangerous to him than the authorities. She realized that Stevens must be one of the Tucson links for the drug runners or, at least, had some connections there. What she couldn’t understand is how he could possibly think that taking them hostage—harming them in any way would offer him any protection?

  “Ha! I’d be better off if maybe I were still a suspect,” Stevens spat out the words, his gun hand still quavering. “At least then I’d be charged with some crime, I’d have a lawyer, maybe a trial. At least I’d have a chance…” he seemed close to tears, “ they cut me loose. Cut me loose as a marked man.” He waved the gun wildly; Lin felt herself cringe and saw that Neal and Chris did the same.

  “We’re all going on a ride, you’re going to protect me so let’s go,” he pointed the gun briefly toward the front door as he rose.

  “Wait, just a minute,” Neal stood and faced Stevens, “We’re not going anywhere until we know this whole story. You might as well just shoot us all right now,” He reached for Lin’s hand and she could feel his palm was sweaty. She squeezed it gently, indicating her support. “If you shoot us now, then there’s no help for you—at least not from us—so make up your mind. Talk or shoot. We’re not moving.” He glanced over toward Chris. Lin was on board, he knew that, but his friend might feel differently. Chris glanced toward Neal briefly and gave a slight nod of approval.

  Stevens seemed flustered. He shuffled his feet indecisively. The gun still wavered in his grip. Finally, he sat back down and motioned them to do the same. “You want the whole story? Well, I’m not sure I know the whole story but I guess I can tell you what I do know…” he seemed less sure of himself, less aggressive, hopefully. Lin felt he really didn’t want to kill anyone but still…his nervousness bothered her. An accidental shooting could be just as dangerous as an intentional one. She decided to try to help Stevens calm down—if she could.

  “Sam, I met Doug Davison’s widow a few days ago. She’s really worried now that it looks like he killed two people and then killed himself. His insurance won’t pay…” Stevens looked at her with frightened eyes…

  “Doug didn’t kill anyone and I doubt he killed himself,” Stevens interrupted, “He was in the same boat as me. They were going to cut him loose too, but he fought them…he wasn’t going to let them kick him out of the jail. He fought them and I think that’s when they killed him. Hung him up in his cell. I didn’t see that but I was still there—I wasn’t released until the next morning—I heard an argument and some sort of struggle…”

  Amazed at the story that seemed to be unfolding here, Lin interrupted, “Are you saying you think Doug Davison was killed…because he didn’t want to be released from jail! He wanted to stay locked up, accused of two murders?”

  Stevens shook his head, “You don’t understand what I’m saying. At the time, Doug hadn’t been officially charged with any murder at all. I think they were going to try to do that, just like they tried with me at first, but they knew they probably couldn’t make these charges stick if the cases went to trial—there wasn’t enough evidence. Doug was sorta like me—he’d rather take his chances with the legal system, but they wouldn’t let either one of us do that.” He hung his head and, for a moment, lowered the gun just a bit. “I was too scared to fight them. Doug was braver than me but…” Stevens was close to tears.

  “Who are ‘they’?” Neal asked, “ You haven’t said who you’re afraid of you know. You want us to help you but…”

  Stevens suddenly jumped up from his chair, the gun once again swinging back and forth in their direction. His eyes widen with apparent fear. He shook his head and stood up once more. “ I don’t know them all. I just know that they are everywhere—even in the sheriff’s department�
�I just know that they all report to others in the Mendoza organization—it’s big, you know. Mendoza won’t tolerate anything that interferes with his business—the drug business. It’s everywhere—lots of people are involved.”

  Lin spoke up warming to the idea that Stevens might be the opening they’d been looking for. He might have most of the answers they needed, provided they could get him to talk without shooting them… “Who were you involved with? How did they get you involved? Who is going to kill you? Why do you need us?”

  Her repeated questions were a mistake—she saw that immediately as Stevens became more and more agitated. “OK, OK,” she tried to calm him. “I know that’s too many questions to ask at once. I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.” Stevens seemed to catch his breath and relax a bit.

  Lin tried again. “You do need to tell us who you think is after you and why you think we can help you.”

  Stevens took a deep breath. He sat back down but still kept the pistol raised and pointed toward them. “You can help by backing off. Stop asking so many questions, talking to all those people on the reservation. The sheriff’s office is going to pin all this on Doug and he’s already dead but you, he looked straight at Lin, keep stirring things up, keep talking, keep asking questions. It makes everyone nervous. They want these cases closed so everyone will stop talking about them. You keep pushing. Now Susan Davison wants an investigation and the tribal police are trying to stir things up too. They told me it had to stop. I had to stop you or …”

  Lin began to see the picture more clearly now. Stevens was being threatened. He was supposed to get her to stop asking questions, stop stirring things up or else…This was more widespread than she’d thought—obviously someone in the sheriff’s department was involved, maybe more than one person, but who had actually killed Mark Garcia and Dave Jennings? Did Stevens know?

  “Sam, we understand what you’re up against. You want us to tell the tribal police—she didn’t want to name Sgt. Montoya directly—to stop investigating the background. You want us to quit asking questions…” Stevens cut her off.

  “You’re going in tomorrow to talk to Deputy Ramirez. You need to tell him you know Doug Davison killed Garcia and Jennings and you won’t ask any more questions. Then all three of you need to leave town—the sooner the better. Then maybe they’ll leave me alone and I can get out of here—I’ve already lost my job. I don’t want to lose my life.” He hung his head and, for the first time seemed to relax his grip on the gun at least a little.

  Lin decided to take advantage of his seemingly more relaxed state. “Sam, do you actually know who killed Mark and Dave, who gave the orders? Who pulled the trigger?”

  Stevens was once again alert, “Don’t try to trick me? It has to be Doug Davison. Don’t you understand? This thing is too big. Don’t try to open this can of worms. Just do what I ask and then get out of town.”

  Lin realized that she needed to back off; to pressure Stevens further might bring on disaster. She knew that someone, probably more than one someone, in the sheriff’s department was involved, that was certain, but Stevens wasn’t going to reveal who the real killer was—even if he knew. “Ok, Sam. I’m due at the sheriff’s department at 8:30 tomorrow. I’ll talk to Deputy Ramirez. I’ll tell him that I know Doug Davison is guilty and I’m ready to go home now. I’ll say whatever you want and then we’ll leave town. Now will you leave and let us have some peace…”

  “Not so fast. I’m not that stupid,” Stevens jumped up, crossed the room and jerked Neal up by one arm. He was shorter than Neal by several inches but he had gained an advantage by grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. The pistol was now firmly pressed behind Neal’s ear. Stevens jerked toward Chris indicating he should get up also. “Get up now, you. Give her the keys to that rental car. Move or I promise I’ll shoot him.” He pressed the gun firmly into Neal’s neck. His hand was steady now and his eyes held a look of resolve. All the nervousness and fear seemed to have left him, now that Lin had agreed to his plan.

  “Your boyfriend and his buddy are going with me,” Stevens stared at Lin, a snarl curled his lip—his entire demeanor had changed. It was as if he had a split personality. “Don’t worry. As long as you do as you promised this morning at the Sheriff’s office. They’ll be fine. When I know I’m no longer in danger I’ll let them go.”

  “But how will you know that I’ve kept my promise. How will I know you’ve released them? My cell phone is gone…” Lin was beginning to be truly afraid. What had she done? Now Neal and Chris were truly in danger…

  Stevens shook his head. “You don’t understand. I’ll know if you’ve kept your word. Believe me. I’ll know. Don’t worry about a phone. He jammed his hand roughly into Neal’s pocket, extracting his IPhone and tossing it on the sofa. “There, you’ve got his. I assume Dr. Dawkins has a phone also. They can call you when I’ve released them but not until I’m well away from here.” He fixed his gaze on the two men. I’ll know what they’re doing too so no funny business.” He twisted Neal’s arm further causing him to grimace painfully. “Now let’s get going. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chris handed Lin the keys to his rental car. She could tell he was frightened. She tried to reach out to Neal but Stevens was having none of that. He shoved her roughly back down on the sofa as he herded the two men toward the front door. Within moments, Lin was alone. She heard the sound of a car starting down the street and ran to the door to try to see the vehicle. Unfortunately, it was pulling away from the curb at Chris’s casita just as she reached the front sidewalk. It was too dark for her to read the license plate. She could see only that it was a dark SUV. It turned the corner and then they were gone.

  A sinister silence fell over the neighborhood. Lin felt the sting of tears running down her cheeks as she turned and went back inside. What had she done now? Her persistence and her desire to help—her continuing to ask questions, pressing for information—she wanted to help but now she’d put Neal, the man she loved, in mortal danger not to mention Chris Dawkins. What would Marla say? She could only imagine her reaction when she learned her husband was being held hostage. She had nowhere to turn for help. She couldn’t call the sheriff’s office—someone there was part of all this. Someone there was going to report to Stevens after her conversation with Ben Ramirez. Was it Ramirez himself or some other internal spy? Either way, she certainly couldn’t ask for help, couldn’t report the kidnapping. There seemed to be nothing she could do. Her anxiety overtook her at that point and she collapsed back onto the sofa in tears.

  Her crying lasted only a few minutes before her angst began to turn to anger. She wasn’t going to give in to this. She was going to find some help from somewhere, no matter what. This man wasn’t going to hurt Neal or Chris. She wouldn’t let him. She got herself up. It was only a little past four in the morning, too early to call Marla; she didn’t want to alarm her more than was necessary.

  I surely can’t sleep Lin thought. I need to get myself together and get a plan of action. She headed for the shower. She wasn’t dirty but she needed to get rid of some of her tension. The warm water flowing over her body helped her to relax. She shampooed her hair and scrubbed herself all over as she thought through everything that had happened and tried to decide on a course of action. Finally, she decided she would call Sgt. Montoya. He had no jurisdiction in the county but she could trust him. He could give her advice and maybe know some way to help her. She hated to wake him but she had to do something so, as soon as she’d dried off and dressed in some comfortable shorts and a T she went into the living room and located Neal’s cell phone where Stevens had tossed it on the sofa. She had the sergeant’s number programmed into her phone but now she had to think back and try to remember it. Fortunately, it contained repetitive numbers so she was able to recall it. A sleepy voice answered.

  “This is Lin Hanna. I’m so sorry to wake you up with this but something bad has happened and I don’t know what to do.” She carefully related the entire story to the
young officer, making sure not to leave anything out and emphasizing the fact that she felt she couldn’t call any of the local authorities to report the abduction.

  “No, you can’t call anyone there,” Sgt. Montoya responded, “but I can. My cousin DJ is a deputy. Not very high ranking yet. He doesn’t have much seniority but he is a good man and as honest as they come. We can talk to him. You wait right where you are. I’ll call DJ and then head to Tucson. It’ll take a while but we’ll get there as soon as we can. Meanwhile, just try to relax and think about everything you’ve learned so far. When DJ and I arrive we can talk about what you need to do when you go in for your conference with Deputy Ramirez. Meanwhile just try to relax and get your head together. Try not to worry too much. I don’t think Stevens will hurt your fiancé or his friend.” With that he ended the call.

  Lin wished that she could feel confident about Neal and Chris’s safety but she’d seen how Sam Stevens could change on a dime. One moment he seemed nervous and afraid, the next he was ruthless and determined. She couldn’t be sure of what might happen, especially if Neal or Chris tried to get away from him. Try to relax he’d said, that was a joke. She decided to clean up the casita. At least that would give her something to do while she waited. Maybe she’d do the laundry, after all they were planning to leave town on Wednesday and they had to get ready for that. She determined that activity was the best thing to keep her focused and to keep her mind off the worst possibilities. She’d wait to call Marla until Sgt. Montoya was there. That might help ease this terrible news. At least the Sgt. might be able to talk to her and give her some support, assure her that he was going to help.

  Lin threw herself into a cleaning frenzy—washing clothes, cleaning the bathroom, dusting vacuuming, mopping the floors—anything to avoid thinking about her situation. She didn’t stop for an hour. Unfortunately, the place was so small that she’d run out of chores by that time. I guess I’ll have to stop and think about what to say when I talk to Ramirez she thought. She decided to make some coffee and then sat down with a pad and pen while she waited for it to brew.