Unfinished Business

by J. A. Jance

  When the aroma of coffee permeated the room, Mateo rolled over, sat up, and surveyed his surroundings. The room was spacious and comfortably furnished with a large dresser, a small desk with a rolling chair, an easy chair, and a pair of bedside tables. The room also came with its own separate bath. Mateo got out of bed, treated himself to a long hot shower, and then dressed in the clothing he’d planned to wear home on the plane today. Except now he wasn’t going home. He was staying here—in Arizona. It still seemed more like a dream than reality, but the room was real enough, and so was the mug of coffee Stu handed Mateo when he entered the kitchen.

  The night before, Stu had driven into the two-car garage at one end of what, to Mateo, seemed like an enormous house. They had walked in through a room lined with CPUs. There’d probably been twice that number earlier in the day at High Noon when Stu had given him a tour of the office, but Mateo was astonished to find so much computer power in a private residence. When he’d made a comment to that effect, Stu had shrugged.

  “That’s Frigg,” he said, “Frigg with two g’s, by the way. She’s my AI.”

  “AI?” Mateo repeated. “You have your own private AI? How did that happen?”

  “It’s a long story,” Stu had told him. “I’ll tell you about her sometime, but for right now let’s get you settled.”

  Mateo took his coffee to the kitchen table and sat down.

  “I hope you like Frosted Flakes,” Stu said, bringing an enormous box of cereal and a gallon of milk to the table. “This is what I usually have for breakfast. You’re welcome to join me, but don’t tell Cami. She thinks presweetened cereal is evil.”

  Mateo didn’t think presweetened cereal was evil. As far as he was concerned, it was expensive, and he seldom treated himself to that kind of extravagance.

  “My lips are sealed,” he said.

  Stu brought bowls and silverware to the table along with his iPad. “I was just talking to Sid, the guy who manages the Mingus Mountain RV park across the street from High Noon. Given the distance from here to the office and the fact that you currently don’t have a vehicle, your staying here with me long-term doesn’t make sense. The RV park is well within walking distance of work. According to Sid, April is when most of his snowbirds head home, and several of them are willing to offer their RVs as short-term rentals. If you’re interested, that might be a good place to settle in temporarily until you find something permanent. Would you like his number?”

  “Please,” Mateo said.

  Stu, busy pouring cereal into his bowl, nodded. Once he had added milk, he texted the phone number to Mateo, and Mateo sat there for a long moment staring at it.

  “I still can’t quite believe all this is happening,” he said finally.

  “Believe it,” Stu told him.

  “The only thing that would make it any better would be if I could tell my mother the good news,” Mateo said ruefully.

  “Why don’t you?” Stu asked.

  “I don’t have her number,” Mateo replied. “When I’ve tried sending letters, they come back marked ‘RETURN TO SENDER.’ For all I know, she died and no one bothered to tell me.”

  “Your mother’s not dead,” Stu said.

  “She’s not?”

  Stu shook his head.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Before I ever sent you those hack simulations, I had Frigg do a deep dive into your background. Your mother is living in Walla Walla with people named Delfina and Ron Orozco.”

  “Delfina is one of my older sister’s daughters,” Mateo said. “She’s probably helping out with Delfina’s kids, but I had no idea they lived in Walla Walla.”

  “Would you like your mother’s cell-phone number so you could call her?”

  “You have her number?” Mateo asked uncertainly.

  “I don’t have it on me,” Stu answered, “but I can get it.” He paused and pulled the iPad closer to his cereal bowl. “Frigg, are you there?”

  “Good morning, Stuart,” a woman’s computerized voice said. “I hope you’re having a pleasant day.”

  “I am,” he replied. “Would you please text Olivia Vega’s cell-phone number to Mateo Vega’s cell phone?”

  “Of course,” Frigg said. “Will there be anything else?”

  “That’s all, thank you.”

  As a second ding announced the arrival of another text, a dumbstruck Mateo sat there with his loaded spoon halfway between the bowl and his mouth. “That’s Frigg?”

  Stu nodded.

  “And she had both my mother’s number and mine available, just like that?”

  Stu nodded again.

  “But how…?”

  Stu sighed. “As I said last night, it’s a very long story, and I’ll be happy to tell you all about her sometime, but first why don’t you give your mom a call? I’m pretty sure she’ll be delighted to hear from you.”

  Leaving behind the rest of his Frosted Flakes, Mateo started back toward his room but then stopped and turned back to Stu. “If I have my landlord ship things to me, should they come here or to the office?” he asked.

  “Until we get you settled somewhere else, here would be fine,” Stu answered. “I’ll text you the exact address.”

  “And one more thing,” Mateo said. “Is there a dress code at work?”

  Stu laughed outright. “If you’re asking whether we all wear suits and ties, that would be a definite no. Wear what’s comfortable. What you have on now is fine.”

  Nodding, and with that in mind, Mateo returned to the guest room, dialing Randy Wasson’s number as he went.

  “How’d it go?” Randy asked. “And when do you need a ride home from the airport?”

  “I don’t need a ride because I got the job,” Mateo answered. “I start tomorrow.”

  “Good for you and bad for me,” Randy grumbled. “As I said, you’re the best roomer I’ve ever had.”

  “But could you do me a couple of favors?”

  “What kind of favors?”

  “There are some books in my room that need to go back to the library. And then, if you wouldn’t mind packing up my computer and clothes and shipping them to me? Oh, and my Bose earphones, too. Everything else can stay. You can check to see if the other guys want any of my stuff. If not, just toss it.”

  “I’ll be glad to,” Randy said. “Where do you want things shipped?”

  “To the place where I’m staying right now. I’ll text you the address. Once you know what the shipping costs come to, I can reimburse you.”

  “Not to worry,” Randy said. “Your rent is paid to the end of the month. I’ll take it out of your security deposit. That will more than cover it. In the meantime, man, I’m glad things are working out for you. You deserve it.”

  “Thank you,” Mateo murmured. “You’ve been a lifesaver. I’m grateful for everything you did for me.”

  When the call ended, Mateo sat down on the side of his bed and stared at what he knew to be his mother’s phone number. It was just after nine on a Sunday morning. He didn’t know anything about Walla Walla, but if there was a Catholic church anywhere nearby, and he was sure there was, his mother would be getting ready to go to Mass. She answered after the second ring.

  “Hello?” she asked warily. Her voice sounded much older than Mateo remembered, and obviously she didn’t recognize the phone number.

  “It’s me, Mom,” Mateo croaked, forcing his voice past the lump in his throat. “It’s Mateo.”

  He heard a gasp from the other end of the line. “Mateo, really?”

  “Really.”

  “Where are you? Eddie told me you’d broken your parole and taken off. When I didn’t hear from you, I thought you were dead.”

  “I’m not dead. When I tried calling, your phone was disconnected,” Mateo said. “And when I sent you letters, they came back unopened and marked ‘RETURN TO SENDER.’ ”

  “I never saw them,” Olivia said. “But where are you?”

  “In Arizona.”

 
“But what about being on parole? Are you allowed to go out of state?”

  “I came for a job interview, Mom, and I got it. The people I worked for before I went to prison gave me a job and a second chance. I start tomorrow. They’ll notify my parole officer about where I am and what I’m doing.”

  There was a long pause before his mother spoke again. “I’m so happy you’re okay,” Olivia murmured at last, “so happy to know you’re alive. It’s an answer to my prayers.”

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “After your dad died, I had to move out of the foreman’s house. I lived with Eddie and Maria for a while. Then, after Delfina had twins, she had her hands full, so I moved here to help out.”

  “You have my number now,” Mateo told her. “Call me whenever you want.”

  “I will, son,” Olivia declared. “I surely will.”

  |CHAPTER 26|

  COTTONWOOD, ARIZONA

  Harvey spent Sunday morning at the Busy Bee Laundromat. He always washed his clothes on Sundays, more out of spite for his mother than for any other reason. As far as Ida Mae had been concerned, Sundays were meant for church and nothing else. She wouldn’t have been caught dead with laundry hanging on her clothesline on a Sunday.

  Maybe most of the rest of the world agreed with her, because Laundromats were hardly ever crowded before noon on Sundays. Sometimes Harvey thumbed through Sunday-morning papers left behind by customers who’d preceded him. Today, however, no newspapers were available, so he spent most of the time brooding about Princess Prius.

  When he had started to go after her and Ali Reynolds in his office, most people—most sensible people—would have taken a step backward, but neither of them had retreated an inch. Come to think of it, that little black-haired Asian bitch had actually taken a step toward him, as if daring him to make a move. What an annoying pipsqueak! How dare she?

  Harvey’s phone buzzed in his shirt with Leonardo Bianchi’s number showing on caller ID. “When are you coming by with my watch?” he wanted to know.

  Harvey was surprised. “You’ve already got what I need?” he asked.

  Leonardo chuckled. “You think my guys work Monday through Friday, nine to five? When somebody needs something fast, it’s generally not during standard business hours. Besides, they owe me a favor or two.”

  “Where are you?” Harvey asked.

  “The Cowpoke,” came the reply. “Where do you think?”

  When Harvey’s clothes finished drying, he put on a clean but wrinkled shirt and headed for the bar. The gym opened late on Sundays, so he’d missed his morning shower. When he showed up at the bar half an hour later, Leonardo was in his customary spot. He turned and raised his glass in Harvey’s direction.

  “Top of the morning to you,” he said with a grin, although it was already early afternoon.

  “Same to you,” Harvey muttered, settling onto the stool next to Bianchi.

  Joe the bartender caught Harvey’s eye. “The usual?” he asked.

  Harvey nodded. As he sat there waiting for his beer to show up, he stared regretfully at his watch. The Rolex was the last remaining vestige of a different existence—the last time his life had been going in the right direction—and he was sorry to lose it. But wearing a Rolex on the beach in Mexico wouldn’t be doing himself any favors. It would only attract unwanted attention—the worst kind of unwanted attention. After a moment he unfastened the clasp and pushed the watch down the bar until it came to a stop next to Leonardo’s almost empty glass. The Big Dude was a serious drinker whose beverage of choice was generally vodka on the rocks.

  He returned the favor by shoving a manila envelope in Harvey’s direction. Opening it, Harvey examined the contents. His old driver’s license was there, as was a new one with his photo and a new name—Harold Wilson McBride. A surprisingly legitimate-looking US passport, also in that name, was accompanied by a properly stamped visa that would allow him to travel into the Mexican interior. Included in the packet was a sizable roll of Mexican pesos. Given the current value of the peso, that much paper money probably didn’t amount to much, but it was enough to give Harvey a starting point.

  “Looks good,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “When are you planning on taking off?”

  “Sometime soon,” Harvey said.

  He left the Cowpoke a little over an hour later, drove to Cornville, and took up his bird-watching station. Harvey had done his homework. He knew that a bird called the elegant trogon occasionally but rarely made appearances in central Arizona. He was prepared to tell anyone who asked that he’d heard one had been sighted in the area and he was hoping to spot it—but no one ever asked.

  And nothing much else happened either. All afternoon there was no sign of movement inside or outside Princess Prius’s home on Tuff Cody Trail. Toward evening, when Harvey was about to give up and call it a day, the front door opened and his target stepped outside.

  |CHAPTER 27|

  CORNVILLE, ARIZONA

  Camille Lee’s mother would have been deeply offended by how her daughter spent that Sunday. She devoted two hours in the morning to acing target practice at the shooting range—Sue Lee was opposed to guns of all kinds and in every circumstance. She spent the late morning putting in an hour at the Krav Maga gym—her mother didn’t know a thing at all about Krav Maga, but Cami was pretty sure she wouldn’t approve of that either. It came dangerously close to turning human bodies into deadly weapons. In the afternoon she cooked up a Crock Pot full of Kung Pao chicken and a batch of pork fried rice, using recipes her grandfather had taught her. Once the food was cooked, she sorted it into small containers so she could take them to work the next day and use them to stock the fridge in the break room.

  Sue Lee wanted her daughter to marry and have kids, and when they spoke on the phone, she never failed to ask if Cami had a boyfriend. Cami had male friends, yes. Boyfriends? No, and she was perfectly happy with her social life just the way it was. She enjoyed the people she met at the gym and the shooting range, and she liked the people at work. The fact that Stu, Lance, and even the new guy, Mateo, had pitched in to help install her home’s surveillance system meant a lot to her.

  Getting the bases of those individual units pounded into the rock-hard ground in the yard and assembling the individual units had taken a lot of physical effort. So although the solar-powered lights and cameras were in place, the system was not yet functional. Since the vandalism attack that had wrecked her tires had happened overnight, Cami waited until late afternoon before going out to work on the system. She wanted to fine-tune things at a time of day when she’d be able to adjust the camera angles to cover the largest areas in and around her yard with the best amount of nighttime focus.

  Once fully operational, the cameras would send data to the cloud through Cami’s home Wi-Fi hub, which would then automatically forward the resulting videos to her workstation at High Noon. Unfortunately, getting things up and running wasn’t exactly duck soup. Having twelve individual devices located at various locations on her property was probably surveillance overkill, but better to be safe than sorry. However, unlike the slick system she’d just installed at High Noon’s office complex, none of these components were designed to be refocused and adjusted remotely. Instead each one had to be focused not only by hand but by trial and error as well.

  The solar-powered, motion-activated devices were considered to be state-of-the-art technology. Because this was all brand-new, however, it wasn’t surprising that two of the twelve devices suffered from infant mortality. Once connected, they refused to come online at all. The problems could have been due to a failure in the solar battery pack, a difficulty in either the Wi-Fi connection or the camera, or all of the above. Whatever the issue, Cami was unable to successfully troubleshoot the problem on the spot in either of the malfunctioning units, and she was left muttering under her breath that the quality-control people at the Sunlight Surveillance manufacturing plant in Albuquerque, New Mexico, weren’t doing their jobs.r />
  Unfortunately, the two DOA devices happened to be mission critical. One was meant to be focused on the driveway approaching her house. The other was supposed to cover the carport. That meant the two duds, as well as two working units, had to be yanked out of the ground so the latter two could be replanted to focus on the driveway and carport. All that revision amounted to time-consuming physical labor.

  Once the sun went down and darkness settled in, Cami had to resort to using a battery-powered lantern as a work light. By then, with all the remaining devices hooked up to her Wi-Fi, her next challenge was fine-tuning the focus on each of the cameras. IPad in hand, she examined the video feeds from each separate unit, leaving the one nearest the street for last. To adjust that one, she pulled her car out of the carport, then drove past the house several times, stopping after each pass and checking the resulting video in order to ascertain that license-plate details were in focus and readable. If any potential intruders thought they could drive a vehicle up to her house without being noticed and/or identified, Cami was pretty sure they would be dead wrong.

  |CHAPTER 28|

  CORNVILLE, ARIZONA

  Harvey had been watching Princess’s activity for more than an hour when he finally tumbled to what she was doing. What he’d originally thought was nothing but a batch of outdoor lighting was, more than likely, some kind of high-end surveillance! Okay, so puncturing her tires had been a stupid move on his part. She’d gotten with the program and hired someone to install a security system, but was it already up and running, or was she still working on it as he watched?

  Someone less stubborn than Harvey McCluskey might simply have decided that at this point targeting Princess was too risky a proposition. But Harvey was who he was and exactly the same as he’d always been. Ida Mae had often told her son that he was too pigheaded for his own good, and her assessment still held true. The more he watched Princess work, the more he saw her bend over and straighten up, the more he studied her sweet little butt, the more he wanted her. She was totally focused on what she was doing and totally unaware that she was in mortal danger. That realization excited him, aroused him. He was sitting here just out of her line of vision and holding the power of life and death in his hands. Because that’s exactly what he intended to do—wrap his hands around that fine little neck of hers and squeeze the life out of it.