Fatal Divide (27 page)

When no one answered, he went ahead and dialed Rick and asked him to come down. To Wells, he said, “No offense, but I’m through answering questions without my lawyer.”

“None taken,” said Wells. “For the record, I don’t think you deliberately broke the law.”

“Thanks, but I also have to contend with Kevin Thurston, and he’s not as reasonable as you,” Dylan said. “Where is he, by the way?”

“No one seems to know,” answered Wells. While they waited for Rick, he called the deputies back in and questioned them. They knew very little about anything that had gone on before they were called to guard Wanda. They hadn’t really looked at the arrest warrant. Wells held out his hand, and one of them turned over the creased paper from his pocket.

“Thanks for leaving someone at the hospital to watch Wanda,” the deputy said, as Wells began to read the warrant. Wells looked up.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Kevin would have our badges if she got away. I was worried about leaving, but I guess you called someone else in.”

Wells tilted his head and frowned at the man. “What makes you think that?”

“The unit in the hospital parking lot.”

After a few more exchanges, Wells dispatched them back to Sells to check out the unit in the parking lot, which he definitely hadn’t ordered.

Dylan had been listening with only half an ear, because he was busy trying to navigate the internet on his phone, never easy for a man with big hands on the tiny touch-screen. The deputies left, passing Rick on his way in, as he finally found what he was looking for. The 907 area code was for Alaska. Jimmy had called after all, but he hadn’t left a message.

“Lt. Wells, I need to consult with Rick in private. May I be excused for a few minutes?”

Wells nodded, no doubt still puzzle over the extra sheriff’s car in the Sells hospital parking lot.

Dylan left the room, followed by Rick. “I’ll fill you in as soon as I’ve made this call, Rick. It’s related.” He hit redial on the call from Alaska. The hello on the other end sounded familiar, to his relief.

“Jimmy. I see you made it.”

“Yeah, and I talked to your buddy. I’ve got a job interview tomorrow. He thinks there’ll be no problem with me getting on. Wanted to thank you for everything, man.”

“Glad it all worked out. Hey, bad news. Hector Lopez died. The sheriff is going to want to know how to find those guys we took them from.”

“Aw shit, man, I’m sorry. That’s kind of a problem for me. One of those guys is my cousin. I’m not sure I can give you that intel.”

“Jimmy, you have to. I’m already getting flack for helping you get out of here. Don’t leave me hanging, man.”

“I’ll have to think about it. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

“Jimmy...” Dylan could tell he was talking to a dead line. He tried calling back, but the call went straight to an error code that said voice mail hadn’t been set up. There was no choice but to wait for tomorrow’s call. He stared at the phone for a minute, and then met Rick’s eyes.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Dyl?” Rick asked. His use of Ange’s nickname for him reminded Dylan that he hadn’t checked on his mother since he’d been released.

“Just a sec,” he said, dialing the phone again. As soon as Ange had assured him his mom was unchanged, Dylan told Rick everything.

SIXTY

Thurston woke with a pounding headache. He put his hand up to his head, then jerked it back in surprise when he realized it was no longer cuffed behind him.

“Easy, Kevin. You’re okay, but you’ve got a nasty lump on your head.”

He squinted into the white light as he looked up to find the source of the voice that had spoken. A Native doctor in white scrubs smiled down at him.

“How?” he said, unable to form the rest of the question.

“A couple of your men came knocking on our doors an hour ago. They found you in your car in our parking lot. They’re going to want to know how you managed to cuff your own hands behind your back and lock yourself in the cargo area.” The doctor chuckled at his own joke. Thurston didn’t find it so funny.

“Where?”

“In the parking... oh, you mean where are your men? They’re waiting outside. Do you want me to send them in?”

Thurston wanted to talk to them, but not until he was certain he could form a coherent sentence. He tried again. “Not yet.” There, that was better. He needed to try to remember what had happened to him. “Where am I?”

“In the hospital, in Sells. Now that you’re awake, do you need anything for headache?”

“Yeah, please. Can you send my guys in, maybe in about ten minutes?” he asked.

“Can do. It’s late, but, if you’re hungry, I can get them to send you up some dinner. We’re going to admit you for overnight observation.”

“Yeah, hungry. Thanks.”

The too-cheerful doctor gave him a half-salute and left. In a moment, a nurse came bustling in with a tiny paper cup holding two white pain pills, and a glass of water with a straw. Thurston swallowed the pills before taking the water and gulping it down, without benefit of the straw. Belatedly, he remembered to thank her as she headed out the door.

A few minutes later, the deputies he’d left guarding Wanda Lopez came in. What the hell? Why had they left Wanda? Before they could ask what had happened to him, he demanded an answer. The headache, which had started to diminish before they came in, came back worse than ever as they detailed the cluster-fuck that had been this day. When they got to the part about Lt. Wells coming and taking over, releasing Dylan and ordering them to leave Wanda alone, he threw his hands in the air in a gesture of total exasperation.

“So what are you doing back here?”

“Well boss, when no one could find you for hours and then I remembered seeing one of our units in the parking lot, Wells sent us back to investigate. You were in the back of the car. We got in and got the cuffs off you, but you were unconscious. So we came and got the doc.”

It was the longest speech he’d ever heard from his taciturn deputy, but Thurston was finally beginning to put it together. “Was there a kid in the car with me? Looked a lot like Dylan Chaves?”

“No, boss, why would there be?”

“Never mind. Listen, the doc says they’re going to hold me here for observation. Talk to Wells and have him call me here.”

“You bet, boss.”

The angry man at the place where the kid had taken him must have decided that a kidnapped cop would bring them too much heat. Too bad he hadn’t made good on the threat to tie the kid up and leave him here too.

What was it the kid said about an old man? He put something in the bag. Was he talking about Hector Lopez? Could Hector have been murdered right under his deputies’ noses? He needed to let Wells know an autopsy would be required on Lopez. And, he needed to re-think the whole scenario around the Alvarez murder. He may have jumped to some unwarranted conclusions.

The kid and his boss sounded sure the cartel murdered Alvarez. He had no reason to believe Chaves or Wanda Lopez had any cartel connections. He thought it was some kind of family argument. So much for his deductive capabilities.

If
Los Reyes
had done it, they’d never close the case. The shooter was probably half-way to Guatemala by now. The only remaining question was, who was Jimmy, and who were the kid and his angry boss with, if not Kings? Hopefully, Wells could straighten it out. Thurston was ready for a nice, long vacation, away from the craziness that had overtaken his town.

SIXTY-ONE

Dylan returned to Thurston’s office to join Wells, Alex, and her dad. Rick followed him in, dragging a rolling chair from behind one of the empty desks in the outer office.

“I just talked to Jimmy Chaves. He refused to tell me how to find the Gila enclave again. Said one of them was his cousin. I guess I shouldn’t have told him Hector died.”

“What’s done is done. We’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves; we’ll find them. So, let me see if I have this straight. Herman Alvarez was great-uncle to Wanda Lopez, and a distant relative of Jimmy Chaves, who is what, a cousin of yours?”

“Second cousin, I think. I don’t know anything about my mother’s family. She didn’t mention them at all when I was a kid. Wanda could tell you more.”

“Okay. So Jimmy — this cousin or second cousin — was on the run from the Kings because he let slip some information on one of their big shipments to yet another cousin, who is part of the Gila cartel. And that information was used by Gila to stage a raid on the Kings’ shipment. Do I have it right so far?”

“As far as we’ve figured out, yes.”

“So, for some reason, Herman Alvarez met someone, presumably a Kings enforcer, to try to get them to leave Jimmy alone, and he ended up dead for his trouble. But no one, including Jimmy, knows who this shooter was.”

Dylan tried to be patient with this slow, detailed summary. It was Wells’ process for understanding, and they certainly needed that to happen if this was all going to turn out no worse than it already was. He was certain, at this point, that Alvarez’ murderer was not going to be apprehended.

“That’s right. I’d bet he’s south of the border by now. Probably was, even before we found Alvarez.”

“We?” Wells spoke sharply. Dylan replayed the conversation mentally. Hadn’t he mentioned he was one of the two park rangers who found Alvarez’ body? He corrected the oversight.

“That must have given you a scare, Dylan,” Wells remarked. He was right, but what did he know that would have brought him to that conclusion?

“I’ve spoken in your behalf before the tribal committee. About the adoption,” Wells explained.

Dylan flushed as he recalled the coincidence that had brought him under suspicion in the first place. “Yeah, I realized I’d be a suspect. And Thurston has reason to hate me.”

“Well, if you’d quit showing him up, he might like you better,” Wells said, trying without success to keep a straight face.

Dylan smiled faintly. “I’ll try, sir.”

“So, let’s get back to this. First, Wanda recruited you to help get Jimmy somewhere safer. Then, she and her husband went looking for Jimmy to persuade him to go. In the course of that search, someone snatched them and were holding them. You found Jimmy when you went looking for the Lopezes, because their house had been broken into, and he led you to them.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“Couple of things don’t add up for me. First, Jimmy led you right to where they were being held, yes? And then, this rival cartel, the Gilas, just handed them over?”

“That’s the way it happened. Put that way, it does seem strange.”

“Okay. Then you dropped them off at the hospital, took Jimmy to his girlfriend’s house...”

“I wouldn’t call her that.”

“Okay, to the house of the girl who claimed he was her baby’s father, where he packed and you subsequently put him on a plane to Salt Lake City with a continuing flight to Anchorage. And you’ve spoken to him on a phone with an Anchorage area code.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, so Jimmy’s out of danger and out of the picture for now. Wanda and Hector were at the hospital, and the rest of you came home, bringing Jimmy’s… uh… the girl, with you. Please explain to me again how and when Thurston picked you up, Dylan.”

Dylan’s head was beginning to swim. Had all this happened in just four days? A week, if you started with Alvarez’ murder. It didn’t seem possible. Once again, he recited the circumstances of the ridiculous situation that landed him in jail. Wells was taking notes, so maybe some sense would come of it.

Wells was about to say something, or ask a follow-up question, when the phone on Thurston’s desk rang. He answered it, listened for a few minutes, and then said, “Okay, give me the number.” He wrote something on the pad, said thanks and hung up. He looked up at the others.

“Excuse me. Thurston has been found and wants me to call him. Don’t leave; this will only take a moment.”

He dialed from the desk phone, looking at the number he jotted down for reference.

“Kevin Thurston’s room, please. Yes, I’ll hold. Thurston! What are you...? Okay. Okay. Yeah, I’ll get on that. Thanks for the heads up. Hope you feel better.”

Dylan saw his own frustration etched on the faces of the others in the room, as the one-sided conversation hadn’t given them anything to go on. Wells hung up, lifted the receiver again, and dialed. “Get me the ME.” A moment later, he spoke again. “John, I need you to get to the Sells hospital right away. A Hector Lopez, died today. They’re probably putting it down to injuries he received in a beating. I need a tox screen on him. Yes, as soon as possible.”

Dylan and the others exchanged shocked glances, as Wells hung up and dialed one more time. “Dave, are you guys still there? Good. Find out where they’ve got Wanda Lopez and make sure she’s okay. Then watch her like a hawk. I want one of you with her at all times, no exceptions. No, I don’t think she’s a flight risk. I think her husband was murdered while the two of you were right there. Let’s not let it happen again.”