Murder on Sagebrush Lane (12 page)

34

DJ walked into a coffee shop around the corner from APD headquarters at 7:00 a.m. on the dot. He looked around and saw Swannie at a table in the back, nursing a cup of coffee and eating what looked like a whole-wheat bagel. He waved and went to the counter to place his order.

“Been waiting long?” DJ put down his coffee and breakfast burrito and pulled out the chair opposite Swannie.

“Nope. Just long enough to get my coffee and bagel.”

The two men spoke in low tones, even though they were the only people in that part of the restaurant. Swannie laid out the plan for the morning’s operation.

“Detective Sgt. Cabrini Paiz will fill in for Harrie. She’s the same build, but a bit taller. She also has red hair, so we can hope this creep doesn’t know Harrie well enough to know we’ve sent in a substitute.”

“Where will we be?” DJ sipped his coffee and took a big bite of his green chili and scrambled egg burrito.

“One of our detectives will be at the ticket booth. The Tram opens at 9:00 a.m., so our guy will be in the booth by 8:30. Another detective will be stationed as an attendant in the tramcar at the base. We have a male and female posing as a tourist couple. They will arrive about 8:40 and wander around, taking photos, waiting to get on the first tramcar. We sent another detective up to the Crest by automobile. He’ll come down in the tramcar at the top, look around and get back on for the return trip. They all have earwigs and will be in touch with Sgt. Paiz. She’ll show up at 9:50 and park in the lower lot. You and I will be in another building, watching on a monitor. There are cameras set up in several locations. One covers the line waiting to buy tickets. There are cameras in each tramcar, and more on light poles and on the other buildings around the base of the Tram. We’ll have good coverage of the entire area.”

“When do we make our move on this guy?” DJ savored his last bite of burrito, and washed it down with a final sip of coffee.

“Sgt. Paiz is wired, and we’ll be able to hear her and the suspect. When she’s ready she’ll say, ‘What makes you think I have what you want?’ That’s when we move in.”

DJ shook his head. “I don’t know. Do you think it’s really going to be that easy? Do you believe he’ll show up?”

Swannie shrugged. “Beats me. But we’ll be ready if he does.”

They left and walked around the block to headquarters. On the way they chatted about ordinary things—nothing having to do with today’s operation. They nodded to other officers as they arrived at the massive steps of the entrance to the building.

“I’m heading out now,” DJ said. “I need to check in at the office and brief my boss on what’s happening today. I’ll meet you up there at,” he paused and looked at his watch, “8:15. Is that soon enough?”

“Yeah, that’s good. See you then.” Swannie jogged up the steps and went into the building. DJ went across the street where he’d parked.

As he unlocked the car and got in, he thought about calling Harrie and seeing how she was doing this morning. He’d been asleep when she came to bed last night, and she was still asleep when he left this morning. He didn’t like ending and beginning their day that way. But after he thought about it for a few seconds, he decided against making the call. He knew she’d ask for details about this morning’s operation, and frankly he didn’t want to share that with her at this point. So instead, he put the SUV in gear and headed up I-25 to his office.

After a quick meeting with SAC Williams, in which DJ outlined for him the details of the cryptic phone message to Harrie, and the resulting operation to be conducted at the base of the Tram this morning, Williams shared his own news. The mysterious John Smith had a real name, and a reputation for accomplishing his assignments.

“When he went to work for the CIA, he was Colin Crider.”

DJ raised his eyebrows. “CIA? Is he still an employee?”

Williams shook his head. “The ‘official’ word is no. But they were evasive enough that I have my doubts. They say he left the agency five years ago after an unnamed incident in Romania that compromised his status. There’s no way to verify that, of course, so your guess is as good as mine.”

“What is he doing in New Mexico?” DJ walked over to the window and peered down on the traffic along I-25. “And why was he involved with Michael Rinaldi?”

Williams stood and walked around his desk. “I think that’s where you should focus our investigation. It’s beginning to look more and more like it’s a national security issue. I think you should pay a visit to his supervisor at Sandia. Maybe we can learn more about the project he was working on, and find a piece of information that would shed light on why Colin Crider is hanging around.”

DJ turned back from the window. “And why he made himself known to us after the murder. I have to believe it was for reasons other than what he told me.”

Williams frowned. “I’m afraid you’re right, and that’s not all.”

DJ had started to leave, and turned back. “What are you thinking, Sir?”

“It’s just a hunch,” Williams said as he sat down behind his desk again, “but it occurs to me he could be connected to that phone message your wife received yesterday.”

35

“Are you sure you don’t mind stopping at the store?” Caroline handed the grocery list to Harrie, who put it into the pocket of her jeans.

“Of course not. You’ve been doing all the work, taking care of us since yesterday. It’s about time I helped you a little.”

Caroline smiled. “You have no idea what a pleasure it is to have you, DJ, and Katie here with me. It’s been a long time since I took care of anyone.”

Harrie hugged her. “You are such a dear, Caroline. All my friends envy me having you as a mother-in-law.”

“That’s a nice compliment,” Caroline said.

Harrie reached for her purse. “I’d better get going. If Dr. Mead is expecting his edited manuscript by noon, I don’t want to be late. I shouldn’t be long—probably less than an hour.”

“Just be careful, okay?” Caroline’s eyes crinkled in concern. “We still don’t know who’s driving that blue BMW, or who killed Michael Rinaldi.”

“I will, I promise.” Harrie said, and closed the kitchen door behind her.

She checked the dashboard clock as she exited Canyon Estates: 9:55. It would take only about ten minutes to get to her house. She turned on the radio, found her favorite station, and sang along, enjoying the freedom of being alone in her car with all the windows up.

As she stopped for the light at Academy and Eubank, she thought to look in her rearview mirror. Nothing unusual behind her as far as she could tell. Maybe the BMW was just a coincidence, nothing to worry about after all. She was glad they were wrong. The thought of being followed unsettled her.

Just as the light changed to green, the thing that had been niggling at her mind all morning came to her. Last night when she checked the front door, a figure had been across the street, watching the house. Or was there? As she thought about it in the cold light of day, there was no reason to believe it wasn’t just a neighbor out walking his dog. After all, it was a gated community, and people couldn’t wander in at will. She shook her head. “Stop being so dramatic,” she chided herself out loud.

By the time she reached Academy and Tramway, happier thoughts occupied her. When she glanced at the clock, she saw it was 10:00 a.m., and it dawned on her that the meeting with the mystery man was taking place right then. The Sandia Peak Tram was located north of the intersection where she currently sat, waiting for the light. She glanced in that direction when she went through the intersection. With any luck at all, DJ and Swannie had already caught this creep, and no one got hurt.

She arrived in her own driveway soon after. The dashboard clock read 10:05, and she congratulated herself on making such good time. The garage door slid up, she drove inside, and lowered it behind her. If she was honest with herself, she was still a bit nervous about all the drama visited upon them since yesterday morning. She’d be so glad when life got back to normal, and she could relax.

Once inside the house, she shed her purse and went in search of her laptop. It wasn’t on the built-in desk in the kitchen, so she stopped to consider where she’d been when she last used it. “Ah,” she said aloud to no one but herself, “I was working on the manuscript in bed Sunday night while DJ was out with the task force.”

With the curtains closed in their bedroom, even in broad daylight it seemed dim. She knelt down beside the bed and thrust her arm underneath, searching for the computer. When the phone on the bedside table rang, she flinched and her arm struck the bed railing.

“Ouch!” She pulled her arm out and rubbed it, her nerves once again strung tight by the unexpected sound. She took a breath, blew it out, and picked up the handset. It was probably Ginger chiding her for not calling like she promised.

“Hello?”

“I’m disappointed in you, Mrs. Scott. We had an appointment this morning and you didn’t keep it.” The voice was the same, low-toned, breathy one from the answering machine.

“Who is this?” Harrie’s heart thudded in her chest, and her hand trembled as it clutched the phone.

“You don’t need to know that. But you can be sure I know who you are. You don’t seem to be taking this very seriously. Why is that?”

Harrie’s mind raced but she couldn’t think clearly. She spun around and searched the dimness of the room, looking for—what?
She had to respond to this creep
,
but what should she say?

“I don’t know who you are or what you want,” she stammered, furious at herself for sounding so wimpy.
Get a grip, Harrie!
Think, for Pete’s sake, think!

“You need to focus, Mrs. Scott. I told you yesterday. You have what I want, and I absolutely must get it. I want you to bring it to me.”

Now Harrie’s fright shifted. It morphed into a tool she could use—anger.

“Listen, you little creep,” she hissed through teeth clenched so tight she feared they might snap. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I don’t have anything belonging to you or anybody else, and if you knew me at all, you’d know you’re ten kinds of stupid to threaten me. So bug off, buster! Leave me the hell alone!”

Harrie pushed the disconnect button with such force the flimsy cordless instrument flew across the room, hit the wall and crashed to the floor. She sank onto the bed and her entire body shook uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered, and she hugged herself hard for warmth.

After a few minutes, she calmed. Her breathing slowed to normal, and her rational thought process re-engaged. It was time for action.

She reached in the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her cell phone. She had to let DJ know about the call. She punched in his number and waited. It rang once and went to voice mail.

“Great,” she said. Lately, she’d noticed she talked to herself quite a lot. That was bad enough, but she did it out loud. It was creepy, and she vowed to stop—maybe next month when things calmed down a bit.

She checked her contact list and punched in the number for Lt. Swanson. Same result. One ring and then voice mail.

“Now what?” She asked no one in particular, but if anyone was listening and cared to answer, she would be willing to consider a suggestion.

Once the fear, anger, and adrenaline rush had subsided, she felt drained and a little giddy—like she’d had one too many glasses of wine. She decided to call Ginger.

“Hey Ginger,” she said when her friend answered.

“Hey yourself. I was just going to call you. You’re late.”

“Never mind that. I have another problem,” and she told Ginger about the caller’s latest communication.

“Where are you now?” Ginger’s voice sounded pinched, a sure sign of her anxiety.

“I’m sitting on my bed, in our bedroom, in our cozy, safe, comfortable house. Only I don’t feel very cozy, and I definitely don’t feel safe. What should I do now?”

“I’ll call Steve. He’ll find a way to get in touch with either DJ or Swannie. I want you to grab your laptop, get in your car as fast as you can, and drive to the office. Then we’ll regroup and figure out what to do next. Are you okay to drive?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m feeling sort of drained, but I can drive. Ginger, it was so weird. One minute I’m terrified and then BAM! Just like that, I was so pissed. If that guy had been standing in front of me, I think I could have beaten him to a pulp.”

“I’ve always known you’re a lioness at heart. I pity the guy if you ever get your hands on him.”

Harrie’s laugh was brittle. “That’s me. The Avenger.”

They hung up, and Harrie reached under the bed, grabbed the laptop, and looked around the bedroom one more time before she left.

On the way to the office, she repeatedly checked her rearview and side mirrors. She was on the alert for anything that looked off. Fortunately, she saw nothing unusual, and pulled into a parking space at Southwest Editing Services a little more than fifteen minutes later.

She was surprised to see a police car and the familiar FBI black SUV parked a few spaces over, but had a pretty good idea what that was all about. Her suspicions were confirmed when she walked through the door.

DJ and Swannie stood in the reception area with Ginger. They all swiveled around when Harrie made her entrance.

Her face was flushed and her eyes blazed. “If any of you says one word to me that even sounds like criticism, I’ll scream.”

They all looked stunned and a little bit guilty. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ginger said.

“Absolutely no criticism from me,” added Swannie.

“Come here,” was all DJ said, and he wrapped his arms around her in a big bear hug.