No one left, p.8
No One Left, page 8
Even though she didn’t have her license yet, Molly wished she were driving. They needed to go faster or they would lose her.
But then she reminded herself that James had probably been trained to do this. Surely he’d followed criminals before. Not that Janice was a criminal. Or maybe she was. James had described her as an older woman. It was hard to imagine someone like that as a criminal. But, of course, Molly had learned during their last case that no one could be dismissed. Besides, if Janice was talking with George, maybe she was the key to finding Adriel.
James and Molly followed her through the suburbs, through the outskirts of the city filled with warehouses and big-box stores, toward the inner part of the city of Albuquerque. She pulled into the parking lot of a building next to a church. There were three names on the sign outside: Alvarez & Sons, Bright Smile Dental, and Forever Families Adoption Agency.
Janice Stone got out of her car and walked quickly toward the building’s front door.
“Come on,” James said, unbuckling his seatbelt.
“We’re following her inside?” Molly asked. “What if she recognizes you?”
Sometimes it unnerved Molly how self-assured James was. Sometimes it comforted her. She couldn’t tell which she felt this morning.
James paused. “You’re right. You go in without me.”
Molly swallowed. She was definitely unnerved. But she nodded anyway and realized she didn’t have time to ask him how to do this sort of thing.
“Go,” he urged her. But he was smiling. “Just find out which office she goes into. That’s all we need to know today.”
Molly got out and entered the building. Janice turned down a hallway to the left and then opened a door on the left. Molly couldn’t yet read the sign on the door, so she approached. She looked up just as Janice glanced back into the hallway, and the two locked eyes. Chills ran up her spine, but she forced herself to smile. The woman seemed frightening. But then, quickly, her expression softened.
“Are you looking for something, sweetie?” she asked Molly.
Molly’s mouth was dry. “Ummm, dentist,” she mumbled.
Janice pointed back the way they had come.
“You just went down the wrong hallway, darling. Back where you came from, but it’s straight ahead.”
“Thank you,” Molly said. Janice watched her from the door, so Molly did what she was supposed to and walked back toward the dentist’s office. When she looked back over her shoulder, Janice was still standing there. Molly waved and rounded the corner, down the hallway leading to the dentist, and wondered how long she would need to wait. She stood very still and listened. After about a full minute, Molly thought she heard a door clicking closed. She counted to thirty. And then again. Then, she peeked around the corner. The hallway was empty now. She had to be quick. At the very end of the hallway was another exit. She would keep going, out that door.
She was walking so fast she almost hopped. She had to slow down. Stop herself from breaking into a run. That would be noisy. Even the swish of her pant legs brushing together seemed too loud.
She was almost at the door. As the pounding in her ears got louder, she glanced up. Saw the sign. She did not look back but kept going down the hall and out the door.
Once outside, she rounded the corner back to the front of the building. She stopped for moment, putting her hands on her head and catching her breath.
James grinned when he saw her. Molly sped over to him, relief washing over her. She got into the car and let out a big breath.
“Well?” he asked.
“She totally saw me!” Molly blurted. “We looked at each other, and I couldn’t even see the name on the door because she was blocking it, and then she asked me if I was lost, and I said I was going to the dentist, and then she pointed to where the dentist was, and then she watched me! And then I had to pretend like I was going there, and it was so freaky!”
James’s grin widened. “And?”
“And then I listened till the door closed and went back and practically had to run outside after I looked at the sign.”
“So, what’d you find out?”
“The adoption agency.” Molly breathed heavily.
“The adoption agency?”
“Yep.” The implications slowly started to come over her. What did it mean that George was talking to some lady from an adoption agency?
“Were Linda and George trying to adopt?” Molly asked.
“I can’t say I know,” James said. “But it looks like that’s a possibility, doesn’t it?”
“Why?” Molly felt her cheeks redden. “Wasn’t Adriel good enough? If they wanted more kids, why not just have some . . . the regular way?”
“Maybe they tried and couldn’t. Or maybe they wanted to help a kid who needed a family,” James said. “Or maybe they were afraid that Linda might only be able to have handicapped kids. You know. With her history of drug abuse.”
“So what?” Molly was angry now. She was getting louder but couldn’t help it. “Adriel is a wonderful kid! They would’ve been lucky to have another kid just like him!”
“You’re right,” he said. “But Mrs. Long is very old. And she’s pretty much the only help they had with him.”
“So George was just . . . looking for a perfect child instead?”
“Or maybe he needed help with Adriel. It’s possible he was speaking with Janice to see what Adriel’s options were.”
Molly flushed. She could feel the sting of tears behind her eyes. “No. Linda would never have allowed that. His mom loved him. I don’t believe that.”
“All right.” Molly’s dad touched her arm gently. “But we can’t get tunnel vision during an investigation. Everything is a possibility until we eliminate it. We don’t know what George was doin’ when he called Janice Stone.”
Molly hadn’t thought it possible to be any angrier with George. But now she was.
“I’ll promise you this,” James went on. “I will find out everything I possibly can about Janice Stone and what George wanted from her. Wayne and I will get to the bottom of this.”
“Don’t you have too much to do with the Winters case?”
“I never have too much to do. That’s what coffee and cigarettes are for.”
Molly took a deep breath. “How can I help?”
James took his hand back and put the car into gear. “You like talkin’ on the phone. You and Paula are on it for hours and hours.”
Molly laughed. That was not true. Maybe just one hour at a time. “Yeah, I guess,” she said.
James smirked. “We’ve got plenty of phone calls to make this week.”
22
SANCHEZ
Before transferring to the narcotics division, Agent Sanchez had been assigned to the Gallup barracks for five years. Gallup was surrounded by reservation land. Navajo and Zuni. It was an island, and not one aspect of life in Gallup was independent from the reservations. His fellow officers would claim that they couldn’t throw a rock in Gallup without hitting an Indian, and yet the town could have operated on a different planet as far as the law was concerned.
Sanchez learned a whole hell of a lot about operating bare-bones while in Gallup. He learned about poverty and drugs and how many good people needed to fight for even the slightest change. It was depressing. But he’d pushed through because his father hadn’t lived long enough to be taken seriously. To make detective. Albuquerque was Sanchez’s opportunity to make it happen for himself.
Today, he was meeting with Lieutenant Lark, and though he didn’t know for sure what this was about, he could guess. James had told him about his own meeting with Lark. So, Sanchez assumed the lieutenant had taken an interest in the case.
When Sanchez pulled into the station, he took a moment to prepare himself. He had to assume the worst. That this really was a larger cover-up. He didn’t think it was. Certainly, he hoped it wasn’t. But he had to behave as if it were. He popped a mint into his mouth, took a deep breath through his nose, and got out of the car.
Lark’s office door was open. He looked up at Sanchez and smiled, and Sanchez felt the urge to bolt. Instead, he smiled back and shook Lark’s hand as he sat across from him.
“Gabriel Sanchez. I don’t believe we’ve yet had the pleasure of meeting.”
“I don’t believe so, sir.”
“How are you liking it down here in Albuquerque?”
“So far, so good, sir.”
“You were called to the scene for one of my men’s newest case. Two murders. Husband and wife. What did you think?”
Sanchez didn’t know what he meant by that. What had he thought of the call? The crime scene? The way Duncan had handled it?
“Seemed pretty obvious what had happened, sir. Gunshot wounds. No weapon recovered. The Navajo man’s papers right there on the desk and his son’s plush toy left at the house. Puts the suspect at both crime scenes.”
Lark nodded. Leaned over his desk and touched his fingertips together.
“Strange thing happened this weekend. A guy came in with his daughter. Says he’s a P.I. James Pinter. He’s interested in the Winters case. He says the murdered couple’s son hired him because he works out on the reservation. Has connections there.”
Sanchez tried to keep his expression neutral. His breath steady. Lark went on.
“Normal enough. Still, I like to know what I’m getting into when I work with P.I.s. So, I have Sue look through our records. See if a James Pinter pops up anywhere. Weirdly enough, it seems the two of you have worked together before.”
“Yes, sir. Just a few months ago,” Sanchez said. “He was working with Wayne Tully on the reservation. I’ve known Wayne for years, back when I was in Gallup.”
Lark nodded once. Waited for Sanchez to continue.
“They called me up. Believed they had a murder on their hands.”
“And did they?”
“I made the arrest. The woman confessed.”
“Any idea why they called you up?”
“I suppose it’s because Tully and I worked together before. He trusts me.”
“And he doesn’t trust the rest of us?”
Sanchez shifted a bit in his seat. “Well, he knew I would come.”
Lark nodded again. Slowly this time. “And have you heard from this James Pinter since?”
“No, sir.”
“What can you tell me about him? Was he really Army CID?”
“I believe so, sir. He’s a smart man. He’s the one that got the confession out of the woman. Without that, there would never have been enough evidence for a conviction.”
“Has she been convicted?” Lark asked.
Sanchez was sure that Lark knew the answer. This whole conversation felt like a test.
“She will be, sir.”
“That happen on the reservation? Was that why James Pinter was working with Tully?”
“No, sir. Off the reservation.”
“So why weren’t our people on it?”
“We were,” Sanchez said. “We ruled it an overdose on-site.”
Lark’s eyebrows went up. He sat back and crossed his arms. “Not you, specifically, though. You were in Albuquerque by then.”
So, Lark had been researching Sanchez, too. Not just James.
“Correct,” Sanchez said.
“Which means this James Pinter already thinks the New Mexico State Police are incompetent. A bunch of fuckups.”
Sanchez paused. He most certainly did at this point, if he hadn’t before.
“I’m not sure what he thinks, sir. Like I said, I haven’t spoken to him since the arrest. And he didn’t say anything like that at the time.”
“Not to you, he wouldn’t. But we can assume that’s exactly what he thinks,” Lark said. He sighed.
“I’m going to have to take a good look at this case now. Make sure we’re crossing all our Ts and dotting our Is. What did you see at the scene?”
“I’m not homicide, and I’m not lead on the case, sir.”
“No. But you’re a trained officer of the law and your informant’s parents are dead. You don’t have a professional opinion?”
Every ounce of Sanchez’s being shouted for him to tell the lieutenant the truth. He wanted so badly for this all to be a blunder on Duncan’s part. But he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t trust Lark.
“Detective Duncan seemed to be working diligently at both crime scenes. I think you’ll find his report to be thorough.”
Lark stared at him, and he couldn’t tell what was behind that stare. Curiosity? Suspicion? Annoyance?
Lark finally stood and held out his hand. Sanchez shook it.
“Thank you for your time, Agent. I’ll be looking into the case, like I said. Don’t be surprised if you get another call from me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sanchez left with a full day’s work still ahead of him and wishing badly that he could go straight to the bar instead. If Lark hadn’t already figured out the evidence log was fucked up, he would soon enough.
23
TONY
The mechanic shop was right on Highway 160 just before the desert turned into a town and the cluster of gas stations signaled that life did, in fact, exist there.
If one turned down Highway 163, they’d soon find more signs of life. A laundromat. A drive-in burger place. Sidewalks with teenagers on bikes. The fire department. A church. The social security office.
But when Tony Morris drove home from a day’s work at the shop, he did not turn at the cluster of gas stations. He kept going through to the other side of so-called civilization and back into the nothingness. The hugeness. The emptiness. His home. He turned right off the highway eventually. And then left. Right again.
He was thinking about his kid’s fourth birthday coming up. He didn’t live with the boy’s mom anymore, but she was still close enough. They were on good enough terms.
They were even planning their son’s birthday party together. Her whole family would be there. Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, their kids. Tony loved that about her. That she had a big family that actually liked each other. Or at least loved each other enough to always show up. Which wasn’t exactly the same thing, but it was more than Tony could say about his own family.
His sister Sandra was coming with her kids. They lived close enough, too. And even though Tony and George had never been close, he wished now that George could come. He hadn’t known until recently that George had a son. He seemed to still be the same tight-ass religious weirdo that he had been when he left home for good. But Tony was over it. Family was important.
He supposed it had been good timing, then, when George showed up a week ago—after all those years—looking for a car. He tried to tell Tony he’d just been passing through town when his truck started acting up. But George was full of crap and hadn’t thought his lie through. So much for the Ten Commandments. Tony, a mechanic and an ex-con, knew both a perfectly good truck and a man on the run when he saw them.
He told George he’d be happy to take a look at his truck, but George declined. They did that back-and-forth for just a little bit before Tony said, “Look, man. I’m not gonna ask you any questions. You tell me what you need, and I’ll hook you up.”
George breathed a sigh of relief. “A car. That no one will be looking for.”
The mechanic shop always had an extra car or two. Barely running, but enough to get George where he needed to go.
Tony said he’d leave the truck at their mom’s for a while and sell it later, if George didn’t want it back. “I love you, man,” Tony said. “But I can’t keep it here at the shop and I can’t torch it. That sounds like something that could send me back to the slammer.”
George had left his boy—Adriel, he said his name was—at Sandra’s with his cousins, and Tony was sad about that. He would’ve liked to have met him.
Now, he imagined both of them coming to Tony’s boy’s birthday party. Slapping George on the back and handing him a beer. Or hell, a root beer if that was more his thing.
What Tony wasn’t expecting was to come home to a Shiprock cop car sitting in his driveway. He knew now, of course, that George was wanted for murder. He wouldn’t have guessed that, either. Didn’t think he had it in him. But if he had killed those two people, it was probably because they had it coming. As Tony got out of his car, he was glad that George hadn’t told him where he was going.
The cop stepped out of the car with a woman. A beautiful woman. Older than Tony, but beautiful. He almost ran his fingers through his hair but remembered they were still covered in grease.
The cop waved.
“Let me rinse off,” Tony said, as he got close. “I’ll be right back.”
The woman did not smile at Tony. Probably a bitch, he thought. Most of the beautiful ones were.
He turned on the spigot out back behind his trailer and rinsed his hands. Then, he scrubbed them on the towel hanging on the fence. Good enough.
Tony strode back to the front. Shook both their hands.
“This about my brother?” he asked.
“Sure is,” the cop said. “How’d you know?”
Tony couldn’t tell if he was joking. The Shiprock cruiser seemed obvious enough. “Well, I know he lived up that way,” he said. “And Shonto police have already been by to talk to me.” He shrugged. “I’m smarter than I look.”
The cop smirked. He’d probably already looked up Tony’s record.
“Have you seen him lately?” the cop asked.
“No, sir.”
“Any idea what he’s driving these days?”
“Can’t say I know much at all about my brother these days.”
The cop nodded.
“We found his truck,” the woman said. Tony wasn’t surprised. He’d known someone would eventually.
“All right,” Tony said.
“Here,” she clarified. “In Kayenta.”
