Fatal Divide (24 page)

It took her less than half an hour to get dressed and get to the cop shop, where a deputy she knew took her back to the visitation area. She was a little disappointed, having hoped to see the holding cells. Dylan waited for her at a small table.

It all seemed very different from the TV shows she’d seen, but then those usually featured large prisons, or at least county lockups from larger jurisdictions. Dylan wasn’t even cuffed or chained to the floor, or whatever they did with the really dangerous criminals.

“Hey Alex, thanks for coming.” He looked good, in spite of his night in jail. A scruff of beard changed his look just enough to send a thrill of danger - the sexy kind - through her body. Could he see her nipples peaked? That could be a problem...

“Hi, Dylan. I can’t believe you’re in here.” She didn’t know if it was permissible to touch him. The deputy was standing at the door, so she sat down without kissing Dylan. A shadow passed over his face, but when she looked again, it was gone.

“I can’t either. It’s total BS. Have you heard anything about Hector? Talked to Wanda?”

“I called her a little while ago, but the call went to voice mail. I left a message. So, what happened? I waited for you last night.”

Alex couldn’t help the hint of hurt that crept into her tone. She had waited. And then she’d gotten mad and gone to bed. Was that the reason Dylan was in jail? Or was him being in jail the reason he hadn’t made it back to her house?”

“I had some things to talk to mom’s nurse about. You know Ange.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“It was later than I realized when I got back to your house, and it looked like everyone had gone to bed. So I went to pick up something to eat, and while I was eating, I saw a sheriff’s unit head toward Stars and Garters. He didn’t come back, so I went to see if he needed help.”

“Wait, what made you think that?”

“I told you, didn’t I? There are a bunch of bikers hanging out there now. New people in town. Not very friendly. I talked to Ange’s boyfriend about them just the other night, and he was going to mention it to Thurston, so I felt responsible if anything happened, you know?”

“I guess. So anyway, what then?”

“I drove by, looking for the sheriff’s car, and found it sitting in the parking lot with a deputy in it. Couldn’t quite make out who he was - it was too dark. Anyway, he seemed fine, so I went on home. When I got there, Thurston was right behind me. He got in my face about what I was doing there, and one thing led to another. We don’t get along.”

“I’m aware” Her face was so expressive with the dry remark that Dylan laughed.

“Well, he decided to arrest me. When I asked on what charge, he said ‘suspicion of loitering’.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“I thought so. Rick thinks so. He’ll straighten it out, but meanwhile I’m stuck here, and I’m worried about Wanda and Hector.”

“I’ll see what I can find out by calling the hospital. I guess I could run out to Sells if I need to.”

“If you do that, be careful. I’m sorry, Alex. I know we have stuff to talk about. It just doesn’t seem like this is the right place.”

“You’re right, it isn’t. It can wait. So, you’re all set? Rick’s going to handle everything... but what about work? Do you need me to call in for you?”

“Thanks, but Rick’s going to handle that too. You know what’s worse I’ve used so much personal time since I transferred here that I’m going to have to take unpaid family leave when the boys come to stay. And I still need to find an apartment, figure out how to get some furniture and stuff on top of everything else. I just don’t know how I’m going to do it all.”

“I’m sorry, Dylan. You spent part of that on me.”

“Oh, hey, I’d do it again, too. I’m not complaining.”

“Aren’t you? I have to get going, Dylan. I’ll try to find a way to get word to you about Wanda and Hector. See you tomorrow?”

Alex stood up, ignoring the stricken look Dylan was giving her.

“Lexi, don’t go!”

“I have to. Take care, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

FIFTY-TWO

Dylan watched Alex walk away, hoping against hope she would look back. She didn’t. The deputy showed him back to his cell, and he sat heavily on his bunk as the door slammed shut. What had he said? She hadn’t been all warm and loving when she walked into the visiting area, though Dylan could swear he saw signs of her being glad to see him.

But, she turned ice-cold after he mentioned... wait! He’d mentioned the time he’d taken off, everything he had to do to get ready for the boys... Could it be possible that she was jealous? Of his
brothers
? It made a weird kind of sense, as he thought about the fight they had last night. Except, you couldn’t call it a fight if one person just walked away.

He needed to get out of here, straighten this out somehow. Alex meant everything to him. How could she just walk away without caring? Had he made a mistake in thinking she felt the same way about him?

Dylan had never felt so helpless in his life, not even right after his accident. On cue, his arm began to ache.  The pain served to distract him, though.

He never pursued an investigation into who had run him off the road last summer, or why. What if it was related? What if everything that happened in July, and everything that had happened so far this month, were related? Would it explain why Alvarez was killed at ORPI? To cast suspicion on him? What did he know, or did someone think he knew, that would put a target on his back, and worse, on Alex’s?

“Hey!” he shouted, banging on the bars of his cell. “Someone! Anyone there? I need to make a phone call!” No one answered, despite the racket he was making. Frustrated, he punched the wall, sending a shock through his arm that made him immediately regret it. He needed someone to come and brainstorm with him, preferably Rick, Alex, or her dad, but he’d even take the deputy in the other room. “HEY!”

Without even a pen and paper to get his thoughts in order, Dylan started to list them in his head. What he really needed, besides people to help him with this, was a way to draw a mind-map of the facts, so they could be linked by lines. Maybe a pattern would emerge. He couldn’t do that in his head, though; the thoughts just scattered and he’d have to start over. With no other choice, he began to list what he knew for sure in sequence of when they happened.

First, he’d received word that his mother was terminally ill. As soon as he got to Dodge, he learned his brothers had been taken by DCS, and he couldn’t get them back without a signed affidavit from their father relinquishing his rights. Then, Rufio, their dad, turned up dead, but it took a while to find him and then to identify him.

As soon as the ID was made, Dylan was suspected of killing him, was run off the road and left for dead. Then, Alex was kidnapped, escaped murder attempts, twice, after she was returned, and the last time managed to gravely wound the attacker, who turned out to be a suspected cartel enforcer. That’s what tied this new murder, a little over three months later, to the incidents last month. Cartel.

Everyone who had been murdered or harmed, including Alex, was linked to Dylan in some way, even if he hadn’t known it at the time of the incident. Why? Was it just a coincidence, or did he know or have something of value he wasn’t aware of? Experienced cops would tell him there’s no such thing as coincidence.

His mind leaped to the next thought. Last time she’d been involved in some mystery having to do with Dylan or his people, Alex ended up in mortal danger. He needed to stop her from making inquiries about Wanda and Hector, before it happened again. He should never have taken her with him yesterday.

“Hey!” he called again. Still no answer.

FIFTY-THREE

Jimmy’s trip was uneventful, in spite of the fake driver’s license giving an address in Tucson. It might not have gone so well if he’d been forced to use the stolen credit card to buy his airline tickets. He’d been told that trying to pay cash for a ticket at the Tucson airport could subject him to extra surveillance, or even search and seizure operations. If that hadn’t been the case, he’d have been long gone before Herman Alvarez paid with his life to protect him.

It had been surprisingly easy to get Dylan Chaves and his girlfriend on his side. All he’d had to do was make a show of finding Hector and Wanda Lopez, and suddenly he was a good guy. He had transport out of Arizona, a contact who’d give him a job, and that little liar Sophia would be here before long, where he could handle that problem as he saw fit.

Furthermore, he was in a perfect position to buy his way back into
Los Reyes’
good graces. It would take a while, but they’d go for it. He’d be the first to establish a significant cartel presence in Alaska, where he had thousands of potential customers for the product among oil workers, fishermen, and the native population.

Jimmy used the layover in Salt Lake City to purchase a couple of pre-paid cell phones, one with only the minimum number of minutes, and one with what he thought would be several months’ worth. In Anchorage, he bought another. It would be his primary communication link with Dylan, whom he still needed for a couple of things. The first one from Salt Lake City he’d use to establish communications with
Los Reyes
, who could be expected to send someone looking for him afterward.

As soon as he made contact with Dylan’s friend and secured a job interview for the next day, Jimmy went looking for a place to live. He chose a furnished two-bedroom apartment, still unsure what he was going to do with Sophia when she got there.

He’d have to play that one by ear. Depended on how good a lay she was, he supposed, and how willing. The kid was okay, but would be a problem if he had to get rid of Sophia. Like he said, cross that bridge when he came to it.

The deposit and first month’s rent for the apartment was an insane price. For the first time, he wondered if he had enough cash after all. He may need to find a source for meth, to deal until he got his first paycheck.

He could think of all sorts of advantages to being security in an oil company, but deciding which ones to exploit would have to wait until he found out where he’d be working — out in the field along the pipeline, at a refinery, or in an office building. Each had their own attractions.

By Sunday afternoon, Jimmy was ready to put his plan in motion. First, a call to his relative at Gila’s headquarters, on the throwaway. Then one to
Los Reyes
. Finally, on the Anchorage phone, a call to Dylan, who was the only person who knew where he’d gone. That would have to be handled soon, but he could trust Dylan for a while. Jimmy felt good. For the first time in his life since he’d joined the cartel, he was in control. He was going to be a big shot, have all the money and women he wanted. The only price was the fucking cold. Someday, he’d have to work his way back to somewhere a lot warmer than this shithole.

Jimmy expected his cousin to be at Gila headquarters where he could take a call from about mid-afternoon to dinner time. The kid didn’t understand varying his routine, and it would get him killed sooner or later. But for now, it served Jimmy’s purposes. He forgot about the time zone difference, so his first call didn’t find the person he was expecting. It was an hour too late.

At least he was fairly confident that the
cabron
on the other end of the line wasn’t smart enough to check caller ID. If he had been, Jimmy’s opportunity to give his cousin a chance to clean up the Hector problem would be lost. No skin off his back; it was the Gilas that would suffer, but a relative was a relative. He had to try, but not at the expense of having both groups after him, even if they wouldn’t be looking for him in the right place.

The second call went a little better. Jimmy called immediately after the first, half worried the time difference would screw him up again. He expected some flak from his immediate superior in the cartel structure, and he got it, along with a death threat. This was the reason he wanted a phone with an area code far from his current location. But once the threats and curses wound down, he was able to have a meaningful conversation.

It was good intel. The investigation was already homing in on a cartel link to the Alvarez murder. The tip to get the shooter out of the US tonight was enough to buy a tiny bit of goodwill. His boast, that he would soon have a distribution channel for cartel product in a previously untapped location, got some interest too.

It couldn’t be helped that Salt Lake City was already sewed up, as far as cartel influence was concerned. The search would begin in Utah and branch out when they didn’t find him there. No doubt they’d cover Idaho and northwestern Nevada, maybe even northeastern Montana or northwestern Wyoming, not that there was enough population in those areas to bother with.

It would take some time, which was what he needed. Alaska would be a long shot for them to look for him, but he wouldn’t help them by keeping this phone. As soon as he made the second call to his cousin, it was going in the bay. Even if, against all odds, they did find him before he was ready, today’s call would keep him alive long enough to get back to Mexico and talk with the leadership.

He had no doubt that if he had a month’s head start, he could save his life. By then, he’d have his base of operations established here in Anchorage. At that point, his accidental slip to his Gila-connected cousin would be forgiven, or so he hoped.

Anxious to rid himself of the phone that could be tracked, Jimmy called Gila headquarters again. Screw his cousin, he’d talk to the head honcho. He reported where Hector Lopez could be found. The Gila crew that nabbed the old couple made the mistake of letting Lopez see them while they were beating him, so he couldn’t be allowed to leave the hospital alive. Better yet, he wouldn’t wake up.

It was a matter of two or three minutes to convince his contact that it was in Gila’s best interests to take Lopez out. The old woman, too, if she got in the way. Jimmy didn’t know what they had learned while looking for him, or whether his side of the story would stick. It was in his best interests, too.