Fatal Intent (Desert Heat Book 3) (14 page)

TWENTY-THREE

Alex had gotten as far as calling Lt. Well’s office, where she had to leave a message, when she got the call from her group leader in the Patriots. The operation Atkins had mentioned yesterday was going down this afternoon, and she needed to be at her post in half an hour.

Near panic, Alex had barely enough time to get into her wig and makeup before showing up at the assigned spot. On the way, she left a message for Wells that they’d moved up the timing of the operation and she might be in trouble. Before she could send a similar text to Dylan, she was there.

Alex and four others were assigned to lookout positions overlooking the highway at five-mile intervals. No one bothered to fill them in on what was going to happen or where, just that if they saw any sort of law enforcement vehicle traveling toward Casa Grande, they should text a warning to a phone number given to them to program into speed dial on their phones.

Alex’s heart was beating fast enough to worry her. She wanted to know what was going on, but didn’t dare ask. She drove to the coordinates provided her, parked, and then hiked to the spot where she could watch Highway 8.

Since she was on her own, Alex took the opportunity to text her whereabouts to Lt. Wells’ private cell phone and to Dylan, along with what little information she had. It was the best she could do, now that she was in the thick of it. She’d had to give her cell phone number to the man who assigned her to her present location. If she left it, she had no doubt they could track her.

Too late, Dylan’s warnings sank home. She was involved in something illegal, and even though she didn’t know what, if something bad happened, she would be as legally responsible as those who actually did whatever it was. She could only hope that her warnings to Wells would mitigate her culpability.

What would she do if she saw a law enforcement vehicle? Could she get away with not warning whoever was at that number? No, it was too dangerous. It could invite retaliation. The best she could do was text Wells, or maybe call 911, but the latter would be iffy. They might consider it a prank, anyway.

As her mind busily jumped from one consideration to another, time seemed to telescope from one extreme to another. The half an hour she’d been at her post went from feeling like five minutes to two hours before she got the signal to stand down. Now she was supposed to return to the house where they’d originally met before going to their assigned locations. Was it over?

She found the others in a buzz of excitement with a frisson of worried tension. Everyone was talking at once, and it took some time for the last people to come in from their posts. Once that happened, the leader of the group signaled for quiet. “The mission was successful. You need to know that one of the individuals on our target list was eliminated this afternoon and your participation assisted in seeing that justice was served.

You don’t need to concern yourself; this person was a scumbag and a drug dealer. He’s been slipping across the border with cocaine for years and we finally caught up with him. We will all be going to a safe location to lay low until the hunt for his killer has died down, which should take about a week. Once they figure out who he was, the law won’t bother wasting their time in investigating further. Who has people that will look for them if they don’t show for a week?”

Alex and one other raised their hands.

“Drive your vehicles home. One of us will follow and pick you up. If you can make an excuse that will satisfy anyone who’s at home, do it. Only bring what you need for a week. It will be over by then.”

Alex was stunned. A week! She should be in Tempe already, registering for school. A week could be too late to get the classes she needed, and Dylan would worry. She’d also involved Lt. Wells, who would be worried and call back. If any of the people she’d be spending the next week with got curious about phone calls or texts, she’d be in serious trouble.

Worse, she'd never stopped to think that her plan might involve being away for days at a time. The makeup that was so necessary to her disguise wouldn’t last that long. She’d have to hope there’d be some privacy to rejuvenate her disguise. Why hadn’t she listened to Dylan?

Before she knew it, the others were breaking up and a man in his forties was looking at her impatiently. “Hurry up, I’m supposed to take you there. Go take your car home.”

In a fog of disbelief, Alex drove home. Inside, it was quiet. Lisa and Nat must not be home. She didn’t dare leave a note explaining everything, in case her ride came in and found it. Instead, she scribbled a note saying ‘back in a week, see you then’ and packed a backpack with what she’d need, including her makeup.

Not knowing what the accommodations would be, she put in loose shorts and baggy t-shirts for sleeping, along with extra t-shirts to change into during the days. She’d have to make do with the pair of jeans she was wearing; there wasn’t room for more. Reluctantly, she also left her laptop. It wouldn’t do to have that examined. It would betray who she was.

She took one extra minute to text Rick Englebright, the attorney who’d defended her from an attempted murder charge when she nearly killed her assailant last summer. ‘In deep trouble, possibly accessory to murder. Swear I didn’t know it before. Being taken somewhere for a week. I’ll call when I can.’ As soon as the message sent indicator displayed, Alex erased the records of all her conversations with everyone whose names could further endanger her and heaved a deep sigh. From here on out, she’d sink or swim on her own wits.

Alex climbed into the pickup her minder had followed her home in, dragging her overstuffed backpack with her.

“Took you long enough. What the hell were you doing in there?” he said. His gruff tone made Alex cringe.

“Packing. No one told me I’d be going on a vacation,” she answered.

“You must be new. Everyone knows to bring their stuff with them, in case we need to hide out for a while. What are you, stupid?”

Alex kept her response mild. Until she knew where she stood with the group, she didn’t dare show any personality whatsoever, certainly not defiance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get the message.”

“Next time you’ll know,” he said, sounding less angry this time. “When did you join us?”

“Just last night was my first real meeting. I went to a public one about a week ago I guess.” Alex didn’t want to discuss it. She was afraid she’d slip and say something wrong, but she couldn’t exactly refuse to answer.

“Hmmm. Surprised they let you in on an op this soon. Must have been a mistake.”

Although Alex felt the man’s eyes on her, she kept hers forward, watching where they were going. If she had an opportunity, she’d text someone where she was, or if they wound up somewhere in town where she could get away clean, she’d run. She had no response for his remark, so she stayed quiet.

Within a short time, they’d left the town’s most populated area and entered an area where the streets were few and far between, east of town. What was worse was there was no cover. If she ran, she’d be seen immediately. The only good news was she saw cell towers here and there. At least she’d be able to send a text if she had any privacy.

When her driver finally stopped, her fears about escape were confirmed. They were at least a mile from any other structure, and not a tree or a bush in sight. There’d be no leaving here without being seen. They parked in what would have been the back yard, if yard had been the right word for it. There was no fence, not a blade of grass, no garage. They were behind a large ranch-style house made of manufactured logs. It looked like a large bunkhouse from outside, but there was nothing to indicate a ranch or farm nearby. A satellite dish sat next to the house, but no other features gave a clue about what she might find inside.

Her driver issued her to the back door with a large hand around her arm. Alex didn’t know at that moment whether she was a trusted co-conspirator or a prisoner. They waited until his patterned knock was answered and the door opened to them. To her surprise, her driver let her arm go and indicated she should step inside. As soon as he had followed and the door closed, he spoke.

“Everyone, this is Misty. She’s new, but she took part in the op. Make her welcome.”

Alex hadn’t known he was aware of her identity. What else did he know about her? Could he be a threat? As she smiled and shook hands with the people who came to greet her, she watched their eyes for clues to their state of mind. This felt like she imagined a mouse would feel in a roomful of cats.

TWENTY-FOUR

Dylan had waited all afternoon for a return call from Alex. He was trying not to think about it as he went about the business of making the new rental house a home. When he did think about Alex’s delay in returning his call, he’d get a flash of temper and then calm himself by telling himself she was probably too busy with something, or maybe hadn’t received his message yet. Then he’d put it firmly in the back of his mind, so he wouldn’t indulge in an endless, fruitless speculation about what had gotten into her lately. She’d been acting weird ever since her blowout with her dad.

He was getting dinner ready when his cell phone rang, but it wasn’t Alex’s ring. Curious about who would be calling him, he dried his hands and took the call. It was Lt. Wells. Wells had become a friend last year, first when Alex had been missing and Wells had overridden the long wait before an adult could be considered missing, and then again in the fall. But he didn’t ever call to socialize. As soon as Dylan saw his name on the screen, he gulped. This was probably trouble.

Wells got right to the point after the obligatory greetings. “What’s Alex up to, Dylan?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Dylan confessed. “Alex and I have been playing phone tag all week.” He didn’t want to admit that when they had spoken, he and Alex had been having misunderstandings that prevented real communication.

“She sent me a text that the Patriots are up to something, and she’s involved. What the fuck, Dylan?”

“Oh, shit, I told her not to… Why did she send you a text and not me?”

“I can’t answer that, but she’s not answering her phone. Do you know where she went, or what’s going on?”

Dylan’s heart sank. “Not even as much as you do. Lt. Wells, we’ve been having some difficulties. She’s in trouble, I know it, and I can’t help. I don’t have anyone to watch my boys.”

“What about Wanda?”

Dylan shook his head. They should have let Wells know about Wanda’s heart attack. Now there was no time. “I’m not in Dodge. Got transferred to Tempe. Let me call Alex’s roommates and see if they know. Stand by. I’ll get right back to you.”

Wells agreed and after Dylan ended the call, he took a minute looking through his saved numbers for Lisa’s. She answered on the first ring. With no time for the niceties, Dylan asked, “Lisa, do you know where Alex is?”

“No, we were just about to call you. She left a note saying she’d be back in a week. I guess we thought she’d gone to you.” Lisa sounded puzzled. “I wonder why she didn’t say where she was going.”

“Do you know anything about her messing around with that group, the Patriots?” Dylan asked. He couldn’t have been more surprised at the affirmative answer.

“Oh, yeah, she’s attended a couple of meetings. She got herself a wig and a fake tan and learned a new way to do her makeup so even you wouldn’t recognize her. I guess she’s trying to figure out what they’re all about.”

Dylan swore. “They’re all about trouble, is what they’re all about. She didn’t say anything about meeting with them today?”

“No. I mean, she went to a meeting this morning, but she came back from that. She was writing a story when we went out for some beers. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’m afraid she’s in trouble. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

With Lisa still protesting and trying to ask questions, Dylan hung up and called Wells back. “Her roommate says she’s been going to Patriots meetings on some sort of investigative thing. She met with them this morning but came home. The roommates went out for beer and when they got home, they found a note from her saying she’d be back in a week. You don’t think she’s gone on one of their operations, do you?”

Wells’ tone was grim when he answered. “I hope not. There was a murder west of Casa Grande on the highway a little while ago. Known drug smuggler, run off the road and pulled out of his truck, beaten to death. It looks like a Patriots hit. Can’t tell you more details, but if Alex was mixed up in that…”

“I’ll call her attorney.”

“Good idea. I’ll call some contacts in Pinal County. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Dylan hoped he’d find Rick at home. Lately the guy had been making the circuit of unmarried women in Dodge, cadging home-cooked meals and flirting outrageously for a confirmed bachelor. Dylan was in luck today. Rick answered his phone.

“Hey, Dylan, I was just going to call you. What’s Alex up to?”

Dylan huffed. So she’d called everyone in the world except him. He swallowed his pique and answered, “Your guess is as good as mine, but it looks like she’s trying to investigate the Patriots, from the inside. Wells called. We think she’s in trouble.”

“That’s what I gathered, but she didn’t say what kind. Does she need me?”

“She may. Seems she might have gotten mixed up in one of their ops, and it’s a bad one. Murder in Pinal County, just west of Casa Grande. Wells says it looks like a Patriots hit.”

“Oh, shit,” Rick uttered.

“That’s what I said, and you can say it again. If she’s not in trouble
from
the Patriots, she’s in trouble
with
them. You want to head over there?”

“Guess I’d better. Are you going to be there?”

“Can’t man, I’m in Tempe with the boys. Don’t know anyone here. Alex was supposed to be my babysitter.” Even as he said it, Dylan kicked himself. That wasn’t the reason he’d wanted Alex to move in, not the most important one anyway. Was that the way she’d seen it? No wonder she’d been mad! “Look, I’ll see what I can do. Wells is on it, too. I’ll try to keep you posted.”

Dylan felt as helpless as he’d ever felt. His first instinct was to rush to her rescue, but he didn’t even know where to start looking. No matter what happened, he needed to start building a new support system right away. Especially if Alex was going to keep getting in scrapes like this.

~~~

Once Alex believed she wasn’t under suspicion and stopped looking over her shoulder, she started thinking this wasn’t all bad. Maybe she could get some information. There were about a dozen people in the house, most of them women, surprisingly enough. There were more women here than had been at the meeting.

Some of them must be inner circle, maybe privy to this morning’s events. There were several large bedrooms lined with bunk beds and each having its own bathroom, so there’d be room for a separation of the sexes for sleeping, and hopefully some privacy in the bathroom. Right now, there was a knot of women in the kitchen making dinner for everyone and the rest were arrayed in small groups in the huge family room, talking quietly among themselves.

Alex drifted to the edge of one of the groups, where the participants looked a little older. With any luck, these people would have been in the organization longer, and she could learn something about their history and motives. She especially wanted to know how it had morphed from an anti-Latino organization to anti-anyone brown.

They took little notice of her, which suited her just fine. The less she had to interact, the less likely it was that someone would look at her more closely and discover her makeup secrets or that she might say something inconsistent and make them suspicious.

The man speaking seemed pumped by the success of today’s operation. “I’m telling you, it’s like the old days. Goddam wetbacks will learn to keep their poison on their own side of the border. Just like Harvey meant it to be.”

At the mention of Harvey, Alex sharpened her attention while appearing to remain relaxed and indifferent. One of the women said, “I always wondered how they got that conviction. Nothing left of that body but bones. How the hell did they know it was his girlfriend, anyway?”

Alex wanted the answer to that question, too. She’d thought the body was recovered from the railroad tracks. It was just a skeleton?

“That was a weird thing. No train operator ever came forward to admit they’d hit someone. Out in the middle of nowhere like that, she wasn’t found until they sent someone to repair the tracks right there. They found part of her, then called the cops.”

Alex shuddered. The woman had been cut into more than one piece, then, presumably by the train passing over her. This was a far different picture than the articles had mentioned. She wondered how they’d known the woman was pregnant, and what kind of paternity test they’d been able to conduct. Fortunately, the woman who’d asked the first question kept asking more, and they were the same ones questions on Alex’s mind.

“Well, her pelvis was complete, and between the hip bones was a tiny partial skeleton. I don’t know all the science, but they did some tests, trying to figure out who she was. Never did establish it for certain.”

“Then how did they finger Harvey?” the woman asked.

“That was his own fault. He’d been making noise for years, trying to get the cops to investigate his girlfriend’s disappearance. Idiots thought he’d call attention to something he’d done himself? He was railroaded, no pun intended.” The group laughed, and Alex forced herself to laugh too. This was a crazy story.

“I don’t understand,” the same woman persisted. “There are lots of remains found out in the middle of nowhere. What connected this?”

“The baby,” said the informant. “Harvey was frantic when his girlfriend disappeared. Said she’d found out she was pregnant and was going to finally divorce her husband. Harvey wanted to marry her. But she was always going off, we figured back to her life. She’d show up every few months, take up with old Harv again, then off she’d go again. We told him forget her, she wouldn’t even tell him her real name. It didn’t matter what anyone said, he’d take her back every time. I’ll say this for her, she was a looker.

Alex froze in place. This story sounded exactly like the one her dad had told her just a month earlier, only in reverse. When she’d woken with the instinct that her mother’s disappearance and the Patriots were connected, she’d dismissed it because of the timing. Now it appeared the death of Harvey Lloyd’s girlfriend hadn’t been just five years ago after all. Could it really have been as long ago as fifteen years? Why hadn’t the article mentioned that the body was a skeleton, and why hadn’t it named the victim? Was it possible Lloyd had been convicted on such a slender thread? But no, the baby was his…

“…newbie here,” the man was saying. Alex hadn’t consciously heard the first part of his sentence, but she felt eyes on her and looked up.

“Excuse me?” she asked. “What did you say?”

The man looked at her with narrowed eyes. “I said, if your face wasn’t a lot skinnier, I’d say she looked a lot like you, girl.”

“Who?” Alex asked. Disoriented from her deep thoughts, she’d completely lost track of the conversation.

“Harvey’s girlfriend,” the man said. “Elizabeth.”

Alex couldn’t mask her reaction. Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him. “Elizabeth? Elizabeth what?”

Her interest sharpened his expression. “Jennings. But that wasn’t her real name, I’m sure. It was what she told Harvey, but we never found a driver’s license under that name, not in Arizona anyway. We figured it was fake, since we knew she was married and didn’t want her husband knowing what she was doing. What’s it to you?”

Alex had regained her composure. She knew for sure now, but she had to hold it together. She couldn’t fall apart in this company. With every iota of will power she had in her, she gave a light laugh. “Oh, yeah? I look like her, huh? Lucky he’s not here to push me under a train. What was his beef, anyway?”

For a moment, she thought she’d gone too far. The man looked ready to hit her, but he didn’t. “Nah, you don’t, not really. It’s the blonde hair, I guess. You’re younger, too. Better keep that smart mouth to yourself, girl. Harvey had nothing to do with her death. He was devastated she disappeared, and took it even harder when they accused him of murder. He’s one of those guys you read about sometimes. Convicted on circumstantial evidence of a murder he didn’t commit.”

Alex said nothing. There was nothing to say, and if she opened her mouth, there was every chance in the world that she’d break down. If and when she got out of here, she’d track down her mother’s remains and get them to do whatever they’d done to match the baby’s DNA with Harvey’s.

Elizabeth Jennings was her mother’s maiden name. Thank goodness Alex had decided not to use it and settled on calling herself Misty Jenkins instead. That could have been a disaster. Especially if she still looked enough like her mother in her chosen disguise for that guy to have seen the resemblance after all these years.

He’d turned his attention away from her and started talking about Harvey’s downhill slide after Elizabeth disappeared. The more he talked, the more convinced Alex was that Harvey was indeed innocent. So how had her mother come to be walking in front of a freight train? It had to have been suicide.

Unable to hide her distress anymore, Alex got up and walked as slowly as she could to one of the bathrooms. She would have a good cry, and then repair her makeup and wait out this horrid episode. She was done. She’d found out what happened to her mother, in the worst possible way. She no longer had any interest in the Patriots. She’d report what she knew to the authorities when she got out of here, and get some justice for Dawn.

The awful truth was there was no justice for Dawn. Even if proof surfaced that the Patriots were responsible for her accident, it wouldn’t bring back Dawn’s leg or the time she’d spent in recovery and rehab. It wouldn’t bring back Alex’s mother, whose despair had robbed her of her life and her daughter of a mother. And Dad, poor Dad.