Fatal Intent (Desert Heat Book 3) (15 page)

He’d have to admit now that his wife was dead. At least it would free him of the ridiculous sense of chivalry that had kept him tied to the memory of a dead woman for years. She’d focus on that. Dad could finally be happy, if he could persuade Jen to come around. They were perfect for each other. It would all be okay, if she could only get out of this predicament in one piece.

~~~

While Alex fought for composure in the bathroom at the safe house, she recognized that she wouldn’t be able to pull off a week here without giving herself away. The revelations about her mother had been so devastating that she was taking far too long in the bathroom trying to stop crying so she could put her makeup back to rights. Several times an angry rap at the door had made her gasp and jump. She stuffed her fist in her mouth to keep from crying out. It was only a matter of time before someone knocked the door down and dragged her out of there.

Even though she feared someone hearing her if they were standing right outside the door, her only hope was to get a message to Lt. Wells about where she was, and hope he’d send the Pinal County authorities to raid the place. She’d have to take her chances with her legal situation. It was better than taking her chances with these maniacs.

Alex couldn’t suppress the tiny clicks her cell phone made as she sent the text. They weren’t as loud as dialing, and at least she wasn’t speaking, but she cringed every time she heard a step outside the door anyway. As fast as she could, she sent the message. ‘With Patriots, hiding in log bunkhouse southeast of Casa Grande half an hour. Don’t know address, try to trace signal.’ She sent the message with the last hope she had for getting out of her predicament. She didn’t even know if her phone could be traced if it wasn’t moving, and she wasn’t sure of the amount of time it had taken to get to the location. Now she’d have to leave her sanctuary and try to maintain her disguise until the cavalry came.

A few people gave her odd looks when she rejoined the crowd in the living room, but she ignored them rather than challenge. Her story, that she’d suffered an attack of nerves that brought on stomach distress, was a thin one. She tried to appear wan and shaky, but the very makeup that kept her safe from discovery as herself also made her look too healthy. It was better not to have to use that story if she could help it.

A few minutes later, a reprieve came in the announcement that dinner was ready. She joined a line that snaked past the kitchen stove, where someone was ladling out chili into bowls the people picked up from the counter as they filed past. Embarrassingly, her stomach growled when she smelled the food. She didn’t remember when she’d last eaten. Luckily, she hadn’t had to use her story, or her appetite would have betrayed it as a lie. She was lining up for her second bowl when a shout went up from the living room.

Alex dropped her bowl and crouched with her hands held high above her head, as she saw others doing the same. In seconds, the room was swarming with officers in uniform, some of whom held guns on the group while others secured each individual. Alex didn’t know any of them, and she wasn’t about to reveal herself as the one who’d called them. When she got her phone call, she’d call Rick and then wait patiently while he came and sorted things out.

In the county lockup, Alex had to surrender her clothes and cell phone to the matron, endure an embarrassing search, and then dress in an orange jumpsuit. She was shoved into the holding cell with the other women, who laughed at her indignant glance at the matron who’d done the shoving.

“First time, dear?” said the woman who’d first given her Harvey’s name. Alex was glad to see her. It was almost like having a friend in here.

“Yeah,” she said. “Now what?”

“Now we wait for arraignment, plead not guilty and come back here. Then they’ll give us our phone calls and we can call our attorneys.”

The woman sounded so confident of a good outcome that Alex relaxed. She, too, was confident. After all, she’d tried to warn the authorities. Taking a hint from the other women, Alex leaned against the cinder block wall behind her and closed her eyes. She might as well try to sleep until the next day.

TWENTY-FIVE

Dylan couldn’t settle down after he’d put the boys to bed. He hated not being where he could do something, even if it was only to pace the floor with others who loved Alex. Rick had called when he got to Casa Grande, to tell Dylan where he’d be staying, and that he’d talked to Paul.

Guilt stabbed at Dylan when he realized he should have called Paul himself. He hadn’t meant to shut Alex’s dad out. After he talked to Rick, he called Paul himself to apologize. Alex’s dad had told him he didn’t blame him. Alex herself had shut him out and it was his own fault.

They talked for a while about Paul’s decisions not to tell his daughter the truth about her mother. They discussed whether or not he should have told his daughter years ago. Paul admitted he should have. The habit of the lie had taken on its own life, and the older Alex got, the harder it was to come clean, he said. In the end, his decision had certainly blown up in his face. He’d give anything to have his daughter back in his life.

“You and me both, Paul,” Dylan had answered. That led to a discussion of what was going on between Alex and him, and a sobered Paul told Dylan he’d try to influence Alex to see a counselor if she ever spoke to him again.

Paul couldn’t say where his wife was at this moment, but he strongly suspected she had to have spent at least some time in a mental institution. Maybe after the baby had been born, she’d checked herself in and just walked away from her life when she was ready to come out. If there was any chance Alex’s mental state could be going the same way, they had to have an intervention, for her sake, before it came to the same thing.

Dylan didn’t know whether he felt better or worse after talking to Paul. How could he be true to both his love for Alex and his love and duty toward his boys? He couldn’t subject them to a mentally unstable mother figure, not after what he’d been through and the trauma they’d already suffered in being taken by the state and then losing their mother. What he could and would do was see to it that Alex got the help she needed, if indeed she needed it.

When he finally was able to sleep, he slept so deeply that the text from Lt. Wells didn’t wake him when it came in at three the next morning. Reading it before he woke the boys, his heart did a peculiar leap and roll in his chest. Alex was safe. But she was under arrest.

~~~

Alex’s first hint that things wouldn’t go as expected came less than an hour after her cell door had closed. The matron came to the cell door and called her name. Her real name. As she rose amid glares of recognition, Alex couldn’t move fast enough. Whatever was happening, she had to persuade the powers that be not to put her back in this cell. Hatred oozed from every woman’s eyes as they tracked her progress through the crowd and out the cell door.

“You’re gonna get me killed,” she muttered to the matron.

“Not my problem,” the matron muttered back.

In the room where she found herself, Alex was overjoyed to see Rick. “Rick, am I glad to see you! You got my message.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know what it meant until I talked to Dylan. What have you got yourself into this time, young lady?”

Fifteen minutes later, Alex was still recounting the sequence of events for an astounded Rick when the matron came back. “Times up.”

“No it isn’t,” said Rick. “Get me the detective in charge of the murder case.”

“Who do you think you are, mister?” she replied. The woman looked menacing to Alex, a good head taller than Rick and twice as broad.

“I’m the attorney that’s going to get you fired if you don’t do as I ask,” he replied. The woman deflated before Alex’s eyes. All attitude and no substance, just like Thurston used to be, before his humbling last fall by a young cartel kid he should have been able to break in half.

She noted the way Rick had dealt with the bully. Don’t back down. Turn their threats around on them. All well and good if you’re an officer of the court, but maybe not so effective for a journalism student.

Rick had seen how weary Alex was and advised her to put her head down and rest until the detective got there. The negotiations would be tense he explained. He had to give the detective enough to gain his interest, while protecting Alex’s defense strategy if he couldn’t negotiate a break for Alex for testifying for the prosecution.

He believed her, he said, even though her story was a bit far-fetched. He’d known Alex just over a year, and her father all his life it seemed. Alex trusted him with her life and her freedom. However, she knew he’d have a tough time representing her this time. Unlike before, it wasn’t so cut and dried. She hadn’t acted in self-defense, and she’d been a self-confessed lookout while a murder was being committed.

Everything hinged on the detective believing she hadn’t known what would happen and hadn’t actively participated. After all, her assignment was to report converging law enforcement units, and there hadn’t been any. Alex took Rick’s advice and put her head down on her crossed arms. It felt good to close her eyes in a place where she was safe, for now. If she had to go back into general lockup with the others, she didn’t think much of her chances. Hopefully no matter what, Rick could prevent that.

It seemed like only seconds before Rick was shaking her gently awake. She glanced at the clock and was startled to see it was almost six in the morning. Rick looked as haggard as she felt. He wasn’t used to sleeping in interrogation rooms all night either, she supposed. Alex dragged her eyes open, rubbing the sleep out of them. When she looked up, another welcome sight greeted her.

“Lt. Wells!” she cried. “Thank you for coming.”

Wells softened his stern demeanor only a bit. “How’s my favorite criminal?” he asked, slowly winking one eye.

“Repentant,” she said. Then she snapped her lips shut as Rick gave her a scandalized glance and laid his finger across his closed lips.

“I’ll do the talking here,” he said.

Just then, another large man crowded into the room with them, dragging two more chairs. He thrust one in Wells’ direction and sat heavily on the other himself.

“I’m Lt. Jake Watson,” he said. “I have to say, I’ve never heard such a fucked-up story in my life. You’re lucky Wells here is an old friend and I trust him. He says there was no criminal intent on your part when you got mixed up in this. Care to tell me what the hell that means?”

Alex opened her mouth only to close it again at a signal from Rick.

“Before my client tells her story, I’d like to know she won’t be charged in this matter.” Alex admired the way his chin jutted out at the much bigger detectives.

“I’ll have to hear it before I can make that promise,” said the detective.

“Then I’m afraid we’ll have to wait while we get the district attorney in here,” said Rick.

“Wait a minute,” said Wells. “Jake, I’ve known this girl for a year, and I’m here to tell you trouble finds her faster than an ocotillo blooms after a rainstorm. I’d bet anything you want that any charges brought against her are going to be dismissed once we know the whole story. Give the goddam lawyer his guarantee and let’s get to the bottom of this. You’ve got a murder to solve.”

Alex jerked at the word murder. Even after they’d rounded up all the bit players like herself, they still didn’t know the facts of the case? Where was Jim Atkins? Was this delay allowing him to escape?

“Have you got Jim Atkins in custody?” she blurted. All three men turned from their standoff and stared at her.

“Jim Atkins?” the detective, Jake, asked. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“Don’t answer that, Alex. Keep your damn mouth shut until I tell you to open it,” said Rick.

Wells stared Watson down. “What’s it going to be, Jake?”

“Oh, all right,” said Watson “immunity for testimony.”

Alex started to speak again, but again Rick stopped her. “You don’t have that authority. I want to see it in writing, and I want it signed by the DA.”

With a disgusted look, Watson pulled the paper from his pocket. “There, satisfied?” he said.

Alex looked on in bewilderment.

What just happened?

Rick smirked as he read the paper. “Okay, Alex, go ahead.”

Watson pulled out a small tape recorder and turned it on, after Rick’s nod. Alex began to tell her story, beginning with finding the flier on the door of the shooting range. As the next hour went on, Watson stopped her at various points and sent for more officers, who ran out of the room on mysterious errands after he whispered to them. Alex went on, her training in reporting making her story remarkably cogent.

TWENTY-SIX

Dylan waited in vain for a call until late Sunday night, and then reluctantly went to bed, hoping to hear something in the morning. He’d heard from Wells that Rick was negotiating a deal for Alex, so he wasn’t as anxious as he could have been. It sounded as if Alex had been mixed up in something very nasty.

The following morning he was relieved to find a text from Alex waiting. In it she apologized for keeping her plan from him and told him he was right. Best of all, she said she’d be in Tempe before the end of the week. She had something to tell her dad, and was going home to do it.

Dylan pumped his fist with a stage whisper of
yes!
Everything would be all right now. He couldn’t wait to have Alex in his arms where she belonged. Whatever problems they’d had, he would do his best to meet her halfway to solve.

The part about something she needed to tell her dad was intriguing. Maybe she was going to mend fences with Paul about his decision to keep her mom’s betrayal from her. Without commenting on it, because he believed she would tell him when she was ready, he sent back a message telling her he loved her and couldn’t wait to see her.

While he was registering the boys for school, he’d turned off his phone so he wouldn’t be interrupted while he consulted with their school about the best placement for them. Before he put them in public school, he’d checked out the Catholic school, but eventually decided the public school was the best option for now. It was a couple of hours before he turned his phone back on, to discover he’d missed several calls and messages from Wanda, Paul, Lt. Wells, Rick and some of his former co-workers. What in hell had happened while he was out of pocket?

As he went through the texts, he became more and more bewildered. Alex had cracked a case? What case? Finally, one of the messages advised him to turn on his TV. He settled the boys at the kitchen table with sandwiches and took some time to hook up the cable, thanking his real estate agent mentally for getting it turned on in his name. When he turned it to a local all-news channel, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Across the ticker at the bottom of the screen was Alex’s name every few seconds, along with the headline “Student journalist solves attempted murder case. Interview next hour.”

What the hell? He looked at his watch. He had ten minutes to wait for Alex to explain to him, along with most of Arizona, just what was meant by that cryptic headline.

Absently munching his own sandwich, Dylan watched several commercials and the end of a silly soap opera before the news came on at noon. The announcers took turns intoning teasers about the stories to come, and then it was finally time to announce the top story…how a twenty-year-old student had solved not one but two murder cases involving the Patriots anti-illegals group.

Dylan swore and then looked over his shoulder to make sure the boys hadn’t heard him. No shocked little faces turned his way, so he turned his attention back to the screen, where Alex’s picture was now prominently displayed. A short lead-in, and then the screen switched to another feed, where a feature reporter faced Alex.

As Dylan listened in growing disbelief, Alex told how she’d linked the disappearance of a student four months previously to the attack on her friend Dawn Redbird just six weeks ago. She related how she first tracked down the identity of a girl whose mutilated body was left for dead on Highway 8, giving the girl’s parents closure on their daughter’s disappearance.

Her investigation led her to go undercover into the Patriots organization, where she learned enough to give police a tip that linked the Patriots to both the dead girl and the Native girl who was run off the road, resulting in the loss of her leg. There was something missing in the report, and that was what had conclusively pointed to the Patriots. Dylan recognized a standard police procedure. They were withholding something. Was that the tip Alex had been able to give them?

As much as he hated that Alex had put herself in danger not only from the Patriots but also from the legal system, Dylan couldn’t help being proud of her accomplishment. He saw pride in reflected on her face as well, but he also saw a shadow. The ordeal had affected her. It had been tough on her, whatever happened. He would have to be understanding as she healed.

When the interview was finally over, he began the task of returning the calls and messages. Yes, he was very proud of her. No, he didn’t know what she’d been up to. Yes, she deserved a nice vacation but school was starting in just a couple of weeks and he had a new job, so she probably wouldn’t get one. No, he didn’t know what the police were keeping private about the case.

Under all the excitement about Alex’s accomplishment, however, ran a chilling worry. Had they rounded up all the Patriots, or was one even now stalking Alex?

~~~

Alex stood still while the assistant took the microphone off her collar. Her thoughts were on her dad. She’d barely had time to call him and tell him something had happened before the interview aired. No time to elaborate, or prepare him for the shock he’d get if he watched it. She hoped he did, though. It would save her some words when she went to him later this afternoon.

Once freed of the microphone, she went to the ladies’ room to wipe off the excess makeup. This would be her career if she pursued her dream—except she’d be the interviewer instead of the interviewee. There had been a time when she would have been over the moon about being interviewed for a story. Today she felt a jumble of emotions that left her disoriented and anxious. This would be a good time for a Valium, except that she had the drive to Dodge ahead of her. She gave herself a mental shake to try to clear the cobwebs.

Before she headed for Dodge, she called her counselor for an emergency appointment. She wanted her head clear for her talk with her dad, and she wanted to get some things straight in her mind about Dylan. After inquiring about her state of mind during the raid on the Patriots’ safe house and discussing how and what she should say to her dad, he got around to the question that she’d have to answer before she could move to Tempe.

“Do you have any doubt that you love Dylan?” the counselor asked. Such a simple question, with a not-so-simple answer.

“I didn’t, until he told me to grow up. That made me mad, but now I’ve thought about it, I was acting like a spoiled, self-centered brat. What I learned about my mother shook me up.”

“And now you have that cleared up, don’t you?”

“Well, at least I know what happened, why she never came back. I mean, she couldn’t, right? Because she was dead. But what if she hadn’t died?
Would
she have come back, or would she have made a new life with this other man and her new baby? I don’t know that and I’ll never know.”

“No, you won’t. No amount of brooding about it will change that. What else could you do to move on?”

His challenge put the responsibility right back on her, and Alex knew in that moment that she could either continue to be a pain in the ass, or she could grow up. Handle her shit. Move on. To do that, she would have to stop thinking about only herself and her own feelings. She’d have to start thinking about others, and how her actions and attitude affected them. She’d treated Dylan very badly!

“I don’t know how to apologize to him and get over what I’ve done. He told me to stay away from the Patriots, and I should have listened. I’m glad I didn’t though, except for how it’s going to make him feel. If I’d stayed away from them, I wouldn’t know about my mother.”

“Life isn’t always cut and dried, Alex. But when you love someone, you own up to your mistakes and then you move on.”

“What if he can’t forgive me?” Alex put her hand to her mouth and bit at a hangnail, and then put her hand under her leg to stop fidgeting.

“Well, that would tell you something about his true feelings. But from what you’ve told me about him before, I have a feeling he will. You won’t know until you try.”

Alex sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to find out the hard way. First I have to go talk to my dad. I have to tell him about Mom in person.”

“Have you forgiven him for not telling you about her before?”

“I guess.” Alex looked away.

“You might want to do that before you talk to him, if you want to have a relationship with him afterward. I wouldn’t suggest you take him that news while still angry. He might feel that you were exacting revenge for his failure to tell you the truth about your mother.”

Alex brought her head up sharply, a frown forming as she spoke. “No! I mean, I don’t want to hurt him. I just feel he needs to know.”

“Of course he does, and what you just said tells me you have forgiven him. So now, tell me what you’re going to do.”

Obediently, Alex summarized her plan. “I’m going to leave here and drive to Dodge to talk to my dad. I’ll spend the night, and then tomorrow I’ll drive to Tempe with my things and move in with Dylan, if he still wants me. I’ll apologize for the way I’ve been acting, and try to put this behind me.”

Alex left her counselor’s office feeling more confident and in control than she had in days. She had the beginnings of a plan, but the remainder would depend on Dylan. She was calm about that. Her counselor had made her understand that Dylan’s decisions were his own and she couldn’t control them. If she had screwed up their relationship, she’d have to think about how to move forward. But a warm glow around her heart when she thought about Dylan gave her hope that it wasn’t too late for them.

One thing was certain. Whatever she decided to do now, it wouldn’t be staying in Casa Grande. Many of the Patriots had been caught thanks to her, but she had no doubt others were out there somewhere, and her cover had been blown big-time. It remained to be seen whether they’d pursue her into a bigger town, where she could remain less visible.

All bets were off should she score a reporting job on a Phoenix TV station. She’d have to cross that bridge when she came to it. Realizing she was thinking in clichés, Alex shook herself again, this time physically.

Pull yourself together, girl. You’ve got a dad to devastate.

Alex had told the detective she thought they had the wrong man in jail for the murder of the woman she believed to be her mother. Arrangements were being made for a DNA test she thought might be unpleasant. But it was necessary for closure, even though she was morally certain her conclusions were right.

Legally, more hard evidence than a string of logical leaps would be needed to prove his innocence. Even if the remains did prove to be her mother, proving her death to be an accident—or suicide—would be another leap. Harvey Lloyd may or may not spend the rest of his life in prison for a murder he may or may not have committed. That wasn’t her concern. He’d no doubt murdered or caused the murder of others, so justice was being served anyway, even if it was for the wrong crime.

What concerned her was convincing her father. He’d lived in denial for so long. On the long drive to Dodge, she rehearsed several different approaches, but couldn’t decide on the best one. Waving at Rick, who was following her, she pulled over in Gila Bend.

“What’s up?” Rick asked, as he pulled up beside her and rolled down his window.

“Coffee. This was probably a bad idea without a nap. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“You got that right. Here, I’ll get it, my treat. I could use some too. In fact, let’s go in and drink it here, take a break from the road for a minute.”

“Okay. Rick, I’ve been thinking. Do you think I should tell Dad what I think I’ve found out about Mom before the DNA confirmation comes back?”

“You’re certain it will be a confirmation?”

Alex shook her head at Rick’s habit of answering a question with a question, and then changed it to a nod. “Yeah. I can feel it’s right. My mom was depressed, maybe bi-polar, from the behavior people have described. She was severely depressed after she had me, but Dad told me they didn’t understand it very well back then. I doubt she got help. From what my dad's said about her, she must have felt helpless when she found herself pregnant by another man, her life falling apart and another baby on the way. I can see it, can’t you?”

“Awful way to do it, walking in front of a train,” Rick observed. He took a cautious sip of his hot coffee and looked out the window.

“Yeah, I don’t want to talk about that, or think about it. Maybe Dad would be better off not knowing.”

Rick met her eyes again. “Do you really believe that?”

Alex stared at the dark liquid for a minute before she answered. “No. He needs to move on. He’s still young enough to find happiness, and I’ve got a hunch it’s already waiting at his doorstep if he lets go of Mom.”

“I think you’re right, Alex. You’ve dedicated your life to seeking the truth, and you’ve served it in spite of personal danger more than once. Hiding it now seems out of character.” Rick held her gaze with an open and sincere expression, until it was Alex’s turn to look away.

“You’re right. That gives me some clarity on what comes next, too. Thanks, Rick.”

“No charge,” he deadpanned. Then he smiled at her. “You’re quite a remarkable young lady, Alex Ward. I’m proud to be your friend.”

“I thought you were my lawyer,” she said, grinning. Both of them recalled the nearly identical words he’d once snapped at Dylan.

“That, too. To whom should I send the bill for this little jaunt?”