Steven Havill - Statute of Limitations

“She looked bedraggled,” Jackie said. “They both did. She’s huge, though, and she kept shifting on the seat as if she couldn’t find a comfortable position.”

“Ay,” Estelle said. They heard the scuffing of a door opening and Estelle stepped away from the side of the building and looked down the sidewalk toward Room 110. A young man in jeans and sweatshirt stood framed in the doorway, one hand on the jamb, one on the knob. He saw Estelle and gave her a questioning look. “Let’s find out,” she said.

“Hello,” the young man said as the three approached. He held the door open further. “Come on in out of the rain.”

“Thank you,” Estelle said. “I’m Posadas County Undersheriff Estelle Guzman, sir. This is Deputy Jackie Taber and Bill Gastner.”

“Todd Willis.” He turned and nodded toward the bathroom. “My fiancée is in the bathroom.”

“Is Ms. Hart all right?”

“She’s fine. We’re tired, is all. She’ll be out in a minute.”

“Mr. Willis, I’m interested in two things. First, did you call 911 this evening?”

A flush crept up his pale cheeks. Estelle watched as he appeared to debate with himself about what to say. He was a good-looking kid, despite the stringy, long hair and Ohio Wesleyan sweatshirt that had needed laundering a week before.

“Yes,” he said quickly, as if he had realized that he’d waited too long to reply.

“What did you see, Mr. Willis? Why the 911 call?” Estelle glanced around the generic room. A large nylon overnight bag rested on the dresser, beside what appeared to be a bulky camera case.

“We were just starting to unload from the van, outside there where we’re parked? I was at the back door, and happened to glance back that way”-he waved in the direction of the motel office-“and saw three men talking. At least that’s what it looked like. One of them appeared to collapse against the wall of the motel and then fell. The other two men drove away and left him there.”

“Drove away in what?”

“A late-model car of some kind. I’m not sure what model. Maybe an Olds or a Buick. Something like that. Full-sized.”

“Did you go over to check on the stricken man?”

Willis hesitated again. “No. I thought that the best thing I could do was call 911 and let the professionals do it.”

The bathroom door opened and an enormously pregnant young woman emerged wearing a thick plaid bathrobe and fluffy slippers. Her thin, swarthy face accentuated the dark hollows under her eyes.

“Hi,” she said, and moved to the bed, sitting down gently on the corner with one hand under her belly.

“Ms. Hart?” Estelle said, and introduced herself again. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m just tired.” Stacie Hart smiled wanly. “And we’re kind of upset about what happened down the way. Is the man going to be all right?”

“We don’t know,” Estelle said. “But we’re interested in what you saw.”

“I was inside already. I didn’t see what happened.”

“Did both of you go into the motel office when you checked in?”

Stacie nodded. “Would you close the door, please?” she said to her fiancé, and Willis did so. “Yes…I went in with Todd.”

“When was the first time that you became aware of any of the three men on down the way?”

“As we were turning around. I mean after we checked in,” Willis said. “We went back out to the van, and we were turning around to drive down here. One of the three men was just walking down the parking lot toward the lobby as we did that. A great big guy with a ponytail. I had parked kinda close to the doors, and when I was pulling out, he took a step back and turned sideways, I guess thinking that maybe I needed the room to maneuver.” Willis paused and looked at his fiancée. “He was a big guy, like I said. And he looked fit. Not fat or anything.”

“He never said anything? Any gestures?”

“No. He just waited a second or two for me to move the van out of the way.”

“And then what?”

“Then we drove down to our parking spot, outside here. I glanced back toward the office when we were getting out of the van to come inside our room, and another of the men was walking toward the motel entrance. He was reaching out with one hand, kind of like he was running the flat of his hand along the wall, like maybe for balance. I didn’t know if he was drunk, or what.”

“Where were the other two men at that time?”

“I didn’t see them. I mean, I didn’t look. We were busy getting our stuff from the van into the room.”

“But you saw the man collapse?”

“That was a minute or so later. I went back out to get some stuff and close the van’s back door, and the three of them were down by the two cars.”

“Talking, arguing?”

“I couldn’t tell. If I had to guess, I’d say just talking. I locked up the van, and when I turned around again, I saw the one older man sag against the wall, then fall to his hands and knees.”

“What did the other two men do?” Estelle asked.

“Nothing, I guess.”

“Did you see them touch the man at any time?”

Willis shook his head. “It just looked like they were talking, and like maybe the man who collapsed was walking away, around the front of the car.”

“What prompted your call, then?”

“Well, I saw the old guy collapse, but then the other two just drove away and left him there. That’s when I called 911.”

“How long after the man collapsed was it before the other two drove away?” Estelle asked.

“Right away. I mean, right then. They didn’t go over to him, or anything. They just got in the car and left. Just like that.”

“And you didn’t walk down to see if you could help?”

Willis took a deep breath and glanced at Stacie. “No.”

Bill Gastner grunted something to himself and thrust his hands deeper in his pockets. He glowered at the young man over the top of his glasses. Estelle didn’t interrupt as the old man’s unblinking gaze dissected Todd Willis for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Why not?” Gastner finally asked. “Wouldn’t that be the logical thing to do?”

“I thought…I thought the best thing was to call emergency,” Willis said lamely. “I don’t know CPR or anything like that.”

“Shit,” Gastner said with disgust and turned half away, his interest apparently attracted to the print of a Dutch windmill that hung over the blond oak desk.

“This is just your second stop this evening here in town?” Estelle asked gently. Willis nodded quickly as if relieved to be talking to her, rather than her elderly companion. He glanced at Deputy Taber for confirmation.

“We talked to Deputy Taber earlier,” he said. “Over at the park.”

“Were you thinking of staying there for the night? In the park, I mean?”

“No,” he said quickly. “We just stopped there to look at the map.”

“Ah. You’re lost?”

He smiled and ducked his head. “No. We’re not lost. Not the map, actually. We were looking through our notes and stuff. Looking through the Posadas directory.”

“For?”

“Well,” and he hesitated. “To see where else we might be able to stay.”

“I’m surprised that the B-and-B didn’t have a vacancy this time of year,” Estelle said. “Where else have you tried?”

“We stopped at the B and B,” Willis said, “but the owner…well, she…” He finished with a vague waffle of his hand.

“No, I meant stopped at places other than in Posadas,” Estelle said. She had been watching Stacie Hart as they talked. The girl had remained silent, all her energy consumed by the effort to keep her spine vertical. “Did you stop in Deming on your way over from Cruces?”