J. Jance - Left for Dead

“That would mean he was poaching on Nogo territory,” Ignacio said. “Pasquale wouldn’t like it, and it would also take your deal off the table. What if somebody set him up to look like he was dealing?”

In the mirror, Manuel Renteria met and held his cousin’s gaze. “Any idea who?”

Ignacio shook his head.

“We found drugs at the scene,” Manuel said. “If they didn’t come from Pasquale, where did they come from?”

“I’m sure Pasquale is asking the same question.”

Ignacio brushed loose hair from the back of Renteria’s neck, removed the cape, snapped it clean, and folded it up.

“Thanks,” Sheriff Renteria said. “Tell Pasquale I said hello.”

Standing up, he pulled out his wallet and pulled out five ten-dollar bills. One at a time, he counted them into Ignacio’s outstretched hand-ten bucks for the haircut and forty bucks for the tip, in every sense of the word. As far as Sheriff Renteria was concerned, it was well worth it. Ignacio had hinted at a possibility the sheriff hadn’t considered-that maybe Jose Reyes really had been set up.

He thought about it for a time, but not for long. As much as he wanted to believe it, he couldn’t. There was too much compelling evidence that said otherwise.

9:00 A.M., Monday, April 12

Vail, Arizona

Al Gutierrez was returning from a morning run when his phone rang. “What the hell were you thinking?” Sergeant Kevin Dobbs demanded.

“Excuse me?”

“You had no business going off Lone Rangering it. Now I’m in deep caca with the higher-ups, and you’re in deeper caca with me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the ‘informal’ visit you paid to Buckeye yesterday. You weren’t in uniform. You weren’t on duty. I just got off the phone with a homicide detective from Phoenix. She’s all over my butt, asking all kinds of difficult questions. Before she called me, she tried calling Pima County to ask about the progress of the investigation on the assault near Three Points. When they didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, guess what? She started nosing around with Border Patrol, and somebody pointed her in my direction. Thank you very much for that, by the way. Really appreciate it. I told her the paperwork on the assault must have gotten lost between here and Pima County. I expect you to back me up on that, by the way.”

Al had found the injured girl on Friday afternoon. This was only Monday morning. “Paperwork gets lost all the time,” he said. “What’s the big deal? And why a homicide detective?”

“The big deal is that your ‘assault victim’ is evidently a missing person in two jurisdictions and a homicide suspect in another. It’s like she’s all over the place, and I’m the one left holding the bag. So while I’m straightening out the paperwork, you can expect a phone call from the homicide cop. I gave her your number. Her name’s Rush-Detective Ariel Rush.”

“What do you want me to tell her?”

“That we handed our report in on Friday and have no idea what happened to it afterward. That we’re sending a duplicate over to Pima County. As for why you were following up on something when you were out of uniform and it wasn’t your concern? Knock yourself out. Tell ’em whatever the hell you want, but if it comes back and bites me in the butt, you’re looking at a minimum three-day suspension.”

Call waiting buzzed, but Dobbs had already hung up before Al switched from one line to another.

“Al Gutierrez?” a woman asked.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s me.”

“I’m Detective Rush,” she said. “Detective Ariel Rush with Phoenix PD, Homicide.”

“Sergeant Dobbs told me to expect a call from a homicide detective. What he didn’t say is who died.”

“I’m investigating the murder of a man who was found dead from blunt-force trauma and dumped in North Phoenix sometime early Friday morning. He has since been identified as Enrique ‘Chico’ Hernandez, who ran a high-end call girl operation in Phoenix. On Saturday, some young women-Mr. Hernandez’s employees-called to report that he and one of their roommates, a girl named Breeze Domingo-a young woman with a rose tattoo on her right breast-had gone missing sometime early Thursday morning. The reason the roommates came forward in the first place is that Chico’s name was the one on the rental agreement for their apartment. He had fallen behind in the rent. Without him there, the other girls were worried about being tossed out on their butts with nowhere to go and no protection.

“It wasn’t until Mr. Hernandez’s bloodstained vehicle was found abandoned in downtown Phoenix early yesterday afternoon that we were able to put the missing persons report together with the homicide. When we ran prints found in the vehicle through AFIS, we ended up getting a hit from another missing persons case, that of a fourteen-year-old girl named Rose Ventana who ran away from her home in Buckeye over three years ago. Since Rose was also reported to have a rose tattoo in a pretty distinctive location, I think it’s safe to assume that Breeze Domingo and Rose Ventana are one and the same. Since her prints were found at the scene of a homicide, that suggests she’s either a suspect or, at the very least, a person of interest.”

“How did you make the connection to the Three Points case?” Al asked.

“Her father,” Ariel said. “Initially, I called the house first thing this morning, thinking that if Breeze were in some kind of trouble, she might have turned to her family for help. The mother was completely in the dark. When I told her about finding the fingerprints, she was overjoyed, not because her daughter might be a person of interest in a homicide but because she was alive. That was the first hint she’d had in years that her daughter wasn’t dead. About that time Rose’s father came on the phone, and it turned out he already knew.”

“Stepfather,” Al corrected. “And yes, he knew because I told him yesterday.”

“Right,” Ariel agreed. “Stepfather. He was pissed. He thought you were the one who had called us into it. It wasn’t easy to get the whole story from him, because by then his wife was in the background, screaming at him and telling him that if someone thought her daughter was alive, he had no right to keep the information to himself. At any rate, Mr. Fox gave me your name and phone number because you had given him your card. When I tried reaching you and you weren’t in, they put me through to your supervisor.”

“Sergeant Dobbs.”

“Exactly,” Detective Rush said. “Who wasn’t at all overjoyed to hear from me. By now I expect James and Connie Fox are on their way to Tucson to try to see their daughter. Maybe not both of them, but for sure the mother. It turns out I’m headed for Tucson, too. From what I’m hearing, it seems likely that Breeze/Rose could be both a victim of a crime and a perpetrator. I’ll need to talk to her to sort all that out. I’d like to see you, too. I’d like to go out and take a look at the crime scene. Can you direct me to it?”

“Sure. No problem.” Al said. “I’ll be glad to take you there.”

“Was any kind of crime scene investigation done at the time?”

Al thought about the possible implications of any answer he might give. None of them were good. “I took a few photos, but that’s about it,” he said finally.

Detective Rush laughed. “Let me guess,” she said. “That would be because Sergeant Dobbs deliberately dropped the ball.”

“I didn’t say that,” Al told her.

“No, you didn’t,” she agreed, “because you didn’t have to. This isn’t my first day, Agent Gutierrez. I can figure out one or two things on my own. I’ve spent the past twenty years dealing with people like Kevin Dobbs. Generally, I give them two simple choices: Get out of my way or get run over.”