Chapter 47

 

It was a little after seven when Beau kissed Sam, sending her on her way after the visit with Tansy Montoya. Hoping his wife’s healing touch would work on the comatose woman was a longshot—he knew that. Tansy’s mother had been sitting at the bedside when they arrived. The poor woman looked ten years older every time he saw her, which made her about a hundred-twenty now. Her own health wasn’t good, she’d told Beau the first time they met. Last year, she’d moved in with Tansy to help with the children but mainly for the personal and financial help her daughter could offer.

He’d guided the poor woman out of the ICU, suggesting a cup of tea and giving Sam some time alone with the patient. When they walked away, Sam was standing beside Tansy, stroking her arm gently. By the time he and Mrs. Montoya came back from the cafeteria, Sam was waiting for him near the nurse’s station. She gave a subtle headshake to let Beau know there’d been no change.

Now, with nothing more to accomplish at the hospital, they’d left the Montoyas alone and were off to begin their respective workdays.

“I’m holding on to hope,” Sam said as she slid into her van. “My cures don’t always happen immediately. Shall I check back with the nurse later in the day?”

“That’s okay. They know to call me if she wakes up and can talk. I’ll let you know.” Another kiss. “Thanks, darlin’. You’re the best.”

He watched her start the van and pull out of the parking lot. Next on his list was to try to track down the girl whose family connection Sandy supplied last night, see if he might net some usable clue about that stolen money. He phoned his deputy.

“Hey Rico,” Beau said, starting his cruiser when the deputy answered. “I’m on my way. Wonder if you can do a little research for me? Family name is Cook. C-O-O-K. Head of household is Julia Cook. I need an address.”

“I’ll get on it, boss.”

“I’ll be there in ten. If you have the info sooner, call me back.”

Beau pulled out of the hospital parking lot, ignoring radio chatter about other things his men could handle. Today, he was determined to make headway in this robbery case. He and Beason had a good start with Rudy Vasquez in Springer and the admissions the guard had made yesterday. Now, if Beau could only tie it all together with the money—how and why it had ended up in Taos and who the actual gunman was. He would love a big break but knew these things were usually a matter of piecing the case together, like a jigsaw puzzle, adding each little clue until it all made sense.

He drove past the plaza where traffic always backed up a bit, thinking through the scraps of information they had. Two guards whose stories were beginning to diverge, site of the robbery itself with no clues, sliced-open money bags found at the picnic area, duffle with a hundred-thou cash at the restaurant, one of the bills being spent at a convenience store, the armored car company manager who’d been helpful at first and a bit dodgy later, a possible drug connection, a missing girl who might know something. It was like having chunks of the puzzle put together but no big picture—no way to know how the little scenes interlocked.

He parked in his assigned slot, got out of his cruiser and keyed the entry code into the pad at the back door. Rico was at his own desk, phone to his ear.

“Glad you’re here, Sheriff. I was just about to call.” He held up a small sheet of paper. “Here’s that address you wanted. Your source was right—first name is Julia. Julia Cook. The address is on Royal Street. It’s one of those little apartment buildings with about a dozen units.”

“Okay, good. I’ll run over there now. It’s early enough I might catch them before everyone scatters for work and school.”

His shoulder mike squawked.

“Yeah, Dixie. I’m in the building.”

“Oh, good,” came the fuzzy, electronic response. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“I was about to head out. Can anyone else—?”

“This seems urgent, Sheriff. She’s pretty upset.”

“I’ll come up front.” He stuffed Rico’s note with the address into his shirt pocket.

Beau walked past his own office, down a hallway where Dixie sat at the dispatcher’s desk. She pointed toward the door that separated public rooms from the staff offices. When Beau opened it he saw a teenage girl, thin to the point of emaciation, dressed in black jeans and hoodie that hung off her small frame. Her pale blonde hair stuck out in tangles, as if she’d gotten up from a sleepless night and run her hands through her fuzzy locks. Her blue eyes were wide, rimmed in red to match the bright tip of her nose. The desk sergeant had ushered the young girl into a waiting area so she couldn’t easily make a dash for the front door, which seemed a distinct possibility right now.

He had a feeling about this.

When she saw Beau, the tears which had balanced on her lower lids flowed over and ran down her pale cheeks. Her hands shook as she wiped them away but the flood was on. A steady trail of tears dripped from her chin. He felt fairly certain she was the teen he’d seen at the hospital.

“Hey, hey,” he said gently. “Let’s come inside and sit down. What’s your name?”

An interrogation room seemed too scary and formal. From the look on this girl’s face, something had terrified her. He led her to a small conference room they used for meetings. It held a table and eight chairs, some video equipment and had a small wet bar in one corner. He indicated she could sit where she wanted but she was far too jumpy. She paced to the end of the room and looked out tall windows that faced a landscaped courtyard where ornamental trees were losing their red and orange leaves.

“Can I get you a juice or a soda?” Beau asked, holding open the door to the mini-fridge to reveal the choices.

She shook her head. He closed the fridge and asked again, “What’s your name? I can’t very well say hey-you all morning.”

She spotted something outside and backed away from the window. “Sara. It’s Sara.”

He debated filling in the last name himself but decided it might spook her. “Sara, what’s your last name?”

“Cook.”

Bingo. He’d been right. Beau pulled a chair out from the table and sat down, indicating she should do the same, but she was still jumpy as a deer.

“Sara, thanks for coming in. Now, you wanted to see me about something?”

She paced the length of the room before taking a deep breath. “My mom says it’s always best to be honest, even if somebody might get in trouble about it.”

“Are you in trouble over something?”

“It’s not me—it’s my brother. Mom didn’t know it was Matt I was talking about.” Her lower lip quivered again. “My brother isn’t a bad guy. He’d never kill someone. I don’t think he’s even ever fired a gun.”

“Can I make a guess here? Are we talking about the robbery and the money you found?”

She nodded before it occurred to her to be worried he knew so much. She took a step back but discovered she was in the corner.

“You didn’t have anything to do with that robbery, did you?”

A headshake.

“But you think maybe your brother did?” He wished he knew more about the psychology of the teenage mind—how much to baby this along, how much to bluff, whether to get tough.

“I don’t know …”

He kept his gaze steady, his expression neutral.

“Well, I guess I’m pretty sure.” Her arms were folded tightly across her chest.

“You might not have to testify, if that’s what’s worrying you. You can tell me about it and we’ll just check it out. Maybe Matt won’t be in all that much trouble.”

“It’s Kurt!” she blurted. “Matt and Wolfe, they aren’t bad people. It’s that Kurt. He’s mean and dangerous and I think he even uses drugs. Last night he—” Her voice broke and the tears started again.

“That’s okay,” he said, giving her a moment. “I’ll need their last names. Who’s Wolfe?”

“Wolfe Hanson, he’s been Matt’s best friend since we were little. His sister Crissy and I—” More tears. Beau wished he had a female deputy in the office today to handle this. He was always out of his depth with tears.

He let her calm down again before asking his next question. “And this Kurt—what’s his last name? Is he also a long-time friend of your brother’s?”

Her head wagged back and forth. “No, he’s awful. He was threatening Matt last night out in the parking lot and I saw them and I yelled at him and then he said he’d make me go and talk to the bakery lady. He thinks she’s in their way and if I can’t talk her out of the money then Kurt’s going to, and he’ll hurt her.”

Beau felt the hair on his arms prickle.

“Bakery lady? What bakery lady are they talking about?”

“She’s been hanging around this old house out near Wolfe’s uncle’s place. I don’t even know what she does there. They just call her the bakery lady because of the design on this van she drives.”