Sam stared at the familiar list of names, as Jolene gasped and dragged a pillow into her lap.
“Missing. You said they were missing persons.”
“They’re dead, Jolene. We know they’re dead.” His mouth twisted.
“Gabe Altamarino is on your list? Melody’s ex-boyfriend?”
“This list is slightly different from mine. She has names on here that aren’t crossed off, and yet they’re on my list. She has others, like Gabe that I don’t have at all.”
“What’s she doing with these names, Sam? Melody was no drug mule.” She dropped the paperback book into the drawer and slid it closed.
“She wasn’t but Gabe was, and she definitely knew what was going on at the construction site.” He backtracked to the bedroom door and picked up the item he’d dropped. “I made my own discovery. That’s why I was calling you.”
“An arrow?” Jolene’s hands curled into fists. “The same kind of arrow in the snake head Chip brought inside.”
“Looks like Melody, not Wade, was trying to warn you away from interfering.”
“But at the end, she texted me El Gringo Viejo. She must’ve had second thoughts, or was so wasted she wasn’t thinking at all.”
“Maybe once she knew I was helping you, she figured she’d drop his name.” The feathers tickled his fingers as he ran his hand along the end of the arrow. “We need to find Gabe Altamarino.”
“I always had a suspicion Melody never stopped seeing Gabe, despite Wade’s best efforts.” Jolene flicked her finger at the paper. “With his name on this list, do you think he’s in hiding? How’d he get away if he was carrying Pink Lady across the border while the others disappeared? That was over two years ago, and he certainly wasn’t in hiding when he was dating Melody.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he was one of the first, and the dealer wasn’t being as thorough at that time.” Sam lifted his shoulders. “Do you think Melody stole the map from you for the same reason? I’d feel better knowing she was the one skulking around your house.”
“I would, too, but I doubt she was the one who fixed my brakes, so someone other than Melody wants me to back off...us, wants us to back off after what happened last night.” Jolene carefully folded the sheet of paper. “I’m sticking this in my purse.”
Sam had a strong urge to snatch the paper from her again and burn it. He didn’t want Jolene to be in possession of any of this stuff. “Don’t go waving that around. Put it in your safe.”
“I can do that.”
Sam nodded at a suitcase in the closet. “As long as we’re here, you should probably go ahead and pack up some of Melody’s clothes. Maybe pick out something for her burial and make good on that lie.”
Jolene’s dark eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she nodded. “Are you going to try to find Gabe? Like I said, I think he moved to Tucson after the breakup, or the pretend breakup.”
“I’ll use the resources back at the station. I can drop you off at Granny Viv’s with Melody’s suitcase, if you want to go there.” He waved the arrow. “I’m going to toss this.”
Ten minutes later, Sam took Melody’s suitcase from Jolene and carried it down the stairs. He stashed it in the trunk of his car and they drove to the reservation.
He pulled up beside the Nighthawks’ shiny Tesla and cut the engine. “I’ll help you with the suitcase, but I’m not going inside—and if Wade’s in there, it wouldn’t be a good idea to spout off at him again.”
She ran her fingertip along the seam of her lips. “I’m not saying a word to him about anything—not even Gabe, unless you want me to do some prying.”
“No prying. The guy had a record, right? It should be easy to track him in the system and get a current address on him. If Tucker the trucker hadn’t landed so conveniently in the laps of the police, they probably would’ve run down Gabe and questioned him, anyway.”
“Yeah, I just can’t shake off the guilt that we put Tucker in their sights.”
“Tucker put himself there by taking Melody’s purse.”
“But not her phone.”
“Phone’s still missing.” Sam popped the trunk and exited the vehicle. He hauled the suitcase from the back and wheeled it over the gravel to Granny Viv’s front door. “Give my best and condolences to everyone and stay out of trouble.”
“I’ll do that.” She placed her hand on his arm. “Pick me up later?”
“Sure, and if you get a ride back to your place before that, dinner?”
“I’ll be sick of casseroles by that time.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m sure the neighbors are delivering food to Gran and Wade’s family.”
“No casseroles, then. I’ll be in touch.” He spun around, leaving her on the porch. He could’ve gone inside, but he didn’t do well with emotions like that. He’d pay his respects to Melody in his own way by attending a meeting here in Paradiso—the same one where he met Melody, who then introduced him to Jolene.
He owed her that.
As he pulled into the station, a team was headed out in the trucks. He called out the window to Clay, who told him one of the drones had picked up some suspicious activity at one of the sealed-off tunnels.
Yeah, he could tell Clay a thing or two about suspicious activity.
The call made the station quiet, and Sam waved to just one other agent moored to his desk, his ear glued to the phone.
He dropped into the chair behind his temporary desk and logged in to the computer. First order of business was to pull up the map to the Las Moscas tunnels and see which one was closest to the Yaqui land.
With the map in front of him on the display, he studied the red dots indicating the closed tunnels. His finger hovered over the one that was farthest west and closest to the casino property. He zoomed in on it and brought it up in an aerial view to analyze the landscape. He’d seen similar formations along the Yaqui land—right before someone started taking shots at him and Jolene.
He drew some boundaries on the screen and printed out the highlighted section of the map.
He’d need the tribe’s approval to go hunting for a tunnel along the border of its property—and that meant Wade’s approval. Would Wade really want that stigma attached to his casino project?
He stood up, stretched and retrieved his sheet of paper from the printer. On the way back to his desk, he stopped by the vending machines and got a soda. He needed the caffeine.
Sleeping next to Jolene with the hands-off directive had been hell last night. Did she think he was made of stone? Hard, cold rock? He’d been rock hard, all right, but there’d been nothing cold about it.
She hadn’t fooled him for a second. She hadn’t been able to sleep, either. When Jolene slept, she threw arms and legs around, grabbing and bunching covers, crowding his space. Last night, she lay there like a log, not moving a muscle. It had to have taken great control on her part to pull that off.
The question remained, why’d she do it? Why’d she shut him down? She’d slipped up the night before. Desire had taken over her common sense, or maybe Melody’s death had shaken her up so much she needed someone close. That didn’t mean she wanted him back.
He snapped the tab on his can and chugged half the soda before taking his seat in front of the computer again.
This time he accessed the NCIC and entered Gabe Altamarino. He stared at the blinking cursor and the blank screen. Hunching forward, he entered Gabriel Altamarino. The system gave him no love—kinda like Jolene.
He took a few sips of his drink, cradling the bubbles with his tongue. Then he tried various spellings of Altamarino. Got a hit for Gabe Marino, but his picture and profile didn’t match someone who’d be involved with Melody.
How’d that happen? One of the reasons Wade had been hell-bent against Melody’s relationship with this guy was because he had a record. So, where was his record? Drug crimes as an adult could not be expunged. Maybe Gabe had been a juvenile when he’d committed these offenses.
Sam rubbed his eyes and dug into his email from his office in San Diego.
Jorge, the other agent in the office, approached his desk with a thick file. “Thought you might be interested in seeing this.”
“What is it?” Sam pushed back from his desk and propped up his feet.
“It’s the preliminary crime scene report from the Melody Nighthawk murder. You’re the one who found her, right? Nabbed her killer?”
Sam wouldn’t bet on that second statement, but he nodded. “Yeah, I knew Melody. She was my friend’s cousin.”
Jorge plopped the file on Sam’s desk next to his feet. “The sheriff’s office sent it over earlier. Basic autopsy, no toxicology yet, prints and other trace evidence.”
They’d missed the list of drug mules in her nightstand drawer.
“Thanks, man.” Sam dropped his feet from the desk and wheeled his chair in, flipping over the cover of the file folder.
He ran his finger down the first page of details, and then began shuffling through the pages. He stopped at the one listing the number of fingerprints found in Melody’s apartment—looked like a list from Grand Central Terminal.
His prints were identified, as well as Jolene’s, Wade’s, Tucker’s, a bunch of unknowns and several sets ID’d but not familiar to him—probably Melody’s friends. The police had probably zeroed in on Tucker’s prints being in the apartment and called it a day.
He glanced through the preliminary autopsy report. Time of death had already been nailed down, but a cause of death hadn’t been determined yet. The medical examiner would want to look at the toxicology report before making anything official.
The rest of the pages slipped through his fingers as he thumbed through them until he got to the autopsy photos. He spread a few of them out on the desk and studied Melody’s head wound. Must’ve been more than the blood loss that killed her.
The medical examiner had taken photos of the tattoos on Melody’s body. Sam’s throat got tight when he made out one on Melody’s thigh that said survivor. Damn, he should’ve intervened when he saw her drunk.
He peeled up another photo from his desk of a tattoo across Melody’s lower back. Squinting, he read out loud, “Chris.”
Who the hell was Chris? Was that Melody’s sponsor’s name? Family member? Sam ticked off Jolene’s family members on his fingers but didn’t recall a Chris. One of her friends?
Friends. He shuffled back through to the beginning of the file, and pulled out the list of fingerprints in the apartment. Hadn’t he seen a Chris on this sheet?
His gaze tracked down the page and stumbled over one name—Christopher Contreras. How had this guy been in Melody’s apartment enough to leave several prints and merit ink on her body without anyone knowing about him? Jolene had never mentioned a Chris to him.
If the police had ID’d Contreras’s prints, he had to be in the system, and Sam would bet good money the guy wasn’t in there for being a teacher or public servant.
The keys on his computer clacked as he accessed the NCIC system again. He entered Contreras’s name and got a hit. He brought up the guy’s information, his blood humming as he read through Contreras’s priors and his current address in Tucson.
He stabbed the key to send the file to the printer and picked up the phone.
Jolene answered breathlessly on the third ring. “Sam?”
“Are you ready? We’re going to pay a visit to Gabe Altamarino, aka Chris Contreras.”