Cait sat on the edge of a plastic chair and watched the slight but steady rise and fall of Jack’s chest. His eyes were closed, head bandaged and right arm cast from above his elbow to wrist.
Outside his room in the University of New Mexico Medical Center, she heard faint voices, carts wheeling down a hall. A patch of blue showed through a small window on a wall opposite the bed.
She gently touched his face. A moment later his eyelids parted.
“I dreamed you were here. You were singing something in Zuni.”
“Sweetie, I’ve been here all night. I’ve been praying a lot. Thank God you’re alive and talking.” She kissed his nose and placed a small stone carving on his chest. The little white bear was sculpted out of soapstone in traditional Zuni style, bisected by a narrow “heart line” of Sleeping Beauty turquoise running from mouth to center of its body. Her dad, Ernie Zapata, a jeweler and lapidary specialist, had created the bear fetish, which embodied the qualities of healing and toughness in the face of hardship.
Jack kept his eyes on her. “I’ve got a hell of a headache. Feels like a semi ran me over. Did I get shot?”
“There was a bomb.” Her forehead creased.
“My neighbor and her dog?” Jack’s good hand clenched and unclenched.
“They’re ok, except for minor glass cuts from the blast. Someone rigged up your apartment. You could have been blown to bits.” Cait’s eyes were moist. She’d come close to losing him. They had been about to make it official after going out for over two years. “There’s more. It’s about Russell Connor.”
“What?” Jack recoiled.
Cait touched his hand. “He’s dead. His body was found yesterday on a trail in the foothills. Near the end of Copper Street, not far from his house. He must have been walking his dog in the evening. He was shot to death, along with the dog.”
“No.” Jack drew in a ragged breath. “Why Russell? He was such a good guy.”
“You two were investigating Sonny Para. He’s behind this. He may not have put a bomb in your condo or pulled the trigger himself on the Gonzalez couple. He’s got people doing his dirty work.” Cait’s mouth turned down. “You, we, need to get out of Albuquerque and let the feds take over.”
Jack shifted in bed. “I don’t scare that easy.”
“Maybe you should. There’s an armed guard outside your room right now. As soon as they release you, I’m taking you to my parents’ house in Zuni, no arguments.”
“What’s going to happen to the Para investigation?” Jack made a fist of his good hand and examined it.
“I don’t know. The important thing is keeping you safe,” Cait said. “Where they can’t get to you.”
***
Jason Gonzalez sat in a dark living room, conscious of the nearby rumble and vibration of traffic choking the 710 freeway running through East Los Angeles.
He rose and went to a window, peeked through plastic mini blinds at a small immaculate front yard enclosed by a stucco wall topped with a tall wrought iron fence.
His aunt was working for another six hours. He felt trapped inside her small house, afraid to go to the store or walk around the block. He didn’t think he’d been tailed to L.A., but he knew Sonny Para would do his best to track him down.
Jason picked up a TV remote, clicked through the channels, and hit the “off” button.
He picked up his cell phone, called his girlfriend Rosa back in Albuquerque, then hung up without leaving a message. He worried about her, even though they had argued the last time they had been together. Jason wished like anything he’d listened to her advice not to go to the cops about Sonny Para and Los Brutos. If he had kept his mouth shut, his parents would still be alive and he would still have a life and a future. Now Rosa might be a target. He certainly was dead meat.
If Sonny knew he was in L.A., Jason’s aunt was also at risk. He had to move on, but where to was the big question. Picking up his cell, he went online and searched the Albuquerque news.
His stomach lurched at a leading story in the Albuquerque Star. One cop had been shot dead and another injured in a bomb blast. He recognized the names, the detectives he’d confided in. If the police weren’t safe, what hope was there for him?
A knock at the front door made him jump. He tiptoed to the window and squinted through the closed blinds at a man holding a briefcase.