Cait took the turn from Sandario Road too fast, tires sliding toward the edge of asphalt bordering the opposite lane. She corrected and accelerated along a straight section of Mile Wide Road. Rod Stone was in flight mode. Christy Mossman must have realized someone had riffled through her mail. Stone had panicked and commandeered the woman’s SUV.
The intersection with Kinney Road came too soon. Cait merged right and punched the gas pedal, flying past a small car dawdling along the curvy roadway.
“Slow down. I don’t want to get wrapped around a saguaro.” Jack gripped the dash. “He’s up ahead. See those lights?”
Cait managed to stay to the right of the centerline, tires squealing through turns. “We’re gaining. He knows my Jeep, though. I’m sure he’ll figure out who’s after him.”
Jack was on his cell telling a 911 dispatcher about Stone’s location and what he was wanted for.
He hung up. “The Tucson cops will be looking for him on Speedway up ahead. I also let the local FBI shop know Jerry Fleming was in town with a new alias. They’ll send someone to talk with Christy Mossman.”
Gates Pass Road came up suddenly. Cait sweated through a tight left turn, managing to keep the wheels on the pavement. “We’ve got him. Now where’s Tucson PD?”
“Don’t get too close,” Jack said. “He’s a wacko.”
Gates Pass turned into Speedway Boulevard and traffic jammed up. As they approached the underpass beneath I-10, the signal ahead changed to yellow and a large truck cut in front of them and slowed. A tight line of vehicles prevented her from changing lanes. She cursed her luck. “Nooo. Is he still there?”
“Damn red light.” Jack threw his hands up. “He made it through. He’s gone.”
The truck in front moved and Cait tried for a lane change. As she forced her way in front of a sedan, the light on the other side of the underpass turned green. Traffic spurted along.
She hotfooted it down Speedway, to no avail. “We lost him. Sorry.”
“You did your best,” Jack said. “We need to check on Jason Gonzalez.”
***
A pair of Tucson PD units with light bars flashing were parked in front of the office of the Catalina Desert Inn.
“Damn. I have a sneaking suspicion this has to do with Jason. He’s not answering his phone.” Jack’s feet hit the pavement before Cait rolled to a stop. He trotted past the squad cars and headed for Jason’s room. After knocking on the door, he met Cait at the office.
Inside, the clerk was occupied with two officers. When the patrolmen left, Jack asked if the occupant of room 125 had checked out.
The man tapped on a computer keyboard. “No key for that room has been turned in.”
“What’s with the cops?” Cait asked.
“There was a disturbance near the street, nothing to do with the hotel.” The clerk was not going to admit to any trouble on the premises.
Jack hurried out the door and over to a police unit, where he introduced himself to the officer.
Cait was close behind and overheard the conversation. A man had been fired at and chased around the parking lot by the occupants of a light-colored SUV. She thought about the white sport utility that ran them off the road by the Salt River Canyon.
As soon as the officer drove off, Jack left a voice mail on Jason’s phone.
“Not long after we left him here, someone called 911 about an altercation by one of the rooms. Los Brutos must have found him, but how?” Jack asked.
Cait looked around. “Was he hurt?”
“There’s no obvious blood trail in the parking lot. I hope he got away safe. If only he’d call us,” Jack said.
“It’s out of our hands. Let’s go back to my brother’s place. If Jason calls, we can go get him.” Cait turned back to her jeep.
They headed east on Tanque Verde Road toward Saguaro National Park East. The western horizon behind them was sheathed in reds and purples.
“We chased our tails today,” Cait said. “Jerry Fleming and Jason Gonzalez vanished down a rabbit hole again.”
“Tomorrow’s another day,” Jack said. “Maybe we’ll get a break.”