With a clean bill of health from his doctor and the cast off, Jack was back in Captain Spitzer’s office the next afternoon.
Lieutenant Cory Marsdon, head of the department’s drug and gang task force, was seated in front of the desk.
“Hey Jack. Good to see you up and at ‘em.” Cory rose and stuck his hand out. “Grab some coffee and let’s go over what we’ve got.”
“I’ll pass on coffee.” Jack avoided the break room brew if he could help it.
Spitzer looked at Jack over the rims of his reading glasses. “Ok, so here’s where we’re at. We’re taking a new look at any known past or present associates of Sonny Para. Relatives, friends, acquaintances. Anyone who’s had anything to do with him. We’re looking for any weak links, anyone we might be able to squeeze. Someone who’s afraid of Para or Los Brutos, or been arrested or ticketed for anything. We can’t offer witness protection, but we can agree to drop charges or fines in exchange for information. Plus, having Sonny Para in prison would make their lives a whole lot better.”
Someone rapped on the doorframe. Their heads swiveled.
Detective Ron Peppler entered and sat next to Marsdon. “Sorry I’m late. Got caught up on the phone.” He gave Jack a flat look. “Guess we can relax now. The big guns are back in town.”
Jack was surprised. He had no idea what bug was biting Peppler. He hadn’t worked closely with him on any cases, but obviously the man wasn’t a fan.
Jack turned his attention to Spitzer. “Got any good prospects?”
“We got an anonymous call a day ago from a woman. She says Joe Tafoya, high up in Los Brutos, beats up his wife. Elana Tafoya. The caller said Mrs. Tafoya comes to the Golden Crown every week. The last time she came, she sported a big shiner and a bruised cheek.”
“Sounds like your caller might work there. How does she know Tafoya is with Los Brutos? And what day was Elana Tafoya there?” Jack pulled a small notebook from a jacket pocket.
“The call came in yesterday. I don’t know what this person knows, or who they are.” Spitzer shifted in his chair.
“Someone should stop by the Golden Crown, find out who called. Maybe I can narrow down who it was. Then it’s a matter of getting them to trust us. Maybe the caller knows more than they let on about the Tafoyas. Like how Joe is Sonny Para’s right-hand man. He is, you know,” Jack said.
“Golden Crown? Sounds like a Chinese restaurant.” Lieutenant Marsdon sniffed.
“It’s a panaderia. A good one.”
“A pana whata?” Marsdon, a Kansas transplant, grinned.
“A bakery on Mountain Road, by Old Town. With Mexican pastries and other yummy things,” Jack said.
Cory patted his stomach. “You or Ron better pay them a visit. I’m watching my carbs.”
“Go for it,” Peppler said, glancing at Jack.
“I’ll give it a try,” Jack said.
“Just see what you can find out.” Spitzer wagged his head at Jack. “Lots of guys beat up their wives. Just be careful. It could be a set up.”
“It might be a dead end,” Jack said. “But you wonder how Mrs. Tafoya feels about her husband knocking her around. She might want to inflict some payback.”
***
Jack took his coffee and lemon empanada to a small table in view of the Golden Crown cash register.
He took a bite of pastry and noted the employees he’d seen so far. A man working in the back and the woman who had rung him up. She puttered around wiping the counter and restacking menus. He noticed her earrings, long Zuni chandelier-style with what looked like Sleeping Beauty turquoise, favored by artisans like Cait’s dad.
Jack got up and approached the counter. The woman glanced at him. “Need something else?”
“I just have a question. It’s about another customer.”
She shot him a puzzled look.
He identified himself, showed his badge, and explained about an anonymous call to Albuquerque police about Elana Tafoya. “I’m concerned about her welfare, and I’d like to talk to whoever called. Mrs. Tafoya is in a bad situation.”
“I don’t know . . .” The cashier looked behind her. She turned back, kept her voice low. “I can’t stand to see what this poor woman goes through.”
“It sounds like she’s having a rough time.” Jack looked past her. The male employee was mopping the floor in a kitchen area. He didn’t look up and wasn’t close enough to hear them.
The woman gave a faint nod.
“She comes here every week?” Jack asked.
“Without fail. It’s like we’re a refuge, a place where she can relax and feel safe.”
“Do you talk to her?”
The woman came around to the front of the counter. “Let’s go outside.”
Jack joined her on a bench under a covered portico.
“I knew who she was when she first came in six months ago, but she didn’t recognize me. She and her husband were at my niece’s quinceanera last year. The rumor is Joe is in a gang. He’s someone you don’t mess with. I disliked him from the get go. When she shows up here, she sits by herself for an hour, reads and hangs out. Always by herself. Something seems off about her. She wears sunglasses, even indoors, and has bruises on her face and arms. I started asking how her day was, things like that. A few days ago she came in. She limped and looked like someone had worked her over. I had to do something, so I called you guys.”
“You did the right thing.” Jack gave a slight smile. “Does she come here on certain days?”
“Usually one day a week, but that can vary. I’m not here weekends, so I don’t know if she shows up then.”
“Can you call me when she’s here?” He wrote his cell number on an APD business card.
“I will if I see her.” The woman stood. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Thank you again. Can I ask your name?”
“Miranda.” She headed through the door and Jack returned to his SUV. There was no guarantee Elana Tafoya would talk to him. And she might not know anything useful about her gangster husband and Sonny Para. But he had to try.
* * *
Cait’s cell vibrated while she browsed through a book store and coffee shop near the University of New Mexico. She hurried outside; the caller was Tessa Gardner of Good Samaritan Services.
“I think the couple you’re looking for was here this morning. They took showers and got in line for breakfast. A guy came in and started talking to them, and they lit out of here.”
“Any idea where they went?”
“Unfortunately no. They left before I could talk to them. They seemed to be in a big hurry.”
Cait headed for her jeep. “Did they seem afraid of this guy?”
“I wasn’t really paying attention. He got in line behind them. Then they left.”
“Who was he?”
“I don’t know. We have a lot of people coming through, but I don’t think he’s a regular. He wasn’t carrying a pack or belongings, like many of our clients. I got a sense he spooked them. He left right after they did. I don’t know if he threatened them or what. I should have gone out there right away to see what was happening, but I was in a conversation with one of our donors.”
“You’re sure they were the Ricos?” Cait snapped a finger in exasperation.
“Jesse talked to them a little when they first came in.”
“Jesse? The guy with a nose ring?” Cait asked.
“That’s him.”
“Did they tell him their names?”
“Como and Zena.”
“Does Jesse know where they’re staying? Did he tell them the police are trying to reach them?”
“Sorry. We kind of blew it. They left so quickly. I promise I’ll talk to them if they come again.”
“Thanks for calling. Keep in touch.” Cait climbed into the driver’s seat and dug out a city map from the glove compartment.
If she was from south Albuquerque and lived in her vehicle, where would she go, at least during the day? She’d avoid residential neighborhoods and most commercial areas, because she would be afraid of drawing attention or being chased away. That left public places where a vehicle parked all day would draw less scrutiny.
Her eyes lingered on Tingley Beach, just east of the Rio Grande Bosque and off the main drag of Central Avenue, which bridged the river into West Albuquerque. Someone could spend the day there fishing, exploring the walking paths, or just hanging out in the park. And there was plenty of parking, a snack bar and picnic tables. A perfect place to hide out.
She started driving. At the sign for Tingley Beach, she turned into a crowded lot, parked and headed for the shoreline’s paved paths. The park was full of families picnicking and people walking, jogging, fishing, or playing hooky from work or worries.
Cait sat on a bench and looked around. That morning, her dad had called to reassure her. The story of his daughter being shot at and chased down the I-40 had circulated through Zuni. The entire Pueblo was on alert for suspicious characters. The Zapata homestead was being guarded 24/7 by men of the various clans, who had also offered to come to Albuquerque to watch over Jack’s parents. Back in the 1600’s when the Spanish menace arrived, the Zuni had stood their ground with bows and arrows. Their descendants were ready to face off against contemporary villains.
She kept an eye out for anyone who could be the Ricos, a couple who didn’t appear to be enjoying a leisurely day in the outdoors. They would be stressed and paranoid, given what they’d been through.
After checking the shore area, she headed south on a paved path that paralleled the Rio Grande and ran along the bosque, thick with leafy brush in the summer but barren now except for junipers and an occasional pinon. The giant cottonwoods were naked and skeletal; their fluttering green canopies wouldn’t return until late spring.
A group of bicyclists passed by going the other direction. Then she was alone.
Cait tugged her sweatshirt hood over her head. Despite sun and bright sky, a cold breeze blew off the river, flowing with snow melt from the high country.
Twigs snapped in a densely wooded area toward the river. Movement in a thicket made her stiffen. Albuquerque was too often plagued by street violence lurking in the shadows. Here she was, isolated and at trouble’s mercy if it set its sights on her.
Taking a few steps back, she was ready to turn and run when she heard voices. A man’s low timbre and a woman’s softer tone.
She waited. A woman moved into the open, her back to Cait.
“Hi.” Cait didn’t want to startle her, but the woman spun around and froze.
A man surged forward and pushed the woman behind him. “Leave us alone. Scram.” He wore a heavy coat and brandished a length of pipe.
Cait quickly assessed the couple. Older and Hispanic. She saw fear in their eyes, not belligerence.
“Como? Zena?” Her voice was earnest. “I’m here as a friend.”
He lowered the makeshift weapon but stayed where he was. “Who are you?”
The words burbled out as she identified herself, explaining that detective Jack Gallegos was her fiancé. “I heard about your house and how someone’s after you. Believe me, they’re after us too. They killed Jack’s partner and put a bomb in his apartment. Then his brother was kidnapped by the same people. I was ambushed while driving back to Albuquerque.”
“The police do nothing.” He gestured toward his wife. “We had to run for our lives. Why do you think you can make a difference us?”
“For now, I can find you a safer, more pleasant place to hide out.”
The woman, who Cait assumed was Zena, peered out from behind her husband. “How did you find us? And why are you bothering us?”
“It wasn’t hard to think of public places where someone might park a car and hang out all day. If I can find you, Sonny Para can too. My husband Jack and I are offering you a secure place to stay. Believe it or not, we’d like to help.” Cait worried they wouldn’t believe her.
“I’d like to ask you about Para, go over everything you know about him. What he’s doing amounts to a reign of terror. Threatening. Killing. If he wants to get rid of you, normal life is pretty much over. He’s got you two running like rats. My family too. And I’m tired of it. Don’t you want to stop him?”
“Those are brave words, but it’s not that easy. I told your husband everything I know. But we still lost our house and now we live like rats in the alley. We don’t sleep good or eat much. We’re afraid and freezing our asses off.” Como looked exhausted, dark eyes recessed in a lined, jaundiced face.
“Please. Let us do something for you. Jack’s parents want you stay with them. My parents out in Zuni will do the same.” Cait held her hands out, palms up. “What do you think?”
“How’s that going to work? One of Para’s people came to the homeless shelter this morning, told us we were good as dead. We went crazy making sure he didn’t follow us.” Como pushed his jaw out. “We’re toast.”
“How about you follow me in your car? I’ll take a roundabout way to avoid anyone tailing us. Jack’s parents live near here. They’re tough, ready for a fight. At least come and have a meal.”
Zena whispered into Como’s ear. They muttered back and forth. Finally he turned to Cait. “Lead the way.”