The sun was an orange ball on the cloudless western horizon as Jack exited southbound I-25 at Main Street in Los Lunas. After crossing over the Rio Grande, he drove south on Highway 47. At Tome Hill Road he headed east. The road turned into Rio Del Oro Loop and ran past Valencia High School before the pavement ended.
He and Cait passed dirt side roads cutting through endless empty acres developers had sold, parcel by parcel, to out-of-state buyers, with the promise of burgeoning new communities. The real estate crash had dashed those hopes. Cactus and desert scrub were the only inhabitants in sight.
They turned off Rio Del Oro, which curved south before looping back west. Jack steered onto a rough cow track leading toward the Manzano Mountains.
“Someone’s been driving back and forth out here.” He slowed to bump over deep furrows created by tires carving through the earth.
The trail went on for miles before stopping at a locked gate. Jack consulted his GPS. “This is what’s left of old Beno Para’s ranch. He’s in a rest home in Los Lunas. Just turned ninety. I heard he ran a thousand head of cattle back in the day.”
Beyond the gate, a gravel lane disappeared into a tunnel of cedars that served as a windbreak and provided shade and privacy. The wall of trees formed a barrier blocking views of ranch buildings set against the foothills.
“See that? We’re being watched.” Jack pointed at cameras mounted on tall poles and powered by solar panels. “They’re off the grid. I don’t see any electric lines out here. Probably use a combination of generators and solar. This stuff wasn’t here in January when Russell and I came here. Back then it didn’t look like anyone was around. There weren’t any tire tracks up to the gate.”
“I bet Beno has no idea what his grandson is up to.” Cait shielded her eyes against the dying sun’s glare. “They can do what they want out here. No neighbors to spy on them.”
An engine growled somewhere beyond the trees. “Let’s make tracks.” Jack threw the SUV into reverse and did a quick one-eighty turn. Dust churned up in their wake as he jounced over the rough trail back to the main road.
Cait looked back as a vehicle slammed to a halt by the gate, which swung open. “Here they come.”
“Keep your head down. My Glock’s in the glove compartment.”
Cait was uncomfortable with guns, and was being bounced around too much to be able to shoot straight. She watched as a speeding SUV caught up with them.
Jack caught air at the top of a dip at the junction with Rio Del Oro Loop. The dark vehicle followed, banging down onto the graded roadway. He upped the speed, his sport utility fishtailing before he got it under control.
“They’re going to hit us.” Cait gripped the seat with white knuckles. “I’m calling 911.” She tapped the screen of her cell.
A mile later, their pursuers turned around and sped away. Wigwag lights on a Valencia County Sheriff’s patrol vehicle flickered in the oncoming lane.
Jack flashed his lights and pulled off the road. The patrol unit u-turned and stopped behind him. A female deputy got out and warily approached.
“Evening. What seems to be the problem?”
Jack described the vehicle that had chased them. “We were out driving on a dirt road, and a truck came speeding after us. They must have turned back. Probably just kids showing off.”
“Were you by any chance trespassing on private property?”
“No ma’am. Not even close. Now we’re heading back into Los Lunas. They turned around, so I guess the problem is solved.”
“I sure hope so.” The deputy gave them a look and strode back to her unit.
Cait took a deep breath. “Where do Sonny Para’s parents live?”
“On that property the truck came from. At least they did before they were shot to death. The bodies were found in their car off of Rio Del Oro Loop, near the high school. The crime was never solved.” Jack started back to Los Lunas.
“How convenient for Sonny. When was that?”
“About ten years ago.”
“Any idea who did it?”
“I think Sonny did it. No proof, just my gut telling me, because he inherited that ranch outright. An only child, never married. I’m not sure he fits the definition of a sociopath or psychopath, because I never saw a manipulative, charming side. At least not when Russell and I grilled him.” Jack turned onto Main Street and headed for the freeway. “He’s just an evil son of a bitch.”
“I saw a network of dirt tracks leading up into the foothills above the ranch. We could spy on them from up there and see if anything’s going on. I bet Sonny moved his operation out there. What do you think about a moonlight hike tonight or early tomorrow morning?”
“Wouldn’t hurt.” Jack’s phone buzzed. He answered it as he pulled into a strip mall.
“We’re on our way.” Tension crackled in his voice.
“What?”
“She wouldn’t listen. Signed her own death warrant,” Jack said through gritted teeth.
* * *
Cait kept quiet as Jack sped through Los Lunas and got on the northbound I-25. “Who?” She finally asked as he settled into the fast lane.
“Elana Tafoya. Wrapped her car around a power pole out on Central Avenue by Paseo Del Volcan. She lives out there with her husband. Someone saw her vehicle and a big truck racing. The witness said the truck ran her off the road.”
“She alive?”
“Barely. The first officer on the scene spoke to Elana while an ambulance was en route. She asked for me. The officer called in for my cell number.” The glitzy billboard signage for the Isleta Resort and Casino dazzled through the darkness east of the interstate. Jack left the fast lane and joined a queue of traffic bunching up at the downtown Albuquerque exits.
After taking the Lomas Boulevard off ramp, he cleared the University Avenue intersection as the light turned red. He parked in a lot near the UNM trauma center, and they jogged toward the entrance.
Inside the crowded ER waiting room, Cait found a seat. Jack showed his badge at the registration desk and explained to a triage nurse that a newly-admitted patient was a key witness in a police investigation.
“That woman can’t have visitors. She’s extremely critical and being evaluated.” The nurse turned to leave.
Jack kept up the pressure in a low, firm voice. “Whoever attacked her tried to keep her from talking. You stonewalling me aids a gang involved in murder and drug trafficking. Is that what you want?”
She twisted her lips in irritation and gestured toward locked doors leading to a patient area. “One minute. That’s all. And no badgering her if she doesn’t remember something. I’m coming with you. If you appear to be bothering the patient, you will be removed.”
Jack bowed his head. “Thank you. It’s not my intention to harass her.”
She turned on her heel, punched a code into a keypad by the security doors, and led Jack into a large room ringed with curtained-off patient alcoves.
“Don’t forget what I said.” She stood at the foot of a bed. Two stands holding intravenous bags were stationed on either side, tubing dropping toward a patient lying on a gurney.
Jack was shocked at Elana Tafoya’s appearance. Her face was misshapen by bruises and cuts, eyes reduced to slits.
He said her name softly. Her eyelids parted, swollen lips moved. He moved closer, bent over her.
A wisp of sound escaped. He leaned over, his ear to her mouth.
“Elana. What was that?” Jack touched her arm gently.
“Time for you to leave.” The nurse pulled at his sleeve. He took a last look and let himself be guided back to the waiting room.
Cait stood when she saw him.
“It makes no sense.” Jack shrugged. “What I think she said. Too bad I couldn’t stay.”
“Tell me.” She sank back into an uncomfortable plastic chair.
“No more candy. Paris.” He sat down and rubbed his face. “That’s what it sounded like. What the heck does it mean? I probably didn’t hear it right.”
“I have no idea. Any chance of talking to her again?”
“Nope. I barely convinced that nurse to let me see her. She looks terrible. And she must have serious internal injuries.”
“You tried to help. I wish she’d trusted you.” Cait put a hand on his shoulder.
“She was like a Mafia wife. Couldn’t stay, couldn’t leave. I’m sure her husband had someone run her off the road. I hope she pulls through.”
***
Cait and Jack left the medical center after ten p.m. and headed for his folks’ house. Cait had never met Elana, but she felt a sense of hopelessness over the woman’s situation. Even if she managed to pull through, Elana was marked for death by her husband.
“What did she mean? No more candy, Paris.” Jack glanced at the rear view mirror. “Her brain must have been scrambled in the crash.”
“Or maybe you just don’t know what she meant. Let your subconscious go to work. So, what about that ranch?”
“I’d like to head back there after we check on my parents. We still have that night vision scope from Tucson. I like your idea of driving up into the foothills. We’ll stay out of sight and see what’s going on.”
They arrived at his parent’s house. Jack pointed a remote at the gate and drove through. “You have hiking boots?”
“In my duffle in the house.”
They knocked on the kitchen door off the carport on the side of the house. Lorena let them in, strain showing on her face. “A van stopped by the gate and parked about a half hour ago. We called 911 but it was gone before the officers got here.”
“You should have called me.” Jack’s gaze moved to his dad standing behind her.
“It was only there for ten, fifteen minutes. It could have been someone lost.” Lorena flipped a hand in the air. “If it was a troublemaker, they gave up because of that new fence and gate.”
Jack gave a quick exhale. “Keep the doors and windows locked and stay alert. We have to run out, but we should be back in a few hours.”
“I’ll leave you my phone so you have a second line. You can reach us by calling Cait’s new cell.” He showed his dad how to work the phone’s touch screen and find the list of contact numbers.
“Why wouldn’t our landline work?” Lorena asked.
“It’s good to have another option, in case someone messes with the phone line. Just tap this link and you can get through to us right away. Or call the police. Quicker than dialing your old wall phone.”
“Did you eat dinner?” Lorena asked.
“Thanks, but we’ll grab something on the way.”
“You two stay safe. Call us.” Eloy closed the door after they left.
Cait could tell the older couple had worked themselves up over the van incident. As she and Jack drove off, she looked around for any sign of a threat. The neighborhood was quiet, no one about, no parked cars that seemed out of place. She burrowed into her down coat, uneasy about the impending stakeout. Another late-night, risky vigil. Would it never end?