Fatal Divide Read online

  It was the only thing he didn’t have to worry about, it seemed. Where was he going to start sorting this out?

  “Wanda, the sheriff is never going to be able to close this case without knowing why Alvarez was killed. I need to tell him.”

  “You can’t!” Wanda cried.

  “Why not? Are you afraid he’ll arrest you?”

  “No. Well, yes, but that isn’t why. You can’t tell him because then the cartel will come after you!”

  Jesus Christ, what next? Dylan shook his head, but failed to clear it. “I’ll have to think about it then. Can I at least tell Alex? All of this affects her too. And I don’t like keeping things from her.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. If you have to, then let me help. But I won’t tell her unless she swears not to talk about it, or God forbid, print it.”

  “I’ll get her promise. I don’t have a clue how she’ll react, though. Okay, let me think about what to do with Jimmy when you find him, and I’ll get back to you. Let me know how your part goes.”

  Dylan had never been so confused in his life or so alone. All his life he’d looked up to Tia Wanda as the one he could count on to be on his side, and now she wasn’t the same person he loved and respected. But she’d done what she thought was right, not for personal gain, but to keep a promise to his mother. She’d hidden his mom’s status from everyone, even while she was working to stop illegal immigration, or her definition of it, which evidently didn’t include members of their tribe.

  Their tribe. His tribe. It was hard to get his mind around that, too. He never thought of himself as Native, or anything in particular, though sometimes prejudiced people threw it in his face. He didn’t know the history or the language of his people, other than what he’d been taught in elementary school. He didn’t know if he wanted to, except that he did want the advantage, if it meant he could cut through tribal red tape for the adoption.

  What he did know was that he was going to have to gather his wits and drive to Tucson to see his brothers on Saturday, because he promised. Deciding to think about it later, he turned into the parking lot of the Rattler and went into the bar for a burger.

  ELEVEN

  7:30 p.m.

  Alex filed her story on the death in the national monument, accompanied by a picture of Kevin Thurston looking every inch the self-important jackass he was, standing in front of the crime scene tape. The story was sparse on details, since she couldn’t quote Dylan on even the basics and Thurston hadn’t released anything yet. With luck, he’d do so before tomorrow’s deadline. Meanwhile, there was nothing she could do but go to school.

  It wasn’t easy, being a college student in a town that was an hour and a half away from the closest college. With no money to live away from home, her solution had been to save for a year after high school to pay for tuition, and then take a combination of distance-learning and on-campus classes.

  The latter required her to commute to Casa Grande twice a week for classes from noon to seven. It was already getting old, and she was a little less than halfway through. Alex was no quitter, though. She had a goal and she was going to achieve it, one way or another.

  Her part-time job at her dad’s newspaper paid for gas, books, and personal stuff like clothes, her cell phone bill, and the dozens of small expenses that she hadn’t thought about before becoming an adult. When she sat her dad down and told him she intended to go to college and knew he couldn’t help, he’d been so sweet about it.

  She had a roof over her head and food in her belly that he didn’t ask her to pay for, even after she’d turned eighteen and then nineteen. He would have paid for clothes, too, but she drew the line there. If she wanted to be treated as an adult, she had to take on some of the responsibilities. Her dad hadn’t argued with that, but now she wondered where next semester’s tuition was going to come from. Everything was so much more expensive than she realized.

  During her drive and between classes, she’d been occupied thinking about applying for student aid and worrying about Dylan. It was odd he hadn’t sent her a text, at least. Could Thurston have been a big enough jerk to take him in and hold him, even though there surely wasn’t enough for an arrest?

  There wasn’t enough time between classes to call her dad, who didn’t have a cell phone and wouldn’t have texted if he did. Sometimes it seemed her father was older than his own mother. Nana sent long, rambling texts that cracked Alex up with their formality.

  By the end of her classes, she was eager to get home, and she didn’t try to call her dad. Chances were, he was at the Rattler instead of home, anyway. It had become a habit for him to spend Tuesday and Thursday evenings there, since Alex didn’t get home from Casa Grande in time to put much of a dinner on the table.

  Halfway home, she decided to apply for financial aid. She wasn’t sure her dad’s income wouldn’t disqualify her, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. If that didn’t work out, she was going to have to drop half her planned classes and just be patient about finishing school. There weren’t enough hours in the day to take a second job, and her dad couldn’t pay her more.

  After that, there was nothing to think about, except Dylan. Resolutely, she refused to do that. If he were in jail, she’d deal with it. If not, there was nothing to worry about. What she should really think about was what she was doing with him, when their plans were so different.

  It didn’t matter if his touch made her dizzy, or if looking into those bottomless brown eyes made her see visions of little brown-eyed children with her red hair. She was too young for that. Not to mention too young to mother his eight-year-old and six-year-old brothers. No, she was setting herself up for heartbreak, and him too. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t logical, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him it was over.

  By the time she hit town, Alex was mentally exhausted and the last thing she wanted to do was go home to an empty house and try to rustle up dinner. She turned her Sentra right at the crossroads instead of left and found the Rattler a block later.

  Her dad’s car was there, all right. Maybe he’d buy her a burger. It was eight-thirty, not too late to call Dylan maybe, but she didn’t want to do that. He’d call her if there were any news, and she’d see him tomorrow afternoon. She pulled into the parking lot and stopped the car, stretching as she got out to get the kinks of the road out of her long limbs.

  “Hey, Alex!” called Jen from behind the bar as she walked in. “Good to see you! Your dad’s around somewhere.”

  She tipped her head back in a silent greeting and scanned the bar for her dad. She found him playing pool with a few guys around his age. “Hi, Daddy,” she said, as she tiptoed to kiss his cheek.

  “Hey, Baby Girl. Did you just get in?”

  “Yuh-huh. I’m tired, Daddy, any chance you’d buy me a burger?”

  “I think that could be arranged; I’m up.” Signaling to Jen, he pulled a wad of ones from his pocket.

  “Daddy! Are you gambling on pool?” Alex was amused. Her staid father had never shown a wild side before. On the other hand, he didn’t have money to gamble away.

  “Just a buck a game. Don’t worry, Lexi, I know what I’m doing.” He handed her six of the bills and stuffed the rest back in his pocket.

  Grinning, she took them and went to the snack bar, where Jen already had two burgers on the grill. “How long has he been doing that?” she asked her dad’s best friend. Jen turned, spatula in hand, and stared over at him.

  “Not long. He started playing after he and your boyfriend had a run-in with a player who thought he owned me.”

  Alex raised her eyebrows. “Oh? I don’t think I heard about that.”

  “Nothing to tell, really. I kicked the guy out, but I guess Paul noticed that I didn’t exactly object to the pool players paying me some attention. It’s good for business. Not his ego, though.”

  She looked over at her dad. It hadn’t occurred to her that he had an ego. He never showed it, or at least not to her. She turned back to Jen.


  “Do you ever get tired of waiting for him, Jen? I tell him at least once a week to pull his head out of his butt and marry you.”

  Jen let out a startled laugh. “Um, wouldn’t it be better if he asked me first?”

  Alex was embarrassed by her spoken-out-loud thoughts. “Gosh, I’m sorry, and my foot doesn’t taste good without ketchup. Could I have some please?”

  Jen laughed. “It’s okay. I know the whole town thinks that, but your dad and I are just friends. I know he’s still waiting for your mom.”

  Alex rolled her eyes. “My mom’s never coming back, Jen. You know that, I know that. Everyone knows that, except my dad. What the hell is wrong with him?”

  “Language, Baby Girl. There’s nothing wrong with him that finding out whatever happened to her wouldn’t cure. He’s lost, in limbo, without knowing. I’m surprised you don’t understand that.”

  Alex paused, her burger halfway to her mouth. “Oh, I do. But I started living again a long time ago. I don’t know why he can’t.”

  TWELVE

  11 p.m.

  “Goodnight, Ange,” Dylan said, as he settled into the couch for the night.

  “Goodnight, Dyl. I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

  Was he that transparent? “Thanks, Ange, I’m fine.”

  “If you say so.”

  Dylan lay awake late into the night. His mom had developed a cough, which Ange told him was probably related to the cancer moving into her lungs. He wondered if he’d be able to get his brothers home before she died, and then worried that maybe he shouldn’t. She wouldn’t know them, and seeing her as she was now would be pretty heavy for kids their age.

  He knew his status within the tribe was about to change, and now he had as good a claim to the boys as anyone else. It probably didn’t matter anymore that his mom was never lucid enough to sign the papers approving him as their guardian.

  As his mom’s medications took effect, her cough became more muffled and eventually stopped, but Dylan still couldn’t sleep. He started to think about where he could take Jimmy Chaves to be out of the reach of the cartel, and that question depended on which cartel wanted him.

  If it was Gila, maybe Utah or Colorado would be far enough. If it was Los Reyes, east would be better. Texas, maybe, or Oklahoma. Unable to get to sleep while his mind was busy with the problem, he got up and turned on his laptop. What he saw, when he looked up the areas where the Kings were active, stunned him.

  The only states in the US that didn’t have some Kings activity were Minnesota, Alaska, and Idaho. Large areas of some states were free of them, but was anywhere far enough away to keep Jimmy safe?

  What was particularly stunning was the solid red that indicated Kings high intensity drug trafficking. It extended along the border solidly from California to the Gulf of Mexico. He’d known their own county was in trouble, but it looked like the cartel was taking over the entire nation through drug trafficking.

  Maybe those whack-jobs, the Patriots, up around Casa Grande, had the right idea—just shoot anyone coming across the border. Then, he realized that some of those coming across were his own kin. Kin he’d never met, sure, but kin nevertheless. He liked the idea he was part of a family. It began to make sense that Wanda was jeopardizing her career, and maybe her life, for her passion to reunite the tribe. Could he do less?

  Around midnight, he turned off his laptop and wearily sought rest again. His last waking thought was what to do about Alex. This wasn’t her fight. Was it going to be one more thing keeping them from being together?

  The next morning, his brain had done its job as he slept, and supplied some of the answers. Before he did anything to spirit Jimmy Chaves out of danger, he’d get some answers about the danger he was avoiding. Wanda didn’t know, and it was entirely possible the man didn’t deserve to be protected. He’d wait to be taken off the case by his supervisor, as he’d told Thurston. If and when that happened, he would decide to whom to give the tip, that this could have been a cartel killing.

  He would tell Alex only what she needed to know, if anything. The last time he involved her in an investigation, she went overboard and placed herself in danger. He couldn’t live with himself if she came to the attention of a cartel enforcer, because he couldn’t be with her to protect her every minute. And her journalistic curiosity was a liability, not only to herself but to him, and to Wanda.

  He took a thermos of coffee with him as he drove to work, conscious his lack of sleep and fatigue were a danger to himself and others on the two-lane highway between Dodge and the park. Crossing the line could be fatal, as could swerving off the road on his own side. Besides, he didn’t think his insurance company would appreciate a second claim so soon.

  When he arrived, it didn’t surprise him to be called in to his supervisor’s office immediately.

  “What’s up, boss?” he quipped.

  “Anything you need to tell me about Herman Alvarez, Dylan?” the man asked him.

  “If you’ve spoken to the sheriff, you know I gave him all the information I had yesterday, with my lawyer present. I have nothing else to say about him at this time.” Dylan winced internally. He shouldn’t have said the last thing. Of course, his supervisor picked up on it.

  “At this time? Am I going to have to place you on administrative leave, as well as ordering you off the investigation?” he said.

  “I hope not, sir. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Except withhold information from the sheriff’s department.”

  “Sir, I explained that to Deputy Thurston. Since I had nothing to do with Alvarez’ death, the information that I knew him and had dealings with him was not critical to the investigation. However, Thurston and I have history, and I considered it necessary to protect my rights by speaking to my lawyer first. I reported the information to Thurston as soon as I had done so.”

  “I like you, Dylan. I think you’re a good ranger, and I’m sorry that you seem to be a trouble magnet. But, I’ve been asked by local authorities to keep you away from this investigation and told you are a person of interest. I have no choice but to comply.”

  “I understand, sir. I assume you’ll want me to patrol on this side of the park as long as the investigation is active?”

  “That’s a good assumption. Be sure you stay out of Thurston’s way, both on and off duty. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal, sir.”

  “You’ll ride with Evans today. Anson’s busy with the investigation.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Dylan left his supervisor’s office feeling as if he’d dodged a bullet. He couldn’t afford to be placed on leave. The threat persuaded him to keep his mouth shut about the possible cartel connection. For that matter, he had only Wanda’s assertion that’s what it was. No proof, and he couldn’t give up his source.

  He was glad Anson was still on the investigation, though. Maybe he could keep his eye on it through his erstwhile partner. If he was going to be of any help to Wanda, he needed to know where the investigation was heading.

  The surest way to get Jimmy clear was to arrest the person who’d actually killed Alvarez. That would give them a day or two before someone else took the enforcer’s place. Without the information, though, the investigation may stall. The other problem with the plan was the cartel was like cockroaches. Take one out of commission, and three others took his place.

  He’d had one more idea while he was asleep, triggered by a dream he knew was actually a memory. He never followed up properly on the unusual numbers of motorcycles in town he noticed the night Alex went missing. Too much else was going on, and after she was safe, he’d concentrated on her and on his brothers, since he no longer had to look for his stepdad. It seemed to him that motorcycles and drug cartels were a volatile mix. Maybe he better check out whether these guys were still in town, and whether they were just snowbirds on bikes, or something more sinister.

  The day dragged slowly. He barely knew Evans and couldn’t afford to make new frien
ds right now. Their conversation was strained as a result. He was also worried about Alex. She’d want to know how he felt about being removed from the investigation, and he was afraid she’d see through his attempt to pretend he didn’t care. She may be young, but she was observant. It was a good trait to have for someone with her career aspirations, but a bad one for him. He couldn’t put anything over on her, usually. This time it was vital.

  By afternoon, Evans had given up trying to make conversation with him, and it suited Dylan just fine. He had too much on his mind to talk about stuff that didn’t matter. The next few days were going to be stressful, and he could only hope it didn’t last longer than that.

  If it wasn’t cleared up by Thanksgiving, he’d have to contend with both of the Wards seeing through him, since he was invited to dinner. Ange had told him he might as well have dinner with Alex and her dad. She wasn’t going to cook a big meal, his mother wouldn’t even know he was missing, and his brothers’ case worker had decreed it would be disruptive for them to spend the weekend with him instead of with their foster parents. His only obligation was to bring Ange a piece of pumpkin pie.

  THIRTEEN

  4 p.m.

  Alex was sneaking looks at the clock on the wall above her desk every few minutes. Dylan should be here soon, and she was ready to leave. A few calls came in about the murder story, her second above-the-fold feature, though it was mostly the uninteresting photo of Kevin Thurston. Facts were sparse because she couldn’t print anything Dylan told her, and her dad agreed they wouldn’t fuel the gossip mill by printing anything about Wanda Lopez’ relationship to the deceased.

  On an inside page, a short announcement that Wanda had taken a leave of absence ‘for personal reasons’ was going to fool no one for long. The speculation about those reasons was already floating on the wind, thanks to one of the city council members speaking out of turn about it.