Icy Betrayal (22 page)

“You’ve got a deal, Juan. And it’s nice to meet you.”

Natalie thanked him for the coffee and promised she would be back.

It was early afternoon by the time Natalie arrived at Summer Fling. She walked into the store and saw Sarah, who was busy with a customer. After the tourist left, the two hugged.

“I just had to stop in and thank you for last night. I had a blast and it was great to meet all your friends.”

“Oh really, anyone in particular?” Sarah teased.

“Well…” She had decided not to talk with Sarah about Peter, but caved at the first mention. “Peter was nice. A little mysterious.”

“Natalie, I’ve worked for Peter for a few years now. He owns half this town, but I honestly can’t say I really know him. He’s a tough nut to crack. He’s charming, friendly, a great boss, hell, he’s a genius. But he doesn’t let many people into his world.”

Natalie hung on every word.

“I’ll tell you this, though,” Sarah said leaning in. “I’ve never seen him zero in on anyone like he did last night with you.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Natalie answered. “He was very sweet.”

“Sweet? The heat coming from you two almost set the room on fire.”

“I think Peter Donnelly is a bit out of my league,” Natalie answered. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about him. I was hoping you could give me some advice on a job. I did some waitressing in college so I thought maybe I could pick up some shifts at that place that juts out over the water.”

“The Point? Are you kidding? You should have no trouble getting a job there. Just one of many restaurants here in town owned by Mr. Peter Donnelly.”

“Okay, well I didn’t know that. I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s got to be some places that he doesn’t own.”

“Well, good luck. Most of the tourist attractions are owned and run by Donnelly and Associates,” Sarah explained. “What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t know,” Natalie said. “I just don’t think it would be a good idea to get involved, that’s all.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to overstep, Natalie. I just think you and Peter would make a terrific couple.”

“So what do you know about the little café on the beach? The one down by all the seafood vendors?”

“Juan’s Café? I’ve been in there a few times. You want to waitress there? I mean, that’s fine if you want to do that, but believe me, the tips at any of Peter’s places will probably be triple what you’d pull in at Juan’s.”

Natalie was intent on keeping a low profile, so Juan’s sounded like the perfect place. She decided to stop by the cafe on the way home and see about a job. Besides, Juan had promised her the best tamales in town.

Juan’s Café turned out to be busier than Natalie expected, but by her second week on the job, it felt like home. She was getting to know the regulars, and Juan was quickly becoming a good friend. She wasn’t making a lot of money, but she liked the atmosphere and the tamales were indeed the best.

“Señor Juan, I have to stop eating your tamales or I will have to retire the bikini,” Natalie called out to her boss in the back room as she wiped down the counter.

“Tamales or no tamales, I’m sure the bikini looks great on you.”

The voice startled Natalie. She looked up to see Peter Donnelly in the doorway. Her heart began to race.

“Hello, Peter, I didn’t expect to see you here. We’re in between lunch and dinner right now, but if you’re hungry I’ve got some pull with the owner.”

“I could go for tamales and a cold beer, if you can swing it.”

“A man after my own heart.”

Peter Donnelly chuckled. He was not a patient man by nature, but with Natalie, Peter was careful to go slowly.

So, every afternoon for the next five days, Peter Donnelly, owner of the finest restaurants in Puerto Peñasco, arrived at Juan’s Café to eat tamales and spend time with Natalie Summers.

On the fifth afternoon, Peter and Natalie were making small talk when Peter made his move.

“Hey, have you ever been fishing?” Peter asked.

“Nope, I’ve never really been around the ocean.”

Peter took a swig of beer.

“Come out fishing with me,” he urged. “You’d love it. Besides, you should really know where fish tacos come from,” he added with a smile.

Natalie knew she should decline. She could hear in her mind Jack telling her to be careful, but the words came out anyway. “Okay. You’re on.”

Saturday morning, Natalie woke early, both excited and a little nervous. She was meeting Peter at the dock in a little over an hour, giving her time for a quick cup of coffee and a shower before heading out. She debated over her outfit, finally settling on a yellow bikini, covered up by shorts and a simple t-shirt. Keep it low key, she told herself. After packing a small beach bag with a towel, sunscreen, and jacket, Natalie took a final sip of her coffee and called Jack.

“Hey, how’s Mexico?” he asked, answering on the first ring.

“Fabulous. I’m settling in and loving Puerto Peñasco. Starting to feel like a regular.”

“That’s great, Natalie. I’m so glad to hear that.”

Jack filled her in on the Lombard investigation. Things had slowed down considerably. With Lisa Sullivan on the run, the case was going nowhere.

“Okay, well that’s good news.”

Jack sensed her mind was somewhere else.

“You okay? You seem a little distracted.”

“Oh, no. I’m fine,” Natalie responded quickly. “Just a little tired. I think I’ll take it easy today. Maybe a nap on the beach. I’ll call you later.”

Walking to the docks, Natalie thought about what Jack would say about Peter. “It’s no big deal,” she mumbled, trying to convince herself. Still, she knew Jack would have warned her about getting into a romantic relationship. He would consider it to be too risky for her.

But Natalie reasoned she was just having fun with a friend. What harm could come of that? As she approached the dock she saw Peter standing next to a beautiful, sleek boat.

“There she is,” Peter said to a man standing on the bow. “Natalie, I’d like you to meet Captain Dave. He’s worked for me for more than a decade and is the best captain on the Sea of Cortez.”

Dave Maddox extended his hand to Natalie. He looked the part of a charter boat captain: face weathered by wind and sun, worn shorts, canvas dock shoes, and a well-worn t-shirt and cap.

“Welcome aboard Natalie,” he said warmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Peter.” Captain Dave had a thick Boston accent and a twinkle in his eye.

She felt in good hands as the two men shoved off from the dock. Captain Dave soon maneuvered the boat out into the open water, settling in at an easy 12 knots, while Peter outlined his personal fishing strategy to Natalie, much to the amusement of the captain.

“Peter, when was the last time you went fishing?” Dave teased. “Better yet, when was the last time you actually caught a fish?”

“Good point,” Peter laughed. The two men had an easy rapport and the friendly chiding went on for most of the trip. Natalie sat back and enjoyed the warm sunshine, the steady vibration of the boat, and the comedy show put on by the two men. Before long, Captain Dave slowed the boat, and Peter got busy organizing the gear.

“Today, you are going to catch a grouper. It’s a God-awful ugly fish, but delicious,” Peter said as he baited the hook and cast her line.

“When you get a bite, you’ll feel a tug. When that happens, let me know, and I’ll come help.”

Before Peter could finish his sentence, Natalie felt a pull on her line.

“Oh my God, what do I do?” Natalie screamed.

The fight was on.

With a lot of help from Peter, Natalie began playing the fish: reel in, release, reel in, release. She was surprised at how tiring the whole process was, but with her adrenaline pumping, she was able to keep at it. Peter reached around her to secure the pole. She felt the warmth of his skin as his muscles tightened and the sweat beaded on his tan arms. The fight was exhausting.

“This fish must be huge,” Natalie screamed as she struggled to reel in the line.

“It is a big one,” Peter responded, teeth clenched. Working as a team, they finally pulled the grouper toward the boat. Captain Dave was standing by with a net, and he snagged the hard fought catch.

Peter was right—the grouper was the ugliest fish Natalie had ever seen. Still, she was ecstatic at reeling it in. The crew exchanged high fives and Peter gave Natalie a long, warm hug.

The trio spent the rest of the day fishing, drinking beer, and soaking in the sun.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” Peter asked. “We’ll take the grouper to the Marbella and have the chef make us a fabulous meal, and we’ll eat on my private patio.”

“I don’t know, Peter,” Natalie stammered. “I would have to go home to change, and I have no way to get there.”

“You can come with me. I’ll have Sarah bring something over from Summer Fling. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“You might as well give in, Natalie,” Captain Dave advised, smiling. “Peter Donnelly is not a man who takes no for an answer.”

“Two against one—I’m outnumbered!” Natalie relented. “Okay, I’ll go. But promise you won’t have Sarah bring anything expensive.”

Peter smiled and draped his arm around her shoulder as the waning sunlight danced on the Sea of Cortez. Approaching the harbor at Puerto Peñasco, Natalie felt the excitement of a new life ahead and her past life fading away in the boat’s wake.

FORTY

T
he last of the early autumn snow had melted in Castle Springs and only a few golden leaves remained on most of the trees. Nearly a year after the murder of George Lombard the drama had faded, but the case was not forgotten.

Chuck and Mia pulled into the parking lot of CopyPrint in Castle Springs. Chuck headed inside while Mia grabbed her phone to make a call.

Inside, Chuck found a register without a line.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up an order for Mia Serrano,” Chuck said when he got to the counter.

“Okay, let me check in the back,” responded the young cashier.

As he waited, Chuck glanced around the shop. He saw a man wearing a roman collar a few feet away. He recognized the priest instantly.

“Hello, Father,” Chuck said.

“Good morning. How are you doing today?”

“Doing great, thanks.”

“It’s another beautiful Colorado day, isn’t it?” asked the priest.

“It sure is, Father. I don’t believe we’ve met—my name is Chuck Serrano,” he said, extending his hand towards the priest.

“Nice to meet you, Chuck. I’m Father Jon from St. Joseph’s Church.”

“Oh, St. Joseph’s, yes.”

Chuck thought back to the parking lot of the church several months earlier when the priest had been talking with Jack Keller. It was more like an argument, he remembered.

“The package for Mia is all done,” the clerk said. “All paid, too. You’re set to go.”

“Great, is the receipt in here? She’s a stickler about receipts.”

“Yes, sir. It’s in the bag,” the clerk told Chuck. “And they’ll be bringing yours up in just a minute, Father,” she said to the priest.

Chuck took the bag and turned to leave. He nodded to the priest and then stopped, reached into the bag, and took out a campaign flyer. He handed it to Father Jon.

“I’m doing some campaigning for Mick McCallister. He’s running for Rocklin County Sheriff. He’s a good man and will make a wonderful sheriff. I hope we can count on your support.”

“Ah, yes,” Father Jon said, reviewing the flyer, “I’ve been following the campaign in the papers.”

“There’s a rally for him this afternoon at Butterfield Park. It would be great if you could drop by.” Chuck winked at him, “There’s a free hot dog and a soda in it for you.”

Father Jon chuckled, “Well, I may just do that. Thank you, Chuck.”

“Great, I’ll introduce you to the future sheriff. You’ll like him.”

“I’m sure I will. You know, I’ve got a friend that works for the sheriff’s department. He’s in the Investigations Bureau—his name is Jack Keller. Do you know him?”

“Yes, I do. In fact, my daughter works for the RCSO and was his partner for a time. She’s moved back to the patrol division now, so she doesn’t see him as much.”

“Well, neither do I. Haven’t seen Jack in quite a while, actually.”

“If I see him, I’ll tell him you said to get back to church. In the meantime, I hope to see you at the park this afternoon.”

“I’ll do my best to come by. Thanks for the invite.”

Chuck headed back to the car and found Mia still on the phone.

“How long does it take to put up a bounce house? Okay, as long as it’s up in time. We should be there soon,” she said, setting down the phone. “How do they look, Dad?”

“Good, I think,” he said, handing Mia a flyer.

“Remember when I told you about following Keller? And how I saw him arguing with a priest in the parking lot at St. Joseph’s last winter?”

“Yes, wasn’t that when you were doing your best Columbo impression and following Keller all over town? I thought you wanted me to forget all that.”

“I just saw that priest. He was in the CopyPrint, and we struck up a conversation. He asked me if I knew Jack Keller.”

“He just asked you that out of the blue?”

“Well, no, I was telling him about Mick running for sheriff, and he said he had a friend in the department. He says he hasn’t seen Keller in a long time. It was kinda odd.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. I got the impression that Keller was a regular at St. Joe’s. And they had to know each other pretty well to have a conversation like the one I saw. And now Keller doesn’t go to church anymore? Anyway, I invited him to the rally. He says he might come.”

“That’s great, Dad. Mick needs all the support he can get.”

All day, Mia’s focus had been solely on the “McCallister for Sheriff” rally. Now, as she drove to Butterfield Park, the Lombard case came flooding back to her. Since returning to patrol, Mia hadn’t worked an investigation in months. She didn’t mind working patrol, but she did miss investigations work. They had been so close to solving the Lombard murder only to have it all slip away along with Lisa Sullivan.

“Mia!” Chuck yelled.

“What?”

“You just missed the turn for Butterfield Park.”

Frito made the turn from West Valencia onto the I-19 South in Tucson. Jack was in the passenger seat, the hot wind blowing through his hair. It was almost one o’clock, and the temperature had already crossed the century mark. Frito’s truck did not have air conditioning, so all the windows were down. Jack wasn’t sure if having the hot air hitting him from all directions was a good idea or not, but Frito seemed to think so, so he went along with the program.

This was Keller’s first trip to Puerto Peñasco since Lisa Sullivan’s disappearance. He had started to make plans several times since she had gone, but the timing never worked. Jack didn’t want to set foot in Mexico until he was confident he wouldn’t draw any possible attention to her whereabouts.

Keller had tried to make a case against Scott Lennox without Lisa Sullivan. He had spent months searching the records of auto body shops looking for a link to Scott Lennox. He even trailed him for a few weeks hoping to find something to link him to the death of George Lombard. He had gotten nowhere. The only thing that could make a murder charge stick to Scott Lennox was living on a beach in Mexico, and Jack couldn’t wait to see her.

“Thank you for taking such good care of Natalie, my friend,” he told Frito. “How has she been doing?”

“She is very good, Jack. You maybe worry too much.”

Jack hadn’t told him why she had come to Mexico or why she needed a new identity. Frito hadn’t asked, and it didn’t really matter. As far as Frito was concerned, he was still in Jack Keller’s debt.

The two had met eight years earlier when Jack walked into Frito’s tile business looking for someone to do work on the bathroom in his condo. At the time, Frito had just landed the tile job for the new Marbella Hotel being built down at the beach. The Marbella job was the largest he’d ever been awarded and with it would come financial stability. However, the project wasn’t set to begin for three weeks, so Frito was happy to take on a small job for Jack.

After showing Frito his bathroom, Jack invited him to stay for dinner. Frito accepted the invitation and the two men enjoyed a meal of fresh seafood and talked late into the night. Frito shared his frustration of balancing work with the demands of a young family, a story Jack knew all too well. That night, the two men formed a bond that each would rely on in the years ahead.

That bond soon proved to be a lifesaver for Frito. A few days before his crew was scheduled to start work at the Marbella, Frito was visited by two men from an organized crime syndicate in Sinaloa. They demanded he sign over his business to them or his family would die. Organized crime was rampant in Mexico and payoffs were a part of business, but Frito stood firm and refused the two men.

A few days later Frito returned home from work to find his family had vanished. He was again told that unless he surrendered his business to the crime syndicate his family would all be killed. Frito knew he had no choice but to comply. He signed the papers but was then told he would have to negotiate the return of his family with a man they called “El Coyote.”

With his whole world crumbling around him, Frito asked his new friend, the American detective, for help. Three days later, the ordeal was over and Frito’s family was back safe and sound. Meanwhile, El Coyote found himself in a Phoenix jail facing murder charges. Frito didn’t know what his friend Jack had done, but the problem was solved. The incident changed Frito’s life and his priorities forever. He moved his family to a new home and focused his attention on his wife and children. He would be forever indebted to his friend Jack Keller.

As Mia and Chuck pulled into the parking lot at Butterfield Park, they could see Mick and a small group of volunteers working in the BBQ area. It was their third campaign event at the park; Mick had decided early on that his campaign events would be accessible to all and not just well-heeled Rocklin County residents.

His opponent, Jerry Griffith, a retired assistant chief from the Castle Springs PD, had taken a different approach, holding mostly high-priced events at country clubs and high-end hotels. Anyone could attend one of Griffith’s events, provided you could pay $250 a plate or more. Griffith’s strategy targeted the county’s power brokers, while Mick’s focus was more of a grassroots campaign. It was a risky move for Mick as he was being outspent nearly three to one. Griffith had spent sixty thousand dollars in just the last two weeks alone on local cable TV and newspaper ads. Mick’s campaign had used their limited dollars mostly on campaign literature handed out door to door and at town hall meetings and informal gatherings like the rallies at Butterfield Park.

Despite the lopsided fundraising totals, informal polls showed Mick ahead by a few percentage points. Anything could happen in the last days of the campaign, though, and the race was essentially a toss up.

Mick looked up and saw Mia and Chuck in the parking lot. He waved and headed their way, but was quickly pulled aside to shake hands with a small group of supporters.

“The poor guy gets yanked in a lot of directions, doesn’t he?” commented Chuck.

“Yep, but he’s got the patience of Job. It’s one of the qualities that will make him an excellent sheriff,” Mia replied. “Dad, can you get those campaign flyers over to Barbara?”

“You bet.”

As Chuck headed off to find Barbara, Mia made her way towards the picnic area to find Mick. She found him looking over notes scribbled on an index card.

“You ready to give your speech?” Mia asked him.

“Yep, let’s do it.”