Sweet Hearts (14 page)

Beau stayed with Sam at the
table, holding her hand, until she decided she’d been a baby about it long
enough.

“Really, hon, I feel fine. Just
giving myself a few extra breathing days makes my whole outlook a lot less
strained. How about some dessert?” She started to head toward the cupboards but
noticed that he was eyeing the box of chocolates.

He wiggled his eyebrows. She
craned her neck to be sure Kelly was tied up on the phone.

“You staying over?” she
whispered.

At his nod, they both reached for
the box at the same time. Four truffles later, they were ready to jump each
other. Then Kelly showed up in the doorway.

“I reached Grampa. You’ll have to
call him tomorrow, Mom. He was a little freaked. Left messages for the florist
and judge. They won’t get them until Monday morning, I’m sure, but at least
it’s a little bit of notice. Friends are all notified. I’d recommend you don’t
answer the phone tonight or you won’t ever get to bed.”

She stopped, mouth open, ready to
say something else, but she’d caught the electricity in the air. “Okay, I’m
sensing that’s not going to be a problem and I’m leaving you two alone right
this minute.”

She backed out of the doorway,
holding her hands over her ears, la-la-la-ing all the way to her own room. A
minute later they could hear booming rock music from behind her door.

“Oh god, now that’s just too
embarrassing,” Sam said.

“We’ll get over it,” he whispered
in her ear, switching out the kitchen light.

Kelly was gone when Sam and Beau
emerged from the bedroom Sunday morning. A note on the kitchen table:
I got
into your candy last night. Sorry. Will be at Ryan’s until further notice.
She’d
signed it with a smiley face.

“Oh, man, I’m learning too much
here,” Sam said, picking up the note by a corner and dropping it into the
trash. “Is it really a good idea for mothers and daughters to know details of
each others’ sex lives?”

Beau walked up behind her and
snaked an arm around her waist. “You’re both adults. Plus, you aren’t exactly
sharing details—yet.”

“Yikes, Beau. It’s almost the
same. She saw us fawning all over each other last night and now I know she’s
gone off to do the same. And I haven’t even met this Ryan yet.”

He peeked into the candy box.
“Looks like a third of it is gone. She may not be home for a week.”

Sam covered her eyes. “I don’t
want to see this or hear about it.”

“Then we’ll just set this out of
harm’s way.” He set the lid in place and tucked the box into a lower cupboard,
far toward the back. “You know, just because we’re putting off the wedding
doesn’t mean you can’t go ahead and move out to my place. You and Kelly
wouldn’t be quite so knowing of each other’s movements that way.”

“You’re right,” Sam told him,
“but I’ve barely started packing all those boxes in the bedroom.”

“In that case, how about a
breakfast burrito out somewhere?”

Sunday mornings at their favorite
little Mexican place were usually crazy and today was no exception. They got a
table after about a fifteen minute wait, and with a cup of good, strong coffee
Sam’s mind was beginning to focus on things other than Beau’s physique.

“Help me think through this
situation with Tito Fresques,” Sam said while they waited for their order. She
filled him in on her interviews with Lisa Tombo and the co-workers.

“Well, Lisa’s comment to you
about his being nervous his final day at work might be the best clue we have,”
Beau said, glancing around the room in hopes of getting a coffee refill. “But
she didn’t know what it was that set him on edge?”

“She says she didn’t.”

“And she didn’t recognize the man
who came looking for him later?”

“Lisa didn’t but I think it was
probably the auditor that Bill Champion told me about.”

“An auditor’s presence could
easily account for Tito’s nerves. I can make a few calls, maybe get hold of his
security file. Everyone who works at a place like Bellworth, from the
scientists to the typists gets a very thorough clearance investigation. Now
that he’s been gone ten years, maybe even a small town sheriff like myself can
find out what was in it, and that might lead us somewhere.”

“Thanks, hon. It would really
help me out. I feel obligated to Marla now. She’s so scared that she’ll die and
there won’t be anyone to raise Jolie. It’s a sad situation.” Sam reached across
the table and took his hand. “I have your case file in the truck.”

She walked outside to get it
while Beau flagged down the waitress for more coffee.

“Maybe there’s something in here,
something you’ll see on a second reading?” she said, laying the file on the
table beside him.

“I’m off duty today, so I guess
it’s as good a time as any. Cold cases generally have to be worked on personal
time. Let me try calling in a favor with somebody in Albuquerque.” He pulled
his phone from a pocket and dialed.

While he was speaking quietly,
their waitress showed up with the two steaming plates—eggs, bacon, hash browns
and cheese, wrapped in a flour tortilla and smothered in green chile sauce. Sam
tried to wait politely but the scent was about to make her drool.

“I should get a report later this
afternoon,” Beau said, picking up his fork. “Jonathan is a buddy I met at the
law enforcement academy. He changed career paths and went to Quantico and ended
up in the Albuquerque FBI office. He can usually get his hands on background
and security information. I’ve used him as a resource a couple times.”

Sam dug into her meal. “I’d be
interested to know if the report has any explanation as to how Tito might have
sent cards to his family after he vanished,” she said when she took time for a
breath. “Had I mentioned that part of it to you?”

Beau shook his head and stared at
her. “No. And there’s nothing in our file about it. Why wouldn’t Mrs. Fresques
have reported that she was hearing from him?”

“Maybe she did. My guess is that
if she said anything to Orlando Padilla about it, he told her that her son just
had a guilty conscience after running off with that ‘other woman.’ Sent a card
now and then so they wouldn’t hate him.” She pushed her empty plate aside and
held her coffee mug with both hands. “But that makes no sense. Aside from the
fact that Lisa Tombo told me there was no affair between them, a guy who is
close enough to his mother to send cards would take the approach of eventually
introducing her to this lover and trying to get mom to accept her. Don’t you
think so?”

He nodded. “Makes sense to me.”

“Most of us would work harder at
getting the family to accept a stranger than we would at hiding out for years
just to be with this person. It’s just the way we work, typically.”

“And does that statement have
anything to do with us? With my meeting your folks?” His lopsided smile became
even more crooked as he held back a grin.

“Okay, maybe I’m the exception to
the rule. I left home as a teenager, with no expectations, certainly no desire
to ever return to my parents’ way of life. They could accept it or they could
just lump it. Besides, you have met them and I thought it went really well.”

“Because your dad is a strictly
law-and-order type.”

“And because Mother is a pushover
for a handsome man with a Southern accent.”

“Just wait until they
really
get to know me.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Their waitress pushed the check
onto the table without asking whether they wanted anything more, and Sam
noticed that people were lined up at the door.

“We better give up our seats,”
she suggested. “I need to get home and keep packing.”

Beau’s phone rang before they’d
reached their vehicles. His side of the conversation consisted of a lot of
uh-huh
and
really
, punctuated at the end by a
no kidding!
and “give me
ten minutes.” He rattled off a phone number.

“I need to go to my office,” he
said, as he clicked off.

“Emergency?”

“That was Jonathan.”

“Quick response.”

“Yeah, and the information is
surprising. He’s faxing a report and it’s got to go directly into my hands. He
says it includes confidential information and to expect gaps in the data. But
basically Tito Fresques’s job at Bellworth was a cover for something entirely
different.”

“Like what?”

“He didn’t say. I expect we’re
about to learn whatever they’re willing to tell us. Follow me over there?”

It took Sam two seconds to decide
she’d rather know what was in the report than to go home and pack boxes.

Sundays around the plaza were
always congested, although the chill weather was keeping a lot of folks from
strolling around. Beau opted for the back streets and she followed, which took
her past the little strip of shops where Sweet’s Sweets sat quietly closed.
Past the half-empty municipal parking lot they made the turn and found spots in
the lot behind Civic Plaza.

He pulled out his key to the back
door and they entered through the squad room where one deputy, a new man, was
speaking on the phone, something about a guy they were holding at the county
facility for an overnight disturbance. The fax machine at the far side of the
room was sitting quietly. Beau’s cell rang again, he gave a quick affirmative,
and the machine started to whir. Four sheets of paper edged their way out and
Beau picked up each one as it slid into the tray.

Beau nodded toward his office. He
unlocked the door, ushered Sam inside and closed it again. He sat at the desk
and she stood behind, looking over his shoulder. The pages seemed to be more of
a typed report than actual employment forms or government documents. Jonathan
Ernhart had taken a risk, transferring this information to a report and sending
it.

“Drug enforcement?” Sam said. “Am
I reading that right?”

Beau was running his finger down
the lines as he read, not skimming ahead as she’d done. Tito Fresques worked
for the DEA, performing certain undercover duties that frequently took him to
Mexico, occasionally to Washington. His fluency in Spanish and ability to blend
had gotten him the job. The Bellworth job as an electrician was purely a cover.

“His family never questioned
this, an electrician being sent to Washington?” she mused.

“Doubtful that they ever knew
where he went. Bellworth is a big enough entity that they might send guys out
on jobs around the state. Tito could use that as a reason to be gone a day or
two.”

The second half of the report
gave dates and places.

“Look, in mid-August he went into
Mexico twice, once through Tijuana and again later to Juarez. That Juarez trip
was just three days before he came to Taos and disappeared.” Sam pointed to the
line.

Beau nodded. Flipping to the
previous sheet, he said, “He’d made both of those runs before. Four times to
each place during June and July of that year.”

“So he was familiar with the
territory, met the same people each time?”

“Looks like it. They’re only
using code names. Tito was Panther. See here? He met with an Oso Negro twice
and a Diablo Rojo several times.”

“Were those guys, the Black Bear
and the Red Devil, were they good guys or bad?” Sam wondered.

“Informants, I would guess. The
real criminals would have probably been named. These codes are to protect the
identities of the men DEA had to work with.”

Sam thought about all this,
questions flying at her. “And his family knew nothing of this?”

“Too dangerous. For them. A wife
casually tells a friend that her husband is away on a trip, a wrong word here
or there, and a guy is toast.”

“Tito may have become toast
anyway. Someone may have followed him to Taos that weekend.”

“I think his body would have been
found. These drug deals go bad, they don’t usually take the time to transport a
body very far, or to give it a decent burial.” Beau set the pages down. “But
it’s a big state. Lots of room to lose things.”

“Plus,” Sam reminded him, “who
sent the cards to his wife and child and his mother? Somebody who wanted him to
disappear isn’t going to keep up that pretense.”

“Right. It’s a lot more likely
that Tito went into hiding. Saw something he shouldn’t, could name the wrong
person . . . I don’t know. To stay hidden this long, I’d bet that he was
feeling that there was no one he could trust. Maybe he stills feels that way. It
would have to be someone pretty high up.”

“Don’t agencies have a protocol
for that sort of thing, some kind of witness protection program for agents?
Somebody they absolutely know they can trust, the person they can call when
everything falls apart?

He shrugged. “I would think so. I
need to ask Jonathan some more questions.”

While Beau picked up his personal
phone Sam excused herself to go to the restroom. She came out to find the
deputy who’d earlier been in the squad room standing near Beau’s closed door.

“Excuse me?” she said. She
recognized him as the newest recruit, Denny Waters, a guy Beau had hired after
Padilla left.

He started and spun around. “Oh,
hi Sam. I just needed to ask the sheriff a question but it sounds like he’s on
the phone.”

“He should be out in a few
minutes,” she said, standing her ground.

She watched him head down the
hallway toward the break room and vending machines.

Come on, Beau,
she
thought.
I’ve got packing to do, a zillion other things
. . . She didn’t
want to leave without saying goodbye. She paced. She’d programmed Diane
Milton’s phone number into her cell, and decided to see if the neighbor had any
news about Marla’s condition. But when she dialed it, there was no answer, not
even a machine. They’d probably gone to church. The young deputy returned to
the squad room, a mug of coffee in hand.