“Before he lost consciousness, he mumbled a name.”
Brix nearly shouted, “What name?”
Nash scratched at his temple. “I don’t know if this makes any sense, but sounded like he said, ‘Sissy Guava.’”
32
Nash lifted his hat and brushed back his hair. “Yeah, could be. But that’s all he said. Mean something to you?”
Brix grunted. “You could say that.”
“Why would he say Guevara’s name?” Owens asked.
The doors to the ambulance slammed shut and its light bar began swirling as it pulled away from the house, James Cannon tucked into its rear compartment.
Vail watched another piece to the puzzle being whisked away down the road, evaporating into the dark fog, the siren remaining long after visual contact had been lost. “I showed Robby’s—Detective Hernandez’s—photo to Cannon, and he said he’d seen him but couldn’t remember where. I guess he’s saying he saw him somewhere that’s associated with Guevara.”
Dixon began to gently massage her inflamed hand. “We’re missing the bigger picture. Why would James Cannon know Cesar Guevara?”
“Obvious answer,” Brix said, “is that Cannon is a manager at a start-up winery, and they were talking with Superior Mobile Bottling about contracting for their services.”
“That’s one explanation,” Vail said, stifling a yawn. “Another might be that there’s a connection somehow between John Mayfield, James Cannon, and Cesar Guevara. A connection we haven’t figured out yet.”
Dixon stretched her arms above her head. “We know there’s a connection between Cannon and Mayfield. Mentor and student. And Ray said on the DVD that he thought there was some kind of connection between Mayfield and Guevara.”
“So what does all this mean?” Owens asked.
Dixon looked up at the black sky. The air was calmer now, without the beating rotors of the helicopter whipping at the treetops. “It means we don’t know enough to figure it out yet.”
Brix pulled his phone. “I’ll get Mann over to Valley Med, so he’s there when Cannon arrives. If he regains consciousness, maybe we can get some clarification. And I’ll talk with Cap Krandle at Herndon in the morning, see if they’d had any discussions with Guevara about using Superior.”
“Nothing left for us to do here,” Dixon said. While Brix was waiting for the line to connect, she said, “We’ll pick up Karen’s stuff at my place, then head over to the hospital until she leaves for the airport.”
“Yeah, Austin, it’s Brix.” He nodded at Dixon, and Dixon and Vail said good-bye to Owens, then climbed into their vehicle.
Vail snapped her seatbelt then let her head fall back against the seat. Yawned wide and loud. “I’m so damn tired. And we’ve got so little to show for all our time and effort. I’m out of here in—” she checked the dashboard clock—“about an hour fifteen.”
Dixon turned over the engine and brought the Ford around to head back the way they had come. “For the moment, you’re still here. The fat lady ain’t singing just yet.”
“You’ll let me know when, right?”
Dixon managed a grin. “Yeah. I’ll let you know when.”
33
They arrived at Dixon’s house twenty minutes later. Vail scooped up her measly belongings—her clothing and personal effects greatly reduced in number and volume by the fire Scott Fuller and his conspirators had set a few days earlier. As she gathered everything into a pile, her thoughts shifted to a few nights ago, when John Mayfield had injected Vail with BetaSomnol, a powerful sedative, then used her Glock to kill Fuller. It set off a major confrontation with Sheriff Owens, which Robby squelched by tossing Owens onto his rump.
Scott Fuller vanished from her thoughts when she felt a nudge on her forearm. She turned to see Margot looking at her, wanting attention. Vail sat down on the floor and Margot jumped into her lap. Quinn came running over, and having lost the “prime real estate” to Margot, took up the next best location—alongside Vail’s thigh.
With a hand on each dog, Vail felt soothed by their curly fur. She got as much comfort from stroking them as Margot and Quinn seemed to be getting from the human contact.
Dixon walked into the room and gathered Vail’s soiled towel and bedsheets.
“Maybe I need one of these,” Vail said as Margot reached back and gave Vail a lick on the cheek.
“Standards are terrific dogs. Extremely smart, very athletic and physical, and they live for the human connection. Great companions—and excellent watchdogs. A lot of upkeep, though. Trimming their coats, keeping their fur free of tangles—”
“Seems like it’s worth it.”
“I don’t regret it for a minute.”
Vail patted Margot’s chest and the dog disengaged herself from Vail’s lap. Vail pulled herself off the floor and grabbed what amounted to an overnight bag.
She said good-bye to Margot and Quinn, then left the house with Dixon. En route to Napa Valley Medical Center, Vail called the car service that Gifford’s secretary, Lenka, had arranged, and gave them the new address where she was to be picked up.
When they arrived, Vail sat in Dixon’s Ford, staring out the windshield at the ER bay. “When were we here with Mayfield?”
“A couple days ago?”
Vail brought both hands to her face and rubbed at her eyes and cheeks. “This has been a week from hell.”
Dixon popped open her door. “Look on the bright side. When was the last time you caught two serial killers in one week?”
Vail gave Dixon a weary look. “Nice try, Roxx. But until I find out what happened to Robby—or find him alive—I won’t consider the past ten days a success.”
Dixon got out and closed her door. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”
They made their way into the ER and found the charge nurse. Cannon had been brought in, triaged, and sent directly to the OR. “Brain surgery. No telling how long he’ll be in there.”
“What was wrong?”
“Subdural hematoma. That’s bleeding in the brain due to traumatic—”
“Yeah, we got that part,” Vail said. “Thanks.”
“Roxxann.”
Behind them, Austin Mann was approaching. He looked surprisingly fresh for nearly 3:30 in the morning.
“Cannon’s in surg—”
“We know,” Vail said. “You get a chance to talk with him before they took him back?”
Mann twisted his mouth. “No such luck. Came in unconscious.”
Vail looked around for a seat. Ahead and down the hall was the waiting room. She led the way and wearily lowered herself into a chair. “So that’s it.”
“Hey, we’re not giving up,” Mann said. “Just because you’re gettin’ on that plane doesn’t mean this is ‘case closed.’ We’re still gonna work it. Soon as Cannon is conscious, he and I will have a chat. We learn anything, we know where to find you.”
Vail’s BlackBerry buzzed. She sighed, then lifted it out of its holster. “Vail.” She listened a moment, then said, “You’re early.” She pulled herself straight in the chair and said, “I’ll be right out. Yeah, in the back, by the ambulance bay.”
Vail shoved her phone onto her belt, looked at Dixon and Mann, then stood up. They rose as well.
“There’s nothing more to do here,” Mann said. “At this point, ten, fifteen minutes isn’t going to make a
