assistance and reported the presence of a gun at a high school, there would be an emergency response out of all proportion to the actual danger.
“Listen to me, A.J.,” Ali said. “I’m on my way there right now, coming from Scottsdale. At this time of day, it shouldn’t take long for me to get there. Tell me exactly where you are.”
“Like I said, I’m at school. In the student parking lot.”
“I’m from out of town,” Ali told him. “I need to know where the school is.”
“On Thomas, ten blocks east of Central, on the south side of the street.”
“Whereabouts in the parking lot?”
“The row closest to the street, three cars in. Why?”
“Because I want to know where to look for you. Once I get there, we’ll figure out what to do.”
By then Ali had already turned off Camelback and was headed south on Twenty-fourth. Just as she pulled into traffic, not one but five police cars-lights flashing and sirens screaming-came bearing down on her. She pulled over to the curb to let them roar past. There was a chance they might be going someplace else, but as she watched them race by, her intuition told her otherwise. She guessed they were headed the same place she was-the student parking lot at North High School. Last row. Third car in.
“Listen to me, A.J.,” she commanded urgently. “This is very important! Did you tell anyone at school that you had the gun?”
“Only my girlfriend, Sasha. Why?”
“A bunch of cops just went rolling past me, and I believe they’re headed your way. If they don’t come there, fine, we’re good. But if they’re coming for you, do not do anything to provoke them, do you understand? Step out of the car, put your phone on the ground, spread your feet, and stand with both hands on your car. Do not make any sudden moves, and whatever you do, don’t try to run!”
Ali pulled back into traffic in time to see the parade of speeding police cars slow down enough to turn right on Thomas, convincing her that she had made the right call.
“Are they going to arrest me?” A.J. asked. He sounded scared, and she didn’t blame him.
“I can’t tell for sure,” Ali said, “but probably.”
She heard a choking sound like a stifled sob before A.J. managed to speak again. “What am I going to tell my mom?”
“I’ll tell her for you,” Ali offered. “Where is she? At home?”
“No. She went to work. Dr. Westmoreland’s office. He’s a dentist. His office is in Tempe, in the shopping center at the corner of Baseline and Rural roads.”
“Okay,” Ali said. “Now remember. If you’re taken into custody, all you say is ‘I want my lawyer.’ That’s it! After that, they can’t ask you anything else, and don’t tell them anything else. Nothing. Do not talk while you’re in the car, even with uniformed officers. Keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but-”
In the background, Ali could already hear the wail of multiple police sirens. There could be no doubt. That was where they were going.
“No buts, A.J.,” Ali warned him. “Close your phone now. Get out of the car, put the phone on the ground, and then stand with both hands on the hood or the trunk of your car. If you make any sudden moves, you’re liable to end up dead.”
Afraid he would keep talking rather than following her directions, Ali punched the button to end the call in time to make her own right-hand turn onto Thomas. As soon as she did so, she could see a flock of emergency vehicles lined up across the street in front of her, creating a roadblock that diverted all westbound traffic off Thomas and either north or south on Sixteenth Street.
For A.J.’s sake, all Ali could hope was that he had heard what she’d said and done what she’d told him to do. If not, chances were, armed or not, in the next few minutes, a very promising young man might well be dead.
As for Dave Holman? Even though Ali knew what she had to do, she didn’t like it. When he found out about her phone call from A. J. Sanders, he was going to be even more bent out of shape. The problem was, A.J. had handed her a clue in Dave Holman’s homicide investigation, and as much as she might have wanted to, withholding that information wasn’t an option.
23
With westbound traffic already backing up, Ali executed a U-turn and made her way to the 51. While at a stop sign, she programmed Dr. Westmoreland’s Tempe address into her GPS. It would take a matter of minutes for the news of an armed confrontation at North High to spread through the city, and Ali felt compelled to make good on her promise to A.J. that she would be the one to let Sylvia Sanders know what was going on.
Once on the 51 and speeding southbound, she found Dave’s last call and punched send. “I wondered if you’d call me back and apologize,” he said.
“Look, Mr. Grumbly Bear,” she said, “I’m calling with some information for you. Do you want to hear it, or do you want to keep on hassling?”
“I’ll hear it,” he said grudgingly. “What information?”
“I believe someone you’re looking for is about to be taken into custody by Phoenix PD, at the North High School campus in Phoenix.”
“Who?”
“The person of interest in the Gemma Ralston case,” Ali answered. “The kid who summoned 911.”
“Who?” Dave repeated.
“His name is A. J. Sanders. You interviewed his mother, Sylvia, yesterday.”
“James Sanders’s son was at the crime scene? Why is he being taken into custody, and why don’t I know anything about it?”
“The answer to the first question would be because he showed up at school with a trunkful of gambling tokens and a weapon-most likely a revolver. And the reason you don’t know about it is that it’s happening as we speak.”
“We’re talking an armed standoff?”
“It’s no standoff. The gun is in the trunk of his Camry. I told him to turn himself in.”
“You know all this how?” Dave demanded.
“Because he called me and told me,” Ali replied. “The uniformed response was happening as I ended the call. I dialed you next.”
“But I don’t understand how-”
“Look,” Ali interrupted, “do you want to argue about this, or do you want me to tell you what I think you’re going to want to know?”
“Tell me.”
“Assuming A.J. is taken into custody and gets booked, you’ll most likely find his fingerprints on the cell phone that was used to send the 911 text from the Ralston homicide scene. A.J. also said something about a shovel that may have been left at the scene. He claims Gemma Ralston was alive when he got there, and he said that before she died, she mentioned someone’s name. Dennis.”
“Last name?” Dave asked.
“First name only. A.J. said he went back to his car to get her some water, and shortly after that, she was dead.”
“All right,” Dave said. “Thanks. It happens that I’m at Anthem, heading south, so I’ll be able to go to work on this right away. I have a feeling it’s going to be a jurisdictional nightmare, but thanks, Ali. I owe you one.”
This time Dave was the one who ended the call.
The Baseline exit came up fast. Before Ali made it onto the arterial, her phone rang again. Stuart Ramey was on the line. Ali quickly brought him up to date on the morning’s events.
“Okay,” Stuart said. “I’ll go looking for somebody named Dennis in Gemma’s e-mail correspondence. He’ll turn up either there or in her contacts list.”
