Time of Death

‘Yes.’

‘Could you just check if his texting language is set to predictive text?’

Glenn paused.

‘How about we try it this way: I tell you that I think it is not? Could you confirm that his phone is not set to predictive text?’

‘OK. I guess I could do that. I’ll call you back.’

‘Thank you, Glenn. I appreciate it. Whenever you get the chance.’ Immediately, please, immediately.

Glenn called back twenty minutes later. No, Douglas Hammond’s phone was not set to predictive text. Ren thanked him, hung up and stared once more at the Fifty Most Wanted faces lined up across the wall. She remembered Douglas Hammond’s last-ditch panic when he thought the headlights of a car were bearing down on him and the desperate text message he had punched in. But, she now realized, the quickest shorthand Judge Hammond could find to warn Ren was nothing to do with predictive text. They were what they were: numbers. And they matched the faces that Ren was now looking at.

Three: Domenica Val Pando. Four: Javier Luis. Five: Erubiel Diaz.

43

Ren’s heart was pounding. Douglas Hammond. Helen Wheeler. Domenica Val Pando. Javier Luis. Erubiel Diaz. WTF?

‘What’s going on in your tiny mind?’ said Cliff.

‘Huge thoughts…’

‘On…’ said Cliff.

‘I’m sorry, I just…’

‘Have you stopped trusting me?’ he said. He meant it.

‘I think I have stopped trusting myself.’

‘That’s very sad.’

‘It is,’ said Ren.

‘Well, if you change your mind…’

‘Thanks. I feel like my head’s about to blow.’ She looked again at the photos. ‘There’s family stuff too.’

‘Anything you want to talk about?’

‘No, not really. But don’t take it personally.’

‘I won’t, and if you need me, you know where I am.’

‘Thanks, Cliff.’

She glanced at the TV to end the awkwardness.

A box on the top right of the screen read: ARRESTS MADE IN DRUGS TUNNEL COLLAPSE.

‘Crank it up,’ said Ren.

‘You have the remote,’ said Cliff.

Ren grabbed it and turned up the volume. When did this happen?

A photo filled the screen that Ren wished she had seen forty-eight hours earlier. It was of a huge truck beside a gaping hole in a dusty hillside in Nogales, Mexico – the opening to a tunnel under the border that would lead to Nogales, Arizona on the other side. According to the report, it was the fifteenth tunnel found in the area in the previous year and was believed to be linked to the Puente cartel.

The tunnel, which had been under construction for months was detected by Border Control just three days earlier when workers fled from it after a support beam in the ceiling collapsed.

Imagine the crush injuries you’d get from that, Luke Sarvas. You lying son-of-a- bitch.

Ren called Hunt Memorial Hospital and asked to be put through to Luke Sarvas’ room.

‘Hello?’

‘Catherine?’ said Ren. ‘It’s Ren Bryce here. Is Luke there?’

‘Yes,’ said Catherine. ‘But I told you—’

‘Catherine, put him on the phone to me right now or within a half-hour that room is going to be swarming with FBI agents who give less of a shit about you and Luke than I do.’

Catherine let out a slow breath. ‘He can’t hold the phone.’

‘Hold it up to his ear! For God’s sake, Catherine. This is important.’

Ren heard the phone move and a change of breathing as Luke Sarvas came on the line.

‘Luke, it’s Ren Bryce. How did the support beam fall?’

Silence.

‘Luke, answer me. How did it fall?’

His voice cracked. ‘Because I knew exactly how to make it fall.’

Oh my God. ‘You did it?’

‘Yes…we were…forced to…they told us we would be killed if we didn’t do it. I…I…wanted to get out,’ he sobbed. ‘I had to get out. I wanted to see my mom.’

Cliff’s words rang in Ren’s ears: he’s a seventeen-year-old kid. Kids seemed so advanced, but really, there was only so far their coping skills could stretch at that age.

‘What happened to you?’ said Ren. ‘What happened to you?’

‘I can’t…I can’t…’ He was sobbing louder.

‘Luke, can you tell me – have you heard of the Puentes? Or of a man called El Coyote Panzon? Is that the man who made you do this? El Coyote Panzon.’

There was complete silence at the other end of the phone.

‘Luke? Luke?’ said Ren. ‘You can talk to me. You’re safe now.’

Still Luke said nothing.

‘You’re safe,’ said Ren again.

Luke lowered his voice. ‘You’re not.’

The line went dead.

What the hell? Ren called Catherine Sarvas’ cell phone. It was diverted. She tried the hospital again. The line to Luke Sarvas’ room was busy.

Why would I not be safe? And how could Luke Sarvas know that? And if he does have that kind of information, he is not safe. Neither is his mother. And neither is Michael. And where is Michael Sarvas?

Ren picked up her office phone and dialed the number for El Paso PD. As she was waiting to be connected, her cell phone rang. Caller ID showed the hospital number. She hung up and took the cell phone call.

It was Catherine Sarvas. ‘Ren, I’ve sneaked into another patient’s room. Luke says you’ve got to back off from all of this. Don’t get the police involved. Don’t get your bosses involved. And he told me to tell you that El Coyote Panzon is dead.’

She hung up. Ren’s heart pounded.

What is going on?

Ren’s cell phone rang again. ‘This is Mannering Security Systems. Could I speak with Annie Lowell?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Ren. ‘My name is Ren Bryce. Is this about Annie’s place? I’m the house-sitter.’

‘Do you have the code word?’ said the man.

‘Edward,’ said Ren.

‘Yes, ma’am. We have a report of an alarm going off—’

Shit. ‘Sir, I’m an FBI agent, please do not send any of your men to the property. I will take care of it.’

He paused. ‘It’s our policy to—’

‘Sir, forget your policy. I’m with Rocky Mountain Safe Streets Task Force and I am not in the habit of putting people’s lives at risk. So, please, let me take care of the house. And you can keep your employees safe. I’m going to