“Seems like a strong kid to me.”
“That’s what he wants you to think. He tells me he’s cleaning homes but I know he’s running errands for Jeremiah Pope. That man is trouble. I don’t like it and I’ve tried to speak to him but he won’t listen.” She smiled. “He’s probably told you he has this dream of becoming a prizefighter, the next champion, but he hasn’t thought about the health risks, ending up with hepatitis, staph infections or worse — brain damage. All he sees is those bright lights, all he hears is the chants of fans.” She shook her head.
There was quiet for a few seconds.
“How much does it cost for a lung transplant and ongoing costs?” Jack asked.
“The transplant, inpatient treatment, pharmaceuticals, medical services, complications, diagnostic tests… it’s somewhere up in the $306,000 to $500,000 range.”
Jack blew out his cheeks. “That much?”
“Yeah, great health system we have, huh?” She breathed in deeply and looked at her feet and then placed a hand on the image of the Virgin Mary. “Are you a God-fearing man, Mr. Weslo?”
He stifled a chuckle thinking of Dalton’s repeated attempts to convert him to his way of thinking. “I’m not sure what that even means. But I’m not afraid to die, if that’s what you mean?”
She turned and looked at him.
“Tyson says he’ll raise the money even though I’ve told him not to bother.”
“Why? People have these surgeries all the time. It extends their life. A transplant could save you.”
“That’s not a given. Organs are rejected every day. I might not be a good match. I would hate to have wasted someone’s lungs. I’ve talked this over with him but he won’t listen.”
“He cares.”
“Yeah. Yeah he does. But that’s what worries me. I can handle dealing with this on a daily basis,” she said shaking the oxygen tank. “But I’m afraid for my son, Mr. Weslo. I’m afraid he’s going to wind up like his friend Nicky or get caught up on the wrong side of the law and I don’t think I could handle that.”
Jack bit down on his lower lip. “Where’s his father?”
She scoffed. “Who knows? Drunk in some bar down in Texas. Dead. Who cares? Even when he was around he wasn’t here.”
Jack knew a thing or two about that.
“Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for what you did for Tyson. You’re welcome to stay longer if needed.” She walked over and looked at the photos on the wall of her when she was younger and healthier. “Life goes by so quickly.” She turned with tears in her eyes. “Do you have anyone special in your life?”
His chin dropped ever so slightly and he nodded.
“Hold on to them, Mr. Weslo. You never know when they’ll be gone.”
She smiled and bid him goodnight, leaving him with his thoughts.
Chapter 9
Five hours. That’s all Jack slept that night. In the early hours of the morning as the sun began to peek over Santa Fe he’d stepped out for a run. The solitude of running trails in Colorado had always given him a way to unpack his thoughts and release pent-up frustration. He thought it might have the same effect that morning. It had become a daily practice Dana had instilled in him, that and meditation were just a couple of the suggestions she had for keeping a lid on what troubled him. After jogging for forty minutes through the hilly terrain surrounding the neighborhood, Jack stopped to take a breather. There were no real aches or pains from the night before even though he’d exerted himself. His knuckles were a little tender but that came with the territory of dispatching five guys. It could have been a hell of a lot worse. He placed his hands on his knees and glanced out over the valley. The glare of the sun made him squint into the horizon, its warmth enveloping his face. He took a swig from a water bottle and took a seat on a boulder overlooking the homes. He couldn’t allow his anger to get the better of him. It could cloud his judgment, make him reckless, which would only make it that much harder to find her. Sitting there he pulled out the wad of news articles and went over them again. What had drawn Dana’s attention to these murders? What was she doing in Santa Fe? He’d begun to think that perhaps she didn’t fly but drove to the city not long after he’d left for L.A. She could have got there within the day. He also believed she hadn’t mailed the tablet but returned to Telluride. That was the only logical explanation for how the safe could have been opened. Unless she was forced to give it up. She was the only other person who knew the combination. He thought about the video again. She was certain she was being followed. But by who?
Without the flash drive he was missing an important piece of the puzzle leaving him with little to go on. Looking down at the articles he pondered. Why keep these? What did each of them have in common? How were they linked? What did the dates have to do with it? It had been the first time since Telluride that he’d properly read each one. Up until that point he’d scanned them but his mind couldn’t concentrate. The victims were ordinary, working-class people. Some were married, others single. The murders had occurred across the United States in different states at different times of the day and night. Some were found on the street, others in businesses, in homes and even on public transportation. The nature of the killings was brazen, precise and swift. Jack had
