Cold Betrayal (40 page)

Once the company left, B. and Ali were done. They went into the bedroom, fell into bed, and slept. Neither of them noticed when Bella burrowed under the covers with them, but she was still there, late that afternoon, when they finally woke up. There had been no phone calls to awaken them. B. had had brains enough to turn off the landline extension before they crawled into bed, and if anyone was attempting to reach them by cell phone, those calls were being put through to devices locked in an evidence locker somewhere far out of hearing distance.

Prowling out to the kitchen, they found a note from Leland saying that he had thawed out the last two of the pasties he’d made earlier in the week. They were on a plate in a warming drawer and ready to eat. Ali remembered the day the pasties had been hot and fresh out of the oven and she had taken a pair of them along to Flagstaff to share with Sister Anselm. That seemed like an impossibly long time ago.

At the bottom of the note was a PS: “Please call Sister Anselm. She’s waiting to hear from you.”

On the kitchen counter they found two new cell phones, two new iPads, and a note from Stuart. “Picked these up for you this afternoon. I transferred all the info and numbers over from your old phones and iPads, including the High Noon security protocols. The old devices are bricked. Anyone trying to access them for any reason will get nowhere.”

Ali sorted out which phone was hers and called Sister Anselm’s number while B. logged onto the new iPad to see what fires needed to be put out in the larger world of High Noon Enterprises.

“I’m so relieved to hear from you,” the nun said. “When I couldn’t reach you, I talked to Mr. Brooks, so I know some of what went on, but tell me everything.”

“That could take some time.”

“No problem. The nuns from All Saints are looking after Enid and Baby Ann, and they’ll go stay at the convent in Tucson for a few days once they’re released from the hospital. I’m driving back to Payson right now, Bluetooth in my ear. I’ve got time.”

Ali told her all of it. There was a pause when the story finally came to an end.

“We lit the fuse on this,” Sister Anselm said quietly. “We didn’t mean to, but we did. Our getting involved caused all those deaths.”

“I’m afraid that’s true,” Ali agreed. “Richard Lowell was a woman-hating rabid dog. I’d shoot him again in a minute if I had the chance. But the others? Amos Sellers claimed to be completely in the dark on the human trafficking business, and maybe the others were, too. Maybe they were all true believers living their lives the way Lowell told them to.”

“Like Jim Jones and the Kool-Aid,” Sister Anselm observed. “And then there’s the problem with Sheriff Alvarado. He’s most likely the father of Anne Lowell’s baby and her murderer as well, but without the evidence box, that case will never be closed, especially since, in the eyes of the world, the man died a hero.”

And B. would prefer to keep him that way,
Ali thought, but with B. sitting right there within earshot, she didn’t say that aloud.

“I still want to know for sure Anne and Jane Doe are one and the same,” Sister Anselm said. “I want to know that for Enid’s sake and for mine as well.”

The landline phone rang. Caller ID said Caller Unknown, but with everything that was going on, Ali felt a need to answer it. Besides, she had talked on the new cell phone for so long that it was burning her ear. “I need to take this.”

“Bye,” Sister Anselm said, and she was gone.

Ali picked up the other phone and was surprised to hear Andrea Rogers’s voice. “Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you?”

“For what you did. If you hadn’t gotten us out of the van when you did, Bill Witherspoon, Patricia, Agnes, and I would have been sitting ducks.”

“You’re welcome,” Ali said. “I didn’t recognize your phone number.”

“That’s because I don’t have my cell—none of us do—and I’m also out of the office. I had a free moment, though, and wanted to know how you’re doing.”

“B. and I just woke up,” Ali said. “What’s going on?”

“Patricia, Agnes, and I did our interviews and then spent the rest of the night and part of the morning helping with next-of-kin notifications. Understandably, the women from The Family are beyond distressed over what happened. I’m not sure how we would have managed if Patricia and Agnes hadn’t been there to run interference.

“I rode down from Colorado City to Flag with the first busload of displaced women and kids. A dozen of those were Brought Back girls. One of the passengers was a girl named Mary who was being held in solitary confinement in a cell at the church. Patricia tells me she was a Cast-Off girl, someone who was betrothed to Richard Lowell and failed the required virginity test. The rest were women with three or four kids apiece. They’re all temporarily settled in donated hotel rooms with volunteers from Irene’s Place helping them get cleaned up and into suitable clothing. Bill Witherspoon has been a huge help, by the way. Governor Dunham gave him a blank check to handle whatever is needed.”

“With state money?” Ali asked.

“No, he’s authorized to use her personal funds.”

“Speaking of Governor Dunham,” Ali said. “How’s she doing?”

“Out of surgery. She’s in serious condition—serious but stable. Her husband told Bill that her doctors are hoping to save her leg. If the SWAT team guys hadn’t used a tourniquet on it when they did, the leg would have been lost for sure.

“Anyway, the bus went back to pick up another load, and I stayed here to streamline arrangements. It’s complicated. Some of the so-called wives who also happen to be mothers are considered juveniles out here in the regular world. I’m walking a fine line making housing arrangements for them. Patricia may end up being turned into a de facto housemother.”

“What about Agnes?”

“I believe she’s staying on up at The Encampment for now. She said someone needed to look after the pigs and other livestock. I went toe-to-toe with a woman named Edith Tower. She was evidently Gordon Tower’s first wife, which makes her his first widow, too. When she started throwing her weight around, I told her that Agnes is staying on voluntarily and she is to be allowed a room in the house—Enid’s vacant room as a matter of fact. I also let her know that, if she made any attempt to force Agnes back into a state of involuntary servitude, there would be severe consequences.”

“How many of the widows are going to stay and how many will go?” Ali asked.

“There’s no way to tell that right now. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I know we’re going to need more help.”

“Take down this number,” Ali said before reciting a number from memory. “That’s my good friend Sister Anselm. She may be able to conjure up some additional help for you. We both have a vested interest in making sure these women are dealt with in the most humane way possible.”

“Oops,” Andrea said. “The bus is just pulling in. Gotta go.”

Ali put the phone down.

“How about one of those pasties now?” B. asked.

“Good idea,” she said. “I’m ready.”

40

B
y ten o’clock Monday morning Ali and Athena were belted into a Citation X. According to the computerized map on the bulkhead, they were somewhere far above Colorado on a three-hour flight from Flagstaff’s KFLG airport direct to Bemidji. Athena had been prepared to go and beard her mother in her den all on her own. Together, Chris, Ali, and B. had nixed that idea. They wanted her to have backup when she walked into a difficult situation with information that would likely turn a bad situation into a war zone.

Had Athena flown commercial from Phoenix, the trip would have taken the better part of three days. Flying direct, using B.’s jet card, meant they could come and go in a single day.

They were traveling with an iPad loaded with a collection of incriminating photos of Athena’s mother, Sandra, and of Elmer Munson, who, judging from the many surveillance photos of the two of them together, was more to Sandra than just the family doctor. There were photos of the two of them at various cash machines where Sandra was lifting money out of her mother-in-law’s bank accounts. There were front desk photos of them checking into hotel rooms at various casinos in the area. There were photos of them laughing it up at blackjack tables—blackjack being Sandra’s preferred game of chance, although given the sizes of her losses, it probably shouldn’t have been.

The capper, though, and by far the most damning, was the video clip that showed Sandra paying a surreptitious visit to Betsy’s house on Friday evening. Joe Friday’s surveillance camera had worked its magic. The video feed, complete with a time and date stamp, showed Sandra, alone this time, entering Betsy’s house while Betsy would have been in Bemidji at the fish fry. Sandra had spent most of the time in the bedroom, browsing through her mother-in-law’s jewelry box. Alerted by Stuart the next morning, Betsy had done her own jewelry box inventory and discovered that her mother’s antique cameo was missing, as was the pair of uncharacteristically extravagant diamond earrings Alton had given Betsy for their fiftieth wedding anniversary.

Athena hadn’t told her grandmother she was coming, so this was to be a surprise visit. The plan was to arrive at Dr. Munson’s office at the same time Betsy did. Ali was concerned about Athena’s intention of confronting the two miscreants together, but she was only along as backup. This wasn’t her fight. What happened during the encounter at Dr. Munson’s office would determine if Betsy’s next step would be filing a police report or simply demanding restitution.

On the way, Athena spilled out her heart. Athena had been at odds with her parents from a very early age. The battles were waged mostly between mother and daughter. Athena’s father, Jim, had always taken Sandra’s part, while his parents, Betsy and Alton, had functioned as their granddaughter’s safety net and refuge. Athena knew that Betsy and Sandra had been on the outs for decades, but it was only this current crisis that had brought into sharp focus the seriousness of the rift between them.

“Until just the other day, I had no idea of Gram’s intention to write them out of her will.”

“I’m pretty sure your mother knew,” Ali offered. “If she and your father were to be appointed Betsy’s guardians, Sandra would have used her influence with your father to gain control of that money long before it ever got to you. She was probably also hoping to cover up what she’s been doing for the last year.”

“Which is stealing,” Athena said. “My mother is a thief.”

“And a liar and a cheat,” Ali added. “I guess that’s why you turned out to be the way you did. One way kids rebel is to be the opposite of their parents. That explains why you’re who you are, but now I’m worried about Colin and Colleen. Will they be throwbacks to your mom?”

“I hope not,” Athena said, and she wasn’t laughing about it, either. The idea that her sweet little twins might grow up and turn into chips off her mother’s block was clearly a disturbing possibility and one Athena had never before considered.

They landed in Bemidji and picked up their rented car with a good hour to spare before Betsy’s two-thirty doctor’s appointment. With Ali behind the wheel, they did a quick drive-by tour of the place, with Athena offering directions, pointing out the sights, and providing narration.

The sky was overcast, and the weather had veered into the high thirties, a temperature Athena said locals would regard as a regular heat wave. They drove through town and saw the schools Athena had attended, the house where her parents still lived, and her father’s dental office on Paul Bunyan Drive.

“That red Miata parked outside belongs to Jack,” Athena said, biting her lip.

Ali knew the fact that Athena’s parents continued to maintain a close connection with her ex, Jack Carlson, was an ongoing emotional issue for Athena. Having Jack now installed as a full partner in her father’s dental practice made things that much worse.

“I guess we won’t be stopping in to visit, then?” Ali asked.

“I guess not,” Athena answered in a pained but wry way that made Ali grateful Athena hadn’t attempted this difficult journey on her own.

They parked outside Dr. Elmer Munson’s office on Bemidji Avenue at two-fifteen. They were early enough to see Betsy, accompanied by an elderly man with a cane, clamber out of a battered Kia. The man had stepped out of the front passenger seat and then held the back passenger door open while Betsy wrestled herself out of the vehicle.

“That’s Marcia Lawson’s Kia,” Athena explained as the vehicle moved away from the curb. “She drives Betsy around when she needs to go somewhere.”

“Who’s the man?” Ali asked

“I have no idea.”

The old couple had already made their dignified way into the building when Sandra Peterson arrived. After a hasty job of bad parallel parking, she bustled in after them.

“Showtime,” Athena muttered.

By the time Ali and Athena located the office and entered the waiting area, there was already a palpable feeling of tension in the room. Betsy and her unknown friend sat next to each other against one wall by the receptionist while Sandra, looking put out, sat on a love seat on the far side of the room.

“Hey, Mom,” Athena said, waving a casual greeting. “How’s it going?” Then she turned to Betsy. “Hi, Gram.”

Sandra half rose from her chair. “What on earth are you doing here?” she demanded. Then, as if she knew, she sank back down into her chair.

Betsy struggled to her feet and limped over to give Athena a fierce hug.

“I heard Gram might be having some mental health issues,” Athena said, turning to answer her mother’s question. “Ali and I decided to fly up and see what’s going on.” Athena next stepped forward to hold out her nonprosthetic hand to the man with the cane who was rising from his chair and tottering over to greet her. The old guy had to be eighty if he was a day.

“I’m Athena,” she explained. “Betsy’s granddaughter.”

“Just call me Howard,” the old guy said. “You might say I’m BA and AA,” he added with a chuckle and a quick glance in Betsy’s direction. “That stands for Before Alton and After Alton. If I’d played my cards right way back then, maybe there wouldn’t have been any Alton at all.”