Icy Betrayal (18 page)

THIRTY-FOUR

A
fter driving through Phoenix, Lisa Sullivan merged from Interstate 10 onto Highway 85. The highway sign read 119 miles to Lukeville, the border town where she hoped to cross quietly into Mexico.

Lisa was surprised at the beautiful landscape of the Arizona desert. She found the scenery mesmerizing and strangely relaxing. She knew it wouldn’t last, but for the moment she allowed herself to melt into the solitude of the drive.

At 2:45, Lisa took exit 39 and found the gas station where she was to meet Roberto. She didn’t know what he looked like, but Jack told her not to worry, Roberto would be making the contact. She pulled into the station, parked and looked around the lot, but didn’t notice anything or anyone unusual.

A few minutes later, a short Hispanic man in his mid-thirties approached. He motioned for her to roll down the window.

“Hello. You must be Lisa, no?”

“Yes, I am. And you must be Roberto?”

“My friends, they call me Frito.”

“Okay, Frito,” she replied. “So what now?”

“There is storage place just down the road. You follow me. I’m in Toyota pickup, okay?”

“Sure, I can do that.”

Lisa followed Frito down to a storage yard. The worn, beat up sign out front read,
Lotsa Storage
. The office was a trailer.

They both parked near the trailer and Frito walked to Lisa’s car.

“My friend Jack said you have a package for me.”

“Oh right,” Lisa said, digging in her purse. Jack had given her a small box when they said goodbye. “Here it is.”

Frito opened the box and took out a wrapped stack of twenty dollar bills. Lisa was confused.

“What is that for?” she asked him.

“You wait here, señorita,” he said and disappeared into the trailer.

The peace she felt on the road earlier was now gone, replaced with anxiety. Yesterday morning she had been sitting in her apartment in Rosebud, Colorado, and now she was in Arizona, in a place she had never heard of, waiting on a guy named Frito.

After a few minutes, Frito motioned for her to come inside. The office was small and cramped. Two scary men sat behind desks and spoke Spanish to Frito. One of the men stared at her, and Lisa was afraid something very bad was about to happen. The older of the men walked to an old metal cabinet and opened the door. She held her breath, fully expecting him to pull out a gun.

Instead, he pulled out a Polaroid camera.

“Is okay, Miss Lisa. These men, they help us with ID to get you across the border,” he assured her. The men suddenly understood and wailed in laughter. She laughed along uncomfortably, feeling the fool.

Frito explained the men had friends at the border office. They had digital files of identities that could be encoded onto cards with computers. The identities were apparently leased by these men from someone with access to the border control computers, then sub-leased to customers like Lisa. Her passport card would be good for one trip across the border.

They took a headshot with the Polaroid and presented Lisa with a perfectly forged US passport card. The price was $1000 or a stack of twenty dollar bills.

Once outside, she and Frito parked her car in an aisle among dozens of other vehicles, most covered in a layer of desert sand.
Lotsa Storage
was apparently a full service business. She climbed into Frito’s pickup, and within minutes they were headed south to the border.

“So how long will it take to get there?” Lisa said, changing the subject.

“We take about one hour to Gringo Pass. That’s where we cross over. From there, about one more hour.”

“There’s a place called Gringo Pass?”

“Lukeville—that’s the real name, but we say Gringo Pass because Americans come through there,” he said with a big smile. He gave her a tourist card to fill out. It was actually a piece of paper for anyone entering Mexico. Lisa matched the information from her passport card to the lines on the form. For the next two hours, Lisa would be Stephanie Clark of Chandler, Arizona.

THIRTY-FIVE

“
H
ey, Mark… It’s Anita. Thought I’d give you a heads up. The News Press just received a fax from the law firm of Pabst, Kramer, and Solomon in Dallas, Texas informing us that none other than Mr. Branch Kramer will be defending your boy Scott Lennox. You should read this thing, it’s over the top. It goes on to say that he will be meeting with his client today at 5:15 at the RCSO jail in Castle Springs.”

“Can you fax that to me, Anita?”

“Sure, no problem. I especially like the fact that he’s timing his arrival at the jail to meet with Lennox at five fifteen… Gee, you think that will get any live news coverage from the Denver TV stations? What a transparent piece of shit.”

“Fax it to me.”

“It’s on the way.”

Archer immediately called Captain McCallister.

Satellite and microwave TV trucks began arriving at the Rocklin County Jail just after 4:00. After consulting the sheriff and DA, McCallister and Archer decided it was best not to give Lennox’s attorney any ammunition. They would allow Kramer his show and only counter with a news release on the new $25,000 reward for information on Lisa Sullivan.

“Squeeze in people, the show is about to begin,” McCallister said as Keller, Serrano, and Archer shuffled into his office a little before five o’clock. It was a tight fit, but they all managed to find a spot in view of the TV in the corner.

“Famed defense attorney Branch Kramer is in Colorado tonight to defend a Castle Springs man on murder charges,” the anchor said. “46-year-old Scott Lennox was arrested over the weekend in connection with the death of his business partner, 56-year-old George Lombard, also of Castle Springs. You’re looking live at the scene outside the Rocklin County Jail Complex where we’re expecting Kramer to address the media in just a few minutes. Once that happens we will bring it to you live.”

The anchors moved on to other stories for the time being.

Archer broke down what they were seeing. “Branch Kramer is the definitive media whore. He announces his arrival for 5:15, and since Denver stations have to spend all that money to send their satellite trucks down here he knows he’ll get play at the top of the news, too. He’ll do a little song and dance and promise to come back and talk to reporters again after he meets with his client. That’ll get him a plug at the end of the five o’clock and another teaser at the top of the six. Then, he’ll come out of the jail and do a longer bit between 6:10 and 6:15, which they’ll cover live. He’ll get another mention at the end of the six and a full wrap up for the ten o’clock news. If this were a public defender, this story gets 30-45 seconds, tops. The guy is a righteous blowhard, but he knows how to play the game.”

“So why aren’t we out there trying to diffuse this character a bit?” Mia asked.

“Branch Kramer would love nothing better than to engage us on the steps of the jail. That kind of story could play for a couple days. It’s better to let him have his little moment. If we were out there and got a little testy with him then that drama becomes the story. We don’t want that, so if we ignore Kramer and his antics, the media will pretty much have to use what we’ve put out today, which is the reward. So essentially, they’ll have to put up her picture and our tip line number—it’s all they’ve got from us. We’ll actually get more play on the reward that we might have without Mr. Kramer.”

“We good on the phone bank?” Mick asked.

“We scraped together six staffers and deputies to go 24/7, in eight hour shifts, at least for the first 48 hours. Most of the meaningful calls tend to come in early,” answered Keller.

“Jack, Mia, after this little circus plays out, why don’t you two go down and sit on the phone lines for a bit?” Mick asked. “See what, if anything, pops.”

They nodded in agreement.

Back from a commercial break, the anchors tossed back to the live picture from Castle Springs. “Continuing coverage,” they called it.

A reporter stood among the crowd, likely recruited by Kramer staffers. “Rob and Erin, Branch Kramer arrived moments ago here at the Rocklin County jail where he plans to meet with his client, Scott Lennox. As we’ve reported, Lennox was arrested in connection with the murder of his business partner, found dead on a rural county road in November. Kramer is making his way up the steps now, in his trademark western suit and cowboy hat. I’ve been told that Kramer will make a statement.”

“Well, there’s a shocker,” Mia said to the TV as Kramer squeezed behind a stand of microphones.

“Your presence is a testament to our thirst for justice in Rocklin County and the great state of Colorado. And I am here to see that justice is carried out for Mr. Scott Lennox. I can tell you that when I learned the details of this case, I was shocked and saddened, outraged really, by what has transpired here. An upstanding member of the community has been railroaded on trumped-up charges based on weak circumstantial evidence, all due to the political ambitions of the district attorney and the Rocklin County Sheriff’s Department. The case against Scott Lennox is a sham. But this case is about more than Scott Lennox. This is about bureaucratic power run amok. It’s about those bureaucrats running roughshod over the rights of hard working Americans in an effort to disguise their own inequities. And I am here to demand freedom for Scott Lennox and every person unjustly accused.”

The crowd clapped and hooted their support. “Right now, I’m going to meet with my client, Scott Lennox, and I promise to brief you again shortly. Thank you again for your support, and God bless America.”

The camera pulled back to the reporter as Branch Kramer turned toward the jail. “There you have it. Legendary defense attorney Branch Kramer characterizing the murder case against Castle Springs businessman Scott Lennox as a ‘sham.’”

“He went from famed to legendary in like ten minutes,” Jack said.

“Meantime, the Rocklin County Sheriff’s Office has yet to arrest a second suspect wanted in connection with this case and a short time ago announced a $25,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of 32-year-old Lisa Sullivan of Rosebud. They ask if you have any information on her whereabouts to call the tip line on your screen. We’re live in Castle Springs. Rob and Erin, back to you.”

Mick clicked off the TV. “Listen people, we’ve got to get Lisa Sullivan in custody or this guy’s going to turn us into a laughingstock. Get down to the phones and keep me posted.”

THIRTY-SIX

F
rito’s truck inched forward as they approached the Lukeville border crossing. The line of cars stretched at least 300 yards and it took close to an hour to reach the front. There were three gates and he edged the truck toward the one marked, “Nothing to Declare.”

At the gate, Frito nodded to the guards and the men shared a knowing glance. Both guards were intimidating and wore sidearms. As the taller of the guards talked with Frito, the other walked to the passenger door. She handed over the passport and tourist cards as the guard angled for a better look.

The guard paid little attention to her documents and instead focused on her chest. After what seemed like an eternity to Lisa, he handed them back. “Umberto, está bien!”

The other guard waved them through and Frito put the truck into gear and quickly pulled away. Lisa exhaled and they both burst into laughter.

“I’m not sure why I’m laughing, my God, I was terrified! I thought he was about to climb in the truck with me.”

“You did good, Miss Lisa. No worries now, we will be there soon,” he promised.

Lisa smiled and sat back a little in the seat, trying her best to relax.

“So, how did you get the name Frito? I’m guessing that’s not the name your mother gave you.”

“When I was little there was Fritos; you know, the chips. They had the Frito Bandito in their ads and I used to act like him, all crazy. My friends thought it was funny, and everyone calls me Frito.”

“Well, I’m going to call you Roberto. Is that okay with you?” Lisa said with a smile.

“Sí, señorita, sí,” he replied with a smile.

“So, tell me about Rocky Point?”

“Puerto Peñasco. The gringos call it Rocky Point. It is on the Sea of Cortez. Very beautiful.”

“How long have you lived there, Roberto?”

“All my life. I work at one of the big hotels. I fix things; they break, I fix.”

“Are you married?”

“Yes, Juanita is my wife, and we have four children.”

“Wow, big family. What does your wife do?”

“She cleans rooms at the Grand Sonoran. She works very hard and gets good tips from the American tourists.”

“Where do you live?”

“Just outside of town. Costs much to live in Puerto Peñasco. My truck gets me and Juanita to our jobs.”

“What about your kids?”

“We have two boys and two girls. The boys are twelve and six, and our girls are nine and seven.”

“Where do they go to school?”

“Only the boys go to school. The girls stay home and help with sewing and other work. My Juanita also works for Americans who have homes here, doing odd jobs, and the girls help her.”

An hour later, Lisa was able to see the ocean in the distance. They must finally be getting close to town, she guessed. She was taken aback by what Roberto had told her. The boys go to school, and the girls stay home and help the family eke out a living. What kind of a chance would they ever have at a better life?

“We are close, Miss Lisa. If you look towards the ocean, you can see a beach with many condominiums. Our friend Jack owns one of them, and that’s where you will stay. It’s very nice there; you will like it very much.”

The Sea of Cortez shimmered in the distance. Roberto was right; it was beautiful. She could understand why Americans would come here.

“Jack asked me to get you a new passport with a different name. Do you know what you want your new name to be?”

She hadn’t thought about a new identity, but it made sense. She couldn’t be Lisa Sullivan anymore.

“I haven’t even thought about it. When do you need a name from me, Roberto?”

“Jack said as soon as possible.”

“Okay, then I will get you a name. Once I get settled into the condo, how will I contact you?”

“Jack gave me your cell number so I can call you and I will give you my number. But I come by each day to check on you and see how you are doing.”

A minute later, they were driving along a sliver of road winding down to the beach. Down below, Lisa could see clusters of white condominiums standing three stories tall. Roberto slowed the truck and pulled onto a long stretch of private road that served as access to a dozen or more of the condos. He pulled into the driveway of a large unit that sat directly on the beach and parked in a space marked 2B.

“Welcome home, Miss Lisa.”

The condo was large, sparsely furnished but tasteful. There were two bedrooms and two baths, along with a living room with high ceilings and a huge picture window looking out onto the beach at the breaking surf. It was a gorgeous setting, and Lisa found herself excited at the prospect of this place as her new home. The kitchen was a bit dated, but the bedrooms and bathrooms were spacious. The master bedroom had a king size bed and a veranda that looked out onto the beach. Her dad had done well with this place, she thought.

“I got you some food and put it in the refrigerator and cabinets. You need more, I can get it tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much, Roberto. You are very kind to do all this for me.”

“No problema, señorita.”

The doorbell rang. Lisa was startled.

“Is okay, Miss Lisa. Just someone to help you. Mr. Jack said it would be good.”

Frito opened the door and a pretty, middle aged woman equipped with a large tackle box came inside. “This is Berta,” he said. “She is my sister and the best hair stylist in Puerto Peñasco.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lisa said.

“Muy bonita,” Berta said as she gave Lisa the once over. “Sí, muy bonita.”

Berta led her to a chair at the table. “I give you new look,” she announced as she tossed a drape over Lisa and fastened it behind her neck. “You no worry, I make you muy more beautiful. I give you color, too.”

She had trusted Frito with her life. He and her father had done everything they’d promised. So, she would trust Berta as well.

Two hours later the makeover was complete.

Frito looked at Lisa and hardly recognized the person standing before him. Berta had given her a medium length bob-style that looked fresh and casual. The vibrant, light brown color had a reddish tint that gave her a relaxed, cosmopolitan look. It was a big change from the long, straight, dirty blond style she’d worn for years. Berta had indeed made her beautiful.

“Muy bonita… Sí, señorita Lisa?” Berta asked.

“Oh, yes, sí, sí, thank you so much. It’s beautiful! Gracias!”

Lisa went to her purse, drew out a hundred dollar bill, and offered it to Berta.

Berta’s eyes got big when she saw the cash. She thanked Lisa profusely and packed up. Frito saw her to the door.

When Frito returned Lisa turned to him and said, “Jack told me to pay you for your help today. He said that I was to pay you $500, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lisa counted out ten one hundred dollar bills and handed them to Roberto.

“Oh, señorita, this is too much.”

“Nonsense. Roberto, you’ve been exceptionally kind to me today. Please, take the extra money and help your family. I insist.”

Frito stuffed the cash deep into his front pocket.

“I thank you. You are very kind, Miss Lisa.”

“It’s nothing, Roberto. Thanks for being my very first friend in… Puerto Peñasco, is that how you say it?”

“Sí, señorita. Your Spanish is good.”

“Well, it’s bound to get even better. Thank you again.”

“De nada. You call me if you need things—day or night.”

After Roberto left the condo, Lisa slumped down onto the sofa in the living room, exhausted. The life she had in Colorado was now gone. The father she never knew was keeping her out of jail. She was alone in a place far away from everything she knew.

Keller and Mia left Mick’s office and headed downstairs to the makeshift phone bank that had been assembled in a conference room.

“I’ll meet you down there in a minute,” Keller told his partner. “Gotta hit the men’s room.”

Keller peeled off and headed toward the clerical offices on the second floor. The area was all but abandoned after five o’clock, and he knew the men’s room would be empty.

Inside, he checked the stalls and pulled out his burner phone. Lisa should be in Mexico by now, he thought. He dialed her new cell number.

“Hey.”

“Well, how’s Mexico? Everything go all right?”

“Mexico is beautiful, and your place is great. I’m just trying to get my bearings.”

“So everything went well with Frito? Any problems at the border?” Jack asked.

“Not really, we got stopped by the guards but after a minute or two they let us in. Roberto has been great. I really like him. He’s been a huge help to me.”

“Roberto?’

“Yes, that’s Frito’s given name, and I’m going to be calling him that.”

“Oh, okay. Did his sister show up?”

“Yes she did, and she was amazing. You’ll hardly recognize me.”

“Well, that’s the goal. Look, I hope to get down there soon. But I have to wait for the right time. I hope you understand.”

“I understand, I just wish you could be here. What’s going on there?”

“Lennox lawyered up, he’s not talking.”

“Wow, that didn’t take long.”

“And his lawyer’s a big shot. Branch Kramer. Ever heard of him?”

“Wait, is he that cowboy that’s always on the cable shows?”

“He’s the one.”

“Wow. How did…”

“From what we understand, his wife hired him.”

“Seriously?”

“That’s what they say. Oh, and listen… they put out a $25,000 reward on you.”

There was no easy way to say it.

“Oh my God.”

“With this Branch Kramer character involved, this story could grow and your picture could end up everywhere. So we need to get you a new ID ASAP. You’re going to need a new name.”

“Roberto and I are working on it,” she assured him. “What if Scott and his new attorney decide to lay the whole thing on me? What if they say I killed Lombard so Scott would leave his wife and run away with me and all the money. What happens then?”

“They won’t play that card. At least not yet. Their best strategy, in my opinion, is for Scott to clam up and make the prosecution prove its case. It’s working so far. There’s not enough physical evidence, so as I see it, the only way Scott goes down for this is if you testify against him. The prosecution needs you. They’ll want you to turn state’s evidence—in other words, testify and tell what happened. If you did that then Scott would almost certainly go down, and you’d be offered a deal of some sort in exchange for your testimony. So, the last thing the defense wants is for you to be found. As long as you are in the wind, I think they are pretty safe. And they know it.”

“Just thinking about it makes my head hurt.”

“Let’s just get you settled in and take things as they come. Even though you’re in Mexico, you still need to keep a low profile, especially now.”

“Okay, I will. So we’ll talk tomorrow, then?”

“Absolutely. Now, get some rest.”

The calls from the five o’clock news generated mostly sightings of Lisa in and around the town of Rosebud. People reported seeing Lisa Sullivan at the grocery store, gas station, dry cleaners and the gym. There were a few calls putting her as far away as Longmont and Pueblo, but they weren’t strong leads. All would have to be checked out, regardless.