Icy Betrayal (26 page)

Unable to reach her father, Natalie sat in the bathroom stall, trembling. She’d been in Puerto Peñasco for nearly a year without any issues or problems. Why was she suddenly being recognized? Had something happened with Scott Lennox? Was her face back on the news? She had to get back to the condo and find out.

Natalie snuck out the side door of the mission school and began walking a circuitous route through the local neighborhoods to avoid the tourists. As she reached the condo, Natalie stopped dead in her tracks, quickly ducking behind an old truck parked on the street. There was a man in black pants and a short sleeve black shirt knocking on her door. She peered around the truck to gain a better look. Who could it be? The Mexican authorities? Maybe a detective from Colorado? Her heart pounded beneath the thin sundress, now drenched in sweat. Should she run? Where to? She would only draw attention to herself. She felt trapped, like a caged animal.

Father Jon knocked again, but there was no answer. He wasn’t sure if Jack was inside and didn’t want to come to the door or if there was simply no one there. But he had traveled more than a thousand miles and he wasn’t ready to leave just yet. The priest looked around at the cars in the parking lot and along the street, but they offered no clues. All the vehicles but one had Mexican plates; the other was from California.

He stood on the porch and continued to knock, thinking about what he would say to fugitive Lisa Sullivan, assuming that his hunch was right and she was there. He would tell her that he knew she was wanted by the authorities in Colorado, and that she needed to turn herself in. It just seemed better that way; if she would voluntarily turn herself in, she stood a better chance at a lesser charge, and ultimately face less time in prison for her role in Lombard’s death. If he simply alerted Colorado authorities, and they went to Mexico to make the arrest, things for Lisa Sullivan would likely turn out far worse.

Father Jon felt he owed that much to Jack, given he only learned about Sullivan’s involvement in the murder through their conversation on Castle Trail. Further, if she did turn herself in, Jack’s involvement in the entire fiasco wouldn’t have to be revealed. She could simply walk into the sheriff’s department and say she was tired of running and wanted the ordeal to end. Father Jon considered it a good trade off, though he knew Jack would likely never see it that way.

He rapped on the door again but got no answer. Perhaps Jack or Lisa were out on the patio. He took the path around the building to the beach side. He knocked on the glass patio door but still got no response. Holding his hands up to block the sun, he peered in through the glass. He sighed in frustration. No one was home.

“Can I help you, sir?” a man called out from the beach. “Are you looking for somebody?”

The man looked to be American and was older, probably in his seventies. He wore shorts and a golf shirt and was well tanned. He approached the patio.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Father Jon told him. “I’m trying to find my friend Jack Keller, but he doesn’t appear to be home. I guess I should have called first.”

“Ah, I thought you might be up to no good. Sorry, Mister.”

“Father, actually. Father Jon Foley. I’m visiting from Colorado,” he said, offering his hand.

“Oh, nice to meet you, Father. I’m Herb Whitten. I live two doors down. So you’re here to see Jack, Natalie, or both?”

“Well, actually I’m looking for either one,” he responded, wondering who Natalie might be.

“I haven’t seen Jack for a couple days, but Natalie’s been around. She usually gets home from work around five. So she should be here in a bit.”

Father Jon glanced down at his watch and saw that it was just after four.

“Okay, I think I’ll wait for them. I appreciate the help.”

Father Jon looked around the patio and then at the beach, wondering how he’d kill the time.

“You’re more than welcome to join me for happy hour, Father. I was about to pour myself a cool one. You interested?”

“That’s very kind of you, Herb.”

After all, he had nothing to do and looked a little silly on the beach in long black pants. Maybe he could learn something. The pair walked to Herb’s unit and climbed a set of stairs to his deck.

“What would you like? I’ve got anything and everything in my bar inside—pick your poison.”

“Actually, a Diet Coke would be great, if you have one.”

Herb was disappointed. He had hoped to enjoy a cold beer or highball with the Padre, but whatever, he had some Diet Coke.

“I can do that. Be right back.”

Herb disappeared through his sliding glass door and returned a minute later with the soda in one hand and what appeared to be scotch or bourbon in the other.

“Cheers,” said Father Jon, raising his glass.

“And Roebuck,” responded Herb.

“Excuse me?” said the priest.

“Sorry, old habit. I’m retired from Sears. That was something we all said back in the day when I was a hard-working executive stiff.”

“That’s very funny. I’ll have to remember that one.”

“So where did you say you’re from again, Father? You don’t look like you’re from around these parts.”

“Castle Springs, Colorado. It’s a town south of Denver. I have a parish there.”

“Well, good for you. I’m sure that’s challenging work… being a priest and all.”

“Yeah, it has its moments.”

“So, how do you know Jack and Natalie?”

“Actually, Jack is from my parish. He’s always after me to come down for a little visit. Great little place here, it’s my first time to Puerto Peñasco.”

“You should have seen it fifteen years ago when I moved here. It was a little slice of heaven. It wasn’t crowded and prices for everything were dirt cheap, but now the tourists have discovered it, and they flock here like lemmings.”

“I guess you can’t really keep a place like this a secret for very long.”

“Yeah, I guess. Things really changed down here when the Hollywood types started coming and hanging out. That brought the media, and then the whole world hears the name of a town they never knew existed before.”

“Yeah, I can see how that could happen. So, you mentioned that Natalie usually gets back around five?” asked Father Jon.

“Give or take. Usually she’s with her boyfriend. He’s the rich guy in town, owns most of everything around here. It’s easy to see the two of them together, as beautiful as she is.”

“Yeah, that she is,” responded Father Jon, now more confident than ever he’d found Lisa Sullivan.

Herb offered more small talk, giving Father Jon a rundown on the history of Puerto Peñasco, and throwing in a little bit of the town gossip.

Father Jon feigned interest, marking time with Herb on his deck while waiting for the woman named Natalie to show up.

“I’m going to pour myself another one, can I freshen your drink, Father?”

“No, I’m fine, but thanks.”

Herb shuffled back inside the condo and returned quickly with another drink—this one larger than his first.

“So, when did Natalie move in down here? I remember Jack telling me about it, but I can’t seem to recall,” Father Jon asked, feeling a bit guilty about the fib.

“Oh, she’s been here for a while now. Let me think… It could be close to a year. But hell, you get to be my age and everything blurs together. You know what I mean, Father?”

“Oh, indeed I do.”

The timeframe fits, he thought. This woman Herb calls Natalie shows up in Puerto Peñasco around the time of Lisa Sullivan’s disappearance. It had to be Sullivan; she’s changed her name to protect her true identity. It made perfect sense. He wondered if she had changed her appearance—maybe a new hair color or hairstyle, or some cosmetic surgery. He had seen her picture many times; so even with a new hairstyle, he was confident he’d recognize her. She was not a woman one easily forgot.

“Yeah, she met up with Peter Donnelly not long after she arrived in town. He’s a big player here and fell hard for her from what I hear. I think they met at one of his parties at his house about a quarter mile up the beach. The place is enormous, and he likes to throw parties there from time to time. In fact, I think he’s having another one tonight. I saw them setting up while I was out on my afternoon walk.”

Father Jon peered at his watch. Perhaps the best plan would be to return to the rectory and try to find her at the boyfriend’s house later that night.

“You say those parties Mr. Donnelly holds—they’re right on the beach?”

“Yup. They put lights up on the patio and make a big bonfire. It’s always a pretty swanky affair. One night, I was walking by and they invited me in for a drink. You can’t miss the place. Take a walk the right time of night and you might get invited, too.”

“I may just do that, Herb. In fact, I’d better get on my way. Thank you for your hospitality. It was a real pleasure meeting you, I hope to see you again.”

“Any time, Padre, you have yourself a good one.”

Father Jon began the walk back to the rectory. He hadn’t recalled ever crashing a party, even as a teenager. Tonight would be a first.

Afraid to go inside the condo, Natalie eyed a cab and quickly flagged it down. She slumped into the back seat.

“Hotel Marbella,” she said as she reached into her purse for her cell phone. Again, the call to her father went to voicemail. “Rapido, por favor,” she pleaded to the driver.

Jack couldn’t remember the last time he was this relaxed, and the thought of checking his cell phone for messages simply hadn’t crossed his mind. The ninety minute massage had done the trick—and given all the stresses and concerns that were weighing on him, he was surprised at how easily they had melted away.

As he checked out of the spa, Jack tried to offer a tip but got nowhere.

“That is not necessary, Mr. Keller. I hope you enjoyed your day with us.”

“I really did, it was great.”

“I’m glad to hear that. The front desk has notified us that your bags have been transferred, and your driver is waiting in the lobby.”

“Oh, great, thank you. And I gotta tell you, I think I’m as relaxed right now as I’ve ever been. Thank you for everything.”

“It’s our pleasure, sir. I hope you come back and visit us again at Spa Marbella.”

“I may just do that.”

Jack left the spa and walked across the lobby to the entrance of the Marbella where Miguel was waiting with the SUV.

Just as the SUV pulled away, Natalie’s taxi pulled up to the front gate.

FORTY-FIVE

“
S
eñor Donnelly, everything is set for the party this evening.”

“Thank you, Juana,” Donnelly said.

“And señor Pacheco is here to see you.”

“Please send him in,” Peter told her from behind the large, Spanish desk in his home office. The room was fully equipped with high-tech accessories including a high-definition television mounted on the wall tuned to an American business channel. Stock ticker symbols crawled across the bottom of the screen.

The visitor knocked on the open door. “Señor Donnelly?”

“Manuel, my friend, please come in.”

“Thank you. I hope you like what I have selected for you and Miss Natalie. But I brought several other rings for you to look at as well,” he said, tapping the attaché case in his lap.

Manuel Pacheco was a local jeweler that catered to tourists visiting Puerto Peñasco. He opened his first store in the port area fifteen years earlier, selling mostly inexpensive baubles and trinkets. His business changed dramatically after Peter Donnelly invited him to open a shop within the Marbella Hotel to cater to the high-end vacationer. Peter saw something in the young man that made him believe he would be a good fit at the Marbella. Manuel owed his success to Peter Donnelly and was hoping he would be pleased with the engagement ring he had designed specially for him.

“I’m sure I will love it, but most importantly I want Natalie to love it.”

“Of course,” he replied, nodding and pulling a small, elegant box from his case.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”

“The diamond is a near flawless, four carat princess cut. An exquisite gem, really. The aquamarine gemstones on either side are as you requested, to match Miss Natalie’s eyes and the Sea of Cortez.”

“You’ve outdone yourself, Manuel. It’s perfect.”

Jack arrived home, opened the doors to let the breeze in, dropped onto the sofa and nodded off. The buzz from his burner phone brought him back.

“Hey.”

“Where have you been?” Natalie asked, clearly panicked.

“You sent me to the spa, remember? I’m back at the condo now. Why, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“Was the man there?”

“What man? There’s no man here.”

“There was a man at the door of the condo earlier. I’m afraid he’s with the police.”

“Whoa, why do you think the police were here?”

“There were these tourists in town and they were from Colorado. Everywhere I went they looked at me and said I looked familiar.”

“Did anyone say anything specifically about the Lombard case?”

“No, but they knew. They knew!”

“Knew what? Did anyone ask if you were Lisa Sullivan?”

“No, but they knew. And then there was this man at the door. I’m so afraid.”

“Natalie, I need you to calm down and tell me what happened. Tell me about the people in town. You said they were tourists?”

After she calmed down, Natalie was able to tell Jack about her run-ins with the Colorado seniors, as well as the man at the door of the condo.

“Look, we went over this before,” he told her gently. “Things like this can happen. That’s why it’s important to keep a low profile and be aware of your surroundings at all times. The tourists have probably already forgotten you—maybe they noticed you were American and were just making conversation. And as far as the man at the door—it could very well have been a neighbor looking to borrow some sugar, who knows? But I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” Natalie asked, calming down.

“Yeah, I’m sure, but I’ll see if I can check it out. Where are you right now?”

“I’m at the Marbella. I tried to come home, but then I saw the man…”

“Okay. Just stay put until I check on things. As soon as I know what’s going on, I’ll give you a call.”

“Okay, so you don’t think I’ve got anything to worry about?”

“I’m sure things are fine, but just to be safe stay at the Marbella until you hear back from me. Okay?”

“Okay, sorry if I freaked out a bit.”

Once off the phone with Natalie, Jack called Frito. He had family and friends everywhere, including some who were tight with the local federales. If there was something brewing, Frito could find out what it was.

“Ten minutes to air,” barked the floor director at Castle Springs Cable.

The studio was small and cold. The set for the debate was a small riser with two director’s chairs. Captain Mick McCallister sat stage left and the other chair was empty as candidate Jerry Griffith had yet to arrive. Few were surprised as Griffith had a habit of showing up at the last minute to campaign events.

Moderator Tracy Ladd sat at a small desk stage left of the riser. A table for the reporters was positioned right of that and faced the candidates: from left to right sat Anita Sanchez from the News-Press, Marisa Coleman from KUCU-TV in Castle Springs, and Rich Gordon from KNPG News radio.

“What if he doesn’t show?” Gordon asked Ladd, glancing at his watch.

“Then I guess you guys will be asking questions of Captain McCallister and an empty chair.”

The reporters chuckled, almost wishing for the chance. Just then, the doors swung open and candidate Jerry Griffith ambled in.

“Nice of you to join us, Jerry,” Ladd said. “If you just sit right there next to the captain, we’ll get you mic’d up.”

“Mick, good to see you,” Griffith said, extending his hand. He had a seedy, used car salesman look—both in appearance and personality. His light blue sports jacket and plaid tie didn’t help.

“Anita, Marisa, Rich, good to see you, thanks for coming,” he said, offering a quick wave to the three seated at the table.

“Five minutes!” called out the floor director as Ladd went over the ground rules one more time for Griffith’s benefit. The live, televised debate would run one hour and then be aired several more times on local cable in the days leading up to the election.

Mick eyed himself in the monitor and sat up straight. He wore a dark navy suit with a white shirt and a green tie Mia had picked out for him. She’d said it made him look presidential.

“Fifteen seconds!” the floor director called out. “Stand by!”

“Dad, it’s starting!” Mia called out from the living room. “Hurry up!”

“I’m coming,” Chuck said as he rushed in with a big blue bowl of popcorn.

“I can’t believe you made popcorn.”

“What? You don’t want any?” Chuck replied, “More for me, then.”

“Butter?”

“Of course.”

“Lemme try that,” Mia said, grabbing the bowl. “There’s Mick. Doesn’t he look handsome in that suit?”

“Very nice. I’ll get another bowl,” Chuck said.

“It’s Frito,” said the voice through the front door of Jack’s condo. Jack peered through the peephole and saw his friend standing on the porch. He opened the door and let Frito inside.

“I called my cousin. He knows everything that happens here.”

“And what did you find out?”

“Nada. Only thing that happened today was a tourist bus headed north broke down a few hours ago. The federales charged the driver a couple hundred dollars to call a mechanic. He said the bus got fixed and left town. Otherwise, nothing going on in Puerto Peñasco, and he would know.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jack said.

“You okay, señor Jack?”

“I’m fine, Frito. Natalie just got a little spooked this afternoon.”

“No hay problema. I keep my ears open.”

Jack called Natalie with the news.

“Oh, thank God,” she said. “I was so scared.”

“Looks like it was nothing,” he said, trying to offer some comfort. “But it’s a good reminder for you. Maybe you shouldn’t be so high profile around here.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t be with Peter?”

“Not at all. Look, we can talk about it tonight at the party,” Jack told her.

“Oh no, the party! Look at the time! I don’t even have a dress here!”

After finishing her call with Jack, Natalie immediately dialed Sarah at Summer Fling to see if she could run a dress by the Marbella on her way to the party. Sarah was happy to oblige. After all, she brought outfits to the Marbella for high society women all the time. Natalie had certainly become “high society” in Puerto Peñasco.