In Desperation

56

Metropolitan Phoenix, Arizona

Lyle Galviera was still on his call to Cora when the FBI took action to arrest him.

Task Force members who were monitoring Cora’s home line knew he was calling from the pay phone at the FirstRate Gas Station on Old Gatehouse Road, at the city’s southern edge.

Before patching it to Cora at the FBI’s divisional office, they’d alerted the Maricopa County 911 Center to send police units to the gas station, stressing that they not use lights or sirens. After dispatching cars, the emergency coordinator phoned the gas station directly to request staff make a visual of the person using the pay phone.

The coordinator’s call was answered on the first ring. A male voice said: “I told you we are through, Darlene!”

The line clicked dead.

The dispatcher tried again but the line rang unanswered because Sheldon Cardick, the twenty-six-year-old clerk, was breaking up with his girlfriend. Actually, she’d dumped him and was now sorry. W ell, tough titty.

Let the phone ring.

To calm down, Sheldon went outside to sweep the front walk, waving to his last customer as he drove off in a beat-up Cherokee after using the pay phone. Not many people used that phone these days, since everyone had a cell phone. After cleaning up, Sheldon returned to the counter and his manager-trainee binders, still pissed at Darlene.

She was the loser. Despite what her mother said, Sheldon Cardick was not going be “just a clerk all of his sad little life.” He was studying to be an executive with FirstRate. A lofty goal, Sheldon thought, just as a commotion outside pulled him from his binder.

What the-?

Four sheriff’s cars had materialized.

Two large deputies entered, their shoulder radios squawking. They were pumped.

“Can you tell us if you saw anyone using the pay phone out front in the last few minutes?”

Sheldon craned his neck, seeing the other deputies unrolling police tape around the area by the phone. What’s up with that? A knuckle knock on his counter got his attention.

“Hey, skip, eyes front! Did you see anybody on the phone?”

“Yeah, some guy, bought gas, driving a shit box Cherokee.”

“What color and year?”

“White, 1990s I would guess.”

“You’d guess?”

“What’s going on?”

The second deputy was taking notes and talking in his radio as the first continued questioning Sheldon.

“Did the phone guy use a credit card?”

“Cash.”

“Any chance you got a license plate?”

“No. Why? What’s this about?”

The deputy pointed at the security cameras. “Those work?”

“Yes.”

“You going to volunteer your tapes, or do we need to get a warrant?”

“I, uh…well, I have to call my manager.”

“Do it now.”

Across the city in the FBI’s Phoenix offices, Jack Gannon and Cora demanded to know what Hackett and the task force had learned in the wake of Galviera’s call.

It was a major break.

They’d put the call through to this meeting room where Cora had taken her polygraph exam. Gannon checked his watch. Some twenty-five minutes had passed since Cora had spoken to Galviera.

It seemed like a lifetime.

They’d been here, waiting alone behind the room’s glass walls while in the outer office agents worked with quiet intensity on the break. Hackett returned head down, concentrating on his BlackBerry.

“What do you have?” Gannon asked.

“We know he called from a pay phone at a gas station.”

“You must know where.”

“We do but we’re not disclosing that now. We’ve got people on-site investigating.”

“Are you going to tell us?”

“You’re media, Jack.”

“Come on. This is the closest we’ve ever been.”

“No. We want it off the airwaves because we think these guys monitor police chatter on radio scanners. Everything’s still hot right now.” Hackett’s phone rang. “Excuse me.”

When they were alone again, Cora, overwhelmed by the polygraph and Galviera’s call, contended with her emotions. Gannon put his arm around her. For twenty years she’d lived with the burden of believing she’d murdered a man and destroyed so many lives.

“I’m so sorry for everything, Jack.”

“Now you know the truth-you never killed anyone. You did the opposite, Cora. You gave comfort to a dying man. The San Francisco guys didn’t charge you, or arrest you. That’s a good sign. You can’t rewrite all the mistakes you made in your life-no one can.”

She nodded.

“All this time, I believed I was being punished for my sins, and maybe I was. But it’s strange how once I told everyone what I’d done, Lyle’s call came, like a karmic connection. Maybe now I’m closer to getting Tilly back than we’ve ever been.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“I feel it, Jack. It’s what Lyle said to me on the phone. His exact words were, ‘I’m going to see Tilly soon.’ I think it means he knows where she is.”

“Maybe not.” Hackett had returned and had been listening.

“Why not?” Cora asked.

“It could mean the cartel is luring Galviera with the promise of seeing Tilly. And there’s another key consideration.”

“What’s that?” Gannon asked.

“The cartel may also know that you were present when Eduardo Zartosa was murdered in San Francisco. If so, they may be planning to exact revenge. It’s what they do.”

Cora swallowed hard.

The security cameras at the FirstRate Gas Station had recorded Lyle Galviera in a ball cap and dark glasses, buying gas. They’d also captured clear pictures of the Arizona license plate on his Cherokee.

Within an hour those pictures were circulated in citywide and statewide alerts to all police and media. Within two hours, the FBI held another news briefing. They asked the public to help locate Galviera, or his vehicle, or the other suspects, to aid in the investigation of Tilly Martin’s kidnapping.

The appeal yielded few solid tips.

As the day gave in to the evening, Cora and Gannon returned to her home in Mesa Mirage, where she made a short statement to the news crews waiting in her driveway.

“I’m praying we’ll bring Tilly home and I beg anyone with any information to call police. Please.”

Exhausted, Cora went to Tilly’s room. She held a stuffed polar bear in her arms, looked out the window to the stars and asked God for mercy.

Tilly, I love you. Wherever you are, Mommy loves you.