Before She Dies

Chapter 20

I hustled across the hospital parking lot to 310, anxious to find out what Estelle Reyes-Guzman had tracked down and disappointed that our lead on the stolen Suburban out of Albuquerque had been shot to hell by Linda’s story. I settled into the car’s front seat and wrinkled my nose as a waft of air blew just right to carry the aroma of me upward.

“Christ,” I muttered. “No wonder the woman was so grouchy.”

I drove directly home without bothering to call the office. Hell, Gayle Sedillos was working dispatch, and she always knew exactly where I was. An instinct of some kind. Or maybe just stink. I hadn’t thought of that before.

The long, hot shower was pure bliss, and I damn near fell asleep standing up. Afterward I dressed in comfortable wool flannel pants and my favorite blue-checked flannel shirt. I looked like an ad out of Retired Lumberjack Magazine. I sat down on the edge of the bed to draw on a fresh pair of socks and then made the mistake of lying back on the cool bedspread for just a moment.

My eyes slammed shut and that was that. I might have slept all day had Linda Real’s mother not intruded. She appeared vividly in a dream where I was once again a patient. She, of course, was the floor nurse. No matter how much I protested, she still insisted there was nothing wrong with the king-size hypo she was about to jab in my butt. I could see that the tip of the needle was bent, as if it had been dropped point first on a Formica countertop. The needle looked fine to her.

I awoke with a start, paralyzed. My feet were still flat on the floor, my back was flat on the mattress, and my sixty-three-year-old spine had mistaken the resulting curve as a permanent set. I cussed and dragged the arm whose wrist held a watch up close to my eyes. It was quarter to four.

I hauled myself to a sitting position and sat for a while with my head hanging, trying to clear my thoughts. “Tammy, you’re the key,” I said aloud. I pushed myself upright and padded in stocking feet down the long tile hall to the kitchen. I loaded grounds and while the coffeemaker did its thing I telephoned the office. Gayle answered on the second ring.

“Gayle, it’s Gastner. Any messages for me?”

“Let me check, sir.” An instant later she added, “Nothing while I’ve been here, except the sheriff asked for you a couple of times.”

“Anything important?”

“He’s got Captain Eschevera of the state police with him. They’ve been rummaging around here all afternoon. Eschevera had me in Holman’s office for nearly an hour.”

“Yeah, well, give ’em whatever he wants. Has Estelle checked in?”

“She was in earlier for a few minutes. Let me see.” Voices mumbled in the background and then Gayle said, “Bob Torrez wants to talk with you, sir.” The phone clicked and Sergeant Torrez’s soft voice came on the line.

“Sir,” he said, “did Estelle tell you about the Suburban?”

“No. But I found out that it’s not the vehicle we’re looking for.”

“No, sir. It was recovered in Taos. So that’s that.”

“Bob, when you talked with Tammy over the weekend, did she say anything about getting a new truck?”

“No, sir.”

“Sunday night, Linda Real says that Tammy was driving a white Chevy pickup. Brand-new. Temporary sticker in the window. Linda says that’s the vehicle that Paul stopped to assist. I want that truck, and I want to talk with Tammy Woodruff.”

“Is there any chance she could be mistaken?”

“Of course,” I said cryptically, and Torrez understood the tone of my voice.

“I’ll get a bulletin out, sir.”

“And do you know where Estelle is at the moment?”

“I saw her before lunch. She said she was going home for a little bit. And then she said something about going down to Regal. You want me to flag her on the radio?”

“No. No. I’ll catch her later. What did you find out today?”

“Estelle asked me to try and run down the shotgun ammunition that was used, sir. No number 4 buck has been sold anywhere around here recently. One of the Albuquerque detectives is running a check of dealers up there, but so far nothing. And nothing in Cruces. Not too many dealers sell the stuff in the first place.”

“And they don’t have to keep records of sales anyway.”

“No. It’s just a question of maybe a chance recollection, sir.”

“Well, keep after it. And by the way, while you’re at the office, look at the duty roster and make sure we’re covered tonight by someone who isn’t dead on his feet.”

“Gayle’s working on that, sir. We’re shorthanded. I think she’s got Tony Abeyta on swing, with Mears coming in at midnight. Here, she wants to talk to you again.”

“Sir,” Gayle’s pert voice broke in, “remember the Weatherfords?”

“Sure.”

“The mother called early this morning. I forgot to tell you.”

“What did she want?”

“Just to thank you and the deputies for all the help. Her husband was discharged late yesterday afternoon. She said that they plan to leave today, if things work out. As soon as they can make arrangements. She said he’s still in a lot of discomfort, but apparently he can travel now.”

“Well, good. I’m glad something worked out well. Gayle, if you need me, I’ll be out and about. I’m going to see Karl Woodruff for a few minutes and see if he’s had time to think of a few answers.”

***

If anyone was wishing for answers, it was Karl Woodruff. He hadn’t seen his daughter since bailing her out of the drunk tank Saturday morning.

We stood in the corner of the pharmacy next to the selection of foot pads. Karl’s face was worried as I told him what Linda Real had said.

“She doesn’t have a new truck, Bill. I’d know it if she did. You can guess who holds the paperwork on the one she’s got.” He jabbed his chest with a thumb. “Dear old dad here.”

“Maybe she borrowed it from a friend.”

Karl Woodruff shook his head in disbelief. “Anything’s possible, I suppose.” He reached out and grasped my arm. “But where is she? If what Miss Real says is true, then what did Tammy do? Just drive off? Where?”

“We hope that’s what she did, Karl.”

Woodruff bit his lip. “She could be in some sort of real danger from this, couldn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“My God,” Woodruff said, and looked off into the distance in the general direction of the vitamin supplements. He looked back at me. “What can I do?”

“Karl, we have to find her. We have a bulletin out for her, and for that truck. If you or your wife think of anything in the meantime, get right to us. If you hear from her, we have to know. If you think of any old favorite places she might be, let me know so I can have one of the deputies check it out. If there’s a relative she might have traipsed off to visit out of town, then we’ll look there.”

Karl Woodruff buried his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat. I could see that his fists were clenched.

“I’ve never been so frightened,” he said finally. When he looked at me, his eyes were pleading. “For her, I mean.”

I nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll do what we can, Karl. What’s important is that you keep in touch with us. Don’t let anything wait. If you think of something that might be of help at three in the morning, give the department a call.”

I left the drugstore thinking about forks in the road. The myriad possibilities had narrowed to two that nagged. If Tammy Woodruff had been an innocent bystander that night, an unwilling, unlucky witness, then the odds were excellent we’d never see her alive again. And that shiny new truck she’d been driving, no matter whose it was, would be deep in Mexico, out of our reach, a nice bonus for the killer’s night of work.

The other possibility was that Tammy Woodruff had been party to the shooting in some way.

Karl Woodruff had every reason to be frightened.