“All right, then,” Ali said. “Thank you so much for your help. Let’s stay in touch.”
As soon as Ali hung up, she immediately called Cami back. “Tell me something, have you happened to come across the name Sellers anywhere in that bunch of names?”
Cami didn’t have to think twice before she answered. “Just a few minutes ago. Sellers Road. The people listed there are Amos Sellers and a woman named Elizabeth. Same old, same old. She drives but isn’t good enough to vote.”
“Thanks, Cami,” Ali said. “Thanks a lot.”
Amos Sellers—Deputy Amos Sellers. According to Sheriff Alvarado, he was the law of the land in Colorado City, but if he was part of The Family, as Cami’s research clearly indicated, how come Sheriff Alvarado hadn’t provided that telling detail? And if Amos was the representative of law and order in Colorado City, that meant that anyone being mistreated or abused inside The Family would have nowhere to turn for help—nowhere at all.
As for Sheriff Alvarado? Ali was more than a little pissed at him. When she had mentioned The Family, since he hadn’t mentioned that his deputy was part of the group, was it possible that Alvarado himself had some connections to The Family?
Ali called Cami back. “I know you’re busy, but I need one more thing. Find out what you can on Danny Alvarado, the sheriff of Mohave County.”
Ali pressed on the gas, urging the Cayenne forward and northward at a good ten miles over the posted 75 mph limit.
19
Despite her concerns about Sheriff Alvarado, the last thing Ali had expected was for him to be a willing ally in reopening the Kingman Jane Doe case. She was sure Sister Anselm would be surprised and gratified about that, too, especially considering her misgivings about collecting the current DNA samples. Once the Kingman Jane Doe evidence box was located, any DNA materials inside it could be sent out for processing with an excellent possibility of there being a match.
Instead of taking Highway 179 and going back to Sedona, Ali stayed on the freeway and drove straight to St. Jerome’s in Flagstaff. When she arrived in the maternity floor waiting room, Sister Anselm was in the nursery, sitting in a rocker with a tiny wrapped bundle of baby cradled in the crook of one arm and a bottle of formula held in her other hand. Using baby formula in this instance made complete sense. The mother of a newborn, especially a premature newborn, couldn’t be expected to nurse the child when she herself had undergone major lifesaving surgeries. Whatever kinds of pain medications were being administered to the mother would go straight through her system and into the baby’s.
Ali was still waiting for the baby’s mealtime to finish when Stu called. “Did Athena mention anything to you about her parents having financial difficulties?”
“No, why?”
“James and Sandra Peterson aren’t paying their property taxes. The taxes on both their home and on the building where the dental practice is located were due six months ago, and a new bill would have been issued right after the first of the year. So far neither one is listed as paid.”
“What does that mean?”
“In my experience, when folks run short of moolah and don’t have enough to cover expenses, property taxes are the first thing they let slide. Tax collectors are a lot slower on pulling the collection-agency trigger than banks and credit-card companies are.”
“Athena’s in class right now,” Ali said. “I won’t be able to talk to her about any of this until after school is over for the day.”
“Don’t,” Stu advised. “Let me get a little better handle on what’s going on before you discuss it with her. In fact, don’t discuss it with her at all. Once we have her thumbprint she’ll have access to all her grandmother’s financial dealings and so will we without anyone crossing over into forbidden territory.”
Hacking into unauthorized servers was something Stu Ramey did very well, but there were always risks involved, and hacking into financial accounts when it wasn’t necessary was stupid.
“Fair enough,” Ali said as Sister Anselm emerged from the nursery. “Keep me posted.”
Just then the elevator door whispered open and four people swarmed out of it. Gordon Tower led the way. He was followed by Edith Tower and a man in a suit who looked to Ali suspiciously like a defense attorney. Last to emerge was a paunchy and somewhat younger man, a guy in his mid- to late thirties, who was dressed in a red flannel shirt. Ali recognized him as the one who had volunteered to drive Edith Tower back home to Colorado City the previous evening.
Sister Anselm showed no dismay about coming face-to-face with the man behind the black-and-blue handprint that now graced her cheek. “Good afternoon, Mr. Tower,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and stepping directly into his path. “Nice to see you out and about.”
Tower made a sour face. “I’m here to see my wife.”
“I’m sorry,” Sister Anselm countered. “Do you have any proof that my patient is your wife?”
“Of course, she’s my wife! I already told you.”
“Do you have any actual documented evidence?” Sister Anselm asked. “Something like a marriage certificate, for example, one that’s actually valid in the state of Arizona?”
“I don’t think my marriage certificate is any of your business,” Tower sneered. “I want to see my wife.”
“I’m afraid HIPAA prohibits that from happening.”
“Hip what?” Tower demanded.
“It’s a federal law that mandates patient privacy rules,” Sister Anselm replied. “Only people specifically authorized by the patient are allowed to have access to either the patient or to the patient’s records. I can assure you, there is no such list with Gordon Tower’s name on it.”
Nurse Mandy, emerging from the nurses’ station, had taken up a position just to the right of Sister Anselm. “The good sister’s assessment is quite correct in that regard,” the charge nurse said. “To my knowledge the patient in question has yet to authorize any visitors.”
Because she’s still unconscious, Ali thought, standing up to take a defensive position alongside the other two.
“That’s a load of bull and you know it,” Tower growled. “Then let me see my baby. Don’t try to tell me she needs to sign some stupid visitors’ form, too.”
“The problem is,” Nurse Mandy said, “mother and child came in as a unit. Until we’re notified otherwise, the mother’s wishes or lack thereof hold sway. Now, sir, it would probably be best if you left. Otherwise we’ll be forced to summon security. Again,” she added pointedly.
Other relatives in the waiting room, including two newly minted fathers, watched the escalating drama with growing alarm. Not only that, the three women barring Tower’s way were also blocking the window to the nursery. Ali knew that Sister Anselm had left Enid’s baby in a bassinet in the farthest corner of the room. Even if Tower gained access to the window, the baby would be out of sight.
Nurse Mandy’s threat of calling security caused some of Gordon Tower’s bluster to fade. He spun around, turning on the man in a suit. “You’re a lawyer. Can’t you do something about these obnoxious women? Doesn’t a father have some rights here?”
“I’m afraid the law backs them up on this one,” the attorney said quietly. “For right now, I don’t think there’s much to be done.”
“There is one more thing,” Sister Anselm said.
Tower turned back to her. “What’s that?”
Jabbing at the keypad, she unlocked the door to the nursery and ducked back inside. She returned a moment later holding a cotton swab, which she handed to Gordon Tower.
He stared at it blankly. “What’s this for?”