"That's deep in the mountains," Clayton said.
"Which is why I need good transportation to get to it," Rojas said. "Especially in bad weather."
"I bet you do," Clayton said as he folded the map into his shirt pocket and looked at Deborah. "I'll need to see your driver's license, miss."
"What on earth for?" Deborah asked.
"My report."
Deborah smiled. "Of course. I'll get my purse."
She fetched her purse and handed Clayton her license.
"You have your own place?" Clayton asked, noting the address on the license.
"Yes, but I'm here a lot," Deborah said, sliding her arm around Rojas's waist.
He made sure all the license information was current, got a work and home phone number, and closed his notebook. "I doubt that I'll have to bother you again."
"It's been no bother," Deborah said.
"None at all," Rojas said, giving Clayton a hearty handshake. "Good luck with your investigation."
Outside, Clayton walked to his unit thinking how convenient it was that the girlfriend had been on hand to confirm Rojas's story.
Chapter 8
Sally Greer rented a first-floor apartment in a building at the rear of the complex. There was no sign of activity inside, and her assigned parking space with the apartment number stenciled on the curb was empty. Ramona Pino found an inconspicuous spot away from the security night-lights and waited in her vehicle for Greer to make an appearance.
Ramona wasn't sure how she would play it, if and when Greer showed up. Approaching her directly would raise too many questions. She would hang out for a while to see what developed. Besides, the only thing waiting for her back in Santa Fe was the tiny guest house she rented from a retired cop, whose last tenant had been Chief Kerney.
It was nice enough, but lonely. Moving out on her ex-boyfriend had been the smart thing to do. He'd turned into a channel-surfing couch potato, who spent his evenings at home watching cable sport shows, bitched at her for working late on the job, and never seemed to want to do anything fun.
During their last six months together, he'd treated her like a wife, and that wasn't going to happen to her again. She needed a close relationship with someone who cared for her as a friend and lover, who accepted her as an equal, who respected her independence, who appreciated the demands of her job.
She wondered about Sgt. Jeff Vialpando. He was good-looking, seemed bright, had a sense of humor, and didn't put out a macho attitude-all good signs. She put the skids on her thoughts and decided not to dwell on him any further. Lunch tomorrow would give her a better idea if he really had potential as a boyfriend, although dating a cop who lived sixty miles away might be something of a problem.
An hour into Pino's wait, Greer appeared. Within a short time she was back in her car, after changing from tight-fitting jeans and a turtleneck pullover into a short dress with spiked heels.
Pino followed her downtown to a hotel near the convention center. Inside the crowded hotel bar, Greer joined two middle-aged men and a young woman at a table. Pino recognized the other woman from the photographs she'd seen at Thomas Deacon's studio. Neither of the men looked to be particularly likely dates for such attractive young women.
She retreated to the lobby and sat behind a placard on an easel that welcomed a trade association to the hotel. When the foursome appeared Greer was paired off with one of the men, walking arm in arm to the main exit, smiling and chatting. She'd covered her facial bruises with makeup. Pino pegged the man with her to be in his fifties. Balding and portly, he had an eager expression on his face as he laughed at something Greer said.
Pino waited until they were outside before taking a side exit. By the time she turned the corner the foursome was gone, the taillights of a car fast disappearing down the street. As she walked to her vehicle Pino called her older sister, Rebecca, who lived in the city.
"Becky, I need a bed for the night, if it's not an imposition."
"Come on over," Becky said.
"Can I use your computer and borrow some clothes?"
"Sure, I'd even throw in Tim, if you wanted him, but he's out of town on business."
Ramona laughed. Tim was Becky's husband, and the two were about the most perfectly married couple imaginable. "Too bad. One night with me, and you'd be history."
"I'll tell him that when he calls."
"Don't you dare," Ramona said as she pulled away from the curb. "See you in a few."
A year apart in age, the two sisters were often taken for twins. Rebecca, a middle-school social-science teacher, was taller by a quarter of an inch, had thicker eyebrows, a slightly wider mouth, and a more oval face. On the phone to each other at least once a week, there wasn't much catching up to do, so after a cup of tea Ramona explained why she needed to use the computer, and Becky asked if she could watch.
In the home office Ramona worked Jeff Vialpando's favorite list of local Web sites with Becky sitting at her side, looking for a personal ad for Sally Greer. First she cruised the adult personals sites.
"Unbelievable," Becky said abruptly, reading the sexually explicit narratives, many of which were posted with revealing or completely nude photographs that showed everything. "I wonder if our school computers block this kind of smut. This is just porn, for people who don't want to visit the adult sites, isn't it?"
"Ask your students," Ramona replied as she exited a site and called up another. "They would probably know."
She went to the preference screen and entered information closely matching Greer's age and physical characteristics, and scrolled through the ads.
"Are these sites all like this?" Becky asked.
"According to Jeff Vialpando what we're seeing is fairly typical," Ramona said.
"Who is Jeff Vialpando?" Becky asked. She was always interested when Ramona mentioned the name of a new man, especially now that she'd broken up with her live-in boyfriend, whom Becky had never really liked anyway.
"He's an APD vice sergeant," Ramona said.
"And?" Becky asked, searching her sister's face.
Ramona smiled. "And, nothing. At least not yet. We're having lunch tomorrow."
"I'll want to be told everything."
Ramona nodded. "Don't I always?" She switched from the adult personals and started in on the list of love and relationship sites, which were much more mundane and rather like classified personal ads that ran in newspapers. Most consisted of blurbs describing how interesting the women were, and their laundry lists of desired traits in a man. Some wanted friendship only, others were looking for soul mates, and a few sought intimate encounters, cyber sex-whatever that was-or E-mail pen pals.
"It's just an Internet meat market," Becky said with a groan, getting out of her chair.
"Seen enough?"
"More than enough," Becky said. "There's something so sad about it all."
"There are desperately lonely and needy people out there," Ramona said.
"I'm going back to the real world," Becky said as she picked up a thick manila folder from the desk. "I've got papers to grade."
Ramona stopped scrolling and gave her sister an apologetic look. "I've stolen your space."
"I'll use the kitchen table."
Becky left, and Ramona returned her attention to the screen. Time passed. Through the open door she heard Becky's footsteps. She turned to find her sister in her pajamas with a toothbrush in her mouth. It brought up the memory of Becky wandering through their parents' house every night just before bedtime, brushing her teeth and being ordered back to the bathroom to complete the job. No parental chiding ever stopped her behavior, and by the time Becky was a teenager their mother had given up trying.
Becky took the toothbrush out of her mouth and said good night. Ramona smiled in response, called up an ad for Sultry Sally, and clicked on the photo icon. A picture of Sally Greer in a scoop top that showed a lot of cleavage appeared on the screen. Ramona read the accompanying narrative. Hi, I'm Sally. I'm not looking for a serious relationship yet, and I like older men who enjoy the company of a playful, sexy lady. If you enjoy adventurous dates with a woman who isn't afraid to be honest about her desires, e-mail me. You should be intelligent, discreet, affluent, honest about your needs, and willing to show your appreciation for the time I spend with you. I hope to hear from you soon! Oh, by the way, I love to travel!