Page 64 of Peak Suspicion
She smiled, and some of the tension went out of him. “Te amo,” she said, and lay her head on his shoulder.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, covers pulled around their shoulders, his dreams a mix of English and Spanish, scenes from the day and the night jumbled along with the words in his head.
The crash of breaking glass seemed at first a part of the dream, then Mira was shaking him. “Carter!” she whispered. “Carter, I think someone broke in.”
She rolled away from him, and groped on the nightstand for her phone. The overhead light came on, momentarily blinding him. A slight figure clad all in black stood in the doorway of the bedroom, holding a large, black pistol. “Don’t make another move,” the figure commanded. “If you do, I’ll kill you. I don’t have anything to lose.”
Chapter Nineteen
Saturday night, Dalton hunched over the computer, staring at the document he had found, one foot tapping idly as he read it again. Digging around in the archives of theSanta Fe New Mexican, he had uncovered an article about a group of men charged with possession of child pornography. Three men were arrested, but a fourth—Ned Solomon—fled and, according to the article, remained at large. Dalton had almost skipped past the brief story, but had stopped cold when he saw the picture of the wanted man. Ned Solomon could have been Ed Anders’s twin.
Ned—hadn’t he heard somewhere that that was sometimes short for Edward? Anders was Mitch’s last name, but Dalton was sure Carter had told him Mitch’s parents were never married. Maybe Anders was Mitch’s mother’s name. Edward Solomon might have started using Mitch’s last name as a way to distance himself from his past charges.
Dalton read more. Ned Solomon was the fourth man known to be part of a ring of men who traded in child pornography. The other three were Frank Bartholomew, Gerald Jimenez, and George Suarez. That must be the George Mira had been involved with.
Dalton took out his phone and called Carter. As the call rang out, he glanced at the clock. It was after eleven. Late, but this was important. He was pretty sure his brother was with Mira. Maybe she could tell him more about George, or even Ned.
The call went to voicemail. “Hey, call me, it’s important,” Dalton said, then ended the call.
He turned back to the computer and began a search for more information about Ned Solomon. It took a little digging, but twenty minutes later he had information about the man’s arrest record. Solomon was younger than Dalton had assumed Ed was—only fifty-two, whereas Ed looked a decade older. But Mitch couldn’t be much over thirty, so he could definitely have a fifty-year-old dad. And a hard life could age a person.
Or was that a disguise? Was Ed pretending to be older and more disabled than he really was in order to distance himself from his former life?
Or as a way to hide what he was really up to? Fear gripped Dalton. Maybe he was overreacting, but he couldn’t shake the sense of danger.
He grabbed his phone and tried Carter’s number again. Still no answer. Maybe Carter had silenced the phone so he and Mira wouldn’t be interrupted. Dalton didn’t bother leaving a message this time. He thought a moment, then called 911. “What is your emergency?” a brisk female voice asked.
“I don’t have an emergency, exactly,” he said. “But I need to talk to the sheriff. I have information about a possible crime.”
“What is the crime?”
Dalton shifted in his chair. “It’s more that I have information about an ongoing investigation. But it’s important.”
“What is your information?” the operator asked.
“I really need to talk to the sheriff.”
He imagined the operator rolling her eyes over wasting her time with someone who was being so vague. But nothing in her voice gave that away. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Dalton Ames. Can you ask the sheriff to call me? It’s really important.”
“I’ll relay the information to the sheriff.”
“Thanks.”
He ended the call, without much hope that he would hear from the sheriff before tomorrow, if ever. Maybe he was blowing all of this out of proportion. The sheriff had to know about Ned/Ed’s past, right? The paper said he had confessed to writing the letters to people around town, so maybe he had owned up to his arrest record, too.
Had the sheriff questioned him about the attempted child abductions? Mitch had been arrested for those crimes, but what if he wasn’t the one responsible, but his father?
He pulled out his phone again. Carter wasn’t answering. He didn’t know how to reach the sheriff. Who else could he call? He scrolled through his contacts, dismissing each one. He stopped when he came to Jake Gwynn. Jake was a sheriff’s deputy and a fellow SAR volunteer. And probably asleep at this time of night.
Dalton made the call anyway. The call went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Jake. I’ve been looking around online and I found out some stuff about Mitch Anders’s father, Ed, that has me pretty alarmed. Maybe it’s nothing, but it might be important. If you’re still awake, call me.”
He ended the call, then went back online to see what he could find out. It wasn’t as if he was going to be able to sleep.
Mira knew that voice, but from where? She stared at the black-clad figure, searching for anything familiar. The man—she was sure it was a man—was slight—maybe five foot seven or eight inches tall, with rounded shoulders.
“Get up,” he ordered, and motioned with the gun. “Both of you. Get out of bed.”
