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“What could possibly go wrong?”
“Smart ass. Peralta has a GPS homing device concealed in his shoe but it never activated. The trackers on his vehicle didn’t function, or he removed them. We haven’t heard anything. The messages he left for you at least show he was still alive as of Friday night. I have no idea why he went to the High Country.”
“And he willingly got into a sedan that headed back to the Interstate. That’s what the witness told me. He could be in Southern California by now.”
“Hell.”
I recounted my conversation with the Chandler detective, how the official shipment had been found but the hidden compartment was empty. He said he already knew.
Then I asked him who was shadowing Sharon. Phoenix field agents working for Mann. That gave me little comfort.
“But nobody was watching our house. Why not?”
“I’m not sure. Might be a manpower issue. Peralta was trying very hard to keep you out of this, keep you safe.”
A stream of bile started creeping up from my stomach. “That worked really well. If they had been there, Lindsey wouldn’t have been shot.”
“I’m sorry, David. There’s a lot of moving pieces.”
“Yeah. This was a pretty damned big moving piece. What about this woman,” I pulled out the Phoenix PD sketch. “Pamela Grayson?”
“No.”
I pointed at Strawberry Death. “How does she fit?”
He shook his head. “I saw that on TV. I have no idea.”
“That’s not good enough.” My tone was full-on angry now. “She’s connected to this. When she confronted me in the front yard, she said, ‘Where are my stones?’ When I
told her I didn’t have them, she talked about having to keep a promise to Peralta.”
“Did she sound Russian?”
“Southern accent.”
“There was nothing in the intel about her.”
“Well, your intel sucks. Somehow she’s connected with Peralta. She knew his name. She knew he had the diamonds. What is this promise?”
I told him about first meeting her when she impersonated a DPS officer. And about Kate Vare finding a kit on the lawn that the woman had left behind, with handcuffs and tranquilizers. About her preference to “suicide” her targets.
“She’s a professional,” I said. “She’s done this before.”
Cartwright took it in without speaking.
I said, “Who is Matt Pennington?”
Although his eyes didn’t change, I saw the tension knotting up the small muscles in his neck. “Where’d you get that name, David?”
I told him about the message Peralta had left for me in Flagstaff, my walk to the zombie skyscraper, and what I had found.
We paused in the shade and he put his hands on his hips.
“You’re full of surprises, David. For years, we had heard that the biggest diamond fence in the Southwest was operating here. Mostly selling gem-quality diamonds to retailers. There was a list of potential suspects Pham’s people was working on. Pennington was not one of them.”
“But you suspected him?”
“I heard his name from some of the circles I run in. I did a little checking and never found a thing. He worked at a call center. Led a boring life. His back story interested me.”
