Trust Me

by Richard Z. Santos

  Micah used his phone to take photos of each of the pages. He even took photos of Gabe’s handwritten sheets, unaware of what they were.

  “What are you going to do with those?” Gabe asked.

  “I don’t know. Think I’ll post the obit online. People can help find more about her.”

  Gabe stopped the car in front of Rose’s house. The lights were on inside, and Gabe could see a flickering TV. It looked like heaven.

  Micah hopped out of the car and grabbed his bag with the video games. He already looked more comfortable. These types of houses, and what went on in them, were his landscape.

  “Don’t doubt the power of the internet, Dad.”

  “Hey,” Gabe said, “at least tell me you smiled at that video of me.”

  Micah rolled his eyes. A small smile flashed. “I try not to think about it,” he said. “It’s real bad.” He laughed and then shook his head.

  “See,” Gabe said, “we can still have fun.”

  Micah flung his head straight back and groaned. “Oh, no, don’t do that. Don’t be weird.”

  “What? I’m just saying we . . .”

  Rose opened her front door and leaned on her door jamb. She smiled at Micah and said, “I bet you don’t remember me.”

  She gave him a big hug that caused him to stand up straight and lean away. At the same time, she shot Gabe a glare that spoke volumes.

  “So glad y’all dropped by, come in.”

  Rose kept her arm around Micah’s shoulders and led him into the house. As ever, Gabe was a step behind.

  FORTY-NINE

  MALLON ONLY KNEW one person at the station: the desk sergeant who used to work at his old precinct in the mountains. He actually smiled when he saw Mallon being escorted in, like it was some kind of joke. Then the sergeant read the situation, dropped his eyes and frowned at the paperwork.

  From the start, it was clear the arresting officers had no idea what to do with Mallon. They took him down hard, then uncuffed him once someone saw his retired badge. Still, they took him in. From there, everyone got more confused. They fingerprinted him but did not take a mug shot. There were forms, but he was not processed. Mallon recognized it as the hesitant push and pull of needing to go through the motions of law enforcement. If they let him go right away, these cops would not sleep well. They walked him away from the holding cells and sat him on an office chair next to the break room.

  Mallon had time to think. He had time to get angry. Their plan had a narrow path to success and O’Connell had blown it.

  A few cops nodded at Mallon on the way to the coffee maker. He watched the desk sergeant try not to look his way. At this two-cell precinct near the plaza, Mallon figured, the worst crime reported was stolen skis.

  O’Connell and his wife were probably finished giving statements. Getting stitches too. Mallon’s knuckles were raw and one of them had split. A smart man would run. A smart man would have run days ago. Maybe the wife got the message and was dragging O’Connell to the airport right now, but Mallon somehow doubted it.

  The desk sergeant was holding a plastic bag. Mallon could see his phone and car keys. His gun was in a separate bag. None of his belongings had been logged into evidence. The sergeant was talking to the younger cop, nodding his head in sympathy, understanding. The younger cop shot a quick, angry glare at Mallon, then threw up his hands and slammed through the station door. The desk sergeant walked over holding the bag. He never made eye contact as he walked past Mallon and into the break room. When the sergeant left the break room, his hands were empty.

  Mallon knew he was not released. Technically, he was escaping, but no one would call it that. He slipped into the break room and picked up his phone, keys, wallet and gun. No one needed to feel guilty about letting him go because no one actually had. This was over. Mallon could go home. He could go back to the compound and hope that Mr. Branch was ready to listen.

  He hooked his holster back on his belt and poured coffee into a Styrofoam cup.

  Mallon hit the parking lot the same time as Lou’s sedan pulled up. Mallon went to open the passenger door, but it was locked. Lou left the car running, opened his door and got out. Lou kept one foot in the car and talked to Mallon over the roof.

  “What is this?” Mallon asked.

  “What the fuck did you do?”

  “Something I shouldn’t have, but it’s too late for that. We have to make sure O’Connell got the message.”

  “This isn’t good, man. You’re not coming back from this.”

  Mallon waved off the station behind him. “They didn’t even charge me. There’s no record this even happened.”

  “Lucky you, but here’s what I know. I got a call from the big man fifteen minutes ago. He says you’ve been fired and he wants me to deliver the message.”

  Mallon sipped his coffee and put a hand on his hip. “I’m not fired.”

  “I don’t think it’s your call to make.”

  “He’s not thinking clearly. I’ll explain it to him.”

  “He shut down your car himself. Same with your access cards, phone, computer, everything.”

  “No.” Mallon shook his head. “No. It doesn’t work that way. I’m not fired.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, man, but this is happening.”

  Mallon shook his head again. Lou was wrong. Mr. Branch would let him explain. “No way he cares about what I did to O’Connell.”

  “It’s not about O’Connell. He laughed when he heard about you punching him. It’s about something between you and Mrs. Branch. Tell me you’re not that dumb.”

  Mallon felt his whole body turn on a knife’s edge. “What did he say?”

  “He said that you and Mrs. Branch were lying to him, and that she sold you out.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  “It’s true? Goddammit, man. That’s all I know. I don’t want to know any more.”

  Mallon looked around the parking lot. Streetlights flicked on, and his busted knuckle started to ache.

  “Go home,” Lou said. “Sleep. I’m picking O’Connell up right now and taking him to Mr. Branch. He’ll get what he deserves.”

  “Give me five minutes with him.”

  “You had your five minutes with him. I’m supposed to take your keys.”

  Mallon shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

  Lou slammed his palm on the roof of the car. “You attacked O’Connell. You got whatever going on with Mrs. Branch. It’s over.”

  “I was helping.”

  “Well, it didn’t work. Keep the keys, it doesn’t matter. The car’s shut down anyway.” Lou raised a finger in Mallon’s direction. “Go home. For your own sake.”

  Lou hopped into the car and drove away.

  Mallon did not turn around. He was worried there would be a crowd on the station steps. He was worried there would be an old, dirty desk sergeant watching him with folded arms and a condescending head shake.

  The sun was setting as Mallon walked back to his car. His movements were clipped, mechanical. He waited at every light, looked in both directions before entering an intersection and stepped aside for each pedestrian. Each movement was precise and clean because inside he was shaking with rage.

  The car was where he had left it, but his key was useless. Lou was right. Branch had gathered up years of service, of busted heads and buried secrets, and tossed it into the fire. Gone.

  It would take him thirty minutes to walk home. Long enough to clear his head, breathe out his anger. Fine, let Olivia disappear. Let Branch deal with O’Connell however he wanted. Mallon could do that. He could go home and tell Claudia he did something stupid and trusted the wrong people. She would rub his chest and tell him it was all right.

  She would be lying.

  Mallon clasped his hands together and brought them down on the roof of the car. He did it again and again. He had let bad guys go before. He had been the young cop pressured to look the other way. He had let the guy in Pecos go. He had carried water for Br
anch and told himself it was the lesser of two evils. He had let go of his nightmares about war and fleas on dead dogs, and machine guns and kids that got too close to convoys. But he would not let this go. Branch would not get rid of him so easily. The roof of the car started to buckle.

  Mallon stood up and gulped air.

  Lou said he was taking O’Connell to meet Branch. Only two places would work for that meeting: the compound or the office. The compound was up the mountain and secure, but the office was a fifteen-minute walk. Mallon brushed the dirt off his hands, touched his gun out of habit and started walking.

  FIFTY

  THE CARS ON THE ROAD glowed orange and red in the sunset. Olivia kept looking in her rearview mirror. She expected to see Mallon, Cody, maybe even Janice or Charles, not their cars but actual people barreling down the highway after her, snarling and raging.

  She had not felt this free since leaving Charles in Chicago, years earlier. But that whole period was tinged with failure. The failure of a marriage and of limping back to New Mexico with a stack of unfinished canvasses. This time it was not just freedom, it was liberation.

  Española at night looked even more depressing than during the day. When the sun was up, the eye could be distracted by the mountains, the trees in the valley, the sky. At night, all Olivia could see was the dirt and the broken windows and the people with red splotches on their faces and blue snakes crawling up their arms. Olivia did not want Andrea and the kids to stay one more night there.

  She had never visited the house at night. It was a newer subdivision with an aspirational name, Rancho Vista. It was also half-empty. Olivia’s stomach went sour when she thought about Andrea in this place. The houses were all dark, like missing teeth, and the few cars on the streets only heightened the emptiness.

  Andrea’s house was the only one with any kind of movement; a couple cars and a pickup truck loaded with furniture sat outside. A few guys were walking out of the house carrying the dining room table, the same table where Olivia had sat and assured Andrea everything would be fine.

  Olivia slammed on the brakes and ran towards the house. She did not see Andrea or the kids anywhere. At some point, her keys slipped out of her hand.

  “No, no, no,” she yelled at the movers. “You put that back.”

  The guys froze and put the table down. Olivia did not recognize them. She did not see Mallon. Where was Andrea?

  “I am Olivia Branch and I am ordering you to . . .”

  “Girl, girl, girl, take a breath.” Andrea stepped out of the house with her hands up. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

  Olivia came to a stop in front of the house and looked at the guys, then back at Andrea. “Get away from her.”

  “They’re my cousins,” Andrea shouted so loud she started coughing. One of the men reached out a hand to steady her, and Olivia wanted nothing more than to chop the thing off.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  Andrea turned on her heel and went inside. Olivia followed her and shot a glare that caused the guys to back up several feet. Andrea dropped onto a recliner, still coughing. Olivia hustled into the kitchen and filled a glass with tinny tap water. Andrea’s hands shook as she coughed and she spilled almost half of it out, but a few gulps were enough to calm her throat.

  “We were going to surprise you,” she said, her voice still raw.

  Olivia looked around. Everything was boxed up. The house was too quiet.

  A little desperately, she asked, “Where are the girls?”

  “Look, I know you have some kind of plan, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. We’re going to stay with my cousin. He’s got a place on the edge of town. Big yard. Extra room. It’ll be good.”

  “No, that’s not the plan. Cody agreed to pay me out. I got the cash. We can go anywhere.”

  Olivia handed Andrea her purse. She let out another cough when she saw the cash and then grimaced at the money as if it could slither out of the bag.

  “I did it,” Olivia said. “I’m gone.”

  Andrea smiled. “This is good news, girl. Good news.”

  “I know, I know.” Olivia looked around again. “But this will still work. Have these guys follow us. We’re definitely taking this furniture. I like that idea. We’ll stay in a hotel in Los Alamos or, hell, let’s all go to one of the resorts in the mountains, my treat.”

  Olivia watched Andrea avoid her eyes. It was one of her tells. Back in high school, Andrea would drag out the bad news and spend half the conversation staring at the ceiling.

  “This is what we’ve been talking about,” Olivia said.

  “Have we? You’ve talked about this. I don’t want to move anymore. You’re going to end up somewhere amazing, and you’ll open a gallery . . . and it’s a great plan, but it’s your plan.”

  Olivia smiled. It was her own tell for conversations that scared her.

  She pointed at the purse in Andrea’s lap. “That money is real. It is our chance to leave this place.”

  “You left twenty years ago, and you should have, but I never did. This is a crappy little town, but it’s where mom’s buried, and it’s where we grew up.”

  “You complain about this place all the time.”

  “Everyone complains about where they live. The girls will be fine. The schools are fine. And, look, I don’t have a lot of years left. I don’t want to spend them on the road.”

  Tears filled and then spilled out of Olivia’s eyes. “You don’t want to go with me?”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere.” Andrea’s voice caught and cracked. “And you’re not going to stay.”

  “I will go wherever you want to go. If you want to stay, then I’ll build a house on the ridge. It’ll be perfect.”

  “Stop it.” Andrea smiled and looked straight at her. “Girl, you’ll get bored. You always get bored. It may take a year or two in Taos, or in Tucson, but it’ll be three months here. Tops. You know it.”

  Olivia shook her head. She felt gutted. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “You always keep moving. That’s your thing. Always has been. Mom was an artist and she loved that spirit in you. I’ve never been able to keep up. And now all I want is to sit in a chair next to the girls and watch the sun set behind that same dumb mountain range I’ve spent my life staring at.”

  Olivia’s hands started to shake. “You know what it took for me to get this money? You know how many people I lied to? They’re tearing each other apart back there.”

  “I didn’t ask you to do any of that. I didn’t ask for this house or for you to leave your husband. I’ve been trying to tell you. You weren’t hearing me. Please stop crying, because I can’t. My tear ducts are all messed up.”

  Olivia smiled, which only made her cry more. “Can I stay with you the first couple weeks? Help you get settled and decorate?”

  “No,” Andrea said firmly.

  Olivia could not stop her mouth from shaking. “Wow, you must really hate how I decorate these houses.”

  Anger flashed in Andrea’s eyes. “Stop. I do not hate this house or any of the houses you’ve sent us to. I hate hiding.”

  Even hollowed out by chemo, she was still the bigger sister. Olivia pushed her tears away and tried to open her mouth, but the tears kept flowing. Andrea pushed herself off the recliner and came to her side. She put her arms around Olivia’s waist and squeezed.

  “You come visit us any time. Come down from where you land and see us every goddamn chance you get, but I am not tying you to us. Have you really never realized you’re strongest alone?”

  Olivia wrapped an arm around Andrea. “I’ll leave half the cash with you.”

  “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

  Olivia laughed, and the floodgates opened. She cried until there wasn’t a drop left.

  They held on to each other and Olivia drew strength from the woman who had left half her body in a hospital.

  Eventually, Olivia started to feel too much finality in Andrea’s goodbye, as
if she were flying away to Chicago again, or marrying Cody again, or any of her other departures. “I’m not moving to France. I’ll end up an hour away,” Olivia said.

  Andrea looked into her eyes and smiled. “Whatever you say, Liv.”

  After helping with the final packing and loading of Andrea’s boxes, Olivia took off her wedding band and left it in the middle of the living room floor.

  Andrea’s cousin seemed sweet, and Olivia shook his hand like he was marrying her daughter. He seemed baffled by the whole situation and scared to death of Olivia, but his affection for Andrea was clear.

  Olivia followed them to the subdivision’s exit. Andrea turned left, deeper into Española.

  Olivia turned right, towards the interstate.

  FIFTY-ONE

  CHARLES AND ADDIE sat in the car, waiting for Lou to arrive. The engine was running. Charles was grateful for the noise. He thought about putting on music but knew that would be ridiculous. What kind of music do you play on the way to your own funeral?

  Addie turned towards him. “There’s got to be another way. I mean, if you go, if you have to go, you’ll be fine, I’m sure, but there has got to be another way.”

  “If Lou’s there, I’m sure he won’t let Branch go too far. Lou is solid.”

  Charles believed it, although he was also aware of what Branch could make people do. His broken nose throbbed.

  “The ATF, maybe the FBI, someone has got to regulate casinos,” Addie said. “They’ll listen to you.”

  He shook his head and winced at the pain in his neck. “I don’t have any evidence. This whole time, I’ve been looking for it, but these people are too careful. I’d be the jealous, dirty politico looking for a payout.”

  Addie looked straight ahead. “That is what you are.”

  She was done with him. Still, Charles realized that waiting with him in this car was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. If he wasn’t about to puke his guts out, he would cry with gratefulness.