The same necklace, scratched, mud ground into the tiny creases. Rusty brown on the chain. Probably in an evidence box, hidden in the cool dark. Like a grave.
Sherilyn made a hasty retreat with her young ones in tow and I all but ran to my house, slammed the front door, and clicked the lock. I deposited the necklace on the table next to the hair ribbon.
Frank’s vitriol erupted. “Shut up!” The words echoed against the Saltillo tile floor. Megan and Jen couldn’t know what the necklace would mean to me. If they’d placed it there as a prank, it was an unbelievable coincidence. That left an equally unbelievable scenario. Someone who supposedly was dead was taunting me. Car keys in hand, fist on the door handle, it occurred to me I must look and smell similar to Shax. I took time to shower, eat the rest of the food in my refrigerator, and drink two glasses of ice water and lemon.
While I sipped, Frank and I talked. An hour spent letting him spew, reassuring him I wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, and giving him a chance to wear himself out. It relieved the pressure in my head and calmed the tingling in my fingers. Feeling stronger and more grounded than I had in a while, I backed the Juke out of my garage and drove across town to Ventana High School.
For the illusion of authority, I’d donned my Arizona Rangers uniform, complete with shiny badge. A poster on the door of the high school directed all visitors to sign in at the office and that’s where I headed. The school smelled of books, floor wax, thousands of cafeteria lunches, and the buzzing of young bodies.
The necklace rested in a plastic sandwich bag, the best I could do for an evidence bag. It was tucked into my breast pocket. With a relaxed and easy smile, I stepped into the front office and waited for the secretary to look up from the stack of papers in front of her.
Middle-aged, she resembled every school secretary I’d ever known. Stalwart, reliable, kind-hearted, stern, all wrapped up in a Mom package. She addressed me with a pleasant face. “How can I help you?”
Here goes. “I’m Officer Butler, from the Arizona Rangers. I’m investigating an incident and would like to interview a witness who is a student here.”
She sat back and eyed me. “This is new. I’ve been here fifteen years and no Ranger has ever wanted to interview a student. Who is it?”
“Megan Thompson.”
Her eyebrows arched up. “Huh. Our policy is to call the parents before allowing any contact from people outside the school district.”
Did that policy originate at that moment? “Sure.” I’d get further by staying friendly. “I can see that. I’ll contact her parents and speak to her at her home, under their supervision.”
She nodded. “That would be best.”
I stared to leave, then, as if I just remembered, I added, “There is another student in question. I understand I can’t speak to her now, but can you tell me if she’s here today? Cali Shaw?”
The secretary thought about that. “I’m sorry. Unless you’re a parent, that’s private information.”
My frustration grew. “I only want to know if she’s been in school the last couple of days. I don’t need to contact her.”
She studied me and reached for the headset of her phone. “Let me see if the principal is available. He might be able to help you.”
The principal, who would want specifics, and when I could only give him my private fairy tale, would call Mitch and he’d have my badge for good. “That’s not necessary. I appreciate your protecting your students. I’ll get in touch with them through their parents.”
Frank tried to butt in, but I kept him quiet. I remained firmly in charge as I made my way to my Juke and cruised the parking lot until I found Megan’s CRV. I passed the next hour writing in a journal and keeping all of us on an even keel.
I needn’t have bothered. When I met Megan at her car door, her mouth dropped open momentarily. She snapped it closed and up came the hip, her head tilted and her lips formed a sneer. “Officer Butthead. You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Where is Cali?”
Head tilt to the other side. “Staying after for math tutoring. She’s not all that bright, you know.”
Was it me or Frank who wanted to slap her? I pulled the envelope from my pocket and held it out for her to see inside. “Is this Cali’s?”
She peered at it and her expression slipped for a fraction of a second, then reappeared. “How should I know? Half the kids on the track team have one.”
“Does Cali?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
Hot tar bubbled inside me and I paused to cool it. “Cut the shit. If this is Cali’s, then her life is in danger.”
Megan spewed a mean laugh. “Her life is in danger. Hysterical, much?”
I shouldn’t have, but I grabbed her arm. “This isn’t a joke.”
That got her attention. Fear filled her eyes and she pulled away, reaching for her car door.
I threw my hands in the air. “Sorry. I’m sorry. This is important.”
She wrenched open the door and pounced inside. “You’re going to be so sorry, cunt.”
My biggest fear was that I wouldn’t be the only one.
29
Not remembering the details, I’d managed to get myself through downtown. The phone rang and when I glanced at the ID, my stomach contracted.
Let it go.
Don’t talk to her.
She’s the devil.
I punched it on and held it to my head, since Mom hated the connection over the car audio.
“Oh thank goodness. I’ve been so worried about you.”
Smile, so she can hear it. “No need to worry. I’m fine.”
Someone spoke to her and she probably held up her finger and scowled as I’d seen her do a million times. “What is going on out there?” Said with the same inflection as when Darrell Hodges and I were studying Civics behind the closed door of my bedroom.
I ignored the demanding tone, attributing it to all her stress. “The usual. It’s gorgeous today, not supposed to get above 85. I’m making real progress on the table. I’m scheduled to work at the courthouse for the Rangers tomorrow.”
“Honey. Listen to yourself. You’re wound too tight. I can hear it in your voice. What is wrong?”
Now Frank had something to say. “Tell the bitch to stick her tongue in a light socket.”
“It’s this time of year. I’m not as bad as last year, but even Tara says it’s bound to cause a little anxiety, especially after last year.”
Throw the phone away.
Tell her to go to Hell.
Run your car into that pole.
Even though they didn’t speak often, today The Three acted up.
Her heels clacked on the old tile of the station in Buffalo. I’d been part of that scene and knew the cold blast of fear Mom spread in her wake. Admin probably ducked their heads to their computers, uniforms snatched paper or grabbed a phone and pretended to talk, anything to look busy. “Whatever it is, Honey, you need to get it under control.”
“I’m fine.”
Frank piped up. “That’s all you’ve got? You moron.”
A car door slammed and a few dings sounded before the engine started. She said, “I thought you trusted me.”
“I do, Mom. You’ve always been there. My best friend.”
Frank shouted. “She’s your worst nightmare.”
Tension strung in her voice. “If you trusted me, I wouldn’t have had to hear from Tara that you’ve missed some appointments lately.”
“Are you checking up on me?”
“We all agreed when you moved down there and started with Tara, that if there were any problems, I would get involved. You do remember signing the DPOA, right?”
Mom only wanted what was best for me, but Frank was cursing her. Tara’s theory about Frank and Mom was that both of them fought for control of me. Until I took control of myself, they’d continue in this stomach-churning tug-o-war.
“I’m much better now than when I moved down here and I’ve been thinking it’s time to re
scind the power of attorney. Having you as that safety net might be holding me back from total independence.”
I expected a blowup but I got a sad response. “Oh, Honey. I know you are becoming healthier, more like the Jamie you used to be. But there’s still a long way to go. This stage you’re in could be a false sense of growth. I know you don’t remember, but you’ve had these before.”
“Remember? Holy shit, we were there.” Frank.
A horn honked behind me and I realized I’d been sitting at a green light.
“As soon as we weaned you off the heavy meds, you’d be okay for a few days and I had such high hopes. Then you’d start talking to yourself again, get frantic, and lose it. It didn’t take long before we had to medicate you again.”
I pulled into the parking lot of a Waffle House and left the car running for the air conditioning. “I got upset because while I was on the drugs, I forgot about it all. Every time you’d take me off, I remembered and had to suffer the shock. Instead of letting me process it, you sent me back to oblivion.” I quit talking but the Three didn’t.
Because of her we suffered over and over.
She doesn’t want you to get well.
Hang up.
Mom sounded surprised. “Where did you come up with that? Is it what Tara is telling you?”
“No. It’s what I’m telling me.”
“You’re not talking to yourself again, are you?”
“No. I’m not talking to myself.” To Frank and Maggie. Technically not talking to the Three, the Chorus, and definitely not Peanut. But most of them talked to me.
Rustling over the phone and a slight grunt told me Mom probably made it to her destination and was climbing from her car. The slam of the door confirmed it. “It’s important you make it to your appointments with Tara. It’s the only thing you have to do. I can’t afford to leave Buffalo right now, with the campaign and this damned investigation. But if you need me, you know I’ll come out there. You’re more important to me than this election.”
Liar.
She loves her power more than you.
She’s never loved you.
“I know how much being reelected means to you. And the county. I’ll see Tara later today.”
Her heels clacked on cement. “Maybe take some time off from the Rangers at least. You don’t want to relapse.”
Wherever she was heading, she’d arrived and now needed to end our call. I pictured her pinched face as she tried to give me attention. “You’re right. I’ll relax, maybe read a couple of those novels you sent.”
“Good girl. I’ll talk to you soon.” She hung up.
I was stressed, yes. But I didn’t feel close to the edge. Was I lying to myself?
I eased onto the busy road heading toward home.
The mid afternoon sun highlighted the saguaro cactus that lined the stretch of road leading through Sonoran National Park. The white blooms crowned the majestic old timers and I could imagine her eyes lighting up when I told her the surprising fact that saguaros only grow in the Sonoran Desert. And that they grow so slowly a cactus measuring less than two inches could easily be ten years old.
So many fascinating things she’d never get the chance to know. A lifetime of experiences and memories I imagined for her. I looked up from a stop sign where I’d been idling. No traffic at this empty piece of desert.
How had I ended up on this road? I didn’t remember driving here. I checked the clock on the dash. I didn’t remember the last two hours. Where else had I been in that time? And who had been at the wheel?
I turned my car toward home. That’s twice in a matter of days I’d lost track of time. Maybe Mom was right and I was more upset than I’d thought. Mother’s Day, this thing with Megan. And Cali. If I could only see her.
Maybe it was time to admit I needed help.
Whether he hated me or not, I had to call Rafe. Somehow, I would convince him to find Cali.
I parked the Juke in my garage and stepped out, practicing what to say to Rafe.
A scream shattered my thoughts. “Jamie!”
Sherilyn raced across the street. One flip flop flew behind her but she didn’t slow. “Help me!”
I reacted by reaching for my gun, snug in the holster of my utility belt.
She grabbed my arm and tugged, panic driving her. “Kaycee. She’s gone!”
30
“Stop!” I said it to Sherilyn but I meant it for everyone who broiled and churned. “Slow. Tell me.”
Tears surged from her eyes and she panted, but she was able to speak. “I was in the kitchen making cupcakes. Jackson was in his walker and the girls were taking a nap.” She caught her breath. “Supposed to be. But Cheyenne came in after a long time and asked where Kaycee was.”
She sobbed. “I swear. I didn’t hear her. I don’t know how long. The front door was closed but not locked. I didn’t think she could open it by herself. She’s alone. Somewhere. Oh God, we have to find her.”
They all yelled and screamed and threatened to overwhelm me. Someone reminded me of the gray sedan. It had to be related.
I concentrated on Sherilyn. “You need to stay here with Jackson and Cheyenne. Call 9-1-1, and get the Dempseys to send neighbors to search the subdivision.”
I whirled around.
“Where are you going?” Sherilyn sounded slightly calmer.
“The desert.” I ran by the bird playpen. One baby flapped his wings on the rocks out of the shelter of the oleander leaves. The other was gone.
Your fault.
He’s going to make you pay.
He’s going to kill her.
“Kaycee!” I shouted into emptiness. The cicadas whizzed their strange music, letting it swell and ebb.
How would a toddler view this expanse and choose a path? I ran, following my route to the dirt road and down the drainage.
“Kaycee!”
Cholla cactus choked the road. Hostile vegetation that could snag soft baby skin and stick burning needles into sensitive flesh. Cat’s claws sprang from bushes, where unsuspecting little legs could be shredded.
“Kaycee!”
How far could she make it, plump legs, pillowy feet in strapped-on flipflops, puffing dirt along the narrow path?
“Kaycee!”
The drainage ended and I raced along the trail too narrow for a car. Lizards skirted from the creosote to the Mormon tea, under dead branches. The small holes I never paid attention to now loomed underfoot. Snake? Tarantula? Gila monsters?
“Kaycee!” I shouted into the heat, my throat begging for moisture.
Thickets tangled with brush and trees, maybe hiding javelina. Coyotes might be lurking in packs of two or three, delighting in something with no defenses, with a gait so slow. Bobcats eager to pounce.
“Kaycee!”
A voice whispered, “Remember.” Remember what?
“Kaycee!”
I’d gone a mile from the house. Was it even possible for her to get this far? Why would she take off? Where was she going? I dropped down to the wash.
Caught sight of a flash of pink. “Kaycee!”
In the shade of mesquite, laying still in the sandy wash, Kaycee looked like a giant doll with glassy blue eyes.
“No! Oh please, no.” My lips moved but everyone pleaded and begged, cried and swore.
I lunged for her, knowing I was too late. Another girl gone. I’d failed. We’d all failed.
Her eyes focused on me.
“Thank God!” I knelt to her, afraid because of her stillness. “Kaycee, are you okay?”
She didn’t answer but I wasn’t really talking to her. I scanned her body, stretched out in the shade and noticed the two blue streaks about an inch long in her rolly thigh. Her leg twitched and she closed her eyes.
I couldn’t tell if she’d started to swell but it seemed likely that the thigh with the puncture marks was puffier than the other.
Rattlesnake. Most likely the one I’d seen here the last few days. He’d been big and old, and
maybe that would work in her favor since the babies’ venom is much stronger.
Frank cursed me for not thinking to bring my phone.
“Kaycee,” I touched her cheek gently, wanting to reassure her.
She didn’t open her eyes. Her breathing grew labored.
She’s dead.
Zoey is dead.
Cali is dead.
Not dead. Not yet. But if I didn’t act quickly….
They carried on, cursing, yelling, fighting. Somehow I kept my focus and slid my hand under Kaycee’s matted blonde hair. I lifted her and cradled her head in the crook of my neck. With my other arm under her behind, I let her legs hang down, keeping the snake bite below her heart.
Running would jiggle her, maybe cause the venom to circulate faster. Keeping her stable would take longer, giving the venom more time to work through her. One didn’t seem any better than the other. I could kill her either way.
Tucking her as close to my body as possible and trying to run as though my feet were clouds, I retraced our steps. Frank accompanied every movement by telling me how worthless I was. Others weighed in with accusations of how I was letting her die. They repeated how I wasn’t fast enough to save her, how the same thing would happen to Cali. Looping over and over while all I could do was focus on getting Kaycee to safety.
We made it out of the brush and into the drainage. Kaycee hadn’t moved or uttered a peep and her breathing was barely there, but she was alive. I couldn’t see her leg from how I held her and I wasn’t about to take the time to look. Up the drainage to the trail road.
“She’s alive.” I shouted it. “She’s not going to die.”
The voices accusing me of Kaycee’s death drowned out the sound of my feet in the sand. They wanted me to believe otherwise.
It felt as though I ran through quicksand. My mind conjured a vision and I felt I could not only see down the trail, but around the curve to the lot next to my house. I saw the road and the walk to Sherilyn’s front door. Impossible for me to see a half mile away, through the desert and twists and turns of the trail, but I saw Sherilyn pacing the concrete stoop outside her front door.
When I actually rounded the curve toward my house, a crowd of neighbors stirred in the street between Sherilyn’s and my house—the Dempseys from next door, a retired couple who lived next to them, an older Latina woman who I’d assumed babysat her grandchildren. A few others I didn’t know. The middle-aged and younger adults were all at work and the kids at school. I ran from the desert. “Call an ambulance! Rattlesnake bite.”
The Desert Behind Me Page 17
