When they finished their food, Joe insisted on paying, over Alex’s protest they should go Dutch. His jaw flexed as he said, “I won’t hear of it. Give it up, Alex, I’m paying.”
Alex caught Dylan’s eye as she looked away from Joe. His eyebrow was raised. The question in his eyes caused her gaze to falter. She looked away from him, too. Joe walked her to her car. Away from Dylan, she finally asked what she came to ask.
“Any news on that guy?”
“Nah, Tucson has it buttoned up tight. They’re not telling us anything. Hey, you wanna come back to my place? I’d give you a beer. I’m off duty,” he said, apparently thinking a cop offering her a beer when she was underage would help him get what he wanted from her.
“Thanks, Joe, but I don’t drink, and that’s probably not a good idea.” Alex was already scheming about how to get the rest of the story. It was probably going to require a trip to Tucson, but when she would have a chance to do it was a mystery.
Chapter Nine
Friday, July 11
Dylan knew better than to follow Joe and Alex out of the restaurant, but he did go to the back door and watched them leave. They went to her car and talked for a minute, then she got in and drove away, while Joe watched her for a minute before he got in his car. It didn’t mean much that he followed her left turn onto the side street. The main drag crossed the side street at the next intersection, and it was the way to get anywhere else from this location. Turning right just took you to a dead end.
So, why was he concerned about where Joe went? There was nothing he could do about it now, since he hadn’t paid for his meal yet. Even if he skipped out on the tab, he’d never get to his truck in time to follow them. Feeling disgruntled, Dylan returned to his table and finished his meal. Changing his mind about Alex every couple of hours was driving him crazy anyway.
Besides, he had other things to think about. It was clear now he needed at least one more home-care nurse to spell Ange for his mom’s care, especially if he was going to do any investigation on his own. He had put himself out there as at least a person of interest in the murder case, and the sheriff’s department investigation didn’t seem to be going anywhere, leaving him vulnerable to be the scapegoat. Maybe an unidentified guy no one seemed to miss wasn’t high priority. It would be far too easy for the authorities to blame it on Dylan and declare the case closed. He had a personal stake in finding out who the guy really was and why he was dead, even if it wasn’t Rufio.
Dylan resisted the urge to swing by Alex’s house before going home. If Joe was there¸ he didn’t want to know it. If he wasn’t, then he had nothing to worry about. It was only around 8:30, so he had maybe half an hour before he had to be home. It seemed like a good idea to go by the Rattler to see if he could find out who needed a job badly enough to work for what he could pay.
The place wasn’t too crowded for a Friday night. Dylan took a stool at the bar and ordered a Coors Light. With his mom’s history, he had to be careful how much he drank. Bottle in hand, Dylan reversed his seat so he could look out at the pool tables. The bandstand and tiny dance floor were dark. Either there was no live music tonight, or it was too early. He’d been in here only a couple of times since he got home, meeting people who might have been able to tell him where Rufio was. He nodded to a few people he knew, but no one came over to strike up a conversation, not even Antonio, the bartender, who’d been a year behind him in school.
Dylan had been there about ten minutes when Paul Ward walked in and scanned the room. Spotting Jen Mackey, Paul made a beeline for her without noticing Dylan. He’d hoped to see Paul. He wanted to tell him how his advice had turned out and ask if he knew of anyone looking for domestic work. Dylan finished his beer and set the bottle on the counter, preparing to go over and greet Paul. When he looked up, there was trouble.
Jen had been talking to a few guys at a pool table. When Paul approached her, one of them, someone Dylan hadn’t seen around before, apparently objected. Now the guy was standing nose to nose with Paul, his fists clenched. Paul was trying to back away, but every time he stepped back, the other guy stepped forward to stay in his face. By the time Dylan got close enough to hear, the stranger, who easily had Paul by several inches and thirty pounds, was threatening to kick his ass.
“She doesn’t want anything to do with you, asshole,” he said. Paul spread his hands, half-raised and turned palms toward the stranger.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said. “Sorry. Jen and I are friends; I was just saying hello.” He was telling the truth. Everyone knew he and Jen were friends, and most people wondered why it wasn’t more, since Paul’s wife had left fourteen years ago and never set foot in town again.
“Well, now you can say goodbye, but say it from across the room,” the guy said. It seemed to Dylan he didn’t want it to end peacefully, since he kept crowding Paul. No one else in the bar was stepping up to defend Paul, who clearly wasn’t prepared for a fight. Paul probably would have said something like he fought with words, not fists, if he’d been given the chance. The next step back he took ran him up against Dylan’s chest.
“What’s your problem, man?” Dylan was ready to keep it even. Paul recoiled away from Dylan, not aware he was there until he ran into him. The rebound took Paul right into the stranger, who pushed him out of the way. Now they were face to chest, Dylan’s face to the stranger’s chest. Uh, oh.
“Dylan, don’t get involved,” Paul said, from the side. Dylan almost looked at him. It was lucky he didn’t, as a fist came from nowhere. His training made his response reflexive. His left arm came up to block the punch, while his right reached to grab the guy’s wrist. Dylan stepped into him and used his momentum to push the guy behind him, whirling to meet any new attack. None came, though, since the guy’s forward movement carried him into and over a chair. When he came up, Jen was standing in front of Dylan with her arms crossed.
“Get out, Jerry,” she said. “You’re drunk. Walk home or call a cab.”
“But, Jen, baby,” he said, now much less intimidating than before. She cut him off.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” she said. “I’m not your baby, and you don’t get to tell my friends whether I want to see them or not. If you can’t behave, don’t come back.” She stood, looking like one of those Viking women, with her arms still crossed, as he started to answer, thought better of it and hung his head. As he shuffled toward the door, she barked. “Settle your tab first, moron.”
Dylan didn’t fare much better. As soon as Jerry was out the door, Jen whirled on him. “What the hell were you thinking, Dylan Chaves? Don’t ever start a fight in my bar again.” Her glare was enough to make him rethink any excuse he might have had.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry.”
~~~
Dylan turned to go, but Paul caught his arm from behind. “Sit with me a minute, son,” he said. After a quick glance at Jen, he pulled out a chair and sat down, prepared for a lecture.
“Thanks for your help,” Paul said. “You didn’t need to do that, though.” Dylan nodded. Obviously, Jen could have handled it. Why hadn’t she, before he got involved?
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, sir.” Paul shook his head and waved off the apology. “Why did you let him back you up like that? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Jen and I go way back, so I don’t think sometimes,” Paul admitted. “I didn’t read that right, but I didn’t want to fight him, even if he was out of line. Fighting’s not my style.” Dylan had been right about that. “I don’t want to get between Jen and anyone she likes. I mean, I know what the rumors in town are, and she’s supposed to be madly in love with me, but I’m not free. I can’t be what she needs, so if she chooses to date someone, it’s none of my business and I have no call to get in the way.”
“You’re an idiot, Paul Ward,” Jen said, from behind him. Dylan’s eyes had been on Paul’s, seeking the truth of the matter, and he hadn’t seen her approach. Judging from the way Paul jumped, he guessed he
hadn’t either. “If you think I have any use for an asshole like that, you’re dead wrong.” Now he was on the receiving end of the tongue-lashing, Paul’s skin flushed just like Alex’s did when she was embarrassed or mad.
“Sorry, Jen, I didn’t know you were there,” Paul said. He must have been wondering whether she heard the bit about her supposedly being madly in love with him.
“That’s obvious. Go home, both of you. There’s too much testosterone in here tonight.” Jen made a shooing gesture toward the door, and Paul’s face fell.
“Wait! I need to hire another nurse to take care of my mom. Ange is getting worn out working such long hours. Mom can’t be left alone any more, and I’ve got business to take care of. I can’t pay much, but if someone’s looking for work, maybe we can help each other out.”
Both of them softened their expressions. Maybe it was sympathy he saw in their eyes. Better sympathy than pity. He didn’t need pity.
Jen shook her head. Paul said, “Why don’t you ask some of the members of St. Thomas to help out? They had a yard sale a while back to try to help her with money. I’ll bet they’d be willing to pitch in.”
“Really? I didn’t think…” Paul cut him off.
“They have more sympathy for what’s happening to her now than they did when you were growing up, Dylan. You may still think of your mother as the alcoholic who raised you, but you don’t know what she went through, trying to support you, before Rufio came along. He may have seemed like a deadbeat to you, especially after he left your mom in even worse shape. But, she put up with him to keep you guys safe, and when he left, she did the best she knew how. That’s all any of us can do.” His eyes grew haunted. He must have been lost when Alex’s mom left, with a five-year-old daughter to raise by himself. At least Dylan’s mom hadn’t been married to either of the bastards who left her. She’d had a chance for happiness, even though she never took it.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll keep it in mind.” Going begging to the church to help out wasn’t his idea of an answer, but he would keep it in mind, just in case he had to use it as a last resort.
Jen must have forgotten she’d thrown them out, because she pulled a chair out and sat down. Dylan needed to get home and relieve Ange, though, so he didn’t linger. When he left, the pair were deep in conversation.
Chapter Ten
1:00 a.m., Saturday, July 11
“I just have a bad feeling about it, that’s all. Chaves is looking for Rufio, I’m pretty sure.”
“I’ll deal with that. Just stay cool and everything will be fine. What about your girlfriend?”
“She’s just a kid. She’ll lose interest before long.”
“Keep your eye on her. She used to date Chaves, remember?”
“All too well,” Joe growled. If he caught Dylan somewhere with no witnesses, he’d teach the cholo what ‘stay away from her’ meant. He was still seething about the asshole interrupting his dinner date. Ever since Dylan Chaves got back to town, it seemed, Alex had been cooling off toward him. That wasn’t the plan. Alex was his, and he needed to let Chaves know it soon.
“Hendricks!”
“What?” he asked. He’d missed something while he was thinking about Alex and Dylan together.
“What do you know about it?” The man on the phone sounded impatient. He’d asked the question before.
“Nothing! I told you already…”
“I’d better not find out any different.”
“You won’t. Are we through here?”
“For now. Keep me posted.” His caller hung up, leaving Joe unsettled and spoiling for a fight. Maybe he’d cruise around, looking for Chaves. He stood, placing his hat on his head and feeling at his hip for his service weapon. The slightest excuse, and Chaves would no longer be a problem.
At the end of the second half of his split shift, Joe had cruised every street in town, without seeing Dylan. He’d made one traffic stop and ticketed the guy for mouthing off. Just because someone was a business owner didn’t give him license to ignore a stop sign, or argue with an officer of the law about it.
A few minutes later, Joe was at home, indulging in a guilty pleasure. Every night when he got home, Joe stood in front of a full-length mirror and practiced his quick-draw with an empty gun, pointing the weapon at his reflection and pulling the trigger. His dad had caught him at it, and laughed himself silly. He always said Joe was going to kill the guy in the mirror one of these days, leave a shell in the weapon and blow away the mirror. He hadn’t yet. The old man was gone now, died of a heart attack one day when Joe whirled and pointed the gun at him. He hadn’t even had to pull the trigger. Served the old bastard right.
After a few perfect draws and thinking about things—his dad, catching Dylan doing something wrong, and best of all, finding the need to teach Alex a lesson—Joe had a hard-on. He’d have to take care of it himself. He’d cultivated a reputation in this town, and it didn’t include going looking for pussy. People respected him. Besides, Alex was the only woman for him, but he was running out of patience. With Chaves in town, he’d have to up his game, move things along faster.
~~~
Dylan was off on Saturday, and normally Ange would have been, too. But, he needed to go to Tucson to see his brothers. Yesterday evening he’d asked Ange if she would be able to come in for the day so he could make the trip.
On the way to Tucson, Dylan stopped in at the casino on the Tohono O’odham reservation and let them know there he was still looking for Rufio, and there’d be a reward in it for the person who could tell him where to find his elusive stepdad. It was hard to say whether being half O’odham worked in Dylan’s favor or the opposite. He didn’t speak the language, and was certain it worked against him. Mom had left the community, if not the tribe. She was an outcast, someone who did not honor the traditions of the People, called Himdag or the Way. Because of that, Dylan’s link to the People was, if not broken, then seriously limited.
There weren’t many people at the casino when Dylan passed through shortly after turning onto Highway 86. He spoke to a placid bartender and then went on his way, planning to stop and ask around in Sells, also. Two and a half hours after leaving Dodge, he pulled into the outskirts of Tucson. His plan to miss the morning rush hour worked out perfectly. Dylan was to meet his brothers with their DCS social worker at a park on the west side of town. It was fortunate the social worker had agreed to this meeting on the weekend.
He was waiting with gifts he thought the boys would like when they arrived. Davi probably wouldn’t recognize him. He was only two when Dylan went away. Juan might or might not—he was four. Dylan didn’t know how long four-year-olds remembered people, or whether Mom ever showed them pictures of him.
The case-worker started to lead the boys to Dylan, and he realized it would probably scare them if they got to him and he was still standing. He crouched, one knee on the ground, the other leg bent at the knee with the foot on the ground for balance. Davi hung back, half-hiding behind the case worker. Dylan had forgotten her name. To give Davi a chance to get used to him, he turned to Juan.
“Juan, hi. I’m your brother Dylan. Do you remember me?” Juan’s expressive brown eyes grew wide, and he looked at the woman for reassurance. She nodded.
“Go on, Juan, you can talk to him. He’s your big brother,” she said. It hurt to see Juan’s reliance on someone who didn’t even know them before he would trust. It was his own fault. He should have visited before, stayed in touch with them as they grew up. Why should they trust him? He was a stranger to them.
“Hey, buddy. I brought you something,” Dylan held a small soccer ball on his outstretched hand. Juan tilted his head slightly, but made no move to take the ball.
“Dylan?” he said, at last. Dylan nodded.
“But, mama said Dylan is dead,” he objected. Pain lanced through Dylan’s heart. When did she say that? Was she in her right mind at the time, intending to hurt him by making the little ones forget him? Or did she really believed he was d
ead? She could have. He hadn’t written or called, and her mind was already beginning to be affected by the spread of the cancer. Dylan’s decisions over the past three years since getting his law enforcement certificate were looking like monumentally poor ones about now.
“No, kid, I’m Dylan, and I’m not dead.” Dylan held his hand out, this time without the ball. “Here, feel. I’m warm and everything.” He forced a chuckle, but Juan’s big brown eyes stayed as solemn as ever. Since things weren’t going too well with Juan, he glanced over at Davi, who had come out from behind the woman to stare curiously at him. When Dylan looked at him, he hid again, but this time peeked out with a little more confidence.
“Davi, I know you don’t remember me. But I remember you. Do you still have Bear?” Now it was Davi’s turn to widen his eyes. That gave the answer. “I have a friend for Bear here. Do you want to take him for Bear to see?” Dylan pulled the small stuffed tiger out from behind him, and Davi reached for it in spite of himself.
“Do you think I could have a hug, Davi?” When he came forward to be hugged, it almost broke Dylan’s heart. Davi had been half this size when he left. He’d missed so much. Not to be outdone, Juan threw himself at Dylan as well, and he barely freed an arm quickly enough to catch him. With his arms full of little brothers, Dylan knew nothing could stand in his way. He wouldn’t be satisfied until the law acknowledged what he knew. These little boys were his to care for, raise and love. He’d stop at nothing to make it happen.
~~~
Too soon, Dylan had to explain to Juan and Davi that he couldn’t take them with him right now. They’d have to stay with their foster parents until he came back for them. He promised them, over and over, he would be back, and soon. Maybe Juan understood, but kids Davi’s age, just six, had no sense of time. Yesterday might be six weeks ago, and tomorrow might be next Christmas. He cried when Dylan pulled his little arms from around his neck and handed him to the caseworker. The crying became quieter sobs when he pressed the tiger into his arms and reminded him to introduce Tiger to Bear.
Fatal Exposure Page 5
