Fatal Exposure

by Jamie Jeffries

  Juan did his best to suppress the sobs, but his breath was ragged when he asked when Dylan would be back.

  “Soon, buddy. As soon as I can. I’m working on it.” He’d asked both boys and the caseworker if their father had been around. The boys didn’t know who he was talking about, it was plain to see. The caseworker denied having been contacted by anyone but Dylan or his lawyer.

  “I’m looking for him. I’ll make him sign the papers. I have to get the kids back home. Mom’s not going to last much longer.” It was the wrong thing to say.

  “Do you think that’s the right environment for them?” she asked.

  He shouldn’t alienate the person who had power over his family, but it pissed him off. “Do you take the children out of every home with a terminally-ill parent?”

  “Well, no, of course not,” she said, shifting Davi to her other hip. He was leaning away from her, making it difficult for her to balance, and Juan was already on his way to her van. She set Davi down on his feet and he immediately ran after Juan. “Only when there’s no one to care for them if the parent is too ill. Don’t you work full-time?”

  “What of it?” Dylan was beginning to dislike her. “Do you take kids out of the home because both parents work? What about single parents?”

  “Mr. Chaves, my job is to determine what’s best for the children,” she said, on the defensive now. He leaned toward her, his arms crossed.

  “Isn’t that the prerogative of the family?” Their eyes met, Dylan’s stony and hers less certain. She turned and tromped away without answering him.

  ~~~

  On Saturday night, the not-quite-full moon was rising over the North Dam tailings pond as Alex left the house, camera in hand, and headed toward the Elks Lodge. Her dad was a member of every civic organization in Dodge, a necessity if he wanted to cover their events from a neutral perspective rather than just run their press releases. This was her second year covering the dance, and if she’d had her druthers, she’d rather just run the same story. It was no fun being at a dance alone, there to work instead of dance. She hadn’t danced since her high school prom, except in the privacy of her room, by herself. She missed it.

  The parking lot was packed, since this was one of the major social events of the year. Tonight, the women were decked out in new evening wear, the men uncomfortable in suits and ties. Alex planned to get pictures of the town movers and shakers, and then slip away, no doubt wishing she could stay and have a good time herself. The first couple to spot her as she walked in dressed in her own best evening wear and incongruously carrying the camera, were the mayor and her husband.

  Wanda Lopez was one of Alex’s favorite people, a good friend of her father and almost like a second grandmother to her. Both before Alex’s Nana had come to take care of her and after she left to take care of Aunt Jess, Wanda had been there for her and her dad whenever she was needed. Just like family.

  Like many of Dodge’s residents, Wanda had roots in two cultures, the Tohono O’odham, and the Latino. From the first time she ran for mayor, she had consistently run on a platform of working with all law enforcement agencies to address illegal alien passage through town and surrounding areas. She’d done a good job, too, cooperating with Border Patrol, Park Service and reservation police. Her only stumbling block was Sgt. Kevin Thurston, head of the Dodge District of the Pima County Sheriff’s department, Joe’s boss and a first-class asshat. Alex didn’t see him around for the moment. She greeted Wanda with pleasure and an ulterior motive and asked her to pose with Hector, her husband, for a picture. After she snapped several, she asked Wanda for a private word.

  “Wanda, what do you hear about that guy they found dead out in the desert last Monday? Sheriff’s office is stonewalling me.” Alex tucked her camera into a bag that in no way matched her dress, and pulled out a small notepad and pencil.

  “Alex, sweetie, I’d love to be able to tell you, but I’m afraid they’re stonewalling me, too.” Wanda cast a look of displeasure into the crowd, where, following her glance, Alex saw Kevin after all. He had a generous-looking drink in his hand and was holding forth to a bevy of townspeople who crowded around him.

  “Sucks you can’t fire him,” Failure to guard her words was going to get Alex in trouble someday, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, too late.

  “Tell me about it,” Wanda answered. She smiled and touched Alex’s arm. “Don’t worry, I won’t quote you.” Her dark-brown eyes twinkled as she turned the cliché on Alex. Alex never said it, herself, not in so many words. But it was reporters’ stock-in-trade when they wanted the dirt more than they wanted to be able to source it. She laughed.

  “Good. Dad would kill me.”

  “That would be an interesting front page article,” Wanda joked again. She was a riot. Also a relative of Dylan’s, but it couldn’t be helped in a small town. Alex wasn’t sure how they were related, but he used to call her Tia Wanda. She wasn’t his mom’s sister, but Alex didn’t know anything about his dad. Neither did he. They had only talked about it once, noting their mutual pain that a parent had abandoned each of them, and then burying it again.

  “I’d better go give some of these other important people equal time.”

  Wanda nodded. “Me, too,” she said. “I’d better rescue my supporters from Kevin’s clutches.” She waved as she walked off.

  A male voice Alex knew too well spoke in her ear. “Well, I’m glad she finally took off.”

  She looked over her shoulder to find Joe standing too close and leering down the neckline of her gown.

  “Deputy Hendricks.” Her tone conveyed her disapproval of where his eyes were pointed.

  “Hey, what’s this Deputy Hendricks business? It was Joe last night.” He finally looked at her face. She frowned at him.

  “Last night was a mistake.” That was more direct than she intended. There was no sense in letting him believe there was any chance for them, though. In the first place, she wasn’t at all attracted to him, and there were other reasons as well. She didn’t want to make him an enemy—never a good idea in a small town—but she couldn’t have him crowding her, either. “Look, Joe, I’m sorry, but the truth is I only had dinner with you to get the information about the dead guy. I apologize. I do owe you a meal.”

  “Forget it,” he said, a sneer replacing the leer. “I suppose you only have eyes for Dylan Chaves.”

  “That isn’t true. That’s been over for a long time, and I was a child anyway. I just don’t have time for anything but school and work. And when I finish school, I’m out of here.” Alex glanced around to see if anyone else had heard. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but neither did she want to be the object of gossip. In this town, just standing here having a private chat with Joe after going out with him last night was enough to have them engaged in the gossip mill. Telling him she was leaving would be practically equivalent to the National Enquirer constantly speculating about celebrity couples divorcing.

  As Alex scanned the room, her gaze came to rest on the last person she expected to see here. Dylan was standing across the room, watching Joe and her, his eyes hooded. When they made eye contact, he advanced toward her, straight through the couples dancing, weaving and dodging them with seemingly no effort. Her mouth opened slightly as she observed his progress. There was no doubt he was aiming for her, since he held eye contact all the way. When he arrived before her, ignoring Joe, he held out his hand as if to invite her to take it.

  “May I have this dance?”

  Joe made a derisive noise as Alex took Dylan’s hand, almost without volition. In a dream-like trance, she glided onto the floor, one hand in Dylan’s and the other, still holding the camera bag, draped over his shoulder.

  “You looked like you could use rescuing,” Dylan remarked. A small part of her sighed in relief, while a different part pouted with disappointment. He wasn’t interested in her after all, just being a gentleman and taking her out of Joe’s clutches. At least she would enjoy this dance, and then circulate with
the camera. Everyone in this town who was or aspired to be important to the community was here, and would expect to see their pictures in the paper on Wednesday. She’d give them the satisfaction.

  As Dylan guided her expertly around the dance floor, Alex allowed herself to savor the sensations his hands reawakened after so many years. Big, warm hands that, just resting on her waist, made her remember what this man used to be to her. No longer the starry-eyed fifteen-year-old who lost him back then, she was a grown woman, with desires to match. And right now, she could take up right where they left off with no regret at all. This was not good. She’d just told Joe she didn’t have time for it, and now he was watching to make a liar of her, at least in appearance.

  When the dance ended, she thanked Dylan politely and excused herself to do her job. He nodded, wordlessly, and blended into the crowd. She didn’t see him again before she left. Odd. His demeanor tonight was far different than on Wednesday afternoon or Friday evening. He seemed more confident than on Wednesday, and less combative than last night. What had happened? But, by the time she thought about it, she was in bed and it was long past the time when she could have asked.

  ~~~

  Alex didn’t understand her feelings about Dylan. Did she want him, or didn’t she? Her body told her one thing, while her brain had the opposite opinion. She hadn’t been this confused in a long time…not since he left, in fact.

  While they were dancing, she was happy in a way she wasn’t sure she ever had been. It wasn’t giddiness, although that wasn’t far off. She just felt everything was right in her world at the moment. And then it had to end, leaving her with these questions.

  Where had he gone, afterward? Alex had stayed for a couple more hours, taking pictures and making small talk with her dad’s friends. Neither Dylan nor Joe was in evidence the entire time. Had they both left, or was it simply too crowded to notice them? If they left, did they meet up somewhere afterward and have words? She wouldn’t put it past Joe.

  It was the final straw for any relationship she might have had with Joe. She hadn’t liked it at the dance when Joe was leering at her, and the thought of letting him touch her made her squirm with disgust. She didn’t know whether that was because it was actually disgusting to her on its own, or because the dance with Dylan showed her what the perfect touch could be. Either way, she was done with Joe. No more dates, even if nothing developed with Dylan.

  Did she want something to develop with Dylan? She honestly didn’t know. Right now she was awake, rational, and analytic. Dylan had a lot on his plate. His mom was dying. He didn’t have any more time for her than she had for him.

  When she finally let herself sleep, though, what would her body do? Already she’d dreamed of Dylan a couple of times since seeing him in the desert unexpectedly. After tonight’s dance, she fully expected it to happen again. Would she enjoy the dream? Sure, if the others were any indication. In fact, if she ever happened to think of one while in his presence, she was going to have a hard time not blushing uncontrollably. Those dreams had been pretty hot!

  Chapter Eleven

  Saturday-Monday, July 12-14

  Dylan didn’t know what prompted him to go to that stupid dance. There was no chance in hell he would have seen Rufio or any of his cronies there, so it should have been a waste of time. The one good thing to come out of it was the dance with Alex.

  When he walked in, he didn’t like the body language Joe was giving off, with Alex standing next to him like she couldn’t see it, the threat in his posture. He didn’t see anyone but them. Did he knock anyone down getting to her? Probably not, or there would have been a scene.

  Once she was in his arms, he relaxed and enjoyed the feel of her there. It was a bad idea, that dance. She’d made it clear in her friendly but cool manner there was nothing for them anymore, and he didn’t blame her. He’d been a jerk back then, giving her no hope for the future even though his heart was breaking, too. Her dad made it clear he’d better end it clean, and he was right. Too old for her, leaving town, and it wouldn’t have been kind to let her think he’d ever be back. But, bad idea or not, he couldn’t resist the opportunity.

  The trouble was now he was back, Dylan couldn’t keep his thoughts off her. She was more beautiful than ever, the girlish freckles faded and the fiery hair muted to auburn. She was curvy in the right spots and slender where she should be. He didn’t know anyone in town classy enough for her, and that included him. Alex probably felt the same way. She only danced with him to get away from Hendricks.

  He should leave her alone. As soon as he had his brothers safe and his mom had lost her fight, he’d be out of here again anyway. No way would he raise his brothers here.

  Chalk it up to what might have been, in another world, under other circumstances. Or not. He was second-class to her first, a half-breed minority who had no expectations of what Alex might think of as financial success. Yeah, he’d beaten the odds he’d end up in the mines or worse, but his genes were against him. Look at Mom, a drunk until she got sick, and now just a shell. That was half of his heritage. The other half was a mystery. Dylan hadn’t asked his mom about his dad when he had the chance, and now he’d never know. Odds were he was Latino, probably illegal, probably someone like Rufio. He’d left before Dylan was even born.

  As Dylan repeatedly punched the pillow and turned it over to get the cool side next to his face in the hot little bedroom, he resolved to stop obsessing about Alex, mind his business and do what he came to do. They’d both be better off if he did that.

  ~~~

  DCS called Dylan at work on Monday morning. The caseworker said a Lt. Wells of the Sheriff’s department had requested the little boys be given a DNA test as potential relatives of an unidentified dead man. Did Dylan know about it?

  Dylan explained to the social worker, detailing the crime scene and the report that led him to ask whether the victim could be the man they were all looking for. Since there was no identification on the body, they needed another way to identify him.

  “Can’t you just look at the body and ID him?” the social worker asked.

  “I looked. I couldn’t say for sure,” he answered.

  “Was his face mutilated or something?” she asked. Or something would have been the right answer. Instead of answering, he asked where she called home.

  “That’s none of your business. Why do you ask?” was her suspicious response.

  “Do you know what a few days in the desert will do to a corpse?” It was petty, but she was such a bitch.

  He could almost hear her sneer over the phone, “I assume there’s some decomposition.”

  “Right. Well, this body was in the desert, with average daily temperatures of over one-hundred degrees, for up to two weeks. It was basically a mummy, but the skin shrank so much it tore over the facial bones. No one could’ve identified that. Please go ahead and let them collect the DNA.”

  “So, you have no objection to this test?” Maybe the lieutenant didn’t tell her he’d suggested it.

  “No, none at all. We need to know if it’s their dad. The process doesn’t hurt. They’ll swab one of the boys’ mouth, inside his cheek. Then they’ll compare it to DNA from the body.” Dylan couldn’t decide whether she’d called him for his input or to lecture him for saying anything to put the boys in this position.

  “Very well, I’ll approve it. Will you let me know?” The lieutenant would let her know, but Dylan told her he would.

  “I don’t know how long it will be before it’s processed,” he said. “I doubt they’ll put a rush on it.”

  “Just keep me informed,” she snapped. Damned officious bitch could use a good… Never mind. She’d soon be out of his hair if all went well.

  After the call ended, Dylan finished some paperwork. He’d be on patrol in the afternoon, which would keep his mind occupied. The morning was a different story. He couldn’t concentrate, though there was little profit in wondering when it would be done, whether Juan would be scared. Surely they’d
do the test on the older of the boys. It could be confusing to him. Dylan tried to call Lt. Wells to request him to wait until tomorrow, when he could be there to reassure Juan, but his call went to voice mail. He left the message with little hope it would get to Wells before he’d go to do the test. Maybe it was already being done.

  Later that afternoon, on patrol, Dylan and his partner caught a break. Instead of dumping his charges and slipping back across the border last night or early that morning, one of the traffickers, called coyotes, had become disoriented and was seen walking along the road beside the wall separating the park from Mexico. The rangers were transporting him back to Lukeville to turn him over to the Border Patrol there.

  Señor Coyote kept up a steady stream of angry, rapid Spanish as they drove. Dylan’s partner was ignoring it, but Dylan picked up a word or two every so often. His Spanish was rusty and had never been really fluent. His ears perked up, though, when he heard Rufio’s name. Dylan was in the passenger seat, his partner driving, with the coyote handcuffed and seated in the middle seat in the rear of the vehicle, an SUV. Dylan twisted in his seat to look at him.

  “What do you know about Rufio?” Dylan’s sudden question startled his partner.

  A rapid flood of Spanish came from their prisoner. Dylan held up his hand. “Mas despacio, slower.” The coyote began again, but Dylan still caught only one word in three.

  The coyote seemed to be saying this was all Rufio’s fault. Rufio, who was supposed to guarantee safe conduct for the coyote’s group, had disappeared. Someone was looking for him.

  “Join the crowd.” At the muttered comment, Dylan’s partner eyeballed him curiously. Dylan partnered with different rangers almost every day, and as the new guy, hadn’t developed much of a rapport with any of them. Still, he was a fellow ranger. Dylan owed him an explanation.

  “I’m looking for a man named Rufio Mendez. It’s personal.”