With Eddie, she’d almost had it all. For two years, two blessed, happy years, she’d loved her husband, loved her life and started to believe bliss was hers. She’d learned to cook, studied antiques, learned to craft and discovered a genuine love of the land. She’d been free to do what she wanted without her family dictating every move.
She still loved those things. Her feelings for her late husband had certainly changed, though. As Eddie got more involved in her family’s dealings and spent more time with her brother Tony, the husband she thought would keep her safe turned into her nightmare.
Tony was not a nice man, and it only took two years for Eddie to become just like Tony.
Mary had not been surprised when the private detective hired by Eric finally tracked her down just a week ago and told her Eddie had died in prison. Her two older brothers had both been executed the moment they walked out of prison.
Mary had been surprised by the private detective’s next words. Not only did Eric want her to come home, but he and Ruth wanted to help her get free of potential charges of child endangerment and assault. With regard to the assault charge, they thought she had nothing to worry about. Even Eddie said he deserved the black eye. And Eric knew and liked the caseworker assigned to Justin and Mary because of the child endangerment issue. He believed she would be receptive to Mary’s situation. Still, it chilled Mary’s heart. She knew the law. Once a report is made, be it by a doctor or police officer, concerning a minor exposed to illegal drugs, an investigation starts and a caseworker is assigned. That’s why Mary ran in the first place.
She walked across the wooden floor to the window and stared out at Justin. She’d show him that honor and respect were traits to believe in. She’d do it the legal way. Her son wandered down the embankment, clearly torn between what he wanted to do and what he thought his mother would allow. Mary knew that with every fiber of his being, her son wanted to be out there, looking for Alma with Mitch.
Not a chance.
“You okay?” Eric stood in the doorway, looking and acting more like a big brother than baby brother.
“I’m fine. So what happened to the baby who’s missing?”
Eric didn’t need much prompting. “It’s the craziest thing. There was some type of Hispanic celebration in town—”
“Gila City?”
“Yes. Angelina was there with her mom and one of her brothers plus his family. Her nephew needed to use the restroom, so Angelina took him. She had little José in a stroller. Manny, that’s the nephew, apparently got upset at being shut in the port-a-potty, so Angelina stepped in for just a moment. When she stepped out the stroller was gone. At first, she thought her older brother was pulling a prank on her.”
Mary’s eyes misted.
“He wasn’t,” Eric growled.
“Do you really think the girl we found might have some connection?”
“Yes, and it’s our first real lead.”
“Our? Man, you sound like a cop.”
“And it feels good. Look, Angelina’s from a great family. Her father was killed just a year ago. In a way, his murder was by the same crowd who killed Ruth’s first husband.”
“I’m so sorry.” The words didn’t seem enough. Mary hadn’t even met Ruth, or Megan, her new niece, yet. She only knew that Eric had met Ruth when the body of Ruth’s first husband had been found here on Eric’s property. Even through those tragic circumstances, her little brother and Ruth had been able to find love. Mary had only spoken with Ruth, who had already given her an “I’ve always wanted a sister” welcome and an invitation to stay with them in Gila City anytime.
She sounded too good to be true. Maybe she was. Ruth was a cop and Santellises didn’t date cops, let alone marry them. What’s more, cops didn’t date Santellises; they arrested them.
And speaking of cops, Mary wasn’t sure she wanted a good-looking, good-hearted cop living so close. “So your Mr. Williams is Internal Affairs. Why is he involved in this case? Do they think a cop has something to do with this missing baby?”
“No, Mitch just heard the story an hour ago when I showed up at his house. I showed him the drawing. It reminded him of a case he was working on.” Eric started to say more, but Mitch entered the room with Justin on his heels.
“She’s gone,” Mitch stated, taking a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket and mopping his forehead. “And it’s more than hot out there.”
“Ruth and three of the Santos boys are on their way.” Eric said. “I showed Mary the sketch. It’s the same girl. Man, I hope this is a lead. Ruth has three names, three Hispanic children taken over the last two years. Three.”
“Three’s a big number,” Mitch agreed.
“And Ruth thinks that number’s low. She thinks more went unreported.”
“Who wouldn’t report their child’s abduction?”
“It goes back to fear, Mary.” Eric’s voice once again went soft and took Mary back in time to the years when they hid in closets to avoid encountering their father on one of his rants.
“We’re talking about adults. Mothers, not children,” Mary argued.
“You called this Alma nothing more than a child. Remember?”
Unfortunately, she did. She remembered the child she’d encouraged to take her offering of trail mix and bottled water and head out into the blistering desert. Mary shook her head. What was she thinking? Sometimes dumb wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how she felt about her actions. “And you think Alma has something to do with all of this? That’s a stretch, isn’t it?”
“I think a Hispanic girl who speaks pretty good English and gets upset at the mention of a son is worth talking to. And, now, I think that a girl willing to hide alone in the Sonoran Desert in the heat of the day just to avoid the cops is worth finding.” Eric looked at Mitch. “What does your gut say?”
“My gut says your wife might have her first lead.”
“You’ll need to give permission to search the used car dealership, too,” Eric said to Mary.
“You have it. What else can I do to help?”
Eric shook his head. “Wait for orders from Ruth. One thing we don’t want to do is leave any stone unturned. The Santos boys have tempers.”
Twenty minutes later Mary’s new home hosted one sister-in-law officer and the baby’s three uncles. More agitated cops, just what Mary needed.
Ruth wasn’t what Mary expected. The female cops she’d encountered were rigid, stern women who seemed to have chips on their shoulders and a need to prove something. Not Ruth. First, Ruth was a good foot shorter than both Eric and Mary. Her red hair was in a braid, but not one so tight that it strained her features. And instead of walking and talking like she needed to assert herself, she took on the role of taskmaster in an even-tempered voice. Without missing a step, she assigned everyone, even Mary and Justin, a task.
Eric and the three Santos boys were assigned Alma. “We need to find her quickly,” Ruth said. “Not just for questioning but before she dies from exposure. It’s not even noon and the temperature’s over a hundred. She’s not in good shape. Mary says she looks malnourished. If we don’t find her soon, she might not be alive.”
Mary felt the familiar sinking feeling of I’ve-messed-up-again. “Maybe I should stay here, help look.”
“No.” Ruth shook her head. “I want you to travel back to Gila City with me, both to the used car lot and to the police station. We’ll retrace every step you made. Maybe we’ll find some clue as to who this girl is and where she’s heading.”
“I’ll be right back,” Mitch said. He’d been the silent observer during Ruth’s take-charge moments. The two obviously had a history of working together.
A grim mask closed over his face as a cell phone appeared in his hand, and he strode from the room without inviting company.
“Will Alma be all right, Mom?” Justin asked. “I can stay here, look for her. She trusts me. I won’t go far.”
“No, you don’t know the area.”
“But s
he talked to me,” Justin argued. “She likes me.”
“You know,” Eric said. “He’s got a point. If Justin’s with us, Alma might be a bit more inclined to show herself.”
“Justin isn’t acclimated to this heat,” Mary protested. “Plus, we don’t know what or who she’s hiding from. I’m not putting my son in danger!”
“You said she seemed like a runaway, just a child. Is there something you’re not telling us?” Mitch came back in the room. His clipped words settled like ice around her heart.
“I agree with Mary,” Ruth said. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with….”
“I want to look for Alma,” Justin said.
“I’ve told you everything,” Mary snapped at Mitch. Then, she turned to Justin and said, “You’re too young to get involved with this.”
“I’m already involved,” Justin argued.
“I’ll keep him with me,” Eric promised.
Everyone looked at Mary.
“Mom?”
“I—”
“Mom?” Justin spoke firmly, reminding Mary that while at eleven he wasn’t grown up, he wasn’t a baby anymore, either.
“You can start with the shed,” Eric advised. “There’s even a root cellar. Maybe she’s down there.”
“Looked there already,” Mitch said.
“Mom, I really want to do this!”
Returning to Arizona was definitely a mistake. She was already losing control of her son, her emotions, her life.
“You’re not to go out of sight of this cabin and you’re to check in with Uncle Eric every 20 minutes.” Mary glared at Eric. “If anything happens to my son, we don’t need to worry about changing the caseworker’s mind. Got it?”
“Got it.” Eric nodded.
“Yes!” Justin jogged from the room as if he knew right where to go and what to do. Mary walked to the cabin’s door and watched her son start circling the shed, mimicking the Santos brother who walked a few feet ahead of him.
“I’ll keep an eye on him, ma’am,” the brother called out to her.
Ma’am? A cop was calling her ma’am?
“That’s Rico, the youngest Santos brother. He’s a rookie.” Ruth sat on the couch and opened a backpack. She withdrew a blue notebook and started writing. After a page or two, she looked up and said, “Mary, in just a minute we’ll head back to town. Mitch, you want to tag along?”
He nodded and stepped back outside. Mary watched. At first, she thought he’d be reaching for his phone again. Instead he joined Justin and Rico at the shed. They opened the door, stepped inside and disappeared.
Mary looked at her brother, looked at the almost empty cabin and shook her head. “Everything’s changing, again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you sell the antiques?” It surprised her how much she wanted, how much she needed, to see them again. Her grandfather’s big, bulky furniture had overpowered the room, dwarfing her grandmother’s old treadle sewing machine and hat rack. Now everything was gone, even the amateurish paintings. Eric obviously hadn’t needed much. The furniture in the room now looked like motel castoffs.
“Antiques?” Eric looked at her. “When I moved in, the place was pretty much empty except for mice.”
Mary circled the room. “There was an armoire here. I remember Eddie got mad because it was so heavy, we couldn’t move it.” She turned to the next wall. “An antique gun cabinet hung there. Eddie loved it. Go figure. Upstairs there was a four-poster bed, scratched up but with plenty of charm. And,” suddenly her eyes darkened, “there was a dining room table here by the front window. I used to sit at it and piece together baby quilts while I was pregnant with Justin. I must have made twenty. I’d work in the evening and watch the sun set.”
“None of that was here when I arrived,” Eric said.
When they’d moved, Mary had only taken what was theirs. She’d carefully covered everything else. A quick tour of the rest of the house, upstairs and down, showed that the other rooms had also been stripped.
They returned to the main room and Mary asked, “What was here when you moved in?”
“Dirt and mice.”
Mary looked around. “Where’d this furniture come from?”
“We hit a few garage sales last week and found a few things.” He glanced over at his wife. “Ruth really doesn’t like spending time here.”
Mary felt a little more understanding. Ruth probably never would attend a family gathering at this cabin. Her first husband’s body had been discovered a year ago, in the shed, by Eric. Hard to shake a memory like that. To give her credit, this morning Ruth hadn’t even blinked at being here. The need to find the missing children had proved more important than personal discomfort.
Mitch returned and sat down on the couch. Justin, who was now following Mitch for some reason, plopped down next to him. A cloud of dust enveloped them both, but only Justin coughed.
Mary walked closer and peered down. In the world’s smallest, neatest handwriting, Ruth created a timeline starting with Mary’s arrival at the car lot this morning, continuing with Mary’s decision to allow Alma to escape and ending with the search of the cabin and surrounding area.
“I went to the lawyer’s office before the used car lot. We ate at a fast food restaurant. I bought a coffee at a convenience store. Do you want to add all that? Would you like to know where we threw our trash, where we used the facilities? Where we spit out our used chewing gum? Where we—”
“No,” Ruth said before Mary could work up the energy for a full-fledged rant.
Well, Ruth deserved one because it hadn’t escaped Mary’s notice that her name was prominent in Ruth’s notes. Once again, through no fault of her own, she was involved in a situation beyond her control.
And once again, she’d put Justin at risk.
FOUR
“Looks like you’re stuck with me.” Mitch stood next to Mary on the front porch and watched Ruth’s cruiser disappear.
Mary didn’t looked pleased. “I wonder what’s happening.”
“Probably something with the kidnapping. Look, I’m going to run to my cabin, grab some stuff, then I’ll come back down and take you to the car lot. I’m going anyway, and it will take some time to unhitch your U-Haul.”
When they could no longer see the dust from the cruiser, Mary turned to face the shed and murmured a half-hearted, “Okay.”
He hurried, making it up the path to his cabin in just a few minutes. He grabbed his car keys and the folder that had had Alma’s picture in it, and rushed out the door to his car. Arriving back at Eric’s cabin, he tried not to appear rushed. It didn’t matter. No one noticed. Mary was at the shed door issuing dire warnings to Justin about what he could and could not do while she was gone.
Then, Mary turned and issued dire warnings to Eric. The best part? Eric soon had the same deer-in-the-headlight look Justin had.
What a woman.
When Mitch helped Mary into the car he figured driving her was a win-win-win situation. One, he got to sit next to a beautiful woman. And maybe he’d be able to shake his tongue-tied schoolboy feelings. Two, witnesses often remembered more details when in a relaxed environment like a car. The girl Mary called Alma might be more than a lead in the missing baby case. She might also be a missing piece from Mitch’s previous case, and he hated loose ends. Three, he was getting away from the cabin, away from his melancholy musings, away from feeling useless. In truth, being on the fringe of a case was better than having no case at all.
Still, far from opening up, Mary sat beside him in silence as they drove back toward Gila City. The most she’d said was something about hoping that everything went well because if it didn’t, she and her son would be sleeping on mattresses tonight since nothing would get unpacked before dark.
He recognized the bluster. She was worried about Justin, worried about Alma, mad at herself for sending the girl into the desert.
“They’ll find her. Quit worrying,” he advised.
&nbs
p; “I’m mad at myself,” she said after a few minutes. “It’s just second nature to do any and all things to avoid the police. I wasn’t even thinking when I told that girl to scoot.” Her voice softened. “I wasn’t thinking that I was sending her into a desert with three-digit temperatures during a typical Arizona summer. Wrong, so wrong.”
“They’ll find her,” Mitch repeated. He wanted to believe it, too. The look she shot him said she knew the odds.
“She’s just a kid,” Mary muttered.
He nodded as the car bumped down Prospector’s Way. Finally, the gravel turned to pavement and they left Broken Bones behind and entered a two-lane highway. Mary elegantly crossed her legs at the ankles, looked out the window and didn’t say another word for miles. He so often dealt with uncomfortable silences. This silence actually felt good. It wasn’t the silence of a criminal with a cop but of a woman who’d made a bad decision and now intended to fix it. Not uncomfortable, just unfortunate. Finally, as if she’d reached some sort of impasse, she turned so she faced him instead of the window and asked, “New car?”
“I’ve had it five years.”
“Just drive it to church on Sundays?”
He laughed. He’d often been teased by the guys in the field about how sterile he kept his Taurus. Somehow the gibes never struck him as funny before. “No, I just tend to keep it clean.”
“Don’t cart kids around much,” Mary guessed.
“No, I don’t really know many kids.”
“You managed to bond with mine.”
“Justin and I had a mutual interest: finding Alma.”
Mary again looked out the window and finally muttered, “That girl kept up a running dialogue with God the whole time she was in my car.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Mitch said.
“Who?”
“Your brother.”
“My brother’s lost it.” Her tone belied the words.
Mitch understood the feeling. God was a little too abstract for his concrete way of thinking, yet his two best friends—Eric and Sam, both intelligent, savvy men—put all their faith in God. And it didn’t seem fake or hypocritical or simplistic. Their faith was part of their everyday lives in a way that made Mitch partly uncomfortable, partly envious. But logic told him it was crazy to believe in something he couldn’t see.
Broken Lullaby Page 3
