Broken Lullaby

by Tracy, Pamela

  Finally, Rico seemed satisfied that he had gotten all he could out of her. He joined Ruth, Eric and Mitch as they analyzed and rehashed the case. Rico’s brothers arrived and joined them, too.

  Mary looked at Mitch. He was back to being all business. Cop business. Maybe she’d imagined the earlier smile. He was impressive when working a case. During questioning, Mitch politely let Ruth take the lead, then when she wound down, he’d start up. He asked questions about the babies taken, where they were taken from, their ages, their gender, their ethnicity and who’d been questioned. He took them back to the beginning and, judging by the looks on the Santos boys’ faces, he’d taken them to a beginning they didn’t know enough about.

  He was nothing if not thorough, and Mary grudgingly respected him for that. He asked more questions than anyone else. He also brought everyone back to the solid evidence.

  As the alpha males postured—Mitch, Eric and the Santos brothers—Ruth put every word in that notebook of hers. Soon it was midnight. Ruth finally shut her notebook, closed down her computer and stood. “Anything else we need, Rico, we can get in the morning. We’ve scheduled the search to begin again at six. The sheriff’s posse is bringing in men and horses. Mary will be staying at my house. I take full responsibility.”

  A few minutes later, Mary sat beside Eric in his truck. He looked at her and said, “Not quite the homecoming you expected, huh?”

  Her thoughts tumbled as she leaned her head tiredly against the window and yawned. “Not quite the homecoming I expected, little brother. In fact, it’s exactly the kind I was hoping to avoid.”

  “I know you feel like things are out of your control, Sis, but I can promise you that God is in control. Giving my life to Him turned my life around, and I know He has a plan for you,” Eric advised.

  Mary didn’t respond. She would like to believe that, she really would. It’s just that it didn’t seem like God had been on her side for a very long time now.

  Or maybe the problem was that she hadn’t been on His.

  Mary woke the next morning when the bright Arizona sun cast an unwelcome beacon into the bedroom. Stretching, she felt a moment’s surprise when her toes hit the twin bed footboard. She was sleeping in Megan’s room at Eric and Ruth’s house, Megan was in her parents’ room and Justin had the couch.

  For a brief moment, Mary almost felt safe. She felt good, which made her want to cry. Because almost wasn’t good enough, not for her and certainly not for her son.

  She rolled from the bed and stretched before jogging in place. A few toy horses on the floor collapsed from the vibrations—or was it laughter? Mary got down on her hands and knees and righted the horses. Their tangled multicolored manes and crayoned sides proved that they were more than just props; they were loved. Megan must have more than a hundred. If they kept reproducing, her brother would need a bigger house or at least a bigger bedroom.

  When they got to Eric’s house last night, she could see the warmth and love in this house. Family pictures lined the walls, two cats arched a welcome just inside the door and a wildly-colored crocheted afghan was thrown over Justin on the couch.

  It was nothing like the home they’d grown up in.

  Mary loved it.

  Once the horses on the floor returned to an upright position, she grabbed her clothes from on top of a white dresser and managed to knock over six of the horses that made a home there. She left them on the floor. At the rate she was going, it would be noon before she could get the corral back in place. On top of everything else, putting on the same clothes as yesterday made her cranky.

  Yuck, she’d spent hours in the car in these clothes, explored both a dusty business and a dusty cabin and sat for hours in a police station. Maybe she’d burn the clothes when she finally got back home.

  She followed her nose to the kitchen where a cheerful burgundy-haired lady took homemade cookies from the oven. Standing in the doorway, Mary watched for a moment. Growing up, there’d always been “help” doing things like cleaning and cooking. When she was married to Eddie, they’d eaten lots of pre-made meals at first, but then when she realized the hours she’d be spending away from fast food and handy grocery stores, she’d purchased cookbooks, and she’d made lots of good meals. Mary patted her stomach. And lots of good desserts.

  Meals and desserts that she’d primarily eaten alone until Justin came along.

  “Need any help?” she finally offered.

  “Sure, I always appreciate help. I’m Carolyn, Ruth’s mother. I’m the reason they don’t have a guest room and you got to sleep in Megan’s Horseland U.S.A. They insist they need me here, and I love to be needed. Now, take the cookies that are cool and start putting them in sandwich bags.”

  “Why are we packing cookies?”

  “The search party is meeting in Broken Bones. We’re sending food.”

  Ruth came into the kitchen a minute later, opened the fridge, took out the milk, poured herself a glass and then grabbed a couple of warm cookies. “Rosa called this morning. She wanted to come over and see you, but apparently little Jimmy’s throwing up.”

  Disappointment and relief flooded Mary. Rosa was the one person who might possibly understand what Mary had been through, was going through now, but Rosa had also been harmed by Mary’s family.

  Mary’s last memory of Rosa was watching her family’s station wagon leave the neighborhood.

  Thanks to Mary’s big brother Tony.

  Ruth took her first bite of cookie, followed it with a shot of milk and said to her mother, “Megan does not get cookies for breakfast.”

  “Of course not.” Carolyn smiled and Mary knew by the glint in Grandma’s eye that when Ruth was away, Megan ate cookies for breakfast.

  Ruth definitely knew it, too.

  Eric came into the room looking tired and rumpled and so much like the little brother she remembered that Mary almost believed that this time things would be different.

  True to form, he didn’t say anything at first, just poured himself a cup of coffee, took a cookie, leaned down to briefly kiss Ruth, then grunted, “Morning, Sis.”

  Even after eating and packing cookies, it was early when they left Eric’s house. She woke Justin at the last minute and he grumpily grabbed some cookies before the three of them started the drive back toward the cabin.

  They got to the meeting place where the posse had assembled near Prospector’s Way and Mary’s dirt road. Almost forty men and women—and even two boys about Justin’s age—assembled, all looking like they needed more sleep or at least plenty of coffee.

  Eric stopped his truck, grabbed the box of cookies from the back, and ambled off to talk to somebody before Mary could convince him to drop her off at the cabin. She wanted to start unpacking, she wanted a fresh set of clothes and she wanted some time to think all by herself with no one asking questions or making accusations. Justin didn’t seem to care about heading to his new home. Nope, it didn’t bother him a bit to wear the same shirt two days in a row. He didn’t amble like his uncle. He made a beeline for the two boys and admired their horses.

  “Okay, listen up!” The man in charge of the posse was tall, dark and in the wrong era. His handlebar mustache and too-small mouth belied a booming, bass voice that gave precise orders. Soon, the search was under way and Eric hustled Mary and Justin back into the truck and up to their cabin. On the way, they passed a man and boy on horseback, and Justin almost came out of his seat.

  “That’s Carl Anderson, Mom. His dad owns a cattle ranch somewhere around here. He invited me to come over later.” Justin turned back to face Eric and asked, “Do I get to help with the search today?”

  Both Eric and Justin looked at Mary for approval.

  “How old is Carl?” she asked.

  “He’s twelve,” Eric said.

  “I’ll be twelve in just a few months,” Justin replied. As if Mary didn’t know. And the few months he so blithely mentioned were ten.

  “Let’s see what’s happening at the cabin and then I�
�ll decide.”

  “But—”

  “And then I’ll decide,” Mary repeated.

  The main thing happening at the cabin was Mitch’s car parked in front and a group of men doing something to the shed.

  “They’re starting a thorough search of the tunnels,” Eric said.

  “The tunnels are cool, Mom,” Justin added. “Mitch and Rico showed me where the opening is.”

  “We didn’t go inside yesterday—” Eric parked beside the U-Haul “—because Alma didn’t run for your shed. We’d have seen her. But she could have found an opening somewhere and be hiding in the tunnels by now.”

  “The tunnels would be a lot cooler than the desert, so that would be good, right?” Mary asked.

  “Cooler, yes. Good, I’m not sure,” Eric said. “The tunnels are old and haven’t been kept up. Alma probably doesn’t have a flashlight and if you go too far in, you’re in pitch blackness. There are rusty car parts in the tunnels and holes in the floor. Plus, it won’t take much activity to cause a ceiling to collapse.”

  “Has that ever happened?” Mary asked.

  “More than once,” Eric said, looking sober. “I watched a man die down in the tunnels because of a cave-in” His voice broke. “At the time I…I didn’t know where Ruth was…whether she was buried, dead, dying.”

  And Mary thought of Alma, so young, so lost and so in need of someone to care if she were buried, dead…dying in the Arizona heat.

  SIX

  Mitch Williams sat on Mary’s porch and tried to control his frustration. Watching the men and women who were searching for Alma made him want to issue orders. Still, he kept his mouth shut. It would only take one phone call and he’d be ordered off Mary’s porch altogether. During this morning’s phone conversation with his boss, Melody, she’d reminded him in no uncertain terms to stay out of the Santos case—or any case.

  Being on administrative leave was getting old and it hadn’t even been a week. He needed something to do, something to investigate. At night, he kept reliving his part in the shooting, which didn’t help him sleep. He’d always thought he bought into the “I’d rather be judged by twelve than carried by six” train of thought, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  He wasn’t sure he could ever pull the trigger again. Not a good feeling for a cop.

  And then there was all the worry about the review board.

  He needed something productive to do.

  The only reason he got to sit here on Mary’s porch and watch the goings-on was because his boss was too intent on making sure he stayed away from his own place—the tunnel in Mary’s root cellar connected to one of Mitch’s sheds—to even remember there were other places nearby that were even better vantage points.

  He wouldn’t have forgotten such a detail, but then details were his specialty. The attorney general’s job was sending Mitch to ferret out the details so she wouldn’t have to.

  And he was good at his job.

  Eric started toward him but was called to the shed. He’d spent time in the tunnels; he’d be the expert here.

  Justin shot a glance at Mitch but followed Eric. Smart kid. He knew where the action was. Not that he’d get to see any, not with his mother shouting dire warnings of what she’d do to him should he venture inside the tunnel. Mitch stood and waited until Mary got to the porch. She frowned at Eric heading up a group of searchers who were entering her shed and said, “Guess somebody forgot to tell me I was having a party.”

  “More likely they were afraid to tell you.”

  She fidgeted, looking at the shed as if tempted to join the masses, and finally shrugged. Smart woman. She’d be a distraction. There wasn’t a cop in the area who wouldn’t note that she was by birth both a Santellis and a gorgeous woman.

  Lethal combination. He hated how much he noticed.

  “Look,” Mitch admitted. “I’ve been told to steer clear of my own place while they search the tunnels. If you want, I’ll help unload the U-Haul.” It would keep him occupied and it might inspire the searchers not to notice his unwelcome presence.

  She nodded slowly. “I do want, but first I need a shower.”

  He followed her into the living room and then into the kitchen. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a key. “Here. All the boxes are marked according to room. We’re looking for the one marked bathroom first.”

  They headed out to the U-Haul and found the box Mary needed. She opened it, gleefully grabbed a towel and headed back inside.

  Mitch unloaded boxes for an hour before Mary opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. She looked relaxed and refreshed and Mitch realized his growing attraction for her. Her hair fell in soft waves. Her jeans were snug but not tight. Her red button-down shirt brought out the shine of her black hair. Her chin was elfin, her fingernails were painted red and three fingers on her left hand were slightly crooked.

  Yes, Mitch admitted to himself, he was interested. But he had no intention of acting on the interest, because she was a criminal, wasn’t she?

  Not to mention his best friend’s sister.

  Because he had a life free of distractions, and she’d be the ultimate distraction. He’d never want to leave home. Not a good thing for the number one head hunter for the district attorney.

  If he still held the job. If he still wanted the job.

  Mary looked at the boxes, then walked to the door and studied the shed where Justin had followed his uncle. “Has Justin checked in lately?”

  “Twice. He’s more than annoyed that he’s not in the tunnel with Eric. I think he holds you personally responsible.”

  “Ah, I love my job.”

  “And that is…?”

  “Making sure my son has no fun. Just ask him. He’ll tell you.” Her words were serious, but the sparkle in her eye indicated that she was good at being a mom and loved it.

  Justin returned and sullenly joined in the unpacking. Of course, he spent more time standing on the porch checking out the shed. Mitch noticed because he also spent quite a bit of time doing the same thing.

  At noon, Mary stopped unpacking and looked at Justin. “Lunch?”

  “Pizza?” he suggested.

  “No delivery here.”

  “Burgers?”

  “That we probably can do.”

  Justin invited Mitch by turning and asking, “Where do we go?”

  “If we stay in Broken Bones, the only choice is the Last Chance Café.”

  “I’ve eaten there before. They used to have good food,” Mary said.

  She looked so young and innocent, but Mitch knew she had her secrets. His office had always had a sheet on her and all the Santellis. Her sheet had been pretty boring until she married Eddie. Then, after Justin was born, the authorities started suspecting that Eddie had stepped over to the wrong side of the law—and that he was using Mary as his personal punching bag. But Mary never complained and she stayed pretty close to home. Once she left Broken Bones, the sheet went back to boring until the day she blackened Eddie’s eye.

  Mitch would have liked to have seen that.

  When Justin took the Ecstasy, they’d had round-the-clock surveillance on her at the hospital, but she and Justin had slipped between their fingers. Fortunately, when the case against Eddie went to court, they’d had enough without her. Still, she had to know names, dates and places. The Last Chance Café being one of those places. Her brothers had used the place for meetings. The owner didn’t have the courage to turn them away.

  For the first time, Mitch considered that maybe the only thing Mary had done was eat there, alone and with Justin. The owner liked her, despite her last name or perhaps because of it.

  “The Last Chance it is.”

  Her car was still attached to the now empty U-Haul, so they used his. Justin crawled in the back and turned his iPod on. Mitch climbed behind the wheel and Mary joined him up front.

  Mary Santellis Graham, Eddie’s wife, Mafia princess was sitting next to him. Eric’s sister. The girl next door. She was nothing
like what he’d expected.

  Her cell phone rang just as they got to the end of Prospector’s Way. In the backseat, Justin didn’t move, just stared out the window and nodded his chin to a beat no one else could hear.

  It took only a moment for Mitch to figure out that Ruth was calling and that she wanted Mary and Justin to come to the station. Hanging up, Mary deposited her phone back in her purse and said, “Maybe you ought to take us back home so I can get my car.”

  “No, I’ll drive you. I’m thinking she’s been on the Arizona Criminal Justice Information System. I’d go there first. The ACJIS is connected to the National Law Enforcement Telecommunications System. If Alma’s picture is on file, ACJIS will find it.”

  “Ah,” Mary looked surprised. “I don’t think she mentioned any system. She said she followed a lead you provided and thinks she has a match.”

  Justin took out his earbuds.

  “Tell me about the lead,” Mary urged.

  “Remember yesterday when I showed you the picture of Alma I took off the dead immigrant?”

  “Yes. The one that showed she was pregnant.”

  Mitch glanced back at Justin. “Maybe we should—”

  Mary surprised him. “Justin’s already involved and if we’re going to be answering questions at the police station, we’d both rather be informed than in the dark,” Mary said.

  Justin nodded.

  “Let me start from the beginning,” Mitch said. “About six months ago, the Temir Indian Reservation saw an increase in border crossings. Normally, that wouldn’t be anything unusual, but the illegals made a rather unfortunate miscalculation.”

  The earbuds dangled, forgotten, in Justin’s hand now.

  “They crossed on sacred land. And not only were the illegals walking on the sacred land, but they were disturbing graves and leaving behind trash and human waste.”

  “Ew,” Justin said.

  “All this was during a very trying time for the U.S. Marshals border patrol. A group calling themselves the “Minutemen” started watching the border from our side. From the other side, also watching, were volunteers from the American Civil Liberties Union and the Mexican federal police. We got a report that one of the border patrol officers was working both sides of the fence.”