Key Witness

by Sandra Bolton

  He returned to the hogan and sat by Joey. Betty Tsosie had washed the dishes in a bucket near the fire and was busy tucking the smaller children into bed. She hummed softly, and occasionally joined the men in their song. “What is it they are singing?” Abe asked the boy.

  “It is the Navajo Beauty Way prayer for someone who is ill or lost their way. It will help him be in harmony with all things and to be well with everything in his life. There is much more to this ceremony. My father is studying to be a hataali, a singer.”

  Abe’s curiosity and knowledge of music’s healing powers goaded him on to question the boy. “Can you tell me what the words mean, Joey?”

  “Now they are saying, ‘with beauty before me may I walk, with beauty behind me may I walk. It is finished in beauty, it is finished in beauty.’” Joey stood and went to the bucket to wash his dish, then joined his siblings on the pallet. “Good night, Abe Freeman.”

  Outside again, accompanied by Patch, Abe went to the truck and fed his dog. He smoked a cigarette, then sighed deeply and pulled out his bedroll. After hollowing out a space in the sand and making a mound for his head, he spread the tarp and sleeping bag and lay down. The sky hovered above like a velvet pincushion studded with diamonds. Abe fell asleep, listening to the mesmerizing chant, inhaling the sharp sage and smoke, wondering what it would be like to know that you were where you belonged and a part of everything around you.

  31

  Abe awoke as the sun broke over the eastern horizon. A hint of fall lingered in the brisk morning air. He stretched his stiff limbs and glanced at Will’s pallet. The man was gone. Oh, Jesus, did he die? His heart pounded as he looked for any sign of his friend. Then he heard male voices in quiet conversation, and saw both Will and Charlie coming from the direction of the outhouse. He breathed a sigh of relief as he watched their approach. Will, still wrapped in a white hospital sheet, and supported by Charlie Tsosie, walked upright. “You can’t go home looking like that,” Abe said to the ghostly figure. “You need some clothes.”

  Charlie laughed. “My boy thought he was a skin walker when he showed up last night.”

  Between the two of them, Charlie Tsosie and Abe scrounged up a well-worn pair of jeans and a soft flannel shirt. The pants were too short and the shirt hung on Will’s limbs like a scarecrow’s garb, but it was better than nothing. Since no one had shoes large enough for his feet, Betty supplied a pair of wool socks. After a breakfast of coffee and cornmeal mush, the entire Tsosie family lined up beside the truck to say good-bye. Betty handed Abe a quart jar of herbal tea and told him to make sure Will drank plenty of it. Abe, in turn, handed her a twenty-dollar bill and thanked the Tsosies for their hospitality.

  An hour later they cruised past the red-rock mesas outside of Gallup, New Mexico, and then through the outer edge of the surreal Bisti Badlands. Convoluted rock formations dotted the Martian-like landscape. Eerie hoodoos stood like sentinels along the highway’s edge. Premonitions of things to come, Abe thought, as he pressed on.

  After five hours driving, they left Farmington behind and arrived at Will’s grandfather’s trailer near Huerfano. Emily, her grandfather, and another woman stood outside with their arms crossed, as if they had been awaiting his arrival.

  That must be Will’s mother, Abe thought, seeing the stout, no-nonsense lady in blue jeans and a purple shirt. Her steel-gray hair was twisted into a tight bun held in place with an ornate silver-and-turquoise pin. The woman rushed to the passenger side of the truck and carefully embraced Will, crooning in her native tongue and completely ignoring Abe.

  Will’s grandfather followed behind her while Emily stood, lingering back, staring at Abe, no emotion showing on her face. Then everyone came to life, helping Will out of the truck and into the trailer, talking softly in Navajo, leaving Abe alone in the driver’s seat. He let out a heavy sigh and looked at Patch. He wanted to take off, but first he took the money he had stuffed in his backpack and split it in half—they would need it, he figured, to take care of Will—and he put five thousand dollars in the envelope. He walked to the front of the trailer and left the envelope on the porch, anchored in place by a heavy rock, then turned to leave. But when he switched on the ignition and backed the truck up to swing around, he heard his name.

  “Abe, wait.”

  As he watched her walk toward the truck, Abe shifted into neutral, but left the engine running. “I guess the hospital called and you figured I would bring Will here. Look, Emily, I know I took a big chance by taking him out of the hospital, and I know you’re pissed at me. But, it’s what he wanted—needed. You would have seen that if you weren’t so hardheaded. Don’t get on my case right now. I’m out of here, out of your life.” He revved the engine as if to give emphasis to his words.

  “Give me a minute, Abe, please. I’m not angry. I should have brought Will home, myself.” There were blue circles under her eyes, her face a tight mask. She looked tired and vulnerable. He wanted to reach out and take her in his arms, tell her he understood and forgave her, but resisted.

  He turned away and gazed at the commanding mountain, the one she had described to him as sacred, and that now cast a long shadow over the trailer and sheep camp. “I think Will understands why you did what you did.” He paused and looked at her. “I hope he pulls through.” Abe broke the uncomfortable silence that followed. “I better get going. Patch and I have a long haul ahead of us.” He put the truck in gear, but Emily didn’t move.

  “Come into the house, Abe. Mother and Grandfather want to see you.”

  Abe let out a long sigh. “Your mother probably wants to kill me. I’m tired and I don’t need the drama, Em. Tell your folks I had to go. And tell Will to hang on. I’ll be rooting for him.” He started to pull away, but she still hadn’t moved. Abe shifted back into neutral. “What is it?”

  Emily reached through the open window to the steering wheel and grasped Abe’s wrist. “You have the key, Abe.”

  That stopped him. He had forgotten the key.

  “Get out of the truck. We need to talk.”

  He felt anger swelling inside. “So, that’s what you want from me. Are you speaking in an official capacity now? Why didn’t you come out and say it, Emily? You can have the damn key. The sooner I get rid of that piece of shit, the better.” He turned off the engine, jumped down from the truck, and found his backpack in the back. Patch took the opportunity to run off and join the grandfather’s two sheep dogs. Abe began rummaging through the contents of his pack, throwing clothes right and left.

  Emily placed her hand on his arm again. “Abe, calm down. Let me have my say.”

  He stopped, not wanting to lose control, and crossed his arms over his chest in a protective gesture. His voice, when he replied, was edged with frustration. “What is there left to say, Emily?”

  She picked up his scattered clothes and handed them to him. “Walk with me a ways.”

  He pushed tousled hair back from his eyes, looked around, and realized his dog had deserted him. “Okay. I guess I can spare a couple of minutes while Patch takes a pee.” He crammed shirts and socks back in his pack, lit a cigarette, and followed her along a wash until they reached a cluster of smooth sandstone boulders. Emily sat on one and Abe on another, facing her. His heart pounded in his chest.

  “I knew I had to get back to work and tell my boss everything, but I shouldn’t have left without talking to you.”

  Abe inhaled and let out a stream of smoke, saying nothing.

  “Okay. I was scared. And when I’m scared, I try to avoid dealing with the issue.”

  “Scared of what, Emily? What issue?”

  “Of staying with you—of maybe falling in love with you, damn it, that’s what.”

  “Would that have been so bad?” Abe stood. Agitated, he began walking in a circle. He threw the cigarette into the sand and stubbed it with the toe of his shoe. “You could have told me.”

  “I know. It’s not your fault; it’s me. I can’t deal with falling in love right now. I need time
to work things out, Abe.”

  “Fine, Emily. Take all the time you need. I’ll give you the key and get going.” Abe turned and started walking away, but Emily’s voice stopped him again.

  “Rico Corazón is dead,” Emily said in a broken voice. “I didn’t get the pleasure of putting him away. The stupid ass did it to himself.”

  Her words caught him by surprise, and despite his anger, he wanted to know what happened. He faced her and waited while she caught up. “How?”

  They began walking back to the trailer. Though side by side, they kept a safe distance from each other. “Corazón was messed up on drugs and booze, riding that hog like a maniac while drinking tequila out of the bottle. He tried to beat a train outside of Roswell—thought he was invincible, I guess.” A humorless laugh passed through her lips. “The only identifiable mark left on his face was that tattoo of a teardrop, but some of his gang were still wandering around in a drunken daze when the state cops arrived, and they told them what happened.”

  “Then it’s over. Why are you upset? He caused your grandmother’s death, tried to kill us. He even shot one of his own gang members. The bastard had no soul.”

  Emily’s face darkened. “I know. But I wanted him. I wanted to bring him down. Now I feel cheated.”

  “How did you know where to find him?” Abe said.

  “I heard it on the radio just before I stopped at the hospital to see Will. There was a report of a freight train slamming into a motorcyclist. It described the deceased as being a member of the Mexican Mafia. I knew it had to be him.” Emily had somehow drifted closer to Abe as they walked along the rocky dry wash. She gave him a sideways glance. “That’s why I couldn’t take my brother home. I drove all night to get to Roswell to help with the investigation and, after a couple hours of sleep, I drove back home.” Her shoulders slumped and she bit her lip. “I promised Will I would be back for him, but he looked so broken when I left. I don’t think he believed me.”

  Emily turned her head away, but not before Abe saw her eyes well with tears that threatened to run down her cheeks. “I took statements from the gang members who hadn’t managed to escape the scene,” she said, her voice sounding composed once more. “They spilled their guts, pointed their fingers at Corazón for the shooting of their buddy—the one who went in the cave with you—Chino, I think he’s called. They’re gonna tell all, turn state’s evidence, and opt for a plea bargain.”

  Abe put his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge again to reach out to Emily and hold her. “I guess that’s the end of the story then.”

  “Not quite, Abe. There’s still the key, and the mystery behind it. Why were they all ready to commit murder to get their hands on that key, anyway? Don’t you have a little curiosity?”

  “The Arizona cops have DiMarco and his dickhead bodyguard in custody, don’t they? They can get to the bottom of it.”

  “He won’t be in custody much longer. His high-priced lawyer from Kansas City is coming to Bisbee tomorrow to bail him and Benavutti out.” Emily put her hands on Abe’s shoulders so she could look directly into his eyes. Her voice rang strong now, tinged with excitement. “We’ve located DiMarco’s daughter, Abe. Her father and some of his henchmen had kidnapped her. They tried to silence her by keeping her locked in his house in Kansas City. She escaped when her guard fell asleep and contacted the police. KCPD handed her over to the FBI, and they have her in protective custody.”

  “What are you planning?”

  “I’ve been assigned to go to Datil, New Mexico, where she is being held, and assist the agent on the case. She’s not giving anything to the Feds. Maybe she needs a woman she can talk to, maybe she doesn’t know anything, or maybe she’s scared. But I intend to find out. I’m asking you to go with me.”

  “Why?”

  “You have the key, Abe, but it’s more than that. I want you there. You’ve been involved from the start.” Emily flashed him a tentative smile. “It will be strictly business if you’re worried, then you can leave whenever you’re ready.” Her eyes bored into his. “Let’s finish the job.”

  All he had to do was give her the key and be done with it. The music that usually filled Abe’s head in times of stress abandoned him at this point, leaving nothing but dissonant notes, as random and disconnected as his life. He, like Emily, had chosen to run rather than deal with the past.

  “Think about it, Abe. Let’s go inside to see Will, and I’ll introduce you to my mother.”

  He had to admit, the idea piqued his curiosity, but he shook it off. “I’ll say good-bye to Will, Emily. Then I’ll go. I don’t think this will work.”

  32

  Not eager to confront Will’s austere-appearing mother, Abe reluctantly followed Emily into the trailer. He knew the woman should be furious, and rightfully so, and he hoped the money might assuage some of her anger.

  The envelope still lay on the steps, under the rock where he’d left it. The older woman gazed out the open doorway, her hands on her hips. No smile brightened her stern brown face. She stood a head shorter than Emily, but solid and sturdy as a slab of granite.

  “Abe, this is my mother, Bertha Etcitty,” Emily said. “Mom, Abe Freeman.”

  “So this is the Abe Freeman that kidnapped my son and hauled his poor ass back here,” she said. Her commanding voice must have been put to good use in a classroom of recalcitrant adolescents.

  Abe squirmed, trapped under the stare of Mrs. Etcitty’s smoldering coal eyes. Hadn’t he learned the Navajo thought it impolite to stare? Why hadn’t he left when he had the chance?

  “The man that has been cavorting all over the country with my only daughter.”

  “Mom . . . ,” Emily started, but Mrs. Etcitty held up a hand to silence her.

  “I wouldn’t call it cavorting. But yes, I took Will from the hospital. I realize it was wrong, but it’s what he wanted. He thought he was going to . . .”

  Bertha Etcitty stopped Abe in midsentence. “Die? My son is not going to die, Abe Freeman.” She put her hands on her hips and gazed at the step. “It is so like a white man to think he can take care of any problem by throwing money at it,” she added, picking up the envelope from under the rock.

  Abe felt a flush of anger. What did these people want from him? “The money isn’t mine. It belongs to Will. If he doesn’t want it, if nobody wants it, you can give it to someone who does, for all I care.” He felt tired, discouraged, and angry. “Nice meeting you, Mrs. Etcitty. I’ll say good-bye to Will and be on my way.”

  She continued to block the doorway with her stout body. Abe saw Emily roll her eyes, then a smile lit up Mrs. Etcitty’s features. “Glad to see you have some backbone. Do you really think I’m crazy enough to give away good money? Will might need this.”

  “I should have warned you, Abe. My mom’s a big tease. She’s very happy that you brought Will home. Come on, Mom. Move out of the way so we can go inside.”

  Emily’s mother chuckled and extended her hand to Abe, barely brushing his fingers in a light touch. “Had you going, didn’t I?”

  Abe sighed. “Yes, you sure as hell did.”

  The grandfather sat on a stool beside the cot where Will lay on a clean sheet. The old man nodded at Abe and flashed him a toothless smile. Abe noticed the bandages had been removed from Will’s face, exposing the extent of his burns. His eyes remained covered with a wet compress. The room smelled of pungent herbs, medicinal cures the elderly Navajo had brewed. Although Will’s face looked raw and scarred, he appeared relaxed.

  “Hey, Abe. Is that you? I heard my ma giving you the third degree out there. Come over here so we can talk.”

  Abe acknowledged the grandfather, then pulled a straight-backed wooden chair close to the bed. “How are you feelin’, Will?”

  He answered in a calm voice. “I’m gonna be okay now that I’m home. Maybe not so pretty on the outside, but my spirit is happy, ‘walkin’ in beauty.’” He paused to catch his breath. “Ma knows you saved my life. She’s grateful to y
ou. She has funny ways of showing things sometimes, that’s all. Thanks, buddy.”

  “Forget it.”

  “You’re not in a hurry to leave, are you? Why don’t you stick around for a while—for Emily’s sake, and mine, too. Can you do that, Abe?”

  Abe shook his head. “I don’t think so, Will. I need to take off. I can’t figure out where I fit in, and I guess I don’t.” Their conversation was interrupted by the grandfather, who held a bowl containing a white, pasty substance. He shooed Abe away and began applying it, with the lightest touch, to Will’s burned face. Abe stepped back and accepted a coffee cup offered to him by Bertha Etcitty.

  “Everyone calls me Bee.” When she saw Emily assisting her grandfather with Will’s medicinal treatments, she beckoned Abe to join her at the table. Emily’s mother sipped her coffee and gazed at a spot over his left shoulder. “You have proven yourself to be a good man, Abe Freeman. I am going to ask one more favor of you. I would like for you to make this trip with my girl. She is an excellent police officer, very competent, but headstrong and foolish at times. She needs someone to look after her.”

  “I’m no good at that. Emily does whatever she wants, anyway.”

  “What else do you have to do?”

  He didn’t have an answer for that, and shrugged. “I’ll think it over,” he said after a minute of lip chewing. Abe admitted to himself it was difficult to say no to Emily, especially since she’d asked for his help, and even more so since seeing her made him want to steal a little more time with her. Or I could leave, run away again. To what? My life has no meaning.

  He was still thinking when Emily joined them at the card table.

  “Well?” said Bee Etcitty.

  Abe looked directly into the dark pools of Emily’s eyes. “Strictly business.”