by David Thurlo
The lights were off now except for a light in the hall outside Rene’s room, and Charlie was adjusting his pillow, ready for sleep, when Ruth walked silently into the living room, clad in a terrycloth robe. Somehow, she still looked incredible.
“It looks like tonight is going to be peaceful after all, Charlie, and I appreciate you looking after us like this,” she said softly.
“There’s no place I’d rather be right now, Ruth,” he admitted.
She sat down beside him on the sofa. “This wasn’t the way I wanted to spend the night together,” she whispered.
“Me neither,” Charlie replied, realizing just how much he wanted to spend time with this woman.
Ruth leaned forward, kissed him gently, but before he could put his arms around her, she slipped away and stood.
“For now, that’ll have to do,” she said, then walked across the room. “Get some sleep, Charlie,” she added before disappearing down the hall.
His heart was beating so loud for a moment he was feeling light-headed. “Like that’s going to happen now,” he mumbled, leaning back against the cushion, wondering if this was what it felt like to be in love.
Chapter Six
Charlie heard a sound and woke up abruptly. As he reached underneath the comforter for his pistol, he realized Rene was standing there in his pajamas.
“Sorry Charlie, um, Mr. Henry. Did I wake you up?” Rene said, a sleepy smile on his face.
“Rene, get into the shower and get dressed. We’re running late,” Ruth called from across the living room.
“Yes, Mom,” Rene replied, turning to look at her. “I was just checking up on our guest.”
“Check’s over. Get moving,” she replied.
As Rene passed by his mother, she grabbed him and gave him a hug. “Hurry up, sweetie; there are three of us that need a shower this morning. You’re next, Charlie.”
As soon as Rene entered the bathroom and closed the door, Ruth spoke. “I wanted to ask while Rene wasn’t around. Did you get any news last night?” she asked, walking over to him.
“My brother Al called from Shiprock, asking if I needed any extra manpower. I told him to hold off for now,” Charlie said, checking his cell phone for messages.
“He’s still with the tribal police, right?” Ruth asked.
“Yes, and he’s been promoted back to his old rank now, sergeant. Al’s had his problems, but he’s a good cop. And a good brother too,” Charlie responded.
“Nice to have family ties, Charlie,” Ruth replied. “And speaking of family, I’d better get started with fixing us some breakfast. Oatmeal, berries, and toast okay with you?”
“And coffee. Let me help, I’m almost dressed,” he added, having slept in his pants. As he sat up and pushed away the blanket, Ruth saw he was shirtless. She stood there for a moment, staring at his chest.
Finally she spoke. “Okay, I’m impressed. Now put your shirt on before I get distracted.” She spun around and moved toward the kitchen side of the room.
Charlie laughed, then reached for yesterday’s shirt, which was laid out across the back of the sofa.
They were seated on the sofa having breakfast when Charlie’s phone buzzed. He looked at the display, saw who was calling, and set down his coffee cup. “It’s Nancy. I’ve got to take this.”
“Want us to leave the room?” Ruth offered, looking at Rene, who was drinking his juice.
Charlie shook his head. “I’ll be cryptic if necessary.”
“What’s crippic?” Rene asked.
“I’m here,” Charlie spoke into the phone.
“Detective DuPree and I are going to interview your friend from Afghanistan this morning,” she said, referring to Dawud Koury, “and we’d like you and Gordon to be there to put him and his family at ease,” she added.
“Okay. When and where?” Charlie asked.
“How about nine at the Koury produce market?” she suggested. “Their children will be in school, hopefully, unless the boy has gotten himself suspended again.”
“Rene will be in school, but I’m not leaving Ruth at the shop, even with Jake there,” Charlie said, looking over at them. They both had been listening intently, though he doubted they’d heard Nancy clearly.
“Hold on a second,” Nancy responded.
Charlie waited, watching for Rene, who’d walked over to put his empty bowl and juice glass in the sink. Ruth had stood, but remained beside the table.
“Okay, Charlie,” Nancy said, now back on the line. “How about you drop Rene off at school, then bring Ruth with you. Will that work?”
“I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
“No, deal with it now. I’ll hang on,” Nancy replied, her tone edgy now.
“Charlie, tell her yes,” Ruth whispered. “I can hear.”
“Ruth says that’s fine,” Charlie said. As he’d learned from his parents while growing up, women were more than equal partners in any good relationship, and the woman beside him could make her own choices. Like his father, he was also very protective, and Ruth would be safer with him around.
* * *
Charlie and Ruth were with Gordon in his pickup as they approached Albuquerque’s small west side minimall where the Koury business was located. Maybe two dozen people were gathered in the parking lot in front of Koury’s American Produce. The market was positioned in the center of the multibusiness structure that included a clothing store, smoke shop, UPS store, and a Kentucky Fried Chicken at the far end.
Gordon glanced at the oversized Target which stood at the opposite end of the mall. “I hope this doesn’t hold some special meaning today,” he commented softly.
“You would think of that,” Ruth replied, shaking her head. “I count at least four police cars in the lot, however, and see several uniformed officers, including the sheriff’s department.”
“The threat is more likely somewhere in that crowd of protestors,” Charlie pointed out, noting several signs held by various people along the sidewalk beside Koury’s market. “I estimate thirty, and there are more people walking in that direction.”
“There’s an American flag on a pole above the door to their business,” Ruth said. “Shouldn’t that gather some respect—not to mention the name the Kourys have given their shop?”
“You’d think so. Dawud put the flag up there the morning he opened for business,” Charlie said. “That was a year before we bought the pawn shop.”
“There’s Nancy and DuPree,” Gordon said, driving down a line of parked cars toward two generic-looking sedans. The detectives were standing together in an unoccupied slot, eyes on the activity.
“Right on time,” Charlie noted, looking at this watch. “I guess they were waiting for us to arrive before they entered the market.”
DuPree motioned them toward the parking space, and he and Nancy stepped aside as Gordon parked.
Charlie was watching elsewhere, searching the perimeter of the two-acre asphalt lot, trying to determine if any of the vehicles farthest from the businesses were occupied. The main street that ran parallel to the mall was heavily traveled, and no one had attempted to park at the curb, which would instantly draw attention.
“Searching for a sniper?” Gordon asked as he glanced at Charlie past Ruth, who was sitting between them on the large, bench-style seat. Gordon’s oversized pickup could seat six, with the twin cab layout.
“The shooter so far has chosen to attack in low light or darkness, but sometimes the most successful tactic is to be unpredictable,” Charlie added. “But we’re probably safe here,” he said, reaching over and putting his hand upon Ruth’s, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“But stay close, Ruth,” Gordon said. “Ready, people?” he added, opening his door.
“How long has the crowd been here?” Charlie asked DuPree immediately. Then he turned and gave Ruth a steadying hand as she climbed down onto the running board, then to the ground.
“According to Dispatch, Mr. Koury called to report some vandalism wh
en he came in to open up the business around 7 AM. There was some graffiti and a broken window, and a few people standing around, shouting insults,” DuPree replied.
“Nothing physical, at least not yet,” Nancy joined in. “You guys ready?” she said. “Ruth, stick with Charlie and Gordon, okay? And, oh, good morning, you three.”
“I guess we’ll see about that,” Gordon said with a grin.
As they approached the gathering, Charlie noted two APD uniformed officers standing by the glass entrance to the market, which had a piece of cardboard duct-taped over what was probably a hole in the double door. Dawud was using a wire brush to scrape dried paint away from the textured block wall below the window, which was also taped up in three spots.
The small crowd grew quiet and parted in the center to let them through. Perhaps they’d observed the weapons and badges on the belts of the two detectives, plus Charlie and Gordon’s sidearms, holstered on their belts beneath their jackets, which were unbuttoned. Ruth remained in their center as they passed through, looking at the people’s faces. Some stared, while a few scowled or narrowed their eyes.
“Arrest the rag head for littering the neighborhood!” came a shout from a pot-bellied man in his late forties, as Charlie followed Nancy toward the sidewalk and storefront.
Charlie turned his head to stop and stare at the redneck, who was wearing a stars and stripes cap and a white T-shirt with the black target image of an Arab holding an AK-47 and an X in the middle of his forehead.
“You work out?” Gordon asked quite clearly, looking at the guy’s midsection.
Several people laughed and the guy shot them angry glances.
Dawud, who’d been trying to ignore the crowd, turned when Gordon spoke and grinned.
“Good to see you, pal,” Gordon said, reaching out his hand to shake.
Charlie stopped to greet the Afghan man as well, then turned to face the crowd, for once hoping someone would recognize him. Nancy, behind and to his left at his eight o’clock, had positioned Ruth out of the way, blocking her from anyone out in the parking lot, so she was safe.
“That’s Charlie Henry, the Navajo soldier from Shiprock,” someone said aloud. “He was beside Captain Whitaker in the park.”
“What are you doing here with the enemy?” a skinny woman in tight jeans and a red, white, and blue sweatshirt asked.
Charlie saw his opening. “What enemy? I’ve come to visit my friend Mr. Koury. He saved American lives, including mine and that of my buddy Gordon, from the Taliban. He and his family are Americans now and we owe him our thanks and protection, not our paranoia.”
“Why don’t you people free up the police to track down the shooter instead of forcing them to work crowd control,” Gordon suggested. He turned and joined Charlie in escorting Dawud into the market.
Several minutes later, Nancy and DuPree were interviewing Dawud and his wife, hoping to get the names of any possible radicalized Middle Easterners they might have come into contact with in the community. Their introductions complete, Charlie, Gordon, and Ruth were ready to return to work.
Charlie and Ruth watched, from just inside the market, as Gordon walked out to bring his truck around to the front of the business. With only a few people still outside and a clear field of fire now, they were once again concerned about a potential sniper.
Gordon had reached his truck when a figure suddenly came into view from around the front of the big Dodge.
“It looks like that troublemaker, the one Gordon ridiculed, Charlie,” Ruth exclaimed. “Gordon’s in trouble!”
“No, Beer Belly is in trouble,” Charlie said.
“The man outweighs Gordon by fifty or more pounds. He’s as big as Jake.”
“Jake can handle himself, but I bet this guy is all hat and no cowboy.”
Ruth laughed. “He’s wearing a cap.”
“Don’t know any cap analogies,” Charlie responded, still watching Gordon, who appeared to be in a serious conversation at the moment. He wondered if the guy with the target on his chest knew Gordon was packing—not that Gordon would shoot the guy.
After a minute, the two men shook hands, and the guy in the cap walked away. Gordon turned, looked toward the market, and waved.
“It’s okay now,” Charlie commented, waving back.
A minute later, Gordon pulled up next to the curb, with the passenger side nearest the market, and Ruth stepped out and climbed into the cab, Charlie right behind her.
As Gordon put the truck into motion, Ruth was first to speak. “What was going on between you and that guy?”
“The guy’s name is Donnie, no last name, and he’s former Navy. He Googled us on his phone while we were inside talking to Dawud and his wife. Donnie wanted to apologize for disrespecting us—his words—and he thanked me for my military service.”
“What did he say about Dawud?” Charlie asked.
“He said he still hates Muslims, but that if we say Dawud is okay, he can go along with that. He won’t be bothering the Kourys anymore,” Gordon replied.
“The Kourys are Christian, aren’t they?” Ruth asked.
“Yes, which is one of the reasons Dawud helped us out. I wonder what Nancy and Wayne are getting from their interview?” Charlie speculated.
“Wayne?” Ruth asked.
“Only God and Charlie can call him that,” Gordon responded. “DuPree hates me.”
“Naw, he just can’t stand you,” Charlie said.
Ruth smiled. “Not to change the subject, guys, but Nancy told me she’d be stopping by FOB later. Meanwhile, we need to get back because there’s work to do and Jake’s handling it alone. Gordon, you want to work on the new website while Charlie and I help out front?”
“Jake can finally take a break,” Charlie said.
“Uh-oh, he drinks a lot of coffee. Pedal to the metal,” Gordon said, pulling out into traffic.
The rest of the morning was better than routine, with more business coming in, much of it from buyers interested in the one-of-a-kind bargains they’d discovered online. It wasn’t until noon that Nancy showed up to discuss the Kourys.
Jake and Gordon brought back sandwiches from the little deli bar at Frank and Linda’s grocery, just three doors down the block, so they ate in the office while Nancy spoke to Charlie out front. Ruth was taking care of the register and conducting a transaction with a middle-aged couple selling collectible porcelain figurines, a subject Charlie knew nothing at all about.
“I saw some surveillance cameras outside along the roof line of the produce shop. Did they capture some images of the vandals?” Charlie asked Nancy, who’d stepped behind the counter and was sitting on a stool beside him.
“Hopefully. DuPree assigned one of the sergeants to follow up on that. But regarding possible suspects in the murder and the attempt on your life, neither of the Kourys could suggest anyone who might be involved. They only know a few immigrants from their part of the world, most of them other college-educated people who were also driven from their homes by the Taliban. We got a list of names, and that was pretty much it,” Nancy explained.
“What about the younger crowd—the children of those who’ve settled in the area? Those are the ones less connected to Afghanistan and the Middle East, the ones most susceptible to terrorist propaganda on the internet,” Charlie asked, looking across the big room as he spoke.
“Yeah, that’s the problem. We confirmed something we already knew, that their son has been in a lot of trouble at school.”
“But Caleb was at school today?”
“Yes, but if he gets into trouble again, at least at school, he’s probably going to get a long-term suspension,” Nancy said. “He’s been in three fights this year, according to Dawud. Caleb is taking a lot of abuse, name-calling, crap like that. He won’t back down or walk away.”
“Kids his age can be evil, and sometimes you’ve got to stand up for yourself,” Charlie answered, having dealt with the being-Navajo issue himself when off the Rez. “Fear and hatred ar
e alive and well after 9-11, and there is so much guilt by association handed out by people who need to strike back at someone.”
“I think we’re better than that, at least in the long run. Unfortunately, we have to deal with the now,” Nancy reminded.
“Did you or Wayne ask if they thought Caleb might be involved in the shooting? That would be an extreme way of striking back at the country that has become so hostile to his family, especially if he’s become radicalized.”
Nancy shook her head. “What they are worried about is that he might turn violent against those harassing him at school.”
“Are they sure he’s even there?”
“He was dropped off by his father this morning, early, and there’s an automated call to the parents if he’s counted absent.”
“And the daughter?”
“She’s thirteen and in the eighth grade—middle school. So far, there haven’t been any problems, at least none reported. Justine is coping better, I suppose,” Nancy said. “She’s made a lot of friends, they say.”
“Nice to have allies your own age. Did you have problems when you came out?”
“Yeah, some, but that wasn’t until I was a senior, and by then, everyone was too concerned about sports, dating, college, or just graduating high school, to cause any major problems. Besides, I had gay friends and we looked out for each other.”
“And it wasn’t like you were trying to destroy America.”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“I get it. So what now?”
Nancy’s phone rang, and she looked down. “Hang on, I gotta take this.”
Charlie looked away, but listened in once he knew it was DuPree calling.
Nancy ended the call and stood. “Gotta go. You hear that?”
“Only that the terrorist had made a new threat.”
“Yeah, this time it’s taking a new direction. The guy claims that the next hero is going to die by fire. Burned alive, the message says,” Nancy added.
Chapter Seven
“Was the message left at a school again?” Charlie asked.
“You nailed it. The announcement was in one of those envelopes, this time thrown over a wall into a private elementary school yard in Corrales about a half hour ago. One of the kids found it, apparently, and gave it to a teacher.”
