Night Eyes (The Detective Temeke Crime Series Book 2)

by Claire Stibbe

  “Nice to see someone has taste.”

  “I would have agreed until I found out she wanted to talk to you.” Hackett squeezed out a smile and lowered his voice. “Why do they always want to talk to you. And without an attorney? For crying out loud, you were practically fired from District 2.”

  Temeke didn’t want to discuss his short tenure with the LVPD. There had been an unfortunate incident at Immaculate Conception College for girls, an exclusive private school for the filthy rich. One eleventh grader insisted she’d seen him naked outside the chapel one cold winter night. She later refuted her statement saying that it was dark and it could have been the ebony statue of Apollo in the water fountain.

  “Let’s make a start so I can get some sleep,” Hackett said. “I’ve left a pack on your desk.”

  “Marlborough was it?”

  “Obliged if you’d show her the contents.” Hackett turned his head and narrowed his eyes through the gallery railings at the lobby below. “I’d get a move on if I were you.”

  FIFTEEN

  The canvas was dry the next day, same as the tall brown pillars under which they lay. Disoriented at waking mid-morning and too much of a hurry to get moving, they ate nothing for breakfast and nothing for lunch, following the river downhill through the greater part of the afternoon.

  Adam reckoned it was Tuesday. Had to keep count. Had to keep going.

  Ramsey stopped for a moment, staring out over a grass plain where few trees grew. “Wind’s in the east,” he said, changing direction and stooping under a fringe of low hanging branches.

  Beside a twist of piñon they found water trapped in two basins of age-old rock, bubbles rising as if from an underground spring. For a moment Adam thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, water trailing from a smaller basin into the larger and then out into a narrow stream.

  Ramsey put the duffel bag against a tree and leaned the backpack over it. He pulled out three empty canteens and a bottle of iodine tablets from the back pack. “Fill these in the upper pool,” he said.

  Adam dipped a bottle into the cold water, watched it funnel towards the neck with a hoary glimmer. One tablet for each and it was half an hour before they could drink it.

  “Take a swim if you like,” Ramsey said behind him. He had the gun in his hand, had a fistful of bullets.

  Adam shook his head. He wasn’t going to get undressed in front of a stranger. Wasn’t going to let the man see his—

  “I won’t look, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not worried,” Adam muttered.

  The water in the larger pool was clear. Not a flash of trout and there were pebbles in the bottom, blue and gray and black. His mother found a rock pool at a beach once. She removed her sundress and lay face-down in the water naked because she wanted to tan her back. She was funny like that.

  Ramsey stripped off his clothes, draped his jeans over a boulder. He walked waist deep into the pool and lay back in it. “I can still see you,” he said.

  Adam knew he was lying. He was staring up at the trees now. There on his back. He wasn’t even shivering, wasn’t even blue, and that water must have been freezing. The gun was under those jeans, only a stone’s throw a way. He could make a dash for it, grab it in one hand and point it. Only, it probably wasn’t loaded and he’d look like a fool if he did.

  Ramsey went under for a second, body a rippling shadow that moved so fast it reminded Adam of a torpedo pushing up to the surface, water dripping from its warhead. He tried not to look at a body speckled with gooseflesh and dark hair as Ramsey got out. Muscle on muscle, tightening with every movement. It took him a while to get dressed, to peel on those socks and jeans. And then he blew into his hands and rubbed them together. Adam could see he was cold, only a man like that would never admit it.

  How many bullets had there been in Ramsey’s hand? Four. Five. He remembered his dad saying his gun held six rounds. He had no idea how many this one had.

  There was only one thing for it. Adam would do everything he was asked, do it with a smile on his face. Heck, they might even get along for a while. And then he’d run when Ramsey least expected it, when Ramsey had finished chewing that tobacco he had in his pocket. Because after a while it made him mellow.

  Adam chewed on a few strips of jerky in silence, studied the man beside him out of the corner of his eye. Face aslant, ear catching every echo of birdsong. There were dark hairs on his chin and his eyes were slits beneath dark eyebrows. He reminded Adam of someone. He just couldn’t think who.

  There were no other sounds other than the shift of the wind and the groan of an ancient tree limb. Pale shafts of sunlight filtered through the leaves lighting up the forest slopes.

  Ramsey stood and sniffed the cool mountain air. There was something out there, grunting and huffing and he raised his chin, eyes flicking to the right and working the wind. Adam saw what looked like a gray shape standing upright about ten yards away. It could have been a bear. It could have been a tree stump.

  Ramsey barely moved his hand over the gun in his belt before something jerked to one side rattling through the trees and was lost. “Elk,” he said, and then, “we were downwind and all.”

  Adam shook his head and whispered, “It’s not elk. It’s Tanoan and Keresan. They’re the worst.”

  Ramsey gave a hard stare, forehead creasing into a frown. “Those are languages not tribes.”

  “They’re braves.”

  Ramsey began chewing on something and then he grinned. “How about this. If we see a kiva or a pit-house you can have my compass. Replace the one you dropped back there.”

  Adam saw the twitch in Ramsey’s eye, face clean now and free of grime. Since the kidnap over fourteen hours ago he assumed Ramsey had coal black eyes but they were green. One was slower than the other, made him look dreamy and out of sorts. But he was none of those things if he knew where that broken compass was.

  “Better hope the rogue ranger doesn’t see it. We’ll be easy to track if he does.”

  Adam swallowed and stared at the duffel bag Ramsey kept using as a pillow. “What’s in there?”

  “Money.”

  “Did you steal it?”

  “No.”

  “What then?”

  “Sometimes the police give handouts… they’re fair like that.”

  “Like a bank?”

  Ramsey half smiled and nodded at the same time. He sat on a boulder, shaving the end of a stick with his knife.

  “What are you making?”

  “A spear.”

  “What for?”

  “Trout. There’s wire in that side pocket,” Ramsey said, pointing at the backpack. “You could make a noose if you like. Leave it in a rabbit run.”

  “How?”

  Ramsey took two short stakes of wood and notched them. The longer stake he gave to Adam. “Make a loop with that wire about as big a man’s fist. Then tie it to that stick.”

  Ramsey found a tree, one that had an old bird’s nest lodged in one of the upper branches and bark peeling from the trunk like an old tattered coat. He drove the two shorter stakes vertically into the ground and tied the horizontal stake with the snare to an overhanging branch. Pulling it down he got the tension he needed, hooked it into the notches of the standing stakes and left it there.

  “If you twist one of the notched stakes about 180 degrees the trap will work whichever way the rabbit goes through. And when he does, he’ll be lifted off the ground and ready to skin.”

  Adam found himself grinning. “Cool,” he said.

  “You’re going to like the taste of that rabbit.” Ramsey rubbed his hands and strode off back to camp. “You’re going to like the taste of squirrel too.”

  Adam followed him at a distance, hoping that rabbit would be snared in an hour or two. It was unlikely with all the rain and howling that was coming from the west.

  “Just wolves,” Ramsey murmured, seeing the look on his face.

  “Are they big?” />
  “Big as dogs.”

  “They’ll frighten the rabbits.”

  Ramsey shrugged. “With any luck they’ll frighten one into that noose. Ever had rabbit stew?”

  Adam made a face. His dad roasted one in the back yard when his mom was away. Made some mashed potatoes to go with it and then smeared the meat with cranberry jelly. It was disgusting.

  “It’s the difference between fresh rabbit and two-day-old rabbit,” Ramsey said, reaching for his spear. “Same with squirrels. You can make a rich brown gravy with the drippings. If you can catch one that is.”

  “So one’ll just happen along in a minute?”

  “Maybe he will. Maybe he won’t. Worrying never caught a rabbit.”

  Adam nodded. He wouldn’t worry. He would just peek over there now and then. “Will you read that book again tonight?”

  “If you like.”

  Then they went off to fish.

  SIXTEEN

  Temeke wasn’t looking forward to meeting the old trout and he wasn’t looking forward to telling her there was still no sign of her son. As he recalled, Mrs. Raine Oliver rarely went out in public and kept her family life private. According to her picture, she had shoulder length hair and a warm smile. A former ballet dancer born in Belgium with a striking resemblance to a well-known 1950’s actress. She was a surgeon now.

  Temeke showed the housekeeper his badge and glanced sideways at the taped off living room as they entered the house. Walking into the library, he was suddenly aware his mouth was hanging open. This Mrs. Raine Oliver was no old trout, a petite brunette in her late thirties, her bust in the early forties. She was half the Mayor’s age, sleek black pants and heels sharper than a bayonet.

  Temeke squared his shoulders and held out a hand. “Detective Temeke and this is my partner, Malin Santiago,” he said.

  She ran two narrowed eyes down Temeke’s shirt until they stopped at his belt. It was the gun that frightened her, or the badge, he couldn’t decide which.

  “Have you found him?” she said, gaze shifting from Temeke to Malin. There was the hint of a foreign accent and a puppy dog expression that seemed to turn on and off at the drop of a hat.

  “No, ma’am, but―”

  “You were only, what… half an hour behind them.”

  “More like a couple of hours, ma’am,” Temeke said, sitting next to Malin on the couch. He tried to keep his voice just above a whisper. “We’ll find him.”

  “What if you don’t? What if you never find him?”

  It was a good question, although Temeke was reluctant to voice it. He knew they would find Adam, he just didn’t know what condition the boy would be in when they did. “The police are combing the area now.”

  “The area?” Raine tilted her head.

  “The Bosque, the river, further if need be.” He didn’t want to tell her the kidnapper had a nice truck and might be headed for the Arizona border. He noted the tight nod and a pair of arched eyebrows that could only have been achieved with a stencil.

  “I… I don’t understand.”

  “We start the search at the house, ma’am, then spiral out,” Malin said, making a circle with a finger. “Then we ask the neighbors since someone might have seen something. And then that circle gets a little wider.”

  Hopefully, not into outer space, Temeke thought, since they’d suffered a few budget cuts recently. “Your boy’s smart. Got a good head on his shoulders.”

  “I need to get back to―”

  “Your husband, I understand. And how is the Mayor?”

  “Unconscious.”

  “He’ll come round.”

  “Sometimes they don’t, detective.”

  Temeke caught her frown and the silence after her words. “Let’s talk about Sunday night. Let’s talk about what you saw.”

  Raine gave a weak smile and looked up at the ceiling. “It was around eleven o’clock when I got home. There weren’t any lights on… there’s always a light on. I left my coat on the chair, left my purse on the table. And then I heard something. A whimpering… I thought it was Murphy. Our dog. I thought he’d been shut in the kitchen.”

  Raine began to breathe loudly through her nose. “I was scared… really scared. The sound was coming from the living room. I turned the light on… saw Bill on the floor. He was tied up and there was blood on the side of his face. I called 911 at around eleven ten… pressed my scarf to his ear. The ambulance came after that.”

  “How did you know it was eleven ten?” Malin asked.

  “It was on the lock screen.”

  “Of your cell phone?” Malin caught the nod and continued. “Was there anything else that struck you as odd?”

  “The front door. It was open. The dog was gone.”

  “He might have been in the back yard.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have been in the back yard. Bill always brings him in at nine.”

  “Maybe he ran off to a neighbor’s house.”

  “I think he ran after Adam,” Raine said, staring hard at Malin. “They’re close you see.”

  Temeke was glad to hear it. He placed one hand on the plain brown envelope Hackett had left. “Do you know anyone living in Forest Road?” he asked.

  “Placitas?”

  “No, the one in Catron county. Over by Gila River.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “You received a phone call from someone claiming to have taken your son.” He watched her nod, watched her fingers as they curled over each knuckle. “We traced it to that address. Did you recognize the voice?”

  Raine cleared her throat, eyes grazing past him to the door. “No… he just said Adam was with him.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  “I had no reason not to.”

  “He could have been a crank caller. Could have been a neighbor.”

  “We don’t speak to our neighbors. We don’t even know them.”

  The comment was odd in light of a statement received from Eli Sandoval, a neighbor who regularly fished with the mayor. “Did you ask to speak to Adam?” Temeke saw the shake of her head, the downturned eyes. “To find out if he was still alive?”

  “Do you know what it’s like when the police take away your personal belongings? Look for fingerprints, tape off rooms so we can no longer use them. Do you know what it’s like to stare out of your son’s window and plead with God to find your child? Do you?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I don’t remember what I said, Detective. It was all a blur.”

  “I believe you said ‘I understand.’” None of it was a blur to Temeke. He’d listened to the tape recording five times. “Just so you know, he’s got the money. There was no exchange. That’s why we don’t have Adam, Mrs. Oliver.”

  He watched the blank stare, the sagging mouth and wondered what on earth she was thinking. Whether it crossed her mind that the kidnap could have been linked to the Ringmaster. It had certainly crossed his.

  “You will find him?” she asked.

  “The police are doing everything they can, ma’am. Did you also hear about the helicopter… the one that came down in Gila National Forest last night?” Temeke conjured an image of pilot Danny Michael peppered with shot and shrapnel as he studied that smooth brow. “It was on the six o’clock news this morning.”

  She returned Temeke’s look with a scorcher of her own. “My husband was shot, detective. I was up all night at the hospital watching him not the TV!” Then came the puppy dog look. “They don’t know if he’ll live.”

  Temeke was silent for a while. There had been a choice. Stay by her husband’s bedside in the hospital or stay at home waiting for the kidnapper to call. He would have chosen the latter.

  He opened the envelope and pulled out a transparent evidence bag. Inside was a badly burned piece of paper, the corner of which was barely readable. He slid it across the table. “This was fished out of the fireplace. Seen it before?”

  She squinted at first, eyes flicking from one side t
o the other as she read the few remaining words. Then she opened her mouth to say something and seemed to think better of it.

  “No, I’ve never seen it before.”

  SEVENTEEN

  In the morning the camp fire was flat on the ground and there was hardly any smell to it. The flames had long since died and all that was left was a patch of gray grass and fish bones.

  The rabbit had been packed with onions to keep the flesh moist, so Ramsey said. A slow roast cooked on a spit until the outer flesh was the color of a baked red potato. It tasted like ham.

  Ramsey was hunched over the fire, flicking through some photographs of a girl in a bikini. Snapped them back in his backpack when he saw Adam looking.

  “What’s that?” Adam said.

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s porn isn’t it?”

  “No it isn’t porn. You can see it’s not porn.”

  “It was a girl with hardly anything on.”

  “I don’t look at porn.”

  “I bet you did when you were my age.”

  Ramsey shook his head and something between sadness and fear crossed his face. He looked down then as if he was ashamed.

  “Why do you keep looking at her?”

  “She was special.”

  “Is she dead?”

  “No, she’ll never be dead. Always have a little of her in me and a little of me in her. That’s how it is with love. But you wouldn’t know about that. You wouldn’t know about girls.”

  “I know they’re crazy. They don’t say what they mean.”

  “It’s a two-way street.” Ramsey gave him that sideways smile. “Someone you like?”

  Adam nodded. He liked Runa the girl from Bombay. He liked her long sleek hair and brown eyes. Trouble was, she was in seventh grade and smiled at him maybe once a year. What chance did a sixth grader have? Adam sensed those eyes digging deep into his head like Ramsey could see everything inside.