The Replacement Child

by Christine Barber

  “It’s not about your business, Hector. It’s about a dead girl. Melissa Baca.”

  “The girl who went over the bridge?” Hector momentarily looked confused. “I don’t know nothing about that shit.”

  Gil let go of Morales’s shirt.

  “I’m not asking about who killed her. I’m asking did you ever deal to her?”

  “I don’t deal, man.” Morales’s eyes were glazed over from the alcohol. Gil had watched him drink four beers and two shots of tequila in less than two hours.

  “Right. But maybe you heard about someone dealing to her.”

  “Hell no. She saw me on the street once, you know, and spat at me. She spat at me. I didn’t do nothing ‘cause her brother had died on the stuff, and I felt bad about that. I liked Melissa, man. We went to school together, you know.”

  “What do you know about her boyfriend, Jonathan Hammond—was he a user?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. I’ve never seen him.”

  “Someone said they saw you with her the day she died, handing her something out your car window at about four thirty that afternoon at Oñate Park. You drive a purple ‘eighty-six Dodge Reliant, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I drive, but they’re lying. What day was that? Monday? Hell, I was in district court all day. And you can check on that shit. I was up for my DWI hearing before that lady judge—that Padilla woman—in Española.”

  Judge Janet Padilla’s magistrate court was a half-hour drive from Santa Fe.

  “And your car was with you at your hearing?”

  “Hell yeah, man. With the alarm set and all that shit. My car was there, and I was there.”

  “How do you know no one took your car? Do you know where it was at four thirty that afternoon?”

  “Yeah, I know where it was. I was in it. The court was out for a, whatddaya call it—recess?—for an hour from like three thirty to four thirty, and I went outside to smoke a cigarette, man. I smoked in the car ‘cause it was cold as a bitch that day, you know? I was only going to stay outside for one smoke but the asshole parking-lot guard was watching me the whole time like I was going to steal a sign or some shit. So I sat there for the whole hour just watching him. I wasn’t gonna let that asshole intimidate me, you know, man?”

  It would be easy enough to check. Morales and his car were pretty hard to forget.

  “What happened at your hearing?” Gil asked.

  “They let me off, man,” Morales said with a sly smile, “‘cause it’s my first offense for drinking and driving.”

  “Good for you, Hector.” Gil backed away, allowing Morales room to get by.

  Morales started to leave but stopped after a few steps.

  “Melissa didn’t do that shit. Whoever said she did, you look at them. She’d of died first before doing that shit.”

  And maybe that’s what happened, Gil thought.

  Maxine Baca knew only that it was past midnight. She sat in Melissa’s bedroom with the lights turned off. She was holding one of Melissa’s old shirts, one she had worn in high school. Maxine had given it to her as a birthday present. It was dark red with gold buttons. Maxine had given her gold earrings and black pants to match. Maxine and Ernesto had fought about it. “You spoil her too much,” he’d said. “You shouldn’t get her presents that we can’t afford.” But Ernesto hadn’t understood.

  After Daniel died, Maxine knew she had to do penance for the sin that had caused Daniel’s death. Her sin of gluttony. One of the seven deadly sins. She had been selfish. Her mother had warned her, but she hadn’t listened. When Daniel was born, her mother had told her to follow the dieta. The curandera had warned her, too. But Maxine hadn’t wanted the priest to eat alone, so she ate a whole plate of enchiladas and green-chile stew. She knew right away that she had sinned. The food had gotten her sick. But she had hoped that the coral would stop the sin. But it hadn’t been enough. Maxine had been too selfish. It had been a test from God. God was trying to see if she would give up everything for her child. But she hadn’t. She couldn’t go even a day without eating a full meal—her child meant that little to her. And God had punished her for her selfishness by taking the thing she loved most in the world.

  After Daniel died, Maxine had been worried that her sin would cause him to go to limbo, the place where God sends all the unbaptized, since she had committed the sin before he was baptized. Her sin had undone the protection of his baptism. She prayed the rosary three times a day. The only food she would eat was the host and the wine at Mass every day on her way to visit Daniel’s grave. Ernesto ate mostly frozen foods and Ron didn’t come home for dinner. Ron stayed at Manny Cordova’s house down the street. Veronica Cordova would bring over a casserole every few days for Ernesto to eat. For two years she prayed to God the Almighty to forgive her and not to punish Daniel, but God hadn’t listened. Maxine knew this because her pain over his death had never healed. She found a curandera to go to in Española. Most of the other curanderas had died because no one went to them anymore. But the one in Española told her she had the Anger Sickness over Daniel’s death and sent her home with some holy water and ground-up osha root. The curandera told Maxine to make enchiladas and green-chile stew and bury it to the left of Daniel’s grave as penance for not obeying her mother. She buried the osha root as instructed, to show her sacrifice to God, and poured the holy water at the left of the grave to prove that she was ready to accept God’s will. Then she had to spend the night praying at Daniel’s shrine.

  Maxine had been tired after staying up all night praying and had gone to bed. When she woke up, she had felt sick. Ernesto took her to the doctor. She sat in the waiting room of her doctor’s office knowing that she had the flu. Ron had brought it home from school. She had a runny nose, vomiting, and fever. She wasn’t pregnant. She knew what it felt like to be pregnant. She’d had two babies, after all.

  She knew exactly when she became pregnant—the moment the flu had turned into a baby inside her. She was sitting in the doctor’s office with Ernesto when the room began spinning. She had to put out a hand. Her stomach hurt and, a moment later, it became warm. By the time the doctor came in, she knew that she was pregnant. Her fever and runny nose were gone. She felt the fullness of a baby in her. In that instant, God had given her a little girl. It was a miracle from God and Our Lady. God had accepted her penance for her sin and had given her another baby to care for. God was giving her a second chance.

  Maxine touched the sleeve of the soft blouse. The color had looked so good on Melissa.

  She pulled a loose thread on the blouse and watched a button fall to the carpet and bounce its way over to Melissa’s dresser. Maxine just stared. Melissa had used the broken bottom drawer on the dresser as a treasure chest. The drawer didn’t open, but there was a hidden shelf underneath. When she was a teenager, Melissa had kept her private things there. Maxine got up slowly from the bed, bent over the bottom drawer, and pried it open.

  Gil had waited until Morales had driven away before he and Lucy left. He was giving her a ride home. Lucy had argued with him, wanting to drive herself, but he had seen her drink a margarita. And this way, he could guarantee that Morales wasn’t following her.

  They were driving quietly in the car when Lucy said, “I find it interesting that during that entire conversation with Hector you never said one swear word.”

  Gil looked at her; she wasn’t smiling.

  “I don’t see what difference it makes,” Gil said.

  “But it does. You just roughed up a drug dealer and never once said damn or hell. He was swearing up a storm and you did nothing.”

  “I didn’t rough him up and still don’t get what difference it makes.” And he didn’t. What was she getting at? He looked at her again. She still wasn’t smiling.

  “It’s just interesting,” she said.

  He pulled up in front of her house and went around to the other side of the car, opening the door for her out of habit, just as he did for his wife and his mother. She smiled up at him
. “Why, heavens be, Detective, you are so gallant,” she said in a southern accent.

  He walked her up to her front door, surveying the street as he did so, looking for any sign of Morales. As she was unlocking her door he said, “Just so we’re clear, you obviously aren’t going to tell anyone what you overheard tonight.”

  “Obviously.”

  “And if for any reason you think that Morales is trying to get in touch with you …”

  “News flash, Gil. I didn’t give Hector my phone number or even my real name. He thinks I’m Tina.”

  “Just be careful.”

  “Oh, you do care. Does that mean you’re not mad at me for taking the Hector matter into my own hands?” She smiled coyly. “So to speak.”

  “Let’s not get into that.”

  “You are mad at me. Look, I was only trying to help. You said yourself that you needed to get Hector away from other people in order to question him. I was just doing my civic duty.”

  “Like I said, I don’t want to get into it.”

  “Okay, but you’re missing a great opportunity for us to get into our first fight,” she said as she went inside, adding “good night” over her shoulder as she closed the door. He waited until he saw the living-room light go on before he walked back to the car.

  He sat in his car for another five minutes to make sure that they hadn’t been followed, then he drove home. Gil pulled up to his house and got out. He took the four plates of bizcochitos that his mother had given him out of the trunk of his car and tried to balance them on top of one another. He opened the front door of his house quietly, then bolted it behind him, almost dropping the cookies. It was almost two A.M. He put the bizcochitos on the kitchen counter and walked as silently as possible to his bedroom. He reached around the corner and flicked on the closet light so that he could see as he undressed. He was down to his underwear before he realized that Susan wasn’t in bed. He turned on the lights in the bedroom, in the hallway, in the girls’ room, in the family room, in the kitchen—they weren’t there. He sat down on a stool in the kitchen in his underwear. The answering-machine light was blinking—most likely the message he had left for the girls, wishing them a good night. Had Susan said that they were staying at her mother’s tonight? He didn’t remember. She must have. But he couldn’t remember. He pulled his pants and shirt back on and drove the four blocks to his mother-in-law’s house. Susan’s car was in the driveway. He headed back home.

  He realized that he hadn’t bothered to think of a way to explain to his wife why he was just getting in at two A.M. It felt strangely annoying that there was no one waiting at home to ask him where he had been all night.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Friday Morning

  Officer Manny Cordova was busily erasing something when Gil stopped at his desk the next morning.

  “Manny, let’s go have a talk.”

  Manny looked up, surprised. “Sure,” he said, and he followed Gil into an interrogation room.

  Manny eyed the manila file folder that Gil slapped on the table as he sat down.

  “What’s up, Gil?” he said as he took his seat across from Gil.

  “That’s what I’m wondering, Manny.”

  Gil opened the manila folder and started. “Yesterday you told me that you saw Hector Morales’s car in Oñate Park around four thirty P.M. on Monday. You said you saw a person in Morales’s car hand something out the window to someone in a Chevy that resembled Melissa Baca’s—is that correct, Manny?”

  “What’s this about, sir?”

  “That’s what we’re getting it. Is that what you said?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

  “You know what I can’t get, Manny. I can’t get why you’re lying to me.”

  Manny looked at the door as if he expected someone to walk in. In that instant, Gil knew for certain that Manny was lying. Gil hoped that Manny had just made an honest mistake. Gil watched him open his mouth to speak, then shut it again and look down.

  Gil tossed a pile of papers onto the table. “Those are court records from Judge Padilla. Hector Morales was in Española at his DWI hearing from two P.M. to almost six on Monday. A guard in the parking lot remembers watching Morales sit in his car and smoke at least four cigarettes from about three forty-five P.M. until after four thirty. Morales and his car were both in Española, Manny. So, my question is, where were you at four thirty P.M.?”

  “I was driving to an MVA when I passed by Oñate Park—”

  “No, you weren’t. According to an incident report, you were out at a gas station near the interstate checking on a drunk male. That’s all the way across town.” Gil sighed. “Hector Morales says he never sold drugs to Melissa Baca.”

  Manny finally looked up. “You’re going to believe a mojado drug dealer over me?”

  Gil looked at Manny until he looked down again. Then Gil waited. The tricks he used to get confessions out of suspects worked on cops, too. All he had to do was wait.

  And Manny obliged. “Gil, man, what are you saying? Okay, so I wasn’t there. I heard it from one of my informants, and I thought it would sound better coming from me.”

  “Who’s the informant?”

  “Hell, I don’t know, just some guy. I didn’t know him.”

  “Some guy you don’t know comes up to you out of nowhere and says he saw Melissa Baca on the day she died buy drugs, and you believe him? Does this guy know Melissa by sight? Does he know Morales by sight? Come on, Manny, let’s do better than that.”

  Manny still didn’t look up.

  “Manny, what are you doing? Are you trying to sink your career? Just tell me the truth.” Cordova didn’t move. “For God’s sake, what is this?” Gil asked.

  Manny stared at his hands. “Sir, can I go back to work now? I have to finish my run sheets.”

  Gil leaned back and sighed. “Why did you go 10-7 for twenty minutes at eight nineteen P.M. on the night Melissa died?”

  Manny was still looking down. Gil had thought for sure the question would shock him enough that he would look up. He didn’t answer for a few seconds.

  “I went to get something to eat,” Manny said.

  “According to the call logs, you already ate. Two hours earlier.”

  “I was hungry again.”

  “Where did you eat?”

  “I grabbed something at Burger King.”

  “Burger King takes five minutes. You were unavailable for twenty.”

  Twenty minutes was enough time for Manny to have killed Melissa but not to have transported her body to Taos. At nine P.M. Manny had been seen at an alarm-check call by another officer. “Manny, if you know anything about Melissa’s murder …”

  “I don’t. I was eating,” he answered dully.

  Gil sighed. Pollack was outside in the hall, listening to them talk. Gil’s job was to shake Manny loose. He was more likely to confess to someone he knew. Since Gil couldn’t get anything out of Manny, it was Pollack’s turn.

  “Good luck, Manny,” Gil said as Pollack came in.

  Gil left and found Chief Kline in the next room, watching through the two-way mirror and listening to Pollack question Manny. Kline looked both controlled and tense, like a man on a tightrope. His gray hair was cut whisker-short, his black uniform crisp.

  “What are you going to do? We don’t have enough to hold him,” Gil said.

  “He’ll be suspended until we can figure out what the hell is going on,” Kline said.

  “He was seen at an alarm-check call at around nine P.M. the night Melissa was killed.”

  “I know. Enough time to kill her but not bring her anywhere,” Kline said. His light Texas accent skipped over the word anywhere.

  Gil watched Pollack and Manny through the glass for a minute before he said, “Sir, I think maybe it’s time I get off the case. Now that one of our own may be involved—”

  “I think it’s premature,” Kline interrupted.

  “Sir, I feel strongly that this is a state police investiga
tion—”

  Kline cut in again. “Lieutenant Pollack and I agree that this is not the time for you to be excused from the case.”

  Lucy rolled over and looked at the clock. It was 9:07 A.M. Hell. She really needed to sleep more; her night out drinking with drug dealers had given her a hangover. She tossed for two more hours, trying to get back to sleep, but finally gave up at 11 A.M. Two vitamins served as her breakfast. She called a cab and went to get her car, which was still in the parking lot at the Silver Cowboy.

  A few minutes later, she was parked in front of Patsy Burke’s house, the crime-scene tape hanging limply. She heard a crow making a racket somewhere nearby. She craned her neck to look up. The bird was swaying on a power line that drooped over Scanner Lady’s house. Wasn’t a crow an omen, a warning of impending death? Sorry, you’re too late, buddy, she thought.

  She yelped as her cell phone rang. It was Major Garcia.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t called you back, but things here have been dicey,” he said kindly, surprising her. She wanted to be mad at him.

  “Um, no problem,” she said.

  “I’ve been looking into whether or not Patsy Burke was Scanner Lady. Her neighbor, Mrs. Schoen, confirmed Mrs. Burke was in the habit of listening to the police scanner and calling the newspaper.” Garcia hesitated. “In fact, Mrs. Schoen told me that you asked her the same thing.”

  “Oops. Sorry. I didn’t mean …”

  “Don’t worry about it. I know you were just trying to come to terms with it,” he said gently. Wow. Maybe he was a nice guy. Lucy silently took back all the times she’d wished he were dead. Garcia continued. “We do have a problem, though. The answering machine won’t be much help in confirming if she’s your Scanner Lady. The voice on the message isn’t Mrs. Burke. It’s a man’s voice. We called her son, and he confirmed that he made the message for her so people would think a man lived in the house. You know how it is. We’ve tried to find another recording of her voice, but no luck so far. We’ll keep trying.”

  Before hanging up, Garcia promised to call her back when he found out more. She thought, Like I believe that, before she could help it. She rolled her eyes, reminding herself that she was supposed to like him now.