by Jessie Cooke
“It is a she,” she said like I was an idiot. I saw the pink, I knew that. “Her name is Margaret…Maggie for short.”
“Cute,” I said. I guess that’s what people say about these things. “Is Lance here?”
“He’s out back,” Ian said. He looked at me as strangely as Cassie did most of the time. I’m not sure what I did to offend either of them. I would say maybe it’s my appearance if we weren’t surrounded by tall, muscular tattooed guys. Maybe it’s the long hair. Maybe wondering about it just took two full seconds of my life that I’ll never get back.
I went through the sliding glass doors and found Brock and Lance out back. Luckily there was no sign of Jacob so far. I didn’t want to hear his shit about missing work-outs…not today.
“Hey guys, nice baby,” I told them both. I have no idea what the fucking etiquette is for a situation like this. They both laughed. Unlike Cassie they at least have a sense of humor.
“Thanks,” Brock said, giving me a clap on the back. “I’m going to go inside so you two can talk.”
Once Brock was gone Lance said, “Let’s sit.”
“Dude, just tell me what you know about where Skye is…”
“Jagger! It’s more complicated than where she is, okay. Sit the fuck down!” I pulled out a patio chair and sat down.
“Okay, I sat the fuck down. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”
Lance sat down too and he said, “You know I’m Mormon, right?”
“Are you testifying to me?” I may have said that a bit sarcastically…but really, what the fuck?
“Do you want to hear what I know, or not?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Anyways, my father is Bishop of the biggest Mormon ward in Las Vegas. He and I haven’t been speaking a lot because of the “coming out” thing. Anyways, he showed up here the other night looking for Ian because I haven’t been taking his phone calls. I’m tired of hearing the lectures, you know?”
“I don’t want to be rude but…how does this have any connection to Skye?” In other words, just hurry the fuck up and tell me what you need to say so I can get back to looking for her.
“I’m getting to that. He and Ian apparently hit it off…that shit’s a long story, but the part you need to know is that Ian invited him to stay and eat and he did…he was also the last one anyone saw talking to Skye.”
I stood up. “Let’s go ask him what she said.”
“Sit down.” It’s a good thing this son of a bitch looks like a fucking Mac truck. I sat down. “I asked him. I don’t know how much you know about Mormons, but when you tell your Bishop something, it’s not like confessing to a priest. They can tell anyone that they want to tell, basically. They usually don’t, I mean they don’t go around gossiping but if a family or a person in the church is in trouble, it will be discussed at the council meetings sometimes.”
“Jesus Christ Lance, you’re killing me here with your religious lessons.”
“Sorry, I just want you to have some background. My dad knows your girl as Sarah. He knows her from church. He hasn’t seen her in five years. She was living with her aunt and uncle after her parents died. Her name is Sarah Winnemucca and Dad says she is wanted for the murder of her uncle.”
“Murder? What the fuck? No way.”
“My dad says that Sarah came to him right afterwards. She told him she stabbed her uncle. She told him she stabbed him because he had been touching her and that day he tried to rape her. My Dad says he calmed her down because she was really anxious and then he talked her into turning herself in. He told her he would drive her to the station and she agreed. When he left the room to go get his keys, she slipped out the back. No one had seen her since…until Thursday night.”
“What did he say to her? Why did she take off?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“I need to talk to him.”
“Okay, but you’ll be cool right? This is my dad.”
“I have a modicum of self-control,” I said. These people act like I’m some kind of fucking animal.
“I didn’t mean that to offend you,” Lance said. “I just know if it were me, I might have a problem controlling my temper.”
Okay now I feel like shit. “I won’t lose my temper with your dad, Lance.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“No, I’ll be alright. Just text me the address and a number so I can make sure he has time to talk.”
“Alright. Hey man, if there’s anything I can do…”
I nodded. My head was spinning. “Yeah, thanks.” I got up and headed through the house. Jacob was coming in just as I headed out. I paused and waited for my ass chewing. Instead he said,
“Man, I’m sorry about Skye. If you need anything, let me know, okay?”
I got a fucking lump in my throat. “Yeah, thanks.” By the time I got on the bike I had a text from Lance with the address of his dad’s church and a message that said,
“He’s expecting you. Good luck.”
Lance’s father is a big man. I guess that’s no surprise when you look at his moose of a son. I found him sitting behind his desk in a tiny little office. He looked like an adult on back to school night sitting in their kids’ chair. He looked up as soon as I got to the doorway and said, “You must be Mick?”
“Yes sir.”
“Come on in, Mick. Have a seat.” It was half a step from the door to the chair. I sat down.
“Thanks for seeing me. Lance said you spoke to Skye Thursday night before she took off?”
I could tell the man was sizing me up. That was okay with me, as long as he decided to talk to me when he finished.
“Yes. I saw her standing next to the stage. I was watching the show, but then the girl glanced in my direction and I saw those eyes…” I’d been hoping he mixed her up with someone else, but that was my thought the whole time I tried to convince myself of that…those eyes would be hard to forget. “Anyways, I’d often wondered what happened to Sarah. My heart ached for her that day she came to me and confessed to murdering her uncle. She was an emotional mess. When I got her calmed down I told her that I thought the best thing to do would be to go to the police right away. I thought if she explained to them what happened, they would understand that it was self-defense. She was just a little girl…”
“Why did she come here?”
“Her aunt and uncle were part of the ward. The uncle was raised in our church. The aunt was Native American. Sarah was scared and she didn’t live far from here so when she ran, this was where she ended up. I don’t think that she had anyone else she trusted. She’d been with her aunt and uncle for about six months at that time I believe after the death of her parents. The uncle put on a good face in public, the aunt too. Sarah was afraid that her aunt would stand up for him. When the police got to the scene, the body was in the kitchen on the floor, not in Sarah’s bed like she’d told me…The aunt told them that Sarah freaked out because he’d told her “no” about something she wanted and that was why she stabbed him.”
“So you don’t believe her either?”
“I do, actually.” He said that in a matter-of-fact tone, and I believed him. “I tried to tell Sarah that the other night, but she took off again. That day when she left, I was concerned about her. I called her aunt first. She didn’t answer so I called the police. The police came and took my statement. It was almost six before they left here and her aunt still hadn’t called it in. They became concerned about the aunt. When they got to the house, Sarah’s aunt was there along with two of the uncle’s brothers. She told the police she called the brothers first because she was just so distraught after witnessing Sarah kill her husband.”
“They moved the body?”
“It’s still an open case, so I’ve never been able to get a copy of the police report. I tried. I just couldn’t get poor Sarah out of my mind. I kept in touch with one of the officers who took my statement and then responded to the house. We became friends over time. There is
still a lot he can’t share with me, but he’s shared with me what he can. He’s the one who told me the body was in the kitchen and the brothers were there.”
“Shit! Sorry.” The Bishop gave me the same look Mom’s priest used to reserve for me. You think there would be a special dispensation for cussing when it came to something like this. “Is the aunt still around?”
“She doesn’t come to church here any longer. After her husband’s funeral, I can’t say that I saw her again…so I honestly couldn’t tell you if she lives in the same place or not.”
“Does Skye have any other relatives?”
“I’m not sure. When her aunt first came to us, she talked a lot about her own father. She said that he was a tribal council chairman and he had been very opposed to her converting to LDS. She seemed to have a very complicated relationship with him. I don’t know if Sarah had any relationship with him at all. She also talked a little bit about Sarah’s parents right after they died. She said her brother and sister-in-law met when Sarah’s mother came over from Wales on a school trip. Sarah’s mother got pregnant during that trip but went back to Wales. She stayed in touch with Sarah’s father however and about a year after Sarah was born, her mother and she returned to the States. Sarah’s parents were married on the reservation up near Reno…”
“Reno?”
“Yes. They were part of the Northern Paiute tribe up that way. The reservation is just south of Reno. It’s pretty isolated from anything according to what I know about it. The little family moved to Las Vegas not long after that. From what the aunt said, there was a big falling out between Sarah’s father and her grandfather before they left, so I don’t know if Sarah even knew those relatives there at all.”
“Is there a warrant out for her?”
The Bishop looked pained as he said, “I was curious about that myself so I called my officer friend and asked…he checked with the D.A.’s office and the answer was that there is. It’s a bench warrant and it’s still active.”
14
Skye
God! It’s so hot! I used the toilet paper I’d taken from the bathroom on the bus and wiped the sweat from my face for at least the tenth time. One might think that twenty-five dollars for a bus ride would afford you an air-conditioned bus…apparently not in Nevada. I glanced over at the woman next to me. She was somewhere in her fifties and probably close to four hundred pounds. She looked completely miserable and the handkerchief she used to wipe the sweat off her brow for the last hundred miles or so was drenched. I had the remains of a cup of ice I’d bought when the bus stopped in Henderson a while back. I held it out to her. “Would you like some ice?” She smiled sweetly at me and said,
“Thank you, sweetheart.” She took the cup, pulled open the front of her dress and poured what was left in the cup down into her bra. Then she made sexual noises as she rubbed the ice into her chest. Sometimes, it didn’t pay to be nice. Cassie and Jacob are probably thinking that themselves. Inviting homeless people into your home and then having them steal from you probably jades a person. I thought about the pretty bracelet I scooped up off the counter in Jacob and Cassie’s house as I ran out the door Thursday night and I wondered if they noticed it missing yet. I felt sick to my stomach every time I thought about it. I’d tucked the pawn slip into my back pack…I planned on sending it to them with the money I’d gotten from it as soon as I could…but that didn’t change the fact that I’d stolen it in the first place. And then there was Mick…I don’t want to imagine what he must be thinking of me. He’ll never know what an impression he made on me. He’ll never know that for as long as I live, he’ll hold a special place in my heart.
That night when Bishop Fields said my name…Sarah…the panic had just taken over and driven me to do things I’d never consider doing otherwise, like stealing from Mick’s friends, or running out on him. My heart ached worse than my stomach. I felt like a hole had been ripped right through it and I had no idea if it would ever heal. I wanted to be with Mick more than I ever wanted anything. I just couldn’t stay. If I had stayed the Bishop would have insisted that I turn myself in. I can’t do that. It’s not even that I don’t want to pay for my crime. I just can’t be locked up. I’d happily serve my time if they could promise me I’d be doing hard labor outside somewhere…honestly, I wouldn’t mind that. I’ve just never been able to function in small, confined spaces. I wouldn’t survive it and for some reason…although I have nothing, I still have a strong will to survive.
I left Jacob’s that night, took a cab to the motel and asked the cab driver to wait for me while I changed out of my pretty dress and picked up my backpack. Part of me hoped the whole time I was in the room that Mick would show up and find me before I had a chance to run. The other part of me was terrified that would actually happen. After we left the motel, I had the cab take me to the pawn shop. I used most of the money I got for the bracelet for the cab fare and a bus ticket. I bought a map and a couple bottles of water and I saved a small amount for food. I had no idea if my grandfather would be happy to see me or not, but I was afraid of two things if I stayed in Vegas; the first of course was getting arrested, and the second was not trusting myself to stay away from Mick. He didn’t need to be involved in this, but I was afraid if I was close enough, I wouldn’t be able to stay away. He drew me in like a moth to a flame…If I stayed one or both of us would burn. I’m going to miss him so much.
My bus ticket only got me as far as Hawthorne. That was thirty-three miles south of where I needed to be. I considered sticking out my thumb…but I wasn’t in the mood to fight today, or to die. I figured if I walked for the next four hours until it got dark, I would be about half-way there. From there on it would all be desert and mountain ranges from what my map showed. I shouldn’t have a hard time finding a place to sleep for the night. The only difference between out here and the city would be that avoiding the animals out here would mean literally avoiding the animals…coyotes, snakes, wild dogs…I shuddered at that thought. Sleep wasn’t all it was cracked up to be anyways. As I walked, I tried to imagine what it would be like when I got there. In my imagination, Grandfather was thrilled to see me…hopefully that would be the case.
When my parents died, Aunt Hannah called him to let him know. She was really nervous about it. She said it would be the first time in twenty years that she’d spoken to him. It was a fairly short conversation and I could tell from her end that he wasn’t as happy to hear from her as she’d hoped. In his defense, she was calling to tell him that one of his children were dead.
I listened as she told him what happened to my parents and then I heard her say, “We have Sarah here.” Then a few minutes passed as she listened and I heard her say, “Her name is Sarah, Dad. It’s not Skye. I’m going to keep her here with us.” Then finally I heard her say, “I don’t know, Dad. Maybe when she gets settled here I’ll ask her if she’d like to go visit you.” When she hung up I asked her,
“Why does he call me Skye?”
My dad didn’t like to talk about his family. I never knew what happened between him and his father and I knew even less about my grandfather the man. In my entire fifteen years of life up to that point, I’d not seen him since I was two. I had no recollection of him or the reservation. I’d also only seen my aunt a few times in my life before I was forced to go and live with her. She told me that Grandfather was old-fashioned and a control-freak and that she and Daddy refused to bend to his whims. That conversation was when she still felt kind of sorry for the orphan in me, and before her husband made it obvious that he intended to use me for his sexual gratification.
“He’s very old school,” she said. “Our children are supposed to be named for the first thing the father sees after the child is born. Your mother had you in Wales. She named you Sarah. Daddy was a stubborn old fool and he insisted on giving you a Paiute name. It only took one look at your eyes for him to settle on Skye. He wouldn’t call you by your real name and that was another source of contention between them. When your
parents first brought you here to Vegas if someone asked you your name, you would tell them it was Skye.”
I didn’t remember that. What I did remember was that my grandfather didn’t show up for the funeral and although he’d asked about me that day when Aunt Hannah called him, he’d never reached out to me personally. When I first ran away I stayed in Las Vegas because it was what I knew. I could hide in the city and blend in with the other homeless and I also felt like it kept me close to my parents. The first year after I ran away, I stayed far away from anywhere I thought the police might look for me. But after that, I got braver and sneakier. I took to visiting my parent’s graves every so often. It was the only thing I had left of them, that and the few simple things that I carried with me in my backpack.
I walked for a few hours after getting off the bus, taking breaks more often than I would normally have to because it was so damned hot. I had a half of a bottle of water left. I felt like as fast as I drank it in, it poured out through my skin. I refilled it out of the bathroom sink before leaving the bus station. I was hoping to find a gas station or some place with indoor plumbing soon, so I could refill it again. I left Hawthorne behind over an hour ago, and now I was surrounded mostly by desert, not that Hawthorne had been a thriving city, but out here the only sign of civilization was the hot, black tar road that snaked across the desert. I did my best to stay off the road and out of sight of any cars that might go by. If I was spotted walking along this desolate stretch of road in this scorching heat…someone was likely to stop. They would either take advantage of me being alone, or they would get curious and ask a lot of questions. I wasn’t in the mood for either.
When I ran out of water, I kept walking. When my mouth was so dry that it hurt, I kept walking. When my lips began to crack…I kept walking. The whole time, the cruel sun beat down, and the sky didn’t even offer one wisp of a cloud to soften the harsh rays that bore down on me. It seemed like even the lizards were scrambling for shade today, taking shelter in the shadows of the rocks. If I could have fit underneath one of them, I would have joined them. So far, I hadn’t found a spot of shade large enough to accommodate me. My every step sunk into the burning sand and the air was so thick and hazy that every breath I took was with a considerable amount of effort. I found myself wondering how long I would survive out here if I passed out. I was so far off the beaten track I would likely not be discovered in time. The animals would eventually take turns tearing the flesh off my body and turning it into a crispy lunch.
