by Midge Bubany
Hawk’s parents lived in a gray two-story on Ninth Street a block from the Catholic Church. Four cars were in the driveway when I pulled up. Hawk’s brother, Paul, answered the door. The older Paul got, the more he resembled Hawk, especially with the apparent weight gain.
“Nice goatee,” I said.
He rubbed his chin. “Thanks.” He moved in for a man hug—short duration, strong claps on the back. I detected something screwy with his eyes. His pupils were dilated, jumping around. I wanted to check his arms for needle tracks.
Paul lived in Brainerd and worked as a mechanic in a shop that did custom rebuilds, called Woody’s. He had a long-time beanpole girlfriend named Tulia who was a barmaid at a local popular watering hole called The Dive, the kind of place where patrons threw peanut shells on the floor. Tulia and Paul had a history of drug abuse. A year earlier when I spoke to Paul at Colby’s funeral, he said he’d been sober for a year. Considering what I was detecting, he was using again.
He looked at me hopefully. “Do you have news?”
“Some.”
“Come in to tell the folks.”
I touched his arm. “What are you on, Paul?”
“What?… Oh… I took a little something to help me relax, sleep at night. Nothing heavy. This situation is rough, you know?”
“You can’t be taking narcotics that aren’t prescribed, Paul.”
He raised a hand. “I know, I know. Don’t worry.”
“Okay, I’m just gonna ask you this once. Do you know anything about Hawk’s disappearance or where he is?”
“What? You think if I did, I wouldn’t tell you? What kind of a brother do you think I am? I loved Mike. I mean I love him. This is killing me, man.”
“Did he ever partake of the substances you had available?”
“No, of course not. He’s the one who got me to quit that shit.”
“Except for whatever shit is making your eyes bounce like ping pong balls. Are you on meth?”
There’d been a resurgence of meth and heroin with the cheap imported products getting across the border.
“Nah, it’s just Valium or something. Honest.”
“Jesus Christ. You don’t even know what you took. That’s kinda stupid, don’t you think?”
He gave me a shrug.
“You still living on Eighth Street South with Tulia?”
“Yep, I’m fixing it up. I put on a new roof, new siding. Looks good. You’ll have to come by some time.”
“I will do that.” Last time I’d been to Tulia’s place, it looked like a crack house.
“Surprised the media isn’t camped on your parents’ doorstep,” I said as I followed him inside.
“They pulled out last night. There was some cop-involved shooting in the Cities.”
“Oh? I hadn’t heard.”
Officer-involved shootings always make the headlines, especially lately. Last year on the first day of testimony in a high-profile case, the defendant was shot as he approached the courthouse. I happened to be there and took down the shooter and, lucky for me, the media caught it all on tape. The Minneapolis/St. Paul news channels replayed the video for three days, but everyday I put on my firearm, I replay it in my mind.
Paul led me into the dining room where several people were seated around the table. Barb and Tom stood as I entered. Others present were Tulia, Cat, and her mother Monica, Sydney Dirkson, and an older woman who resembled Barb. All eyes were on me, their faces filled with the anticipation of the bad news they thought I was going to deliver.
“Hi, everyone. Sorry to interrupt your meal.”
“Has he been found?” Tom asked.
I lifted a hand. “No, I just have an update.”
Sydney introduced the attractive woman next to her as her mother, Anne Bartes, who’d arrived from Arizona just that morning. Barb invited me to fill a plate, but I declined. After I’d told them what I knew, Tom said, “So how do you get those bastards to tell the truth? Torture them?”
“That’s only in movies, Tom. Not that I wouldn’t like to punch a few faces, pull off a few fingernails.”
A few chuckles, a few nods in agreement.
“Maybe if Tom and I could talk to them. Tell them how important it is we know where he is,” Barb said.
“At this point, you need to let us do our work.”
“Well, there’s gotta be more we can do. They’re only so many square miles in your county,” Tom Hawkinson said.
“We have boatloads of people willing to help,” Cat added.
“Didn’t the planes and horses and dogs come up with anything?” Monica Ames snarled.
“If it’s money, we can pay more people with better equipment to search the other county lakes,” Cat said.
“Well, my God, there are hundreds of lakes in the surrounding lake area, they can’t search them all,” Tulia said.
I raised my hand. “Folks, you can speak to Deputy Chief Carole Knight with suggestions and questions. But you must recognize these things take time,” I said.
“What? Like the fifteen years it took to find that girl in Birch County?” Tom said.
“I still have hopes one of the men involved will cave.”
“I could take my sledgehammer and cave the side of their heads in,” Tom said, “give them incentive.”
“Oh, Tom,” Barb said, rolling her eyes.
“Say, Cat, could I talk to you privately?” I asked.
“Sure.” She jumped up and followed me to the Hawkinson’s front living room. She looked up at me expectantly. “Are you telling us everything?”
“Pretty much.”
She started crying. “I hate this.”
“I know. Me too.”
My instinct was to hug her, comfort her. But I refrained. Instead, I stayed in my detective mode.
“Cat, you told me you and Hawk… Michael… had no problems, but your friends say you thought he was having an affair. Was that just a hunch or did you have concrete evidence? Emails, texts, etcetera?”
Her mouth dropped open. She hadn’t expected to be ratted out. “No evidence. It was just a feeling I had.”
“That’s it? A feeling?”
“Well, he seemed distant and treated me like something I was doing wrong, but he wouldn’t talk to me about it.”
“Okay… Did you tell your parents about these suspicions?”
“No, I did not. Why would I? They already don’t…”
“Don’t like him?”
She folded her arms across the front of her body and sighed. She looked down then away. “I was going to say they don’t think he’s good enough for me.”
“Cat, I need the absolute truth from you. If the press gets wind of anything you said to anybody, friend or not, you’ll get convicted in the media.”
“Convicted? You think I had something to do with his disappearance?” She started to blink away the tears welling in her eyes.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “No, I don’t.” And at that particular moment, I didn’t.
Sydney interrupted our conversation asking if she could speak with me when I was through with Cat.
“He’s all yours,” Cat said, and left for the dining room.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Been better. And you?”
“Extremely worried. Do you know anything you didn’t share in there?”
“No.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve interviewed some of his neighbors and friends, and no one seems to know a thing, and if something weird was going on, you’d think people close to him would have picked up on it.”
“I agree. What I don’t get is why Hawk was singled out. Do you believe he could be into drugs?”
“God no. He was always
on Paul’s case. By the way, did you notice how screwed-up he looks today? Tom or Barb are in denial—they bury their head in the sand and don’t say a word. They’re afraid to confront him.”
“Maybe so. Are Cat and Monica staying here too?”
“No, they’re staying at a vacation home of a friend of theirs. It’s on Dexter Lake. Mom and I are staying here though—if you need my help with anything.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Well, I better get back to work. I’ll say good-by and take off.”
“Thanks for coming over. It means a lot to all of us.”
I missed the parade but decided to stop home and have lunch with the Twinks before they went down for naps. As I drove down Sixth Street, I noticed a black Cadillac Escalade parked in front of my house. I pulled onto the driveway and saw my mother’s new car, a white Nissan Cube, the marshmallow on wheels. She wasn’t sticking to the agreement she should call before she came over.
When I stepped inside, I stopped in my tracks. Sitting on my couch—with my children at his feet—was Bobby Lopez. Adrenalin pumped through my body.
“Oh, hi, Cal,” Mom said, a big smile on her face like nothing was wrong.
I pulled my firearm and aimed it at Bobby. “Get facedown on the floor,” I said.
My mother gasped. The jerk had the nerve to grin as he slowly did as I ordered. Lucy went and crawled on his back.
“Mom, grab her.”
My mother was frozen in a look of absolute shock I’d pulled my gun.
“Mom!”
She finally got up and lifted Lucy, so I cuffed Bobby’s hands behind his back. It was when I was walking this giant out to my vehicle that I realized I’d just put my family in great peril. Thank God the man went willingly. My mother traipsed after us to bring Bobby his black leather jacket.
I grabbed the jacket from her and said, “Get back in the house, Mother.”
“Thank you, Hope,” he said, as he got into the backseat.
Seeing her smile at him, I had a feeling he now knew all about my family.
“Mom, go! We’ll talk later.”
When I got in the driver’s seat, Bobby said, “Cal, why don’t we go to the Northwoods Coffee Shop and get a cup of coffee, have a talk—I promise I will meet you there.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
I wanted to fucking shoot the man—coming in my house—sitting with my kids.
I called ahead and asked Deputy Crosby Green to set up for the interview. Crosby’s legs had been crushed in a snowmobile accident, and he could have been on disability for life, but he begged Patrice to let him come back in any capacity. He couldn’t assume regular duty, but he was able to do many things in the department and was grateful for the work.
Once Bobby was seated in an interview room with the cameras rolling, I took the cuffs off his wrists. His facial scar popped in the bright lighting. He was one scary-looking dude.
He rubbed his wrists. “That whole scene played out in front of your children was a bit dramatic. Don’t you think?”
My left eye twitched. “When I come home, I find you sitting in my house with my children and mother. A man who is not who he claims to be—a man using the alias of Bobby Lopez—and you think I’m being dramatic?”
“Well, since you came to my home and spoke to my family like we were good friends, I thought you were desperate to speak with me.”
“I ran your fingerprints through the system… Cisco Sanchez.”
He sighed and then crossed his hands on top of the table. “Yes, okay, I changed my name.”
“Legally? What about your brother?”
“Yes, both of us legally changed our names. Look, I’ll tell you my story, but the microphone and cameras have to go off.”
Using my radio, I informed Crosby to stop the camera. He answered, “That’s a 10-4.”
I leaned forward, putting my elbows on the table. “All right. What’s the big secret?”
He mirrored my movement and spoke softly, “There are people I don’t want to know where I am.”
“People?”
“Very bad people. My father, for one. His name is Julio Sanchez. He was involved with the drug trade early on and later hooked up with the CDG, the Gulf Cartel, based in Matamoros, Tamaulipas, Mexico. When my mother was pregnant with me, she left my father to live with her aunt in nearby Brownsville, Texas, because she felt she was in danger. Only it wasn’t far enough. When I was one, she left my three-year-old brother and me with her aunt while she went out shopping. She was gunned down in the street. My aunt and uncle were convinced Julio killed her and were afraid he would come for me or kill all of us, so they packed up and moved us to California. When I was eighteen I joined the army. I later became a Ranger.”
“And your fingerprints got into the system how?”
“Probably the assault charge in Missouri. It was dropped. Look, I served three tours of duty and then was recruited by the government. I can’t tell you for what or I’d have to kill you.”
“Right.”
He lifted his brow. “I’m not kidding.”
“When did you change your name to Lopez?”
“When I started working for the government, I expressed my concerns about my father. They set me up with a new identity. My brother, too.”
“What are you doing here? Are you retired?”
“Not exactly. Sometimes I’m given a small assignment—a mission impossible.” He laughed.
It all sounded like such bullshit… right out of a frickin’ spy novel. This prick was having fun with me.
“So, why Birch County?”
“It’s peaceful.”
“I want to warn you. If you bring any shit, legal or not, into this peaceful county I will personally kill you and bury you where no one will ever find you.”
He lifted a hand. “Okay, I consider myself warned. But it’s important to my safety not to draw national attention to myself. I don’t want my father, or any his associates… or enemies of our country, for that matter, to know where I am.”
“You sure your father’s still alive?”
“My sources say yes.”
“So, what’s your story on the eye.”
“Let’s just say I got too close to a knife—but you should have seen the other guy.” He chuckled. “I was fitted for an artificial eye, but they sent the wrong one. Now, how would I look with one blue eye?”
“How long ago did that happen?”
“Going on a year. Had some reconstructive surgery—had to heal.”
“Okay, Bobby, or Cisco, or whatever the hell name you go by, here’s the deal: You never, ever, come close to my family again, or I’ll shoot your good eye out. You do not drive down my street. You do go not near my house.”
He laughed. “Tough guy. Okay, Deputy, you have my word… if I have your word you will do the same for me and my family.”
“What family members are we talking about?”
“My brother Hector, his wife Nancy, her mother Rosarita Vasquez, and my niece Penny.”
“Are they legal?”
“Not my sister-in-law’s mother. If you hand her over to Homeland Security, she will be deported, and she will die. Her husband was a police officer in Nogales and was killed by the cartel.”
“Such dramatic life tales.”
“All true.”
“Where is your brother?”
“Right now in Texas. He brought his mother-in-law to me and went back home.”
What’s his story?”
“No story. He has a landscaping company. Rosarita is staying to be my housekeeper. Nancy and Penny will go back to Texas soon. So, Cal, your mother told me your family was in a terrible accident?”
I felt my breath escape my body. “What exactly did she te
ll you?”
“She said you and your wife are separated. You had four children, but a young adopted son was killed. The older boy survived, but he is not doing well. He lives with his mother who is also a deputy. The twins are shuffled back and forth. And you are testifying in court tomorrow in a case against Victoria Lewis, but you don’t think she will show up for her own trial.”
Jesus Christ.
“See? Now we know almost everything important there is to know about each other.”
“Are you married?”
“I wasn’t exactly husband material, and I never stayed in one place long enough to start a family.”
I couldn’t arrest him. I had nothing on him. So I said, “Well, Bobby Lopez, I’ll drop you off at your car, and don’t let me see you for a very long time… unless you know something about Michael Hawkinson’s whereabouts.”
He chuckled. “You got it.”
As I walked Lopez down the hallway of the interview rooms, Crosby Green came out of the small observation/taping room. He winked letting me know he kept the tape rolling even when I pretended I had wanted it stopped.
I asked the first deputy I saw, Greg Woods, to follow me home.
Bobby turned to look back at Woods and said, “I love a parade, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer or speak to him the six blocks to my house. When I dropped him at his car, Greg Woods pulled up behind me but stayed in his vehicle.
As I opened the back door of the Explorer to let Lopez out, he said, “Want to be best friends?” Then he tilted his head back to give out a raucous laugh. I could hear him continue to laugh as he drove off. Was he having fun with a small-town cop who he underestimated? Or was he telling the truth about his mysterious lifestyle? I waved Woods off, then went inside where my mother and Clara were waiting for me, both with worried expressions across their faces.
My mother put her hand up and said, “Okay, I want to tell you how stupid I feel.”
“Well, that’s an appropriate response because you were very stupid for letting a total stranger into my house. Henry and Lucy were right there, for God’s sake. Do you have a brain?”
