End Game

by Kristi Belcamino

  “I know my mama is in heaven. It’s not that. I know she sees me. I can sometimes tell she is watching me. And then I feel bad when I’m happy. I feel like a bad son. I’m a bad son because I like it so much here.” He flung his hand out, gesturing to her apartment. He burst into fresh sobs saying this and buried his face in the hand towel hanging from a rail.

  Tommy wrapped him in a hug. “Oh honey, you are the furthest thing from a bad son. Of course, this seems like a great place to be right now. You are seeing things you’ve never seen before and probably getting to eat foods and have clothing that you’ve never seen. That doesn’t make you a bad person or a bad son. You can still like these things, and like me, even, and still be a good son who loves his mother. And right now, everything seems great living here because in a way you are on vacation. So, it does seem special, but it’s not what life would really be like if you stayed here. If you stayed here, you would go to school and some days would be boring. I promise you. That’s just life.

  “And there is something else you need to know.” She stopped to cup his chin so he looked her right in the eyes. “I swear before God that I have never said anything truer in my life, so what I say next you have to promise to believe me, okay?”

  He nodded solemnly.

  “I know with every ounce of my being that the one thing your mother wants more than anything else in the universe — in heaven — is to see you happy. The best present you can give your mother, the best way to show your love for her, is to be happy. Do you understand?”

  Rafael looked off into the distance as if he was really thinking about this revelation.

  “Rafael,” she said. “Do you understand?”

  He nodded and his eyes grew wide.

  “Now, promise me right now that you will never forget this. Your job, your way to show your love for your mother is to try to be as happy as you can. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, I’m going to go pop some popcorn and find a movie for us to watch. Come out when you’re ready.”

  Rafael gave her a small smile and nodded.

  The next morning, Tommy left a note for Rafael, who was still sleeping, and snuck out of the apartment. She’d told him the night before that he would be on his own today while she finished up the huge Walker Sculpture Garden photo spread for the Sunday paper.

  The night before, she’d showed him where the cereal and milk was and had left him a sack lunch with peanut butter and jelly sandwich, raisins, carrot sticks, and an oatmeal cookie.

  She peeked in at him before she left. He was sprawled out across her full-size bed, having kicked the covers back. She smiled and blew his sleeping figure a kiss.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CAMERON PARKER SLAMMED down his phone, stood up, swore, and tried to storm away from his desk. Unfortunately, he misjudged the gap between his desk and the copy machine and banged his knee into it, provoking a new stream of profanities.

  Across the newsroom, Tommy St. James saw the commotion and tried to scramble for her bag so she could leave the newsroom. Or hide in the bathroom. Too late. Parker was suddenly right in front of her.

  “How long have you known that Belinda Carter kidnapped a Mexican kid from some rich guy’s house?” His voice boomed above her.

  Tommy, who had been pretending to shuffle papers, looked up and tried to plaster a look of innocence on her face. He didn’t sound furious. He actually sounded hurt.

  “I’m sorry, Parker.”

  “I felt like a complete tool,” he said and then leaned down to whisper. “My source told me that quote ‘your girlfriend photographer not only knew about the kid but that she’d kept him at her house.’ Unquote.”

  Now, it was Tommy’s turn to get mad. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not your girlfriend. Why would your source say such a thing?”

  “I know you’re not my girlfriend” He sounded exasperated. “The point is you knew about this kid — you even had him at your place — and you didn’t say anything.”

  Tommy’s brow furrowed. “Wait a minute ... was your so-called source a cop?”

  Parker looked away. She grabbed his arm.

  “Parker! Why would the cops know anything about you and me? What the hell have you been telling them about us? Your girlfriend?” The more she thought about it, the angrier she got.

  Parker, who had initially come over to shout at Tommy, now found himself the recipient of a tirade.

  “What did you say to them, Parker?” Tommy stood up now and her face was red with anger.

  “Listen, I didn’t say anything. I don’t know how they knew about us.”

  “There is no us,” Tommy said, hissing the word “us.”

  “I know. You don’t have to tell me that.”

  They both glared at one another for another few seconds, until Tommy felt the heat leave her cheeks. The newsroom had grown silent. People had even stopped typing. Wonderful. Now, if they hadn’t already, everyone in the newsroom knew she’d had an affair with the Newsroom Playboy.

  She took a big breath and said in a low voice, “Now, to bring this back to a professional level, about our working relationship ... I didn’t want you to know that Belinda took that kid until I figured out what her motive was. On the surface, it looks like a kidnapping and I’m sure that is what her dear husband would like everyone to think, but I think there was more to it than that. I think she was trying to rescue the kid in her own, maybe misguided, way. The creep who had the kid locked up is probably trafficking in kids. I just wanted to find out the truth first, before it was splashed all over the front page that she was a kidnapper.”

  Parker thought about that for a minute, running his fingers through his hair before he met her eyes.

  “Boy, Snap, you must think I’m a real jerk,” he said. “I like to get a front-page story. I like scoops even better, but I don’t need to be a slime ball to get them. Next time, why don’t you give me a chance to do the right thing? Maybe if you would’ve explained the situation, and given me a chance, you would’ve been surprised by my reaction. It’s too bad you have such little faith in my character.”

  Now, he was really mad. He stomped off and out the back door of the newsroom.

  One of the other photogs, George, who had been sitting there the entire time listening with a smile on his face, now piped up. “I didn’t know you and Parker were hot and heavy. But it sounds like it’s over now. What’s Parker got that I don’t?”

  “Drop dead, George.”

  Tommy slammed her bag back down and sunk back into her chair with a sigh.

  A few hours later, Carla Jackson, the best news researcher in the state, stopped by her desk. “I was doing a little digging for Parker’s story, but I know that dead woman was your friend so I wanted to show you, too.”

  Carla’s long black braids bobbed as the tiny woman leaned over to hand Tommy a thick stack of printouts.

  “Seems that the lady-in-waiting is connected.”

  It took Tommy a second to figure out that she was talking about the woman Jason Carter had in the wings.

  “As in mob?”

  “Yep. She has a little posse of goombas who follow her around and basically attend to her every need. Maybe her “need” right now was getting Romeo a divorce so the principessa could finally marry him.”

  “Holy smokes. That’s good stuff.”

  “Well, she’s certainly got motive.”

  Tommy glanced at the picture of the petite brunette. She was pretty with long hair, curvy figure, and a big nose. “She’s not bad, but she wears way too much makeup and jewelry, don’t you think?”

  Carla rolled her eyes. “Honey, you can never have too much bling.”

  Tommy laughed. “Oh, I forgot, I was talking to the woman who collects sparkly things like she’s part crow.”

  After Carla left, Tommy again studied the photo of Jason Carter’s girlfriend.

  She tapped it, thoughtfully. “So, missy, did you take out a hit on my friend?”

  Dur
ing the day, Tommy had tried to call Rafael a few times at her apartment, but there was no answer. She realized that she’d never really explained the phone to him. It was something that she took for granted. It was sometimes difficult to picture Rafael’s life in rural Mexico. It was so far removed from her high-tech life in the Twin Cities.

  When she returned from her lunch break at the café down the road, she saw a message from Detective Kelly. Damn. He must know Rafael fled his foster home. Well, she wasn’t going to call him back.

  At five, Tommy practically flew out the door. When the elevator opened at the fourteenth floor of her building, she practically skipped down the hall to her apartment. She’d bought a few candy bars from the newspaper’s vending machine and was excited to give them to Rafael. His excitement and pleasure over things other kids took for granted was so refreshing.

  But when she went to put her key in the lock of her apartment door, it swung open on its own. Fear coursed through her like a jolt of electricity. She pushed the door open with her foot and looked around. Nothing seemed out of place, but the apartment was eerily silent. Good God. Her eyes darted around the small apartment. From the doorway, she could see the living room, the balcony, and the small counter separating the living room from the kitchen. No sign of anyone.

  “Rafael! Rafael!” She shouted frantically and raced for the bedroom. It was empty. The picture of Rafael’s mother he’d propped on the nightstand was gone. Then she checked the small bathroom. Nothing.

  He was gone.

  She slumped against the wall, sinking to the floor. From her vantage point, she noticed something sticking out from under the couch. It was Rafael’s wooden whale. He would never leave without that. Now she had zero doubt. Someone had taken Rafael.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “SO, LET ME GET THIS straight. He escaped from his foster home and you were hiding him out in your place and then someone came and took him?” The investigator sounded as if she were about to hang up on Tommy.

  She’d called the police department and asked to talk to someone in investigations. A smart-mouthed female detective, who obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed, had picked up.

  “I wasn’t hiding him. He wanted to stay with me. I was planning on taking him back to Mexico tomorrow. We were going to drive down and find his village and give him back to his family.”

  “Find his village? You mean you didn’t know where it was, but you were just going to cross the border and start looking for it.”

  The officer’s sarcasm was ticking Tommy off. Her temper flared.

  “Let me talk to Detective Kelly,” Tommy said in a steely voice. “He knows what’s going on.”

  After being put on hold, Kelly came on. He wasn’t much more understanding. In fact, he was furious.

  “Nice of you to finally reach out. Now that it’s too late and the kid is gone.” Silence. He pressed on, his tone softening. “So, you’re reporting a kidnapping of a kid you sort of kidnapped?”

  “Come on, Kelly, you know I didn’t kidnap Rafael. I explained what happened. Can you help me?”

  The detective was quiet for a few seconds before answering. “I’ll see what I can do. Do you have a picture of the kid you can email over?”

  Tommy got excited. He was going to help. “Yes, I have one right here.”

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can do, but don’t expect much. Maybe his dad came up from Mexico to take him back home.”

  “But he wouldn’t have just left. Not without saying goodbye. And he wouldn’t have left his wooden whale.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Tommy paused, debating whether to tell the detective what she thought. Her gut instinct told her to trust him. “I think it was that guy – the rich guy who supposedly adopted him. I think he came and took him back.”

  “The so-called ‘Big Boss’ the kid talked about? That’s a dead-end if I ever heard one. I mean, what do we know about that mystery guy again? Let’s see: He’s rich. He lives by a lake. Doesn’t really narrow it down now, does it.”

  This cop was a total smart ass. Tommy rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her. Then she remembered.

  “Dewey”

  “Huh?”

  “Rafael said he heard someone call that guy Dewey. That can’t be a very common name.”

  The detective was silent for a few seconds.

  “You there still?” Tommy asked.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Any reason you didn’t give us this guy’s name before?”

  “Why is it my job? You interviewed him. Didn’t he tell you that before you kicked him out on his ass to social services?”

  How dare he blame her. Tommy seethed with anger.

  “Listen, I got to go.”

  Without another word, he hung up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  TOMMY, WHO HAD REFRAINED from drinking while Rafael was staying with her, poured a double shot of bourbon and paced the apartment. She felt so helpless. Rafael was gone and there were no leads. Pacing, holding her drink, she felt like she was going to explode with frustration.

  She decided to go for a run to release some of her nervous energy. She put down her untouched drink and changed into some jogging pants, a tank top, and running shoes. She pulled her hair back in a messy ponytail and headed out.

  Outside, she ran on the walking path that ran along the Mississippi River and then across it, sprinting at times and then slowing to a walk.

  She stopped to catch her breath near a playground near the North Loop neighborhood. She leaned over, hands on her knees breathing heavily. She glanced up and watched squealing kids racing around the park, swinging and jumping. What was I thinking, dreaming of being a mother someday? Fat chance. Sandoval was right. I can’t take care of a kid. I can’t keep my job and be a mother at the same time. There’s no way? How could I care for a baby, when I can’t even take care of a fairly self-sufficient eight-year-old!

  When she got back to her apartment it was starting to get dark. She downed two big glasses of water at the sink and then headed for the living room. Plopping on the couch, she flipped on the television and grabbed her warm glass of bourbon taking a big gulp. It burned her throat in a satisfying way. She flipped on the nine o’clock news.

  A story about a car crash on I35W. No injuries. Just a traffic mess. Then, a story about water safety and how a couple of idiots in Northern Minnesota nearly drowned when they got drunk and decided to take a canoe out at night. Then, a shot of the capitol earlier in the day and a bunch of politicians filing out of the rotunda. There was a hot debate about immigration in the state as more undocumented farm workers moved to Minnesota seeking work at one of the many rural farms or small factories.

  Tommy didn’t like politicians. Democrats or Republicans, she pretty much disliked them all, but part of her job was to keep abreast of the news, so she kept watching. Plus, now that she’d met Rafael, the immigration issue struck close to home.

  Until Rafael came into her life, she’d never realized that Mexican families paid big bucks to try to get their kids to America, all in the hopes of a better life. And the sad thing was she wondered how many kids fell into the wrong hands like Rafael had. From what Rafael had told her, it wasn’t unusual for a family to send a kid with a coyote and then never hear from the kid again. Especially in the more rural areas of Mexico, like where Rafael was from, where technology was more primitive. Families in Mexico could only hope and pray that the child made it there safe and was living a better life.

  Tommy was thinking about this and picking some dirt out of one of her fingernails, when she glanced back over at the television screen. The reporter was interviewing some blowhard politician about his views. Donald Nelson was a very large, very distinguished-looking man who looked like he stepped out of an old Western movie with his slicked back silver hair, handlebar moustache, and three-piece custom suit worn with a bolero.

  “Donald Nelson’s platform for governor includes a strong
anti-illegal immigrant stance, even though his opponents say he’s never proven he immigrated to this country legally.”

  The footage cut to Nelson in front of the state Capitol.

  “That is playing some dirty pool,” Nelson said. “I came here legally with my parents as a young boy. That is one reason that I am so opposed as an adult to illegal immigration. I came from a poor part of England and was able to make it in this country by following this country’s rules. There is no reason other immigrants should not play by the same rules that I did. There is room enough for all of us. All I am asking is that they do it right so that they can contribute with their tax dollars to the economy. Otherwise, stay home.”

  Tommy was half listening, but then the name under the politician’s pasty white face made her freeze: Donald “Dewey” Nelson.

  Tommy practically spit out her drink. Dewey. Rich. Power hungry. Twisted logic that might make him think it was acceptable to lock a boy in a bedroom. It sounded like her man.

  She fumed as she booted up her laptop.

  What a jerk, she thought. It’s fine that he escaped poverty in his home country, but it’s not okay for anyone else to do so? And, as far as the undocumented workers went, few American citizens would work twelve hour days at those back breaking jobs for the paltry sums they were paid.

  But she also felt that people needed to obey the laws. It’s just that sometimes the laws were wrong. The law was what kept this country civilized.

  But she also knew that something was seriously wrong in this world because so many people were poor and struggling. People trying to get into America only wanted what so many Americans took for granted: Jobs. Homes. Food. Education. It was unjust that people so desperate to provide their children with a better life had only one option—pay exorbitant amounts to sneak their offspring into a wealthier country.

  She didn’t have the answers, but she knew that creeps like Dewey Nelson could care less about those less fortunate in the world. All that man cares about is himself, Tommy thought.