Hearts of the Missing

by Carol Potenza

  Larger structures occupied the center of the town, including an adobe church with a small tree-filled courtyard surrounded by a wall. One of a couple of streetlights spotlighted the sanctuary’s elaborately carved wooden doors.

  Savannah pulled her car up to a sprawling house that rose two stories at one section. Its silhouette against the star-bright sky showed a tumbled outline, like a series of large muddy blocks thrown on the ground and carelessly pushed together—additions built over decades and centuries to accommodate children and extended family.

  As Nicky stepped from the car, thunder rumbled in the distance. An incoming summer storm shrouded the top of Scalding Peak and the intermittent breeze that swept through the village carried the dusty, metallic scent of rain. Lightning flickered, illuminating a dark cloud above pine-covered mountain slopes. The Sacred Caves were up there. David Saunders and the killing room flashed in her mind. She wanted to crawl back in the car and scream for Savannah to drive somewhere, anyplace, where the gruesome images couldn’t find her.

  Instead, she stiffened her spine. What had happened in those caves had happened in the Chiricahua two years ago. Maryellen was part of it and Dinah K’aishuni might have withheld vital information. It was up to her to try to tease it out, see if it had any bearing on the murders.

  Truck doors slammed behind her. Franco and Laughton crunched through the gravel as they walked toward Nicky, Savannah, and Ryan.

  “It’s only nine-thirty. Why is this place so quiet?” Laughton asked, voice low as his gaze swept the area.

  “Ghosts.” Ryan’s long hair flowed loose around his shoulders and his hazel eyes gleamed. “They are all around us. In this village, the Stone Warrior is seen the most.”

  “The Stone Warrior?” Laughton’s voice was sharp.

  “The Fire-Sky boogeyman. Cut it out, Ryan,” Savannah said. “What’s the plan?”

  “Okay. The plan. Franco, I need you inside because you know the case,” Nicky said. “Savannah will introduce us to Mrs. K’aishuni. Ryan and Agent Laughton will stay outside.” When Laughton opened his mouth, Nicky cut him off. “No. You are an outsider, even more than Franco and me. Savannah, after a few minutes, excuse yourself. Franco, under no circumstances do you tell Mrs. K’aishuni Maryellen’s heart is missing, do you understand? It would devastate her.”

  He nodded, his face a lifeline she latched on to.

  “And only speak on my cues.” Nicky tugged down her top with trembling fingers. “Ready.”

  Savannah walked to the house and raised her hand to the door. She hesitated a scant second before knocking. It opened immediately. Warm light and the lingering scent of savory cooking eddied outside.

  “Savannah! So good to see you.” A softly plump woman, curly black hair haloed around her head, pulled Savannah into a tight, emotional hug that left them both wiping their eyes when they disengaged. “Please, come in. The men are at kiva tonight, so it’s just my sister and me. Savannah, you remember Alba?”

  Dinah K’aishuni bustled into a narrow, low-ceilinged room made even smaller because sofas and chairs lined every inch of the perimeter. Colorful weavings decorated the walls and a library book was cracked open over the arm of a cushioned chair. At the end of the room, a door led into the kitchen.

  “Can I offer you some coffee?” Dinah called to the kitchen. “Alba?”

  A woman who could have been Dinah’s twin peeked her head around the corner, smiled, and ran her gaze over the group. Her eyes widened appreciatively as they fell on Franco’s large form.

  “Coffee would be great. Dinah, Alba. This is Sergeant Matthews of the Fire-Sky police and Agent Frank Martin from Fire-Sky Conservation.” Savannah perched on the edge of the sofa nearest the kitchen door. “They’d like to speak to you about Maryellen and her disappearance.” Her voice trailed off, eyes sheened with moisture.

  Nicky sat down next to Franco and kept her own expression sympathetic, but carefully watched Dinah K’aishuni’s face. It fell into sorrowful lines at the mention of her daughter and Nicky wondered if the deep sadness in the woman’s eyes ever went away.

  “I don’t think we ever had cause to meet before my husband and I left, but I know of you, Sergeant.” Dinah gave Nicky an unsteady smile. “You are trusted on the pueblo by many people I trust, and you worry those who worry me.” Her smile firmed and ticked up higher.

  Alba came in with a tray of mismatched cups, steaming with coffee, accompanied by a plate of homemade biscochitos. Nicky added sweetener, wrapped her hands around the mug, and took a sip. Its welcome bitterness burst on her tongue.

  “Thank you so much for agreeing to answer more questions. I know this is difficult.” Nicky trailed off delicately, sympathetically. “Why don’t you start by telling me about your daughter, Mrs. K’aishuni.”

  “Call me Dinah, please.” She pressed a hand below her throat, fingers rubbing the skin. “Maryellen was such a sweet girl. Our only child. Most parents know their children will grow up and move away, but it was a comfort to me she would always be with us. So special.”

  “Did she have a lot of friends? Did she know Howard Kie?” Nicky asked her second question with a grin.

  “Oh, yes.” Dinah chuckled. “Even with her disability, she was very easy to have around. She had Down syndrome, you know. And Howard? They were the best of friends. He was such an odd young man. Maryellen would tell me she could look after him. But when he left for college, they lost touch.”

  Nicky nodded. She cast a quick glance at Savannah, who hurriedly excused herself to the kitchen with Alba.

  “I have photos of Maryellen.” Dinah touched the screen of her cell phone. She handed it to Nicky, who scrolled through a sequence of pictures showing Maryellen as a young child with a fringe of black hair above sleepy eyes, chubby cheeks, and a wide grin, to her as an adult, hair longer, parted in the middle, but face still smooth and round, innocence lighting her features. In a few of the pictures, she held a rabbit.

  Nicky’s focus sharpened. Rabbits. Excitement shimmered through her. The FBI file Mike Kapur had seen contained references to rabbits. Howard had also said Maryellen loved rabbits. They’d been prominent in his weird emails.

  She handed the phone to Franco. “We were never introduced, but I remember seeing her at some of the festivals. Did you keep rabbits as pets?” she asked Dinah.

  Franco stiffened beside her.

  “Oh, yes. She loved her bunnies.”

  He handed the cell phone back to Dinah. It was an expensive item, as was Dinah’s outfit and jewelry. Lots of gold.

  “I had a rabbit as a child,” Nicky lied. “A big white rabbit named—unoriginally—Thumper.”

  Dinah stilled. She squeezed the phone, knuckles white against her skin. “She always wanted a white rabbit. But our culture believes they’re associated with death. Maryellen didn’t understand that.”

  “My grandmother believed it was bad luck to plant a willow tree in the yard. She said when it died, the person who planted it would also die,” Nicky explained.

  Dinah gave her a strained smile before her gaze dropped to tightly laced fingers. “Silly superstitions and traditions,” she murmured.

  Ryan believed the white rabbit that ran away from the mini-mart break-in was a sign that Nicky would need to rescue someone who might already be dead. A lost spirit. Nicky assumed it was Sandra. But now …

  “Did someone use a rabbit to lure her, to harm her, when she was in high school, Dinah?” Nicky asked, voice gentle. Franco leaned in, his gaze intent.

  Dinah closed her eyes tightly. Tears welled through her lashes. “You know?”

  “Not everything.” Nicky squeezed Dinah’s hand with one of her own. “Can you tell me what happened? It could be important.”

  Dinah dabbed the moisture from her eyes. “She was older than most of the kids at high school and didn’t go for the whole day. I homeschooled her as best I could. But they had an FFA program. Future Farmers,” she elaborated. “And a rabbitry. She was high-functioning for
a Downs person, to the point where she could be left unattended for a … a while. The teacher would leave her in the barn. That’s when we think it happened.”

  “She was raped.”

  “Yes. And I don’t care what anyone else says, it was rape,” Dinah said fiercely. She looked back and forth between Nicky and Franco. “A girl like Maryellen cannot consent. She didn’t understand about love and sex.” Dinah’s shoulders seemed to shrink. “She got pregnant. We didn’t realize for some time. She said she loved the father because he promised her a white rabbit.”

  “Who was the father?” Nicky asked.

  “You must understand, we were trying to do what was best for our little girl.” Dinah’s voice was pleading. “We called a Family Meeting with the boy’s parents. His mother denied it at first, insisted her son never touched Maryellen. When we told her Maryellen was pregnant and threatened to take it to the police, she said our daughter was too … too damaged to attract her boy to have sex. Like rape is about that,” she said bitterly. She paused and licked her lips. “Then she threatened us. The family was—is—very powerful.”

  Nicky’s stomach dropped.

  “Said there was no proof. Said she would bring charges of false accusation. That Maryellen would be taken from us because we were bad parents, that we didn’t supervise her properly. That’s when we told them we would get a DNA test on the … aborted material and prove—” Tears dripped down her cheeks. “We couldn’t let our child have that baby. I think that his mother agreed to a test because her son insisted he wouldn’t have … have sex with a girl like Maryellen. Later, we learned he had a reputation—that this had happened with other girls on the pueblo.” Dinah shuddered in a deep breath. “So we did the test. It was the boy’s baby. And…” She played with a ring on her finger, turning it around and around.

  “And you accepted payment for your silence.” Nicky tried to keep the censure out of her voice, but didn’t succeed.

  Dinah’s face burned red. “They gave my husband a job—a good job with good pay—and settled money on us every year. And we insisted they banish that boy so he could never do this again to our girls.” She sat up straighter. “And they did. It was funny. Before the DNA test, I thought that boy would never get punished, not really. They were almost proud of his reputation, his … his wildness. But after, it was like his father couldn’t stand the sight of him. It wasn’t until after Maryellen died we realized her rapist was back on the reservation, for I don’t know how long. With a job.” She darted a glance at Franco. “You know, my husband confronted … him, after he came back. He just laughed. Said there was nothing we could do anymore. All the evidence was gone. Gone. That’s when we realized we couldn’t stay at Fire-Sky. So, we became se fue. We are gone from this place now, only to visit.”

  “Who was the father, Dinah?”

  But Dinah was shaking her head even before Nicky finished her question. “This has nothing to do with Maryellen’s death. It can only bring her shame if the information gets out.”

  “Dinah, please.” Nicky could hear the edge of desperation in her voice.

  “You don’t understand. When we left, my husband could not get another job that paid so well. We depend on the extra money. If I tell you, it will be withdrawn because I broke the agreement. I can’t do that.”

  Dinah stood, her arms wrapped protectively around her waist. She wouldn’t look at them. “I don’t want to answer any more questions. I’d like you to leave now.”

  * * *

  Nicky burst out of the K’aishunis’ home and strode past Laughton and Ryan and into the night.

  “Nicky? Nicky!” Franco called after her.

  She ignored him and barreled toward the walled plaza, mind and stomach churning. Please, God, no. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t—No. Hand pressed against her stomach, she marched and heaved in deep lungfuls of air.

  “Nicky. Wait.” Franco caught up to her, matched her pace. “Don’t beat yourself up because Dinah wouldn’t give you a name. You accomplished more in that interview than you think.”

  She shook her head and sped up. Franco lengthened his strides.

  “The removal of Maryellen’s heart wasn’t the only thing that we didn’t release to the family and public. There was something else,” he said. His voice echoed eerily off the narrow alleys and walls. “We didn’t know about Maryellen’s fascination with white rabbits. Never asked. I’m embarrassed now. We thought we had it all figured out. Everything slotted into place. When we did our research, we learned Fire-Sky tradition associated them with spirits and death, so it made sense…” He trailed off.

  “What made sense, Franco?” Nicky asked.

  He grabbed her arm, pulled her to face him. Nicky stood rigid under his hand. She didn’t want to stop. If she stopped, she’d have to face her suspicions.

  “There was a white rabbit in the grave, tucked into Maryellen’s side,” Franco said. “We figured her killer knew the customs, that’s all. But now … She must have known him. Known her murderer.” Nicky’s muscles shook under his hand. “He must have targeted her specifically, using the rabbit as bait, as a lure. Dinah said Maryellen loved this guy. It was the perfect setup. Her murder was for revenge, not because she’d stumbled onto the cartel’s hiding place. And now he’s back on the pueblo. Has a job here. All we need to do is find out who got Maryellen pregnant—”

  Nicky jerked away from him and reeled back. “Dear God, Franco, don’t you think I realize that?” She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, before she looked back at him and drew in a long breath.

  “What?” He widened his stance then stilled.

  “There are two men I know who fit perfectly into every aspect of this crime. Two men I know who could have done this. Men who have reason to hate, to … to despise the Fire-Sky culture, people, and traditions.”

  “Who?”

  “PJ Santibanez. There’s information you need to know about him, about his parentage.” Nicky swallowed the burning in her throat.

  “Okay.” His voice was steady. “The second?”

  She pressed trembling lips together and closed her eyes. A single tear slid hotly down her cheek. “Ryan,” she whispered. “Ryan Bernal.”

  Franco stepped in front of her and slid his hands up her arms. He tugged her into his chest.

  “Nicky,” he said. “Tell me what you know. All of it.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Laughton approached Ryan, cuffs in hand, when they arrived at Savannah’s house.

  “I’m taking you in for questioning, Bernal, for the murders of Maryellen K’aishuni, Vernon Cheromiah, and Sandra Deering. I’ll need your weapons.”

  “No! He didn’t kill anybody!” Savannah pushed Franco out of the way to stand in front of Ryan, her arms stretched out as if to block the FBI agent. “Are you crazy? Nicky, Frank. Tell him.” She blinked at Franco’s hard expression and pivoted to Nicky. “Tell him. Nicky? Please.”

  “I’m sorry, Savannah,” was all Nicky could say. She felt sick to her stomach. “He had opportunity and … motive.” Her gaze flashed to Ryan.

  Ryan’s brows knit. “Motive?”

  “The killer is targeting the Fire-Sky culture and people. You have every reason to resent…” Nicky’s throat constricted and she cleared it, her gaze skittering to Savannah.

  Savannah’s eyes widened and she sucked in a harsh breath. She spun on her heel and faced Ryan, shaking her head.

  “No. Ryan. Not because of me. I can’t—You have to understand—The pressure, my father—”

  He pulled her toward him. Her arms snaked around his back and she buried her head in his chest. With a sigh, he laid his cheek against her forehead.

  “It’s okay, babe. There’s nothing I would change about us.” His lips quirked. “Well, almost nothing.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and met Laughton’s gaze.

  “I need to know she’ll be protected while we do this. Otherwise I won’t cooperate.” The planes of his face were hard, but his eyes wer
e anguished.

  “She will be,” Laughton said. “I’ve already assigned men to her house. They should be here shortly.”

  The two men stared at each other. Finally, Ryan nodded. He whispered in Savannah’s ear and she moved to the sidewalk, arms crossed high on her chest, hands on her own shoulders. He turned over his knife, his cell phone, and the handgun he’d slipped into his right moccasin. Agent Laughton cuffed him.

  “When I’m done, I’ll text you,” Ryan said to Savannah. She nodded and wiped away a tear from her cheek.

  Laughton tucked him in the backseat and they drove away.

  Savannah turned on Nicky. “How could you?” Her voice fractured.

  “He has to be completely cleared. And the FBI is pursuing another suspect.” Nicky glanced at Franco, who shook his head. She couldn’t reveal PJ Santibanez’s connection yet. “That’s where we’re headed right now. This might all be over by tomorrow. Your phone is probably compromised, too, but keep it on. I’ll contact you as soon as I know anything.”

  Savannah stared at her from eyes swimming with tears. “Don’t come back tonight. You can’t stay here.” She turned away, let herself into her house, and closed the front door.

  “She’ll be all right, Nicky.” Franco’s voice was gruff. He laid a warm hand on her shoulder and nodded to a dark car pulling along the curb to park. “They’ll see she stays safe.”

  Nicky frowned at the vehicle, her tired mind trying to tell her something, but the moment was lost when Franco beckoned her to her police unit.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Would this night ever end?

  Nicky and Franco stood in Peter Santibanez’s office, high atop the Fire-Sky casino resort. Santibanez lounged against the thick glass window that framed the gathering storm around Scalding Peak. Lightning stabbed constantly at the night-black clouds. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, ice tinkling, his expression pulled into a listing sneer.