Kitabı oku: «Broken Lullaby», sayfa 2
Mary glanced at Eric, then began to talk. “We stopped at the car lot on the way here. We were running early and I wanted to see my inheritance. Justin was exploring outside and I started inside. What a mess.”
“Some things did get taken when we were working on your husband’s case,” Mitch said. “We did a full investigation. We have the books and a few other personal items. I’ll see that they’re returned. Now, tell me more about this Alma.”
“I heard a moan and went in Eddie’s office. Even though it was over a hundred degrees, I found a young girl in there rolled up in an old blanket. I thought she was dead, but she moved.” Mary looked at Eric. “Made sense to me. When you moved to Broken Bones you found dead bodies, the same could happen to me. But, she moved. She opened her eyes and looked at me and when I threatened to call the police—”
“Mom would never call the police,” Justin interrupted.
“—she sat up. She was a teenager, Hispanic. She spoke pretty good English. She was also undernourished.”
“Is she still at the car lot?” Mitch asked, looking at Eric’s old truck and wishing he’d brought his own vehicle.
“No, I brought her here. Back at the car lot, she got somewhat hysterical after Justin stomped in.”
“I didn’t mean to scare her,” Justin defended himself.
“You didn’t scare her, honey. She fell apart when I told her you were my son.” Mary looked at Eric. “She looked pretty young, maybe sixteen. She told us her name was Alma. Could she be Angelina?”
“No,” Eric said. “There’s no reason for Angelina to be hiding at the car lot, and I saw her last night. She’s not malnourished.”
“Did this Alma have an infant with her?” Mitch started for the car.
Mary yelled after him. “She’s not in there. And, no, she didn’t have an infant with her. I had Justin divert you guys and she slipped away. I told her to hide until you left, but I’m pretty sure she’s not of a mind to come back.”
Mitch bypassed the car and disappeared behind the cabin.
“Alma?” Eric shook his head. “That name doesn’t ring a bell as one of our missing children or their mamas.” Then, he took off after Mitch. Justin followed behind.
“Missing children?” Mary said, although no one, not even Justin, stuck around to listen. “You mean, there’s more than one?”
THREE
What a homecoming. Standing behind the cabin, Mary watched Mitch as he studied the ground, moving right, then left, careful where he placed his feet. His crisp brown Dockers blended in well with the scenery. He was definitely a sharp-dressed man. A good-looking one, too, even if he was a cop. He glanced back—not at them but at the location of the sun—pulled his cell phone from his belt and motioned for Eric while holding a hand for Justin to stay put.
Eric slowly moved toward Mitch, careful to step where Mitch had stepped. Justin paced at the top of an embankment. Oh boy, her son wanted to go along on the hunt, find Alma, be involved. It was disconcerting to see another adult influence her son’s actions. She’d been handling Justin alone for so long.
And Mitch Williams wasn’t the type of man she wanted to influence her son.
Powerful men worried Mary. Maybe that was why she’d married Eddie. She hadn’t thought of him as powerful. If Mary ever got involved with a man again, she’d try to choose a nice, safe accountant or maybe a barber.
“He’ll be back in a moment.” Eric, already red and sweaty, joined her. “When Mitch gets an idea, sometimes it’s best to let him be.” He reached inside his back pocket. “Here, take a look at this.”
Mary took the police sketch and felt her knees go weak.
“Is that the girl that was at the lot?”
“Yes.”
“No doubt?”
“None. If you knew about Alma, why’d you let me think it was Angelina?”
“We didn’t have a name for this girl. Right now she’s a person of interest. We do know she was at the festival on Sunday, and we do know that for some reason she was fascinated with little José. Sis, you have no idea what a help you’ve been. Now, thanks to you, we have a place to start. I need to call Ruth. She can run the name, and she needs to know Mitch’s involvement in the case. Then I’m guessing she’ll call the Santos boys, see what they think.”
“The Santos boys?”
“Angelina’s brothers, José’s uncles, all cops.”
Mary shook her head. “I can’t imagine Alma has anything to do with the missing children. She’s nothing but a child herself. She acted scared of her own shadow.”
“Fear’s a powerful motivator. You know that.” Eric’s words, so softly spoken, almost put Mary in tears.
“You know,” she said, “you’re starting to sound like a cop.”
“No surprise since I’m married to one.”
Eric handed Mary a key to the cabin before walking to the edge of the driveway. Mary almost lost her breath when she stepped into the living room. It was like traveling back in time a whole decade. She and Eddie had lived in this cabin as newlyweds. She’d been ecstatically content for maybe the first two years of their marriage. Eddie had worked long hours at the used car lot, trying to prove to her father that he could handle it on his own. Occasionally, he’d take a day off and they’d hike or just veg in front of the television. A few times they’d taken day trips.
With Eddie, she’d almost had it all. For two years, two blessed, happy years, she’d loved her husband, loved her life and started to believe bliss was hers. She’d learned to cook, studied antiques, learned to craft and discovered a genuine love of the land. She’d been free to do what she wanted without her family dictating every move.
She still loved those things. Her feelings for her late husband had certainly changed, though. As Eddie got more involved in her family’s dealings and spent more time with her brother Tony, the husband she thought would keep her safe turned into her nightmare.
Tony was not a nice man, and it only took two years for Eddie to become just like Tony.
Mary had not been surprised when the private detective hired by Eric finally tracked her down just a week ago and told her Eddie had died in prison. Her two older brothers had both been executed the moment they walked out of prison.
Mary had been surprised by the private detective’s next words. Not only did Eric want her to come home, but he and Ruth wanted to help her get free of potential charges of child endangerment and assault. With regard to the assault charge, they thought she had nothing to worry about. Even Eddie said he deserved the black eye. And Eric knew and liked the caseworker assigned to Justin and Mary because of the child endangerment issue. He believed she would be receptive to Mary’s situation. Still, it chilled Mary’s heart. She knew the law. Once a report is made, be it by a doctor or police officer, concerning a minor exposed to illegal drugs, an investigation starts and a caseworker is assigned. That’s why Mary ran in the first place.
She walked across the wooden floor to the window and stared out at Justin. She’d show him that honor and respect were traits to believe in. She’d do it the legal way. Her son wandered down the embankment, clearly torn between what he wanted to do and what he thought his mother would allow. Mary knew that with every fiber of his being, her son wanted to be out there, looking for Alma with Mitch.
Not a chance.
“You okay?” Eric stood in the doorway, looking and acting more like a big brother than baby brother.
“I’m fine. So what happened to the baby who’s missing?”
Eric didn’t need much prompting. “It’s the craziest thing. There was some type of Hispanic celebration in town—”
“Gila City?”
“Yes. Angelina was there with her mom and one of her brothers plus his family. Her nephew needed to use the restroom, so Angelina took him. She had little José in a stroller. Manny, that’s the nephew, apparently got upset at being shut in the port-a-potty, so Angelina stepped in for just a moment. When she stepped out the stroller was gone. At first, she thought her older brother was pulling a prank on her.”
Mary’s eyes misted.
“He wasn’t,” Eric growled.
“Do you really think the girl we found might have some connection?”
“Yes, and it’s our first real lead.”
“Our? Man, you sound like a cop.”
“And it feels good. Look, Angelina’s from a great family. Her father was killed just a year ago. In a way, his murder was by the same crowd who killed Ruth’s first husband.”
“I’m so sorry.” The words didn’t seem enough. Mary hadn’t even met Ruth, or Megan, her new niece, yet. She only knew that Eric had met Ruth when the body of Ruth’s first husband had been found here on Eric’s property. Even through those tragic circumstances, her little brother and Ruth had been able to find love. Mary had only spoken with Ruth, who had already given her an “I’ve always wanted a sister” welcome and an invitation to stay with them in Gila City anytime.
She sounded too good to be true. Maybe she was. Ruth was a cop and Santellises didn’t date cops, let alone marry them. What’s more, cops didn’t date Santellises; they arrested them.
And speaking of cops, Mary wasn’t sure she wanted a good-looking, good-hearted cop living so close. “So your Mr. Williams is Internal Affairs. Why is he involved in this case? Do they think a cop has something to do with this missing baby?”
“No, Mitch just heard the story an hour ago when I showed up at his house. I showed him the drawing. It reminded him of a case he was working on.” Eric started to say more, but Mitch entered the room with Justin on his heels.
“She’s gone,” Mitch stated, taking a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket and mopping his forehead. “And it’s more than hot out there.”
“Ruth and three of the Santos boys are on their way.” Eric said. “I showed Mary the sketch. It’s the same girl. Man, I hope this is a lead. Ruth has three names, three Hispanic children taken over the last two years. Three.”
“Three’s a big number,” Mitch agreed.
“And Ruth thinks that number’s low. She thinks more went unreported.”
“Who wouldn’t report their child’s abduction?”
“It goes back to fear, Mary.” Eric’s voice once again went soft and took Mary back in time to the years when they hid in closets to avoid encountering their father on one of his rants.
“We’re talking about adults. Mothers, not children,” Mary argued.
“You called this Alma nothing more than a child. Remember?”
Unfortunately, she did. She remembered the child she’d encouraged to take her offering of trail mix and bottled water and head out into the blistering desert. Mary shook her head. What was she thinking? Sometimes dumb wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how she felt about her actions. “And you think Alma has something to do with all of this? That’s a stretch, isn’t it?”
“I think a Hispanic girl who speaks pretty good English and gets upset at the mention of a son is worth talking to. And, now, I think that a girl willing to hide alone in the Sonoran Desert in the heat of the day just to avoid the cops is worth finding.” Eric looked at Mitch. “What does your gut say?”
“My gut says your wife might have her first lead.”
“You’ll need to give permission to search the used car dealership, too,” Eric said to Mary.
“You have it. What else can I do to help?”
Eric shook his head. “Wait for orders from Ruth. One thing we don’t want to do is leave any stone unturned. The Santos boys have tempers.”
Twenty minutes later Mary’s new home hosted one sister-in-law officer and the baby’s three uncles. More agitated cops, just what Mary needed.
Ruth wasn’t what Mary expected. The female cops she’d encountered were rigid, stern women who seemed to have chips on their shoulders and a need to prove something. Not Ruth. First, Ruth was a good foot shorter than both Eric and Mary. Her red hair was in a braid, but not one so tight that it strained her features. And instead of walking and talking like she needed to assert herself, she took on the role of taskmaster in an even-tempered voice. Without missing a step, she assigned everyone, even Mary and Justin, a task.
Eric and the three Santos boys were assigned Alma. “We need to find her quickly,” Ruth said. “Not just for questioning but before she dies from exposure. It’s not even noon and the temperature’s over a hundred. She’s not in good shape. Mary says she looks malnourished. If we don’t find her soon, she might not be alive.”
Mary felt the familiar sinking feeling of I’ve-messed-up-again. “Maybe I should stay here, help look.”
“No.” Ruth shook her head. “I want you to travel back to Gila City with me, both to the used car lot and to the police station. We’ll retrace every step you made. Maybe we’ll find some clue as to who this girl is and where she’s heading.”
“I’ll be right back,” Mitch said. He’d been the silent observer during Ruth’s take-charge moments. The two obviously had a history of working together.
A grim mask closed over his face as a cell phone appeared in his hand, and he strode from the room without inviting company.
“Will Alma be all right, Mom?” Justin asked. “I can stay here, look for her. She trusts me. I won’t go far.”
“No, you don’t know the area.”
“But she talked to me,” Justin argued. “She likes me.”
“You know,” Eric said. “He’s got a point. If Justin’s with us, Alma might be a bit more inclined to show herself.”
“Justin isn’t acclimated to this heat,” Mary protested. “Plus, we don’t know what or who she’s hiding from. I’m not putting my son in danger!”
“You said she seemed like a runaway, just a child. Is there something you’re not telling us?” Mitch came back in the room. His clipped words settled like ice around her heart.
“I agree with Mary,” Ruth said. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with….”
“I want to look for Alma,” Justin said.
“I’ve told you everything,” Mary snapped at Mitch. Then, she turned to Justin and said, “You’re too young to get involved with this.”
“I’m already involved,” Justin argued.
“I’ll keep him with me,” Eric promised.
Everyone looked at Mary.
“Mom?”
“I—”
“Mom?” Justin spoke firmly, reminding Mary that while at eleven he wasn’t grown up, he wasn’t a baby anymore, either.
“You can start with the shed,” Eric advised. “There’s even a root cellar. Maybe she’s down there.”
“Looked there already,” Mitch said.
“Mom, I really want to do this!”
Returning to Arizona was definitely a mistake. She was already losing control of her son, her emotions, her life.
“You’re not to go out of sight of this cabin and you’re to check in with Uncle Eric every 20 minutes.” Mary glared at Eric. “If anything happens to my son, we don’t need to worry about changing the caseworker’s mind. Got it?”
“Got it.” Eric nodded.
“Yes!” Justin jogged from the room as if he knew right where to go and what to do. Mary walked to the cabin’s door and watched her son start circling the shed, mimicking the Santos brother who walked a few feet ahead of him.
“I’ll keep an eye on him, ma’am,” the brother called out to her.
Ma’am? A cop was calling her ma’am?
“That’s Rico, the youngest Santos brother. He’s a rookie.” Ruth sat on the couch and opened a backpack. She withdrew a blue notebook and started writing. After a page or two, she looked up and said, “Mary, in just a minute we’ll head back to town. Mitch, you want to tag along?”
He nodded and stepped back outside. Mary watched. At first, she thought he’d be reaching for his phone again. Instead he joined Justin and Rico at the shed. They opened the door, stepped inside and disappeared.
Mary looked at her brother, looked at the almost empty cabin and shook her head. “Everything’s changing, again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you sell the antiques?” It surprised her how much she wanted, how much she needed, to see them again. Her grandfather’s big, bulky furniture had overpowered the room, dwarfing her grandmother’s old treadle sewing machine and hat rack. Now everything was gone, even the amateurish paintings. Eric obviously hadn’t needed much. The furniture in the room now looked like motel castoffs.
“Antiques?” Eric looked at her. “When I moved in, the place was pretty much empty except for mice.”
Mary circled the room. “There was an armoire here. I remember Eddie got mad because it was so heavy, we couldn’t move it.” She turned to the next wall. “An antique gun cabinet hung there. Eddie loved it. Go figure. Upstairs there was a four-poster bed, scratched up but with plenty of charm. And,” suddenly her eyes darkened, “there was a dining room table here by the front window. I used to sit at it and piece together baby quilts while I was pregnant with Justin. I must have made twenty. I’d work in the evening and watch the sun set.”
“None of that was here when I arrived,” Eric said.
When they’d moved, Mary had only taken what was theirs. She’d carefully covered everything else. A quick tour of the rest of the house, upstairs and down, showed that the other rooms had also been stripped.
They returned to the main room and Mary asked, “What was here when you moved in?”
“Dirt and mice.”
Mary looked around. “Where’d this furniture come from?”
“We hit a few garage sales last week and found a few things.” He glanced over at his wife. “Ruth really doesn’t like spending time here.”
Mary felt a little more understanding. Ruth probably never would attend a family gathering at this cabin. Her first husband’s body had been discovered a year ago, in the shed, by Eric. Hard to shake a memory like that. To give her credit, this morning Ruth hadn’t even blinked at being here. The need to find the missing children had proved more important than personal discomfort.
Mitch returned and sat down on the couch. Justin, who was now following Mitch for some reason, plopped down next to him. A cloud of dust enveloped them both, but only Justin coughed.
Mary walked closer and peered down. In the world’s smallest, neatest handwriting, Ruth created a timeline starting with Mary’s arrival at the car lot this morning, continuing with Mary’s decision to allow Alma to escape and ending with the search of the cabin and surrounding area.
“I went to the lawyer’s office before the used car lot. We ate at a fast food restaurant. I bought a coffee at a convenience store. Do you want to add all that? Would you like to know where we threw our trash, where we used the facilities? Where we spit out our used chewing gum? Where we—”
“No,” Ruth said before Mary could work up the energy for a full-fledged rant.
Well, Ruth deserved one because it hadn’t escaped Mary’s notice that her name was prominent in Ruth’s notes. Once again, through no fault of her own, she was involved in a situation beyond her control.
And once again, she’d put Justin at risk.
FOUR
“Looks like you’re stuck with me.” Mitch stood next to Mary on the front porch and watched Ruth’s cruiser disappear.
Mary didn’t looked pleased. “I wonder what’s happening.”
“Probably something with the kidnapping. Look, I’m going to run to my cabin, grab some stuff, then I’ll come back down and take you to the car lot. I’m going anyway, and it will take some time to unhitch your U-Haul.”
When they could no longer see the dust from the cruiser, Mary turned to face the shed and murmured a half-hearted, “Okay.”
He hurried, making it up the path to his cabin in just a few minutes. He grabbed his car keys and the folder that had had Alma’s picture in it, and rushed out the door to his car. Arriving back at Eric’s cabin, he tried not to appear rushed. It didn’t matter. No one noticed. Mary was at the shed door issuing dire warnings to Justin about what he could and could not do while she was gone.
Then, Mary turned and issued dire warnings to Eric. The best part? Eric soon had the same deer-in-the-headlight look Justin had.
What a woman.
When Mitch helped Mary into the car he figured driving her was a win-win-win situation. One, he got to sit next to a beautiful woman. And maybe he’d be able to shake his tongue-tied schoolboy feelings. Two, witnesses often remembered more details when in a relaxed environment like a car. The girl Mary called Alma might be more than a lead in the missing baby case. She might also be a missing piece from Mitch’s previous case, and he hated loose ends. Three, he was getting away from the cabin, away from his melancholy musings, away from feeling useless. In truth, being on the fringe of a case was better than having no case at all.
Still, far from opening up, Mary sat beside him in silence as they drove back toward Gila City. The most she’d said was something about hoping that everything went well because if it didn’t, she and her son would be sleeping on mattresses tonight since nothing would get unpacked before dark.
He recognized the bluster. She was worried about Justin, worried about Alma, mad at herself for sending the girl into the desert.
“They’ll find her. Quit worrying,” he advised.
“I’m mad at myself,” she said after a few minutes. “It’s just second nature to do any and all things to avoid the police. I wasn’t even thinking when I told that girl to scoot.” Her voice softened. “I wasn’t thinking that I was sending her into a desert with three-digit temperatures during a typical Arizona summer. Wrong, so wrong.”
“They’ll find her,” Mitch repeated. He wanted to believe it, too. The look she shot him said she knew the odds.
“She’s just a kid,” Mary muttered.
He nodded as the car bumped down Prospector’s Way. Finally, the gravel turned to pavement and they left Broken Bones behind and entered a two-lane highway. Mary elegantly crossed her legs at the ankles, looked out the window and didn’t say another word for miles. He so often dealt with uncomfortable silences. This silence actually felt good. It wasn’t the silence of a criminal with a cop but of a woman who’d made a bad decision and now intended to fix it. Not uncomfortable, just unfortunate. Finally, as if she’d reached some sort of impasse, she turned so she faced him instead of the window and asked, “New car?”
“I’ve had it five years.”
“Just drive it to church on Sundays?”
He laughed. He’d often been teased by the guys in the field about how sterile he kept his Taurus. Somehow the gibes never struck him as funny before. “No, I just tend to keep it clean.”
“Don’t cart kids around much,” Mary guessed.
“No, I don’t really know many kids.”
“You managed to bond with mine.”
“Justin and I had a mutual interest: finding Alma.”
Mary again looked out the window and finally muttered, “That girl kept up a running dialogue with God the whole time she was in my car.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Mitch said.
“Who?”
“Your brother.”
“My brother’s lost it.” Her tone belied the words.
Mitch understood the feeling. God was a little too abstract for his concrete way of thinking, yet his two best friends—Eric and Sam, both intelligent, savvy men—put all their faith in God. And it didn’t seem fake or hypocritical or simplistic. Their faith was part of their everyday lives in a way that made Mitch partly uncomfortable, partly envious. But logic told him it was crazy to believe in something he couldn’t see.
He needed tangible evidence: a fingerprint, a DNA sample, a bullet casing, an eyewitness, something.
“How long have you known my brother?” Mary’s words saved him from further self debate.
“I testified on his behalf almost a year and a half ago when he was cleared of murder charges. Then, I met him again last August when he found the bodies in the shed.”
“They called you to investigate?”
“Yes and no. Ruth’s partner, Sam Packard, and I have been friends for a long time. When it looked like his wife might be a suspect, he called in a marker.”
“Funny,” Mary said. “You cops have the same honor system the criminals have. Eddie was always paying off markers. Unfortunately, he seldom garnered any.”
“In my line of work, it’s easy to see how the two worlds, good versus evil, are merely inches apart.” If Mitch’s implication that Eddie was evil had any effect on Eddie’s widow, he couldn’t see it.
Mary turned to face him, this time all interest and poise. “If you’re Internal Affairs, how do you explain all your involvement in cases that don’t involve cops?”
“You don’t know about your brother’s case?”
“Sure, I know about Eric and the dirty cop that got him in trouble. It was in all the papers. But how can you justify your involvement with the bodies he found in his shed?”
Mitch smiled. “You didn’t study much about Broken Bones before you moved here, did you?”
“Didn’t need to. I lived here ten years ago. Not much has changed.”
“Who was the sheriff then?”
“Rich Mallory. Eddie didn’t think much of him, but then again the sheriff left Eddie alone. I always thought the sheriff worried about Eddie’s connection with my family.”
“More like the sheriff was worried about the fact that his brother Benjamin worked for Eddie who worked directly for and with the Santellises.” He glanced over to find her studying the scenery. Scenery that hadn’t changed in the past hundred years. Once he realized she didn’t intend to respond or react, he continued, “It was easy to justify my involvement since the sheriff’s brother was involved and the sheriff knew it and had contaminated a crime scene involving a dead cop. Benny’s in jail now. The sheriff resigned and moved. As for this case,” Mitch continued, “I’m not involved. When your brother showed up this morning, I knew nothing about the missing babies, still don’t. But I might know something about Alma.”
Without dropping speed, minutely swerving or even taking his eyes off the road, he reached for his back pocket, pulled out a wallet and, with one hand, extracted a white piece of paper.
Mary took it and unfolded it.
“Eric and I agree that’s your girl.”
The white piece of paper this time was not a police sketch. This time, Mary peered at a real photo of Alma. A picture of a definitely pregnant Alma.
Impossible. No way did Mary miss seeing a baby. There hadn’t been one at the used car lot; Alma didn’t hide one during the ride to Broken Bones.
“Where’d you get this picture?”
“Case I worked six months ago. We had a crooked border patrol officer. He was arresting his quota of illegals, but he was also working with a coyote, someone who takes money from illegal aliens to help them get across the border undetected. We finally nailed him. During the skirmish, the coyote got off a few shots. Two illegals were killed. One had this photo in his back pocket.”
“That must be what happened to Leandro then,” Mary said softly. “Alma said she thought her husband was dead.”
Mitch glared at her. “Leandro? You have a name? How about a last name?”
“No last name. But, yes, Alma mentioned a missing husband. She said Leandro crossed six months ago and that if he were still alive he’d have come for her. You mean nobody knew his name?”
“The guy who shot him probably knew,” Mitch said bitterly. “He got away.”
“What about your border patrol guy? Did he—”
“He’s in prison and no matter what we throw at him, he’s keeping his mouth shut.”
Mitch took out his phone, paused, and hit a button. After a moment, heard him repeat the information about Leandro. Then, she heard Mitch’s vehement promise not to get involved. She doubted he was a man who squirmed often, but after a few moments of listening to whoever was reprimanding him, Mitch started squirming. Finally, he growled a goodbye and hung up.
Mary didn’t ask any questions. She knew how to keep her mouth shut. She’d grown up with a mother who practiced a the-less-you-know, the-longer-you’ll-live theory. Mary was a bright child. She had learned that lesson well and, as a result, might live to see the ripe old age of forty.
Her mother hadn’t.
Her older brothers hadn’t.
And what about Kenny, the youngest Santellis? He’d be just thirty this year. She wondered if he had celebrated alone. Despite the fact that she knew Kenny was just as involved in a life of crime as her older brothers had been she still had a soft spot for the little boy she used to take care of, whose diapers she’d changed, who’d followed her around and took her stuff while shouting, “Mine!”
He hadn’t matured into a kind man, thanks to the influence of Tony and Sardi, but he’d always been good to her and Justin. He had even lived with them in Phoenix after she separated from Eddie. Then she had decided to disappear. Evidently Kenny had, too.
It would be a double-edged sword, finding Kenny. On one hand, she’d know he was safe. On the other hand, Justin was now old enough to understand what Kenny really was. Justin looking up to Mitch didn’t look nearly as bad when she pictured her son looking up to Kenny.
Eric was the only brother who escaped the life of organized crime. Maybe if she could change, come home, so could Kenny someday. When this mess with Alma ended, she’d remind Eric how diligently he’d worked to find her. She’d suggest they do the same for Kenny.
Mitch drove silently for a few minutes, the expression on his face changing so often she knew he was at war with himself. Finally, he muttered, “You’ll hear soon enough. Small towns seldom keep secrets. I’m on administrative leave, which is why I’m at the cabin. On Sunday I was involved in a shooting. I killed a fellow officer. Until the investigation is over, I’m supposed to abstain from duty.”
“That will be tough,” Mary sympathized. No doubt being inactive was the one thing Mitch Williams wasn’t good at. Then, she had another thought. “So that’s why you let the Santos brothers continue the search for Alma and got stuck with me.”
