Kitabı oku: «Broken Lullaby», sayfa 3

“I don’t consider myself stuck,” Mitch said, and something crackled to life between them.

Mary sat up straighter, uncomfortable now and wondering why. She cleared her throat and said, “Did whoever you were talking to have any ideas about Alma’s baby?”

“None.” Mitch hit the steering wheel.

Mary smiled. Her brother Eric hit his steering wheel a lot, too. It was a good habit; steering wheels never cried, never bruised.

Never wished they could hit back.

The used car lot hadn’t improved during the hours she’d been gone. The wind and the tumbleweed were long gone. The drab buildings remained. Two police cars looked right at home in the parking lot.

“So all this is yours?” Mitch said as they pulled into the parking lot.

“Lock, stock and barrel.”

He turned the car off but made no move to exit. He looked at her. “Have much experience with selling used cars? Did you help Eddie with the books or anything?”

“No experience and no intention of selling used cars. I met with the lawyer yesterday. The car lot’s actually been mine for quite a while, something Eddie and my family neglected to tell me. Surprise, surprise, the gas station’s mine, too. Also, my grandfather included an interesting stipulation in his will. If I keep the place a car lot, I’m on my own with it. If I change it into something else, I get additional money to turn it into any kind of business I want.”

“That’s an odd stipulation. I don’t remember Eric saying anything about any stipulation for him when he inherited the cabin.”

“I think Grandfather figured if he added a stipulation, Eric would just say no thanks and turn his back on it. Plus, it’s a great cabin. No need to make changes. It’s perfect the way it is.”

Well, that wasn’t true, but it had been perfect at one time. And Mary wondered if Eric hadn’t gotten rid of the antiques, who had.

“Did anyone else get stipulations?”

Mary thought back. “I read the will. My older brothers were left money, not things. Their families are taken care of for life. And Kenny—”

“The baby,” Mitch remembered.

“Kenny inherited land, a ghost town actually. I don’t remember a stipulation for him, either. I remember my father saying Grandfather always thought Kenny was useless and so left him something useless.”

“There’s no better investment than land,” Mitch said.

“Yeah, but according to the lawyer, this land’s pretty worthless. Just lots of old, broken-down buildings in the middle of nowhere. No roads near it and no water.”

“You know, Eric inherited a broken-down cabin, which he fixed up. You’ve inherited two buildings that are in a prime location. You could really make a go of something here.”

“I don’t have to make any decisions today.” Mary chewed a fingernail. Mitch Williams probably didn’t realize just how scared she was about meeting the caseworker, about the chance that Justin could be taken away from her while she served a jail term. How could she think of a new business when Justin was the only future she cared about? Mary swallowed hard and tried not to let her fears show. Mitch climbed out of the car, came around and opened her door.

Side by side, they entered the main building, to find Ruth sitting at the dusty desk adding words to her notebook and talking on her cell. The door to Eddie’s office was open and another cop stood inside. He turned when Mitch entered the main room.

The officer grinned boyishly and said, “Hey, long time no see.”

Mitch grinned back, shook the officer’s hand and turned to Mary. “This is Sam Packard, Ruth’s partner. If I remember correctly, Mary, you hung around with Sam’s wife, Rosa, when you were young.”

Next to reuniting with Eric, Mary was most excited about hooking up with Rosa again. They’d gone to Catholic school together, ridden bikes, sat at the same lunch table and dreamed lots of schoolgirl dreams. Mary lost her best friend after Tony got Rosa’s older brother hooked on the drugs that eventually killed him. Rosa’s family moved and Mary’s world got smaller, emptier.

Sam smiled. “You must be Mary Graham. Rosa’s gonna be more than annoyed that I got to see you first. She’s stuck at the house with our son, Jimmy.”

Sam said “stuck” like part of him would trade places with his wife in a heartbeat.

Mary immediately liked him. “I’m looking forward to seeing her again and your new son. I don’t know why everyone gushes about girls. Boy babies are much better.”

“Not!” Ruth called, still on the phone and without looking up.

Unfortunately, it was not the time for chitchat. Mitch mentioned the possibility that Alma had a child with her and Sam frowned. “Two plainclothes officers and I have been here for about twenty minutes. We haven’t found anything that looks connected to our girl so far.”

They began going over every move Mary had made when she found Alma.

“How long has this place been in your family?” Mitch asked.

“Decades, but it wasn’t always a used car lot. At first it was a garage that evolved into selling cars.”

Yesterday morning, Mary and Justin had sat for an hour waiting for the lawyer to finally see them. He’d graciously had his secretary hand her a folder containing her inheritance information. She and Justin had gone over every word. They knew more about the car lot than Eddie probably ever had.

“Was your grandfather crooked? Did he start the chop shop?” Sam asked.

“Yes, he was crooked. Whether or not he started the chop shop, I’m not sure. He died when I was little.”

Mitch studied the top of the desk. Then, after getting gloves from Sam, he opened and closed the drawers. “Nothing.”

Mary took off for the back room, Eddie’s office. It was crowded with stuff. File cabinets took up one wall. Three full trash cans lay against each other. Green garbage bags, loaded with stuff, mostly paper, leaned against them. Sam put on a pair of gloves and bent down to where Alma had been lying.

“This place is a fire waiting to happen,” Mitch muttered.

“Might be a blessing,” Sam said.

Mary shook her head. “In 1953, when this was built, they made things to last. This place has potential.” She moved toward Sam. “We took the blanket with us that Alma was using. It seemed she needed it for security. I’m not sure if it was already here in the room when she arrived or if she brought it with her. It was brown, black and tan striped. You can find them for under ten dollars at just about any tourist trap.”

“Is the blanket still in your car?” Mitch asked.

“No, she rolled up food and stuff in it before slipping away.”

“Too bad.” Sam kicked at something on the ground. Then he stopped. He took a pair of gloves from his back pocket, and then carefully, almost in slow motion, bent down and extracted something from behind a clump of dirty towels. “Seems our girl likes blankets.”

“What do you mean?”

The tiny blanket Sam held up said it all. It was light blue flannel with Winnie the Pooh on it, exactly the kind of receiving blanket a mother would wrap her newborn son in.

FIVE

Mary leaned her head back against the police station wall and stared at Rico Santos. Between telephone calls, dinner and leaving his desk constantly, he’d already asked her the same questions five or six times. She was determined to cooperate fully with the police. Then maybe they’d believe she had nothing to hide and her worries over her own charges could be put to rest.

Besides, Alma’s life was on the line.

Mary checked her watch. Ten. If she’d been allowed to return to the cabin, she’d be unpacked and settling into bed for a well-deserved sleep. Instead, she was now at the police station going over her story again and watching as the officers laid out the evidence they had so far, piece by piece. Where was Alma? Why hadn’t they found her? According to Eric, the search had been hot, hot, hot and fruitless.

Justin was worried about Alma, too, Eric had told her. He had dropped her son off at his house to meet his cousin Megan and stay with Eric’s mother-in-law until Mary was finished. Mary rubbed her eyes wearily. She hoped that would be soon.

Mitch sat beside Ruth, carefully reading her notes and making hushed, lengthy phone calls. Once, he glanced over at Mary and she felt something electric pass between them again. She shook it off, focusing on the question Rico had just asked her. Rico, who was leaning forward, hands on the table, just like a cop in a movie.

If Rico was uncomfortable interrogating not only a Santellis, but the sister-in-law of one of Gila City’s own, he didn’t show it. All he saw, Mary figured, was the woman who’d let their only lead escape into the desert. Mary wondered if Ruth thought the same.

Rico said stiffly, “Mrs. Graham, do you have a history of violence?”

“One time. I took care of my son. That’s what I did.” Mary fought to control her temper. This officer was dealing with a missing nephew. She understood that. But three years ago, Justin had overdosed and it was all Eddie’s fault. When she’d realized just what Justin had gotten into, what Eddie had in the back of his car, she’d lost it.

“You gave your husband a black eye.”

“We were separated. I didn’t think of him as my husband. And he deserved more than a black eye. He put our son in danger, in the hospital, because of his illegal dealings.”

Ruth, Mitch and Eric sat down in front of Ruth’s desk and began quietly conferring while Mary said, “Eric thinks the judge will waive the warrant, and yes, I know I face a felony. I came back willingly. You have the name of the investigator—”

Eric looked over as if willing to be involved in the conversation. Rico ignored him.

“—assigned to my case. He is aware that I’ve returned to Arizona. I already have an appointment to meet with him next week.” She didn’t provide more details. They didn’t apply to the search for Alma or the missing baby. Mary had plenty of hope on her side. During the last three years she’d been reading up on just what she might be charged with.

Bad: Her husband dealt in drugs, and she knew it.

Good: Eddie didn’t live with them, hadn’t since Justin was two. Yes, they were still married—Mary didn’t believe in divorce—but except for expenses, they shared nothing.

Good: The letter of the law, when it came to the child endangerment charge, had more to do with long-term exposure to places like methamphetamine laboratories. She didn’t even allow drugs in her home; she didn’t allow drugs on the person of anyone entering her home; and she hadn’t known Eddie was so stupid. It wasn’t that Eddie was so stupid as to stash drugs in the backset of his car. No. He had lollipops and baby pacifiers back there, which of course caught Justin’s interest. And, in the search for just the right flavored lollypop, Justin found a single pill, which he thought was candy.

That’s all it took.

A single Ecstasy pill.

A few hours later, Justin wound up in the hospital.

“Ma’am?”

Mary started. It was late; she was tired; the memories were starting to suffocate her.

Officer Santos continued. “The investigator assigned to your case would probably look favorably on the fact that you’ve cooperated with local authorities concerning Alma…what did you say her last name was?”

“I didn’t say because I don’t know.”

Finally, Rico seemed satisfied that he had gotten all he could out of her. He joined Ruth, Eric and Mitch as they analyzed and rehashed the case. Rico’s brothers arrived and joined them, too.

Mary looked at Mitch. He was back to being all business. Cop business. Maybe she’d imagined the earlier smile. He was impressive when working a case. During questioning, Mitch politely let Ruth take the lead, then when she wound down, he’d start up. He asked questions about the babies taken, where they were taken from, their ages, their gender, their ethnicity and who’d been questioned. He took them back to the beginning and, judging by the looks on the Santos boys’ faces, he’d taken them to a beginning they didn’t know enough about.

He was nothing if not thorough, and Mary grudgingly respected him for that. He asked more questions than anyone else. He also brought everyone back to the solid evidence.

As the alpha males postured—Mitch, Eric and the Santos brothers—Ruth put every word in that notebook of hers. Soon it was midnight. Ruth finally shut her notebook, closed down her computer and stood. “Anything else we need, Rico, we can get in the morning. We’ve scheduled the search to begin again at six. The sheriff’s posse is bringing in men and horses. Mary will be staying at my house. I take full responsibility.”

A few minutes later, Mary sat beside Eric in his truck. He looked at her and said, “Not quite the homecoming you expected, huh?”

Her thoughts tumbled as she leaned her head tiredly against the window and yawned. “Not quite the homecoming I expected, little brother. In fact, it’s exactly the kind I was hoping to avoid.”

“I know you feel like things are out of your control, Sis, but I can promise you that God is in control. Giving my life to Him turned my life around, and I know He has a plan for you,” Eric advised.

Mary didn’t respond. She would like to believe that, she really would. It’s just that it didn’t seem like God had been on her side for a very long time now.

Or maybe the problem was that she hadn’t been on His.

Mary woke the next morning when the bright Arizona sun cast an unwelcome beacon into the bedroom. Stretching, she felt a moment’s surprise when her toes hit the twin bed footboard. She was sleeping in Megan’s room at Eric and Ruth’s house, Megan was in her parents’ room and Justin had the couch.

For a brief moment, Mary almost felt safe. She felt good, which made her want to cry. Because almost wasn’t good enough, not for her and certainly not for her son.

She rolled from the bed and stretched before jogging in place. A few toy horses on the floor collapsed from the vibrations—or was it laughter? Mary got down on her hands and knees and righted the horses. Their tangled multicolored manes and crayoned sides proved that they were more than just props; they were loved. Megan must have more than a hundred. If they kept reproducing, her brother would need a bigger house or at least a bigger bedroom.

When they got to Eric’s house last night, she could see the warmth and love in this house. Family pictures lined the walls, two cats arched a welcome just inside the door and a wildly-colored crocheted afghan was thrown over Justin on the couch.

It was nothing like the home they’d grown up in.

Mary loved it.

Once the horses on the floor returned to an upright position, she grabbed her clothes from on top of a white dresser and managed to knock over six of the horses that made a home there. She left them on the floor. At the rate she was going, it would be noon before she could get the corral back in place. On top of everything else, putting on the same clothes as yesterday made her cranky.

Yuck, she’d spent hours in the car in these clothes, explored both a dusty business and a dusty cabin and sat for hours in a police station. Maybe she’d burn the clothes when she finally got back home.

She followed her nose to the kitchen where a cheerful burgundy-haired lady took homemade cookies from the oven. Standing in the doorway, Mary watched for a moment. Growing up, there’d always been “help” doing things like cleaning and cooking. When she was married to Eddie, they’d eaten lots of pre-made meals at first, but then when she realized the hours she’d be spending away from fast food and handy grocery stores, she’d purchased cookbooks, and she’d made lots of good meals. Mary patted her stomach. And lots of good desserts.

Meals and desserts that she’d primarily eaten alone until Justin came along.

“Need any help?” she finally offered.

“Sure, I always appreciate help. I’m Carolyn, Ruth’s mother. I’m the reason they don’t have a guest room and you got to sleep in Megan’s Horseland U.S.A. They insist they need me here, and I love to be needed. Now, take the cookies that are cool and start putting them in sandwich bags.”

“Why are we packing cookies?”

“The search party is meeting in Broken Bones. We’re sending food.”

Ruth came into the kitchen a minute later, opened the fridge, took out the milk, poured herself a glass and then grabbed a couple of warm cookies. “Rosa called this morning. She wanted to come over and see you, but apparently little Jimmy’s throwing up.”

Disappointment and relief flooded Mary. Rosa was the one person who might possibly understand what Mary had been through, was going through now, but Rosa had also been harmed by Mary’s family.

Mary’s last memory of Rosa was watching her family’s station wagon leave the neighborhood.

Thanks to Mary’s big brother Tony.

Ruth took her first bite of cookie, followed it with a shot of milk and said to her mother, “Megan does not get cookies for breakfast.”

“Of course not.” Carolyn smiled and Mary knew by the glint in Grandma’s eye that when Ruth was away, Megan ate cookies for breakfast.

Ruth definitely knew it, too.

Eric came into the room looking tired and rumpled and so much like the little brother she remembered that Mary almost believed that this time things would be different.

True to form, he didn’t say anything at first, just poured himself a cup of coffee, took a cookie, leaned down to briefly kiss Ruth, then grunted, “Morning, Sis.”

Even after eating and packing cookies, it was early when they left Eric’s house. She woke Justin at the last minute and he grumpily grabbed some cookies before the three of them started the drive back toward the cabin.

They got to the meeting place where the posse had assembled near Prospector’s Way and Mary’s dirt road. Almost forty men and women—and even two boys about Justin’s age—assembled, all looking like they needed more sleep or at least plenty of coffee.

Eric stopped his truck, grabbed the box of cookies from the back, and ambled off to talk to somebody before Mary could convince him to drop her off at the cabin. She wanted to start unpacking, she wanted a fresh set of clothes and she wanted some time to think all by herself with no one asking questions or making accusations. Justin didn’t seem to care about heading to his new home. Nope, it didn’t bother him a bit to wear the same shirt two days in a row. He didn’t amble like his uncle. He made a beeline for the two boys and admired their horses.

“Okay, listen up!” The man in charge of the posse was tall, dark and in the wrong era. His handlebar mustache and too-small mouth belied a booming, bass voice that gave precise orders. Soon, the search was under way and Eric hustled Mary and Justin back into the truck and up to their cabin. On the way, they passed a man and boy on horseback, and Justin almost came out of his seat.

“That’s Carl Anderson, Mom. His dad owns a cattle ranch somewhere around here. He invited me to come over later.” Justin turned back to face Eric and asked, “Do I get to help with the search today?”

Both Eric and Justin looked at Mary for approval.

“How old is Carl?” she asked.

“He’s twelve,” Eric said.

“I’ll be twelve in just a few months,” Justin replied. As if Mary didn’t know. And the few months he so blithely mentioned were ten.

“Let’s see what’s happening at the cabin and then I’ll decide.”

“But—”

“And then I’ll decide,” Mary repeated.

The main thing happening at the cabin was Mitch’s car parked in front and a group of men doing something to the shed.

“They’re starting a thorough search of the tunnels,” Eric said.

“The tunnels are cool, Mom,” Justin added. “Mitch and Rico showed me where the opening is.”

“We didn’t go inside yesterday—” Eric parked beside the U-Haul “—because Alma didn’t run for your shed. We’d have seen her. But she could have found an opening somewhere and be hiding in the tunnels by now.”

“The tunnels would be a lot cooler than the desert, so that would be good, right?” Mary asked.

“Cooler, yes. Good, I’m not sure,” Eric said. “The tunnels are old and haven’t been kept up. Alma probably doesn’t have a flashlight and if you go too far in, you’re in pitch blackness. There are rusty car parts in the tunnels and holes in the floor. Plus, it won’t take much activity to cause a ceiling to collapse.”

“Has that ever happened?” Mary asked.

“More than once,” Eric said, looking sober. “I watched a man die down in the tunnels because of a cave-in” His voice broke. “At the time I…I didn’t know where Ruth was…whether she was buried, dead, dying.”

And Mary thought of Alma, so young, so lost and so in need of someone to care if she were buried, dead…dying in the Arizona heat.