Dark Moon Crossing (9 page)

Sister Goldenrod said, “I’m going to take Lupe’s word
that you’re going to keep your yap shut about my little visitor, is that
right?‌”

I mustered a placating smile. “That’s correct. I am a
reporter, but rest assured that I’m here unofficially. I don’t plan to do or
say anything that would jeopardize her situation or yours, or his for that
matter.”

She looked uncertain, but inclined her head toward the
pink house. “I hope I don’t regret this. If the Border Patrol or INS gets
wind that I’m hiding this child, my ass is grass and
he
will be deported
to God knows where. You got that?‌”

“Got it.” For a supposed woman of the cloth, she sure
had a foul mouth.

The three of us fell into step. “Has the boy been able
to tell you where he’s from or how he got here?‌ Was he traveling with
relatives?‌”

Sister Goldenrod’s breath came in wheezy gasps as we
crunched along the gravel driveway. “I don’t think the little guy even knows
what country he’s from,” she replied with a sad shake of her head. “Probably
Mexico, but he might have come from someplace in Central America, El Savador,
Costa Rica, who knows?‌ All I’ve been able to gather so far is that he and his
family lived high in the mountains and that he and his mother came here to find
his father. He also keeps babbling about bright colored lights and horses
chasing him. At least I think that’s what he’s saying.” She turned to Lupe.
“You’ll probably have better luck than me understanding him. That is, if he’ll
even talk to you.”

“Lupe told me about his weird abduction story,” I put
in. “Has he been able to furnish any more details about that night?‌”

She pursed her lips as if debating whether to answer
me or not, and finally said, “Not many. You know how it is with kids and
their imagination. It’s hard to tell fact from fiction, dreams from reality.
But something strange must have happened out there in the desert to make him so
traumatized. I mean, it’s taken me days to get him to come out from under the
bed. Now he insists on staying in the closet because he’s afraid these sky
people will find him, whoever they are,” she said hitching her broad
shoulders. “He sneaks out to use the bathroom, but that’s it. He won’t even
come to the kitchen to eat, but that’s fine by me, because I haven’t even
shared this with my staff. Loose lips sink ships and all that.”

Lupe and I exchanged a contemplative glance as the
woman heaved her bulky body up the three steps leading to a rickety screen
porch. With time and gravity working against her, the cut-off overalls she
wore emphasized the blue-veined rolls of thigh fat jiggling above her knees.
Swinging like pendulums, her enormous boobs drooped almost to her waist. Not a
flattering getup to say the least.

Once inside, we walked through a small living room
furnished with a jumble of frayed castoff furniture that looked like it had
come from a thrift store, past a spacious kitchen and then followed her down a
long narrow hallway surfaced with brownish-red Saltillo tile. The sound of our
footsteps was drowned out by the continuous squeal from the evaporative cooler
on the roof as it puffed gusts of moist air through rusty overhead vents. The
place was much larger than it appeared from outside, the rambling hallway
opening into a series of small rooms that gave me the impression of a rabbit
warren.

When we reached the last door, she put a finger to her
lips and edged it open to reveal a tiny cubicle hardly bigger than a walk-in
closet. The bed, a cot actually, filled most of the room and the sloping
concrete floor suggested that it might have been an outside storage area at one
time. A blanket hanging from a narrow window blocked out all but a hint of the
late afternoon sunlight and it took a minute or so for my eyes to adjust to the
murky twilight.

“You stay here,” she whispered hoarsely, pointing to
the spot where I now stood. “Too many visitors at once might scare him.”

She switched on a dim floor lamp and motioned for Lupe
to accompany her. To keep the peace, I did as she asked, but I was more than a
little irked by her brusque behavior. This woman could definitely use a
personality transplant.

“Let me talk to him first,” Sister Goldenrod said,
pulling a door to my right open. She bent down and said softly, “It’s just me,
Javier. I’ve brought a pretty lady for you to talk to.”

One pretty lady, not two. She cast a backward glance
to make sure I’d caught her little dig and then switched to Spanish. I heard
the sound of a muffled voice, high and tense. She continued to converse with
him in soothing tones before turning to face us. “He says he’s hungry, so I’m
going to get his dinner. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She waddled past and
then turned to glare at me. “Make sure you don’t do or say anything to upset
him.”

A hot flash of anger warmed my face. I had half a
mind to tell this infuriating woman exactly what I thought of her, but I
squeezed out a strained smile instead. After she left, I whispered to Lupe, “What’s
her problem anyway?‌ Are you
sure
she’s really a minister?‌ She’s got a
mouth like a cowhand and has a gigantic cob up her butt!”

Her wan smile was apologetic. “She just needs some
time to learn to trust you. She’s really very sweet when you get to know her
better.”

I grimaced. “Are we talking about the same person?‌”

She waved away my remark and edged the closet door
open further. I moved the floor lamp closer and peeked in. Illuminated by the
soft halo of light sat little Javier, huddled in the closet beside a stack of
boxes. A thatch of shiny black hair framed his perfect oval face and I thought
he had the biggest, most beautiful cocoa-brown eyes I’d ever seen. But they
were frightened eyes. Haunted eyes. What on earth had happened to create such
an expression of abject terror?‌ The stuffy closet smelled like a combination
of food, sweat and old shoes. I bent down, smiling. “Hi, Javier, my name is
Kendall,” I said, pointing to my own chest, “and this is my friend, my
amiga
,
Lupe.” I knew he didn’t understand me, but was hopeful that he’d respond to a
friendly face.

He pulled what looked like a ragged stuffed bunny
closer and stared at me with suspicion. Sensing his unease, I pulled back,
motioning for Lupe to take my place. She was cracking her knuckles and
appeared anxious as she sank to her knees without pretense and began to
question him. I could tell by the taut set of her shoulders and jaw that she
was fearful of the little boy’s answers. I heard her mention her brother,
Gilberto, and, obviously frightened by the subject matter, Javier began to
shrink further and further behind the clothing. I wished then that I’d taken
the time to learn more Spanish. I knew some of the usual phrases and enough to
order Mexican food, but not much beyond that.

When the boy refused to answer question after
question, Lupe’s soft voice grew louder and more desperate.
“
¡
Si me
puedes contestar mi hijo! Quiero saber que le paso a mi hermano?‌”

Javier let out a frightened wail and Lupe sat back on her
knees, eyes misty with frustrated anger. “
¡Ay Caramba!
He will not
answer my questions.”

I laid a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down, you’re
scaring him.”

Just then, Sister Goldenrod re-entered the room with a
tray of food in her hands. When she realized that I’d disobeyed her direct
order to stay put, she banged the tray on a scarred chest of drawers. “I told
you to stay away from him! Now you’ve got the poor baby all in a dither.”

Before I could defend myself, Lupe leaped up to
confront her. “You lied to me! You said he would tell me about my brother,
but he refuses. You have to make him talk to me!”

She jerked her thumb towards the doorway. “Okay,
that’s it. Take your nosy friend and get out of here. Now.”

Lupe stomped one foot. “No. We’re not leaving until
he tells us what he knows.” From there, the two of them lit into each other.
Faces contorted with anger, their heated exchange fluctuated between English
and Spanish and behind me, cowering in his dark hideaway, Javier’s cries of distress
grew louder.

How dumb was this?‌ The idea of having driven almost
300 miles for nothing snapped my patience. I pushed the closet door shut.
“Lupe, be quiet! And you,” I said, locking eyes with Sister Goldenrod, “put a
sock in it!” My dad’s favorite expression produced the desired result.
Gawking at me, her mouth opened and closed silently like a dying bass. “This
is getting us nowhere, and obviously neither of you can handle this situation
with anything remotely approaching objectivity,” I continued, keeping my tone
cool and rational, “so I’m going to give it a shot now.”

I turned to Lupe. “You are going to act as my
interpreter, and you,” I said to my goggle-eyed tormentor, “are going to get
off my back and leave us alone for a few minutes. Please.”

An avalanche of emotions tumbled across her broad face
and for several seconds, I thought she was going to object. But, she surprised
me by leaving the room without another word. Good. Maybe we could make some
progress. I turned around, not really sure what I was going to do. When I
eased the door open, my heart constricted with pity at the sight of the little
boy jammed into the furthest corner sucking his thumb.

Acting on instinct, I sat down cross-legged so as to
appear less imposing. “Tell him you’re sorry you yelled at him,” I instructed
Lupe, inviting her to join me on the floor, “and that we are here to try and
help him.”

Appearing chastened, Lupe began to speak to him
softly and his gaze darted back and forth as he studied our faces. I
maintained a friendly grin and felt elated when he finally pulled his thumb out
and smiled, murmuring,
“Que bonito pelo rojo tienes.”

“What did he say?‌” I whispered.

“He thinks your red hair is pretty.”

I beamed him a huge smile.
“Gracias.
Okay,
now ask him if he can remember what happened to the other people who came here
with him.”

I could see the spark of fear reappear in his eyes the
moment Lupe introduced the topic and I cautioned her to maintain a calm tone.
When he finally answered, he kept repeating the word
pesadilla
again and
again. “What is he saying?‌” I asked. “What is
pesadilla
?‌”

A look of confused frustration dominated Lupe’s face.
“It means nightmare. He says he is afraid to sleep because he dreams of the
monster bugs with the big scary eyes. He’s frightened that they will find him
and cut him with their sharp claws. He says he was hiding inside the toolbox
in the van so they did not know he was there.”

“Anything else?‌”

She spoke to him again and then turned to me. “He’s
saying something about his mother not being afraid to come to the crossing
place, but that he was because he was very scared to see the horse.”

“He’s afraid of horses?‌”

She questioned him again and sat back shaking her
head. “He says he’s not afraid of all horses, just the black one.” We
shrugged puzzlement at each other and she added, “I know. It makes no sense to
me either.”

I frowned at her. “So, is he dreaming this stuff, or
did it really happen?‌”

She spoke to him again and his eyes misted as he
whispered his response with trembling lips. Lupe’s hand flew to her mouth and
she choked out, “Oh, no. This cannot be true.”

A sharp pang of apprehension stabbed my heart. “Why?‌
What did he say?‌”

“That if my brother and uncle were in that van, they
were also stolen away by the sky people and that they are most surely dead by
now.”

Lupe’s face turned the color of wet cement as we
traded a look of horrified disbelief. Monster bugs with sharp claws?‌ Even as
I tried to keep my mind open to all reasonable possibilities, the logical part
totally rejected the idea of extraterrestrial visitors. It was easier to
believe that his interpretation of events was a product of his delusional state
of mind, resulting from exposure and dehydration, rather than embrace such a
creepy fantasy. There were well-documented cases of people found wandering in
the desert suffering from hallucinations. Could something else he’d seen
before induce such a fable?‌ Did people have TV in these isolated areas of
Mexico and Central America?‌ Video games?‌ Probably. In travel magazines I’d
seen photos of satellite dishes in the most remote corners of the earth.

“Ask him about these colored lights,” I urged Lupe.
“Isn’t it possible that he’s talking about the moon?‌ You saw how bright it was
last night. Could he have seen a reflection of something?‌”

She spoke to him again and his response deepened her
frown. “He does not think so. He remembers his mother telling him that if
they crossed during the dark of the moon there was less chance of being caught
by
la migra.
”

He was right. Two weeks ago there wouldn’t have been
any moonlight. Then what
had
he seen?‌ “Can he describe these
lights?‌"

She questioned him again, then sat back on her heels
with a sigh. “He says he looked up in the sky and saw a flying disc with
lights that sparkled like a rainbow. There was also a blue beam that shined
down on him so bright it blinded him like the sun.”

Little shivers traced the back of my neck. This was
just too, too weird. How could he possibly be making this up?‌ “Okay, ask him
if he can describe these bug-eyed creatures.”

Javier sobbed out his answer and pressed his eyes
shut. “He doesn’t want to talk anymore about the bad night,” Lupe said in a
disconsolate tone. “He wants to eat his dinner now.”

“Let’s leave him alone for awhile,” I said, rising to
my feet, feeling more perturbed than ever. “Maybe we can get more information
from him later.” I picked up the tray from the dresser and set it on the floor
next to him. He didn’t waste any time diving into the food and my own stomach
was growling with nervous hunger when I eased the closet door shut behind us.

Out in the hallway again, I could tell by Lupe’s
silence that she was deeply disturbed. Javier’s story was totally
unbelievable, but if even a fragment of it had some merit, it was obvious he’d
experienced something frightening. But I could not even begin to fathom what
it might have been.

I glanced over at Lupe. Her hangdog expression
prompted me to stop and place a hand on her arm. “Listen to me,” I said,
forcing her to meet my eyes. “Before you get yourself worked into a lather,
remember there is no proof whatsoever that
your
relatives were in that
particular van.”

A tiny ray of hope flickered in her eyes. “I guess
that’s possible.”

“Of course it’s possible. We don’t know how many
people crossed the border that night, or where they went after they got here.
When you contracted with this…person you paid, where was he planning to take
them?‌”

“To Tucson. They were supposed to call me when they
arrived and I was going to drive down to get them. Gilberto has friends
working in Phoenix who said they would get him a job right away.”

I nibbled my lip for a second. “Could they have been
apprehended and returned to Mexico?‌”

“Maybe, but why would I have not heard from them for
so long?‌”

I shrugged. “What if they’re stuck in the system?‌
Maybe they’re being detained somewhere like a stash house, or drop house,
whatever they call them, or perhaps they’re just hiding out someplace. What
about the
coyote
?‌ Can you contact him again?‌” The look of anticipation
brightening her features had me praying I wasn’t planting false hope.

“I’ll ask Sister Goldenrod if she can help us find
him.”

“Good. Now, I wonder if she’s got a telephone I can
use.”

The heavenly aroma of baking cornbread had my mouth
watering as we entered a kitchen so huge it boasted three refrigerators, two
stoves and six tables with benches. The layout of the room reminded me of a
private Amish home I’d visited with my family years ago on a trip to Illinois.
The stern-faced woman and her three white-capped daughters had served up a
scrumptious six-course meal that I’d never forgotten¾especially the peanut butter pie. I rested my hands on my hips, taking
it all in. So, this was Sister Goldenrod’s soup kitchen for the needy and
hungry. At that moment, I definitely qualified as one of the hungry.

A young Mexican girl with coal black hair braided to
her waist stood at one of the stoves stirring two steaming cauldrons of
something that smelled delectable. At the adjacent stove, Sister Goldenrod,
wearing elbow-length oven mitts, bent down to pull pans of golden-brown bread
from the oven.

“Can we do something to help?‌” Lupe asked her.

She glanced around, her expression sour. Apparently
she was still ticked off at me for ordering her from Javier’s room. Well, too
bad, she’d just have to get over it. After a hesitation, she jerked her head
towards the refrigerators. “You can wash and chop vegetables.” She removed
her apron and hung it on a nearby hook. “Celia will show you what needs to be done,
I have other things to do right now.”

“Sister Goldenrod, would you mind if I use your
telephone?‌” I asked, searching the room for one. “My cell phone isn’t working
in this area.”

She dispensed a look of indifference. “As long as
they’re local calls, I don’t care.”

Somehow, I needed to get into the good graces of this
woman or I’d never gain her cooperation. “I have a phone card, so you won’t be
charged for any long distance calls and,” I added, bestowing her a high-wattage
smile, “I’ll be more than happy to make a donation to the mission in exchange
for dinner.”

She considered my proposal and nodded. “The Guiding
Light Mission gladly accepts all donations.”

A door to our right suddenly banged open and
everyone’s attention focused on a stocky, balding man staggering into the room,
straining under the weight of two large wooden crates. He deposited his cargo
on the floor with a loud grunt and then straightened slowly, grimacing and
massaging the small of his back. “Son-of-a-bitch!” he groused. “A guy could
get a hernia lifting shit this heavy.”

Sister G edged him a look devoid of sympathy. “You
sure took your sweet time getting back here. Make a few stops along the way,
did we?‌”

His expression darkened and he opened his mouth to
answer when his gaze fell on Lupe and me. Surprised admiration replaced his
look of annoyance. “Well, howdy doody do,” he said, rubbing the stubble on his
chin. “The clientele around here is definitely improving.” His mouth
stretched into what I’m sure he thought was a beguiling yellow-toothed grin as
he attempted to tug the soiled white tank top down over several inches of
exposed and very hairy skin on his protruding belly. “Froggy McQueen at your
service. And who might you two lovely ladies be?‌” Froggy puffed out his chest
and smoothed his remaining hair, apparently perceiving himself to be a real
attractive guy.

“They’re here on a private matter that does not
concern you,” Sister Goldenrod said, moving towards him. “I’m hoping your trip
to Tucson and Green Valley netted you more than two paltry crates of melons.
Or did you drink up the remainder of the food money on your way back?‌”

His brown eyes smoldered. “Oh, ye of little faith.
Yeah, there’s more stuff. So, I stopped for a few beers along the way, so
what?‌ And if we’re going to talk money, I think I’m the one….”

“Bring in the perishables and store the rest in the
garage. Now!” she snapped, brushing past him out the door. He shrugged and
allowed his appreciative gaze to linger on us a few seconds more before he
followed her out, singing,
“Froggy went a courtin’ and he did ride, uh-
huh…”

I turned to Lupe and made a pretense of fanning
myself. “What a total stud muffin. Hold me back.”

Maintaining a solemn expression, she replied, “Yeah, he’s
really hot. Please don’t make me fight you for him.” Giggling like
schoolgirls, we turned towards Celia, who frowned at us in confusion. The
brief encounter appeared to have buoyed Lupe’s spirits temporarily anyway, and
for that I was glad. I listened as Lupe translated the girl’s instructions,
which were in Spanish, of course, and for the next hour and a half we earned
our keep by chopping a ton of onions, celery, lettuce and tomatoes. Dinner
consisted of albondigas soup, cornbread, salad, and refried bean burros.
Simple fare, but it smelled delicious and would most likely be quite filling.

As if an unheard dinner bell had sounded, two
scraggly-looking White guys probably in their fifties, along with several young
Mexican men, filed in the kitchen door just as Lupe and I set our plates down
at one of the tables. Maintaining deferential expressions, they accepted the
handout in silence and nodded at us politely as they moved to the far end of
the room. They ate with gusto and left quickly. But, as I took my last
mouthful of buttery cornbread, it was obvious that the majority of the “guests”
expected to eat this mountain of food had not yet arrived. Most likely, that
would occur when darkness fell.

When we finished, Lupe said she was going back to see
if she could coax more information from little Javier, so I decided it was a
good time to make my phone calls. As I passed a small window outside the
kitchen door, my eyes strayed to the horizon. In sharp contrast to the fiery
brilliance of summer sunsets, this evening’s grayish-yellow twilight smudged
with thin black clouds seemed rather insipid. At least the wind had died
down.

A movement near the garage caught my attention. Ah,
yes, the beguiling Froggy. He was busy unloading cardboard boxes from a
camper shell mounted crookedly on a dilapidated orange pickup. I smiled to
myself remembering my exchange with Lupe, but I was more than a little curious
about his role here at the mission, not to mention the origin of his unique
nickname. What did he do other than fetch food for the soup kitchen?‌ More
intriguing yet was the dubious relationship between him and Sister Goldenrod.
She didn’t act like any minister I’d ever met and he didn’t treat her like one.
There was no sign of her outside, but dim light streamed through the stained
glass windows in the chapel. Was she preparing for Sunday morning services?‌
Perhaps I’d attend.

I turned away and went hunting for a telephone. I was
anxious to make contact with Tally. It seemed as if we’d been out of touch for
days instead of hours. Had Ruth ever given him my message?‌ Had he tried to
reach me on my cell phone?‌ I also needed to find a jack so I could hook up my
notebook computer and go online to find the articles Walter had recommended that
I read.

No sign of one in the kitchen or dining room, but I
finally located a smudged white phone beside a pile of old magazines on the
floor beside one moth-eaten chair in the living room. I punched in the myriad
of numbers required and as I listened to the rings, my heart surged with hope
that Tally would answer. But what if it was Ruth again?‌ My body tensed at the
thought. I’d love to tell the bitchy old lady off just once, but I counseled
myself to stay cool.

“Hello?‌”

Faint relief softened the pangs of disappointment. It
wasn’t Tally, but it wasn’t Ruth either. “Hi, Ronda, it’s Kendall, ” I said,
settling myself on the hard tile floor, “is that good-looking brother of yours
around?‌”

“Nope, you just missed him. He and Jake took the big
horse trailer downtown to see if they could get the axle fixed. He said they
had a couple of other errands to run before they head out for Prescott in the
morning.”

I swallowed my frustration, hating the phone tag
game. “Wish I could convince him to invest in a cell phone.”

Her laugh sounded brittle. “That’ll be the day.”

“Well, what time do you expect him back?‌”

“I dunno. Ten, ten-thirty. You want him to call you?‌”

I hesitated. What if Sister G retired early?‌ She
might not take kindly to being awakened, especially if the call was for me. In
addition, I wasn’t even sure where I’d be spending the night yet. “I guess
not. Just tell him I called and my plans are still on track to be back there
Monday evening.”

“Okay.”

Ronda, like Tally, did not waste words. But, at least
I felt confident he’d get this message. I would like to have added ‘Tell him I
love him and miss him like crazy’ but she and I weren’t that close, so I
concluded with, “Thanks.”

Click.

With a sigh, I cradled the phone. Picturing the four
of us living under the same roof was a hard pill to swallow. In my heart of
hearts, how could I fault Tally’s love and loyalty for his own family?‌ That
was part of what made him so special. Was I a selfish bitch to want him for
myself?‌

I shook off my darkening mood and went to retrieve my
computer from the car. It was as quiet as a tomb outside minus the usual
insect chorus of summer nights that I was accustomed to. The fresh country air
had a brisk wintry feel to it that made me glad I’d brought along the jacket.
I was actually looking forward to being cold after sweating my brains out these
past months.

Froggy’s truck was still parked beside the garage, but
there was no sign of either him or Sister G. The lights in the mission were
dark. Perhaps they’d returned to the kitchen.

Back in the living room once more, I hooked into the
phone line and accessed the Internet address Walter had given me earlier. I
scrolled through the options, finally finding his byline. As I read each
article, waves of uneasiness chilled me. The description of the alleged
‘abduction’ related by the Mexican national sounded eerily like Javier’s
improbable story, including the description of bright, pulsating lights and
extraterrestrial creatures with bulging eyes. The man also provided the
startling information that they appeared to have a tiny slit for a mouth or no
mouth at all. According to Walter’s account, the terrified man had actually
wept with relief when Agent Bob Shirley had arrived in Morita to arrest him for
illegal entry. Prior to being transported back to Mexico, he’d been held for
three hours in the detention center at Border Patrol Headquarters, where he’d
been photographed, fingerprinted and given something to eat and drink. During
that time, he had repeated the bizarre story of his encounter, telling
authorities that he’d actually witnessed people being led into the dark
entrance of an alien spacecraft. He claimed that two of the creatures had pursued
him on foot until he’d eluded them by accidentally falling into a ravine, where
he’d cowered beneath a rocky overhang frozen with fear for hours until dawn
broke. Even in daylight, he’d not felt safe and had wandered aimlessly for
hours before he’d found a hiding place in Morita. I looked up from the screen,
frowning. Why would aliens give chase on foot?‌ Why not beam him up to their
space ship?‌