Missings, The (13 page)

A small dog barked and bolted in front of the two of them, then stopped to lift his leg on a tree. When he finished taking care of business he raised his head to Elizabeth who quickly knelt to pet him before he darted away.

Surprised and a little alarmed at her willingness to reach out to a strange dog, Daniel reached to pull her back to him. “You shouldn’t have done that. He could have bitten you.”

Elizabeth laughed. “That was Pedro. He’s a neighborhood dog.”

“Neighborhood dog?”

“He lives with everyone. And no one.” She looked pointedly at Daniel. “Besides, I’m pretty good at knowing how far to go without being bitten.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. Now let’s go talk to people who are here illegally. Especially if they have a loved one who is missing. Young. Male. Anyone.”

“Leave it to me.”

Elizabeth led him down a dirt alley behind businesses housed in clapboard buildings with peeling paint. Abandoned vans and rusty, dented pickup trucks filled much of the land between the buildings and the alley. Dust covered everything. Daniel knew this part of town from his days on patrol. There wasn’t a lot of crime in this area—more drunk and disorderly arrests than anything else—but still it wasn’t his favorite part of town.

At the end of the alley Elizabeth turned right and they moved into a group of men standing around on the corner, some smoking, others with their fists stuck deep in coat pockets. Daniel knew these men had missed their chance at day-laborer jobs but had nowhere else to go. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time an employer came around looking for a few more hands about midday.

Elizabeth approached one man, Daniel at her side, and spoke quietly. Wearing clean but worn jeans, even more worn boots, a t-shirt and light jacket, the man turned a sun-wrinkled, tobacco-dried face to Daniel before glancing quickly away. Daniel was pretty sure the man was a lot younger than he looked. He peered at Daniel again and tossed a cigarette butt to the ground. While his boot ground the filter longer than necessary, he shrugged and gestured down the street.

Daniel began walking in the direction the man had suggested even before Elizabeth finished her conversation with him. He had no idea where they were going but he didn’t want to waste any more time at this day-laborer pickup spot. He could taste the air. There’s a fine line between lack of hope and despair—and more than one person had crossed that line while standing on this corner.

Elizabeth pumped up next to him. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

“Aren’t you?”

“There is such a thing as courtesy. You might learn something if you gave it a try.”

“Sorry.”

“You wish these people would just go back where they came from, don’t you?”

Daniel didn’t respond.

It took a moment for Daniel to realize he’d lost his walking partner. He twisted around and saw Elizabeth, her hands on her hips with her feet firmly planted. His mama had taught him that when he saw a woman in this stance he needed to do something. Quickly. “My experience tells me that might be the best alternative for those people.”

She stood there not moving. Then her right foot began to tap.

“I have issues.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Daniel stopped before he said something he couldn’t take back. He dug a little deeper into his memory tapes looking for the sound of his mother’s voice teaching him about courtesy. He had some manners in there somewhere, he knew. Finally he heard his mother talking to him while he watched this beautiful, smart-mouthed woman on display.

“Maybe you can help me with them.” He only half kidded.

He watched as Elizabeth snatched a smile back before it caught.
Aha!
His charm succeeded even when his personal hang-ups got in the way.

“By the way, where are we going?” Daniel asked.

“We’re going to Juan’s.”

“Who’s Juan?”

Elizabeth pointed. Dirt almost obscured a neon Corona sign in the barred window. A heavy metal door, scratched and dented, marked the entry, and a battered and flaking sign indicated they’d arrived at their destination. The name Juan’s Place probably started out as a good truth-avoidance mechanism when errant husbands were met at their doors by angry wives. Somehow being at Juan’s sounded a lot better than getting drunk at the local dive. Daniel imagined that for a little while anyway, Juan took the blame.

“You should wait here. I’m not comfortable with you going in there.”

She shook her head and set her jaw. Damn, he thought. What did he do wrong now?

“Daniel, you won’t get any answers without me. So tough shit. Park your gallantry at the curb.” She opened the door and walked in.

Juan’s Place

Monday, September 24

Daniel waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the bar. Conversation that he’d heard on the other side of the door stopped while the patrons checked out the newcomers. A few whispers and low murmurs provided a decidedly different backdrop than the one prior to their entrance. The tenor of the place had changed. Tension made the air thick.

Beneath the quiet, Daniel was aware that men’s hands had slipped to their pockets—one or two to their waistbands. Daniel cursed under his breath. If they got out of here without any bloodshed it would be a miracle.

He looked around the bar. It was larger than it looked from the outside and the word “old” came to mind. Clean, but old. Not antique-treasure-old, used-old. Serviceable. He remembered something his mother used to say, “If it isn’t broke, keep using it until it is.” Apparently nothing had broken in Juan’s Place for the last fifty or sixty years.

Elizabeth crossed the expanse, weaving between a few empty tables. She approached the bartender while Daniel hurried to catch up. “I’m looking for the man who knows about the missings. Where is he?” Three men, silent and hunched over their drinks, watched Elizabeth out of the corners of their eyes without lifting their heads. The bulky man behind the bar hesitated and pretended not to hear her request, but Daniel saw him take a surreptitious glance to his right. Even deeper shadows pooled beyond the bar. Daniel could make out a row of booths along the wall, all empty except for one. A man sat alone, facing them. He gave a slight nod. The bartender then turned his full attention on Elizabeth who had repeated her request, this time a little louder, her body leaning over the bar. He pointed a beefy finger and Elizabeth didn’t hesitate.

The acceptance of them by the man in the shadows relaxed the atmosphere in the gloom, but somehow Daniel liked this even less. He touched his secured weapon with his elbow, then trailed Elizabeth.

Continuing to use Spanish, Elizabeth addressed the quiet stranger. She didn’t leave the man an inch to move and Daniel worried. Back an animal into a corner and he is likely to attack.

“My sister has been murdered and I am looking for her killer. You and I have both heard about ‘the missings’ in our community, and I’m told you know something about them. There’s a good chance whoever is responsible for their disappearance is also responsible for my sister’s death. Will you talk to us?”

The entire time Elizabeth spoke, the man’s eyes remained fixed on Daniel. Those eyes, surprisingly light in a dark Chicano face, were hot with reined-in anger. His body signaled casual, easy: the kind of end-of-the-day posture all workingmen get, whether they’ve spent hours in the sweat of manual labor or sitting behind a desk. Forget that the clock said noon, his demeanor said relaxed. But his eyes told a different story. Intense. Unrelenting.

Elizabeth paused for a moment, waiting for an answer. The man’s attention never left Daniel.

“Do you always,” he enunciated in slow, precise Spanish, “let women do your talking?” The man did not so much as twitch. His voice remained low. Calm. “Did you leave your balls behind with your Mexican heritage?”

Daniel took a step closer. Pulled Elizabeth out of the way. Leaned in.

“My balls,” he replied in Spanish, “are where they’ve always been. Do you want to see who has the bigger pair?”

The man smiled. Then he laughed. Harder. So loud the rest of the bar once again grew silent. “I won’t work with someone who clearly denies who he is. You won’t get anything from me regardless of the beauty of the women you send ahead.” He cocked his head. “However, I’ve heard good things about someone in your department. Tell Detective Waters I will come to see him this afternoon. Tell him it’s time for me to find someone I can trust and that it isn’t you.”

Daniel sensed someone behind him. He looked over his shoulder. Five men stood ready to protect the man sitting in front of him. They were ready to put their lives and futures on the line for this arrogant bully. “Who can I tell Detective Waters to expect?

“Tell him to expect Mex.” A low flick of his right hand and his defenders went back to their tables, but Daniel knew that one miscue and things could change in a very bad way.

Not all of the men had retreated. Daniel felt the heat and energy emanating from someone who remained behind him and he reached inside his jacket.

The man called Mex spoke again. “Let these two go. They are not here to harm anyone.”

Daniel heard the slick suck of metal, a blade called home. The man who held the knife walked around to look Daniel in the face, then spit on his shoes. A defiant glare made it clear that Daniel, the enemy, had best keep an eye out. And he would not be welcome at Juan’s Place any time soon.

Aspen Falls Municipal Library

Monday, September 24

Bond pulled her SUV into a parking space at the library and turned off the ignition, then transferred her cell phone from her left ear to her right. “Daddy, I’ve been worried about you.” She pushed out of the vehicle and walked to the entrance. The two benches placed outside the library, flanked by planters that in the summertime overflowed with flowers and greenery, were empty. Bond brushed off a spot and sat down, then turned her face to the sun. Clouds formed then scattered. Bright enough to keep her sunglasses on.

“I’m fine, sugar. Why were you worried?” The resonant voice immediately shot her through with a calm and steady force. She would always be Daddy’s Little Girl.

“Mother called incessantly the other day and then seemed obtuse and deliberately vague when I wanted to know why. She knew I’d seen every attempt on my Caller ID.”

“Well, sugar, you talked to her and she told you not to worry about me. You shouldn’t have had to worry at all.”

“You know Mother.” A cloud pushed itself over the sun and she dipped her chin.

Her father laughed. A rich laughter from deep in his chest that she loved. It held a promise to her. A promise of protection. Security. “That I do, baby girl. That I do.”

Bond pulled her sweater a little tighter around her. “So nothing’s going on?”

“The only thing that’s going on in my life is that I’m missing my daughter. My daughter and my son-in-law and those amazing grandkids you’ve given me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive, sugar.”

“Why would Mother be so persistent? That’s not like her.”

“I have a feeling I might know why. She has been known to take a kernel of gossip and blow it out of all kinds of proportion.”

“Such as?”

“How much time do you have?” He chuckled, then cleared his throat and fell silent. Softer, he said, “Except maybe this is one rumor she hasn’t blown out of proportion. I’ve been beside myself with frustration over the whole thing. I’m not used to being powerless in any situation.”

“What is it?” Bond hated to think of her dad upset about anything.

“You may not even remember him. You’ve only met Judge Atkins a few times.”

Bond felt pieces of her mind freeze. A low roar began to flood her ears and built to a bellow. She wanted to scream but she couldn’t catch her breath. She swallowed.
Breathe. Just breathe.
Bond forced herself to focus, her left arm hugged around her waist while she pressed the phone tight to her ear. The roar slipped to a rumble.

“I remember him,” Bond said.

“Did your mother tell you what he’s been up against?”

“She hasn’t mentioned him.” Not in almost thirty years, Bond thought.

“Some woman is saying that he molested… God, I hate saying that word… that this great man actually molested her some twenty years ago.”

Bond couldn’t push a sound out—even if she could have formed a coherent thought—but her father didn’t seem to notice.

“And someone else came out with the same bale of lies. This is against a man who has contributed millions of dollars to Chicago charities over the years. I’ve been upset about all the insinuations since they first surfaced. Maybe that’s what your mother wanted to talk to you about. But Sugar, your old man is fine. Hale and hearty, as they say.”

Bond found her voice. “I’m glad, Daddy.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be pushing folks around for quite a while longer. But I am glad you called. It’s always good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too, Daddy.”

Bond clicked off her phone and her torso caved into itself, shoulders and arms listless. Dead weights. A huge black hole beckoned in her mind. One she didn’t want to enter. One she’d have to deal with.
Later
.

Not now. Now she needed to read to a kindergarten class—her second one for the week. She needed to take this cold—this clammy—feeling and put it away until she had a chance to be alone and decide what to do. Instinct told her that this time the memories these feelings evoked probably weren’t going to just disappear. She had managed her life with this in the background for thirty years and she could manage a little while longer.
Later. I’ll deal with this later.

Bond pulled her shoulders back. Swallowed. Took one breath. Two. She stepped into the library and walked to the noon-time reading area.

The young teacher got the youngsters settled and quiet. Bond walked through the cross-legged audience and settled into a rocking chair that was positioned like a throne before the queen’s subjects. She held up the colorful picture book they were going to read today. After the kids oohed and aahed over the cover and the first two pages, she pulled the book toward her and began to read.