Trust Me

by Richard Z. Santos

  Branch held out his phone. Mallon looked around the room. No one else was there. The only thing out of place was a few suitcases.

  “I’m sorry, sir?”

  “Take this.” Branch rolled his eyes. “Help me. I need games and . . . stuff like that. Books? Audiobooks, I think that’d be good. Music. Although I guess I need headphones too, right? Bound to be some around here.”

  Mallon had trouble reading the situation. Branch seemed happy. Maybe it was medication. The doctors might have prescribed an upper to balance out the sleeping pills. Mallon took Branch’s phone from him.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t understand.”

  Branch stretched and brought his hands down on his stomach. He rubbed his round belly and yawned. Happy as a fat little Buddha.

  “It’s time to make some changes around here. You’re coming with us. Lots of work to do, and I trust you. You, Diana, and . . . one other person. That’s it. Everyone else is so greedy. Selfish.”

  Mallon waited. Unsure how to deal with a happy, sober Cody Branch.

  “You’re lost,” Branch said. “As was I. But now I’m found.”

  Branch raised his palms to the air in mock supplication. He looked at Mallon. “Goddamn boy, you know you’re allowed to smile once a week.”

  Mallon heard Branch’s phone vibrate as a message came in.

  “It is time to move on.” Branch extended his arms like airplane wings. “And move on we will. Have the staff come up and pack for me. I need a few suitcases for winter clothes and a few for summer clothes. You’ll have to do the same. We’re going to the lodge in Wyoming first. After that, I don’t know, I’m leaving those details up to her.”

  “I should pack?”

  “Well, only if you don’t want to wear that black suit every day for the rest of your life. Although, maybe you do.”

  “Sir, I think I need some more information before I can . . .”

  “We’re getting the hell out of town until the dust settles, and I want you by my side. There will be some delicate maneuvers. And along the way you get to spend some time on a beach. You can find a local girl to hand you coconuts.”

  Mallon’s head swam. “A trip.”

  “A tactical retreat. I don’t want to come back to Santa Fe until construction on the casino has started. Maybe two years. There’ll be more lawsuits, but Diana can handle all that.”

  “Can I ask what happened to spark this change, sir?”

  Branch’s smile faltered. “I received some information. Distressing information. I’m acting now, before it gets worse. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. You can go home and pack.”

  Two years. Mallon pictured the compound falling apart, being overrun by weeds. He pictured his empty duplex. Claudia would have no one to look out for her. He felt like he was stuck at the bottom of a well with smooth cylindrical walls.

  “This is a bad idea.” Mallon took a deep breath. “Your wife is having an affair.”

  Branch folded his arms and let out a sigh. He seemed disappointed, a little sad, but not angry. Mallon had been bracing for fury.

  “Does every damn body in town know?”

  “It’s O’Connell, sir. I’m sorry, I don’t know how long but . . .”

  Branch waved his hands to silence him. “I know. I even know what they were planning. It’s good you figured it out. You’re sharp. That’s why I need you. But she is not coming with us.”

  Mallon felt nauseous. He had hoped Branch’s rage would wipe away these plans, give him the time he needed in Santa Fe, time this man was taking from him.

  “What are we going to do about it, sir?”

  “Nothing. The hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I may need you to deck me to keep my hands off his neck, but nothing is exactly what we need to do. I’m paying to make my problems go away. This morning we bombed the Apaches with a settlement offer, and we’ll come back after the fallout has disappeared.”

  “But what about O’Connell?”

  Branch smiled. It was cold and terrible. “O’Connell is going to get what he deserves.” Branch stood up and pointed at the suitcases. “The staff will probably need to go buy more, I don’t know.”

  Mallon watched Branch walk through the office and into the bedroom. “What about O’Connell, sir?”

  Branch shut the bedroom door, leaving Mallon alone with the suitcases.

  The phone buzzed again. Branch had forgotten it. There were a dozen new messages about travel, swimming, the Caribbean and Aspen and Switzerland. Mallon’s eyes flicked up towards the security camera in the ceiling, worried someone was watching him snoop.

  All the messages were from Janice Chávez.

  THIRTY-THREE

  THE SIGHT OF THE CUBICLE fish boxing up their stuff made Charles queasy. Salazar did it masterfully. Charles marveled as she swayed the room’s emotions. The second she started talking, everyone knew what was coming. She complimented them, made assurances of references, congratulated them on seeing the project through to its next phase. As they checked out with the imperious receptionist, their cardboard boxes of personal belongings were searched for electronics. A few even walked out smiling.

  Charles waited until Salazar went back into her office. She was reading a contract, jotting notes in the margins, scratching words out, flipping pages. Charles sat down across from her desk and she flicked her eyes up at him.

  “Ah, good” she said. “I had a question for you.”

  She turned her monitor towards him. An article about Hawley on her screen. “You know him?” she asked.

  Charles nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. We weren’t close but we’d worked together.”

  Salazar sat back. “It’s a sad story.”

  “It’s hard to believe.”

  She turned the monitor away from him. “You’ve done good work.”

  “I have?”

  She smiled. “Yes, you have. We’re moving on to the next stage of this process.” She indicated the monitor with her hands. “The press doesn’t care about the Apaches, so we’re putting them behind us. Time to start building again. That’s why we didn’t need the extra staff.”

  “Things are quiet out there.”

  “They were mostly working on the purchase of the land, the bonds, and so on.” Salazar held out a thin file folder. “This is the next phase.”

  Charles grabbed the folder and flipped through the pages. It was a contract of employment. His name was all over it.

  “We’d like you to transition to a parallel organization. The Airport Authority is hiring you to finish overseeing the construction.”

  The pages were a blur. Branch’s name was nowhere to be seen, and then he heard Thompson’s voice booming through his head. Charles closed the folder.

  “I don’t get it. What about you, what about Branch?”

  “I helped get the bond passed. It was always my plan to exit. I’m not particularly interested in asphalt vendors and driveway cutouts. Cody and I think you’re more than qualified to handle this. You’ll move to an office down on site. You’ll have a few assistants and you can stay in the house and keep the car. There’s also a pay raise.”

  Charles opened his mouth and closed it before finding the words. “It seems a little fast. I’ve never run a construction operation before.”

  Salazar leaned back in her chair and tilted her head. “It’s not like you’re going to be working the forklift. This is managing people, vendors, access to the site. Management skills. This is a good chance for you. If you’re not interested, we can move on with someone else and we’ll pay you out for the month.”

  “I know we’re not supposed to talk about the bigger idea, the goal for a gaming option on the site, but I’d still like to be involved with that.”

  Salazar remained stoic, taking a few seconds to reply.

  “Details of future site use are still to be determined. There are lots of ideas out there, but none of that can happen until we finish building.”

  Charles opened the folder agai
n. “And this is my chance to stay involved.”

  “And your first job is to go back to San Miguel tomorrow.”

  “I was just there.”

  “Things have changed. We sent you out there too early. I already apologized to Governor Luján. You’ll go out tomorrow and tell them the Apaches aren’t a problem anymore.”

  “How did I miss that news?”

  “Everything happened after you left for the site. The Apaches still haven’t accepted our initial offer. They’ll accept this next one, it’s . . . generous. You’re not going to have any notes, nothing in writing, but you’re going to tell San Miguel that after the Apaches drop their claims, our organization will need an additional fifteen percent to cover cost.”

  Charles began to wonder if this is how Jim Hawley felt when he heard the boots marching down the hall.

  “Fifteen percent of what?”

  “This is one of those important meetings. It’ll be quick, but it’ll also be your best chance to demonstrate commitment to this project.”

  Something about the Hawley story had been bothering Charles and now he realized what. Jim would never have marched off to his own execution. Charles imagined him crouched behind his cell door with a sharpened spoon or a sliver of brick pried from the walls. Jim would never have waited for Navy Seals to save the day. He would have tried something. If his move had worked, he would have lived, and even if his move had failed, well, he was going to die anyway.

  Charles knew a bad chance was still a chance. He picked up a pen from Salazar’s desk and signed the documents.

  TUESDAY

  THIRTY-FOUR

  DRIVING TO ESPAÑOLA, Olivia pulled over twice to look under the hood, poke around in the trunk and prod anything that looked like a secondary tracker. Nothing. She had taken the first tracker out and left it under a trash can downtown, but she doubted Mallon would be satisfied with just one.

  That morning, she tried to follow her usual routine. Coffee and breakfast at a local bakery, running to the gallery to check in with the owner, trying so hard to act normal.

  The compound had been different that morning. The household staff spent yesterday and this morning buzzing around and avoiding eye contact. Every time Olivia turned, there was another lawyer or banker slipping into her husband’s study. The security staff had been cut way back, and Cody never emerged from his office. Not even Janice had answered her calls. The world was changing, and no one had included her. Olivia needed to go check on Andrea and the kids.

  Outside Santa Fe there was hardly any traffic, and her husband’s cars were all the same, which should have made them easier to spot. Still, she could not keep her eyes off the rearview mirror.

  She blew away a few strands of hair that hung over her eyes. She reached for the coffee she thought was in her center console, but she had thrown it away hours ago. Again, she tried to blow the hair away from her face before running a hand across her head.

  “Stop it,” she said. “Just stop it.”

  Then she turned off her car’s Bluetooth, and then her phone, just in case.

  Andrea’s house looked even quieter than it had during her last visit. The grass was longer, and a few pieces of trash had blown into the yard. It took Andrea too long to answer. Finally, she cracked the door and shut it after Olivia slipped in.

  “Yesterday, someone was out there,” Andrea said. “A guy in a car. He was there for hours, and who knows how long he was out there before I noticed him.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  Andrea shot Olivia a glare that stopped her in her tracks.

  “I’m not exactly on solid legal grounds here. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even keep peeking out at the blinds because I was scared he’d see me.”

  Olivia sat down at the kitchen table. “What kind of car was it?”

  Andrea paced between the kitchen and the living room. “What?”

  “The car. What color was it? Two-door, four-door?”

  “It was white.”

  Olivia smiled. “That wasn’t one of Cody’s. He loves black town cars. Every security guy drives a black town car, I swear.”

  Andrea chewed her thumbnail and shook her head. “I don’t know. He was there a long time.”

  Olivia looked around. The house was so still. “Where are the girls?”

  “They’re in the back. I told them to be quiet. They’ve gotten good at that.”

  “No, no, they don’t have to do that. You’re not in hiding. This is supposed to be . . . relaxing.”

  “We’re not supposed to be here. You can’t just tell me to relax.”

  Olivia noticed the empty picture frames on the end tables and the trash can overflowing with paper plates and pizza boxes.

  “Have you even unpacked?”

  Andrea shook her head and sat down across from Olivia. “Why bother?”

  Olivia opened her mouth, wanting to give all the same excuses and encouraging words she had given Andrea time and time again. It was no use.

  “They were tracking my car.” Olivia felt like she was confessing. “My husband might have sent someone out here, but I don’t think so.”

  “They were tracking you? Has he finally lost his mind?”

  “It feels like I blinked and everything’s falling apart. Something is about to happen.”

  “We’ll leave,” Andrea said. “We have to leave.”

  “I can put the three of you in a hotel for a couple nights. I’ll get out cash.”

  “I wasn’t just talking about me and the girls. You. Leave him now. Assume he knows all about whatever you’re doing.”

  “I’m not ready yet. He’ll kick me to the curb, and we won’t have anything.”

  “We’ll have safety. We won’t be in this holding pattern any more. I can’t keep doing this. The girls need to be in school. You can’t keep doing this. Look at you. Would you really be more miserable living in Albuquerque working as a temp?”

  Olivia shook her head. “That wasn’t one of Cody’s guys.”

  “Fine, but something is happening, you said so yourself, and . . . I had a dream last night.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes.

  “Stop it,” Andrea said. “You know that happens to me. Before I got sick, before mom died, before Ellie broke her arm. In my dream, you were on the road, in a car, and someone shoved the side of it. They ran up to your car on foot and shoved it.” Andrea pushed her arms in front of her. “It started to spin out of control, not flip, you didn’t flip, I think that’s important too somehow, but the car spun and it hit the guardrail and it spun again and again. Someone did that to you.”

  Olivia took a breath. “Well, now I’m excited to get back on the highway.”

  Andrea furrowed her brow, then let out a snorting laugh. “Stop it, I’m serious.”

  Olivia smiled. “We have to hold on a little longer.”

  Andrea shook her head. “I don’t think we can.”

  It took twenty minutes for Olivia to calm Andrea down. Andrea was determined to leave, but at a certain point, she just didn’t have the energy to argue. Olivia figured she had a day, maybe two before she needed to jump ship and drag Andrea with her.

  On the drive home, she thought about Andrea’s dream of her spinning out of control. Whose hands were those that hit her car? Was it Janice? Maybe Charles? Olivia crept closer to Santa Fe. Or maybe they were her own?

  When Olivia pulled into the compound, it was nearly empty. There was a moving truck outside and the walkway was full of suitcases and cardboard boxes. No one was home. She went from room to room, calling for someone, anyone.

  When she went up to the bedroom, she whispered Cody’s name. She was scared to face him but prayed he was there, drunk as usual.

  He was gone too.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  WITHOUT MALLON LEADING him astray, Charles avoided the winding back roads to San Miguel. Approaching from the highway, the Pueblo looked like any other small town. The houses near the meeting hall were
also the newest in the Pueblo, with satellite dishes, new cars, high stone fences.

  On the last trip, Charles had seen the back half of the Pueblo and knew the money only went so deep. He pulled into the council parking lot. Part of Charles was screaming to run away, take a flight, let the whole state choke on its own dust.

  There were only two other vehicles in the meeting hall parking lot: a new car and a newly repainted truck that was almost an antique. Whoever was in this meeting would be the people who were really in charge: the ones who lived in stone houses.

  As Charles stepped out of his car, Addie called. Again. She had called three times on the drive down. He could not avoid her forever.

  “Hey babe, just getting out of the car. Sorry I missed you earlier. These mountains wreck the signal.”

  Charles smelled burning wood on the breeze, felt the gravel crunching underfoot.

  “I’m coming out tonight,” she said.

  “To-tonight? Wow, that’s great.”

  “Is it?” Addie’s voice had an unfamiliar hardness. Not angry, not spitting and gnashing, but she sounded ready to punch through any excuses he would throw at her.

  “Your flight was next week, I thought.”

  “I changed it. We need to talk.”

  “Okay. What happened? What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into out there, but . . . I’m on my way. I land at ten and I’m renting a car.”

  “You don’t have to get a car, I’ll come get you.”

  “No, I don’t want you to.”

  “You’re really not going to tell me what this is about.”

  After a few seconds, Addie said, “I kind of thought you’d tell me. Guess not. I’ll call you when I hit Santa Fe.”

  And then, she was gone. Charles could see someone on the other side of the meeting hall’s tinted glass doors. Who knew how long they had been watching him.

  The glass door opened and Governor Luján waved Charles in. He flapped his hand, hurrying Charles into the building.