After he was shot, either the person who shot him took off, afraid he might be caught if he gave chase, or maybe the victim was able to hide. There was no way of knowing whether it was light or dark at the time. Alex asked Lt. Wells what the chances were of ever solving the case.
“Somewhere between nada and zilch,” he said. Alex told him she had an interest in what happened to the remains of unidentified people, and would be starting a blog about it.
“Would you send me the composite sketch?” If he said no, she would have to go with the photos, but she didn’t want to. What if his relatives did see her blog? Admittedly, it was unlikely. Getting exposure for the blog isn’t going to be easy, and she didn’t have much time to devote to it. But, she wouldn’t want a relative of hers to be seen in death that way.
“Sure, I can do that,” Wells said. “We’ll be asking your dad to run it in his paper, anyway. It is your dad who owns it, right?”
“Yeah,” Now he knew she wasn’t really a professional journalist, if he hadn’t already figured it out. But, he was treating her a lot better than the cops treat the press in the police procedural and romantic suspense novels she liked to read.
“Give me your email address,” he directed, and she recited it for him.
“Miss Ward, do you think it’s a good idea to blog about this stuff?” he asked.
“Yeah, why? I mean, I know hardly anyone will see it, but maybe, down the road when I’m better known as a TV journalist, people will pay attention to it.”
“That’s very admirable, Miss Ward. What I meant though is it could be dangerous. Make sure you don’t give any indication of where you’re located, and strip location information from any photos before you post them.”
“Uh, okay,” He was being the typical paranoid adult. He meant well, though.
Alex thanked him and ended the call, eager to get on the road to school. She’d barely hung up, though, when she received another call, from a number she didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Alex? I hope you don’t mind me calling. Your dad gave me your cell phone number.” It was Dylan. She didn’t mind him calling, but was surprised Dad would give him the number without asking her first.
“I don’t mind. What can I do for you, Dylan?”
“I didn’t get to talk to you about what I wanted yesterday, Alex. Can I see you this evening?” A surge of curiosity overtook her and she wanted to say yes, but it was going to be nine o’clock or later by the time she got home. She told him so.
“I could come to your house,” he pressed. She wasn’t so sure of that. Even though it had been four years, Dad had said he didn’t ever want to see Dylan at the house again. But, she was confused about what Dad was up to, and wanted to know what Dylan had told him last week when he had that private chat in Dad’s office. Maybe a compromise would work.
“No, Dylan, I don’t think that’s a good idea. When are you off tomorrow?”
“Three-thirty as usual. Can I take you to dinner? I’ll be back in town by four, four-thirty.”
“I’ll meet you, Dylan, but you can’t buy my dinner. Let’s grab a burger or something. I could meet you at Jen’s place.”
Jen’s place was, strictly speaking, a bar. But she did have a short-order counter, and as long as Alex didn’t try to order a beer or something, she wouldn’t worry about her underage status. Neither would anyone else in town.
Their plans arranged, Alex again tried to get ready for her drive to school. Dressed, her tablet, books and notebooks in her backpack, several bottles of water, and the Sentra’s tank was full. She was ready. She called her dad to let him know she was going and tell him to behave himself while she was gone. Alex forget to tell him there was leftover fish in the fridge, but he reminded her.
“I’m eating at Jen’s tonight, so you can have that leftover fish,” he said, to make her laugh. Ugh. If there were any leftover fish in the fridge, she would throw it out as fast as Dad would. The running joke was their way of saying ‘I love you’, though.
“Okay, Dad, thanks. I know it’s your favorite.” Alex hung up before he could come back at her.
Chapter Sixteen
5:30 p.m., Friday, July 18
Jen Mackey’s bar looked like a Quonset hut from the outside. Inside, it looked like it was about to fall down. The floor of old wood planks were dried out and uneven, looking a little like the railroad ties on the abandoned line east of town, except they weren’t soaked in creosote. Dylan had barely noticed it the last time he went in, the night he almost got his butt kicked trying to defend Alex’s dad. Tonight he wondered if he shouldn’t have taken Alex to La Paloma, instead.
It was early, so the crowd was light and Jen wasn’t there yet. Instead, Antonio was behind the bar again. Dylan wondered when he’d turned up back in town. Most kids raised in Dodge scattered and never came back, except the ones who were satisfied with working in the mine, or had a family business to take over someday. A sudden jangling of electronic bells caught Dylan’s attention, and he looked over at the pinball machines, to find Alex already there, looking chagrined.
She’d bumped the machine too hard and gotten a tilt. Dylan strolled over and made a tsk sound, shaking his head, but grinning at her to let her know he was just giving her a bad time.
“It’s been a while since I played real pinball,” she said. “I used to play Xbox games, but they’re completely different than this old machine with its lights and pings and flippers.” Before he could say anything, she’d fed it another quarter and started over. She was completely engrossed in the game, so he wasn’t even sure she knew who she was talking to. When he put his hand on her shoulder and said hi, she shrieked and jumped a mile, which caused her to tilt again. She glared at him. “I almost had enough points for a free game!”
“Sorry!” He laughed.
They had attracted attention from the handful of patrons in the bar, and most of them were laughing at Alex. She shrugged it off and looked at her watch. Dylan was about fifteen minutes late, but it was still early for dinner.
“Let’s get that burger,” Alex said.
Dylan looked over at the bar. “Is it okay you’re in here?”
“It’s okay,” she said, “but if he kicks me out, we’ll have to take it somewhere else to eat it.” That didn’t sound very okay to him.
Seated at the table with their soft drinks in front of them and the burgers on the way, he asked her why the bartender would kick her out if it was okay for her to be there.
“I don’t know him,” she replied, as if it were enough of a reason.
“You don’t? He was a year behind me in school.” She tilted her head, trying to remember the name to go with the face. “Antonio Merced,” Dylan supplied. Her face changed as she remembered.
“He dropped out,” she said. “Wasn’t there some trouble? I can’t remember what it was, though.”
“Yeah, I heard he was picked up in some kind of raid or something down in Lukeville. Actually, I think that’s where he lived, which is probably why you don’t remember him. He went to reform school after that, I think. It must have worked. He seems like a nice enough guy now.” Dylan looked over at him again, noting he was conversing with a rough-looking patron at the bar.
“So much for my claim to know just about everyone in town,” she said. “I guess I haven’t been paying attention, or we’re experiencing a population boom from people moving here.” It must have stricken her as funny because she chuckled, earning a questioning look from Dylan.
“Nothing,” she said. “Random thought. So, what do you want, Dylan?” she asked, bringing them back to the point where the conversation went off the rails on Wednesday.
“I needed to ask you if you meant what you said in the editorial.” Dylan’s control almost vanished as his eyes bored into hers. If only he dared kiss her again. She stared back, her blue eyes cloudy and intense. It was like a jolt from an electric shock. Need, hope and something like desperation were there. What was thi
s? Was she going to answer him?
“Of course I did,” she said. “It was an editorial. That means opinion, and I expressed mine honestly. Why?” Dylan almost couldn’t bear to keep looking at her, her gaze was so insistent. Her eyes had his captured, though. He couldn’t look away, and he had no idea what he’d walked into.
Instead of answering her question, he changed the subject by asking one he didn’t even know he had. “Do you hate me, Lexi?”
Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. She didn’t have an answer immediately, and it scared him. He didn’t know he was going to ask it, and now he didn’t know if he wanted the answer. Of all the questions his life held right at that moment, this one seemed to be the most important, and he was afraid the answer was yes.
“I don’t think so,” she said, the words drawn out as if she were reluctant to say them. Was it the truth?
Dylan was still frowning as he said something else he never expected to fall out of his mouth. “That’s good, I think. Alex, Lexi, I know I didn’t treat you fairly four years ago. I’m so sorry.”
Four years ago, that apology might have meant the world to her. Now it made her mad.
She snapped, “A little late for an apology, isn’t it, Dylan? I’m going to ask you one more time, and then I’m done. What do you want?”
~~~
“Lexi, please. It’s hard. Will you hear me out?” Dylan was frowning, as if in pain.
She didn’t want to. It felt too personal now, and she was afraid of what he was going to say. Did she want him to ask if they could start over? She wouldn’t know until he asked, and then it would be too late to run, if she didn’t want that. Alex hunched her shoulders, looked away. But, she didn’t get up. She was going to hear him out. She looked back at him, nodded once, and looked away again.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Dylan glance around, probably deciding if he’d be overheard. This wasn’t good. She willed herself to get up and leave, but she’d already committed to listen. She hoped he’d at least get them out of there if anyone was paying attention.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he began, in a very low voice. “But, I hope we can be friends again.” Pain lanced through her, and she had her answer. She did want him. A lot. But that wasn’t what he had in mind.
“I need a friend, Lexi.” After a few seconds, when she didn’t respond, he went on. “You know my mom is really sick, right?”
Was that what all this about? She felt so selfish. Now she looked at him and nodded. “I’m sorry, Dylan. That must be hard.” Her hand twitched, an impulse to put it on his suppressed.
“Thanks. She’s out of it, doesn’t know who I am most of the time. She cries for my brothers. Did you know they took them away?” He didn’t say who, just ‘they’, like the faceless ‘they’ everyone feared were watching and controlling lives. She nodded again, reluctant to let him know she’d listened to gossip about his family, even though it was her job, more or less.
“I’m trying to find my stepdad,” he admitted at last. “We can’t get the boys back without his permission, or some bullshit like that.” His face twisted. “He hasn’t been there for them since Davi was born, and now he gets to decide their future.” She’d forgotten his brothers’ names. Now they came back to her. Juan, the older and David, pronounced in the Spanish way with the emphasis on the second syllable, was the younger. His nickname was a short form of it, Davi.
“How old are they now, Dylan?” she asked.
“Eight and six,” he said. That was younger than she’d thought before. Poor little guys, snatched from their family.
“What are you thinking I can do for you?”
His next words shocked her to the core. “I know you’re thinking about the guy they found dead. That’s what your editorial was about, right? I’m trying to find out about him, too. There’s a chance he could be my stepdad.”
For a moment, she couldn’t speak. She was right when she guessed Lt. Wells’ tipster was Dylan. But, why was he involving her? Too many questions crowded her mind, and she couldn’t get any of them past the gridlock in her brain. She knew her mouth was hanging open, and made an effort to close it. Since she couldn’t think which question to ask first, she compromised.
“Do you care to explain that?” It came out as a challenge, but Dylan didn’t blink.
“I told your dad last week. He suggested I talk to the sheriff’s department, and maybe get a lawyer, and I did. But, I still have to find out if that guy was Rufio.”
Now she was even more confused. This is what he wanted from dad? Advice? And what kind of advice was that? Then she remembered. The guy was shot.
“Did you…?” She couldn’t finish the sentence. He’d said he needed to know; if he’d had anything to do with it, he’d already know, wouldn’t he? And if he did, and she knew, then she’d be an accessory.
Dylan didn’t answer the question she was about to ask.
“Lexi, I don’t want to get you in any trouble. But, if you hear of anything happening in the investigation, will you tell me?” His dark eyes pleaded with her. If she hadn’t been so shocked by the revelations of the past few minutes, she might fall into them and drown.
Pity and concern for him welled up and her eyes filled. She reached for both of his hands and held them tightly as she answered. “Of course, Dylan. Anything. I’ve already started something that may help,” She told him about her blog, and that the dead guy was one of the first entries, his composite sketch already posted. How she’d put the pictures she took into a page for people who thought they might know him.
He squeezed her hands and then let them go. The black mood they’d entered dissipated with his smile.
“Thanks, Lexi. You’re a pal. Can I look, to see if it could be Rufio?”
“Sure.” She gave him the web address. Something had flickered in his eyes as he said ‘pal’, but she was too busy wondering at the choice of word to wonder at what was in his eyes. Could she change that description? She definitely knew the answer to her previous question now. Yes, she did want him to ask if they could start over. And the answer would be yes, wouldn’t it? All doubts about what he might have had to do with the homicide were forgotten. Only the ones about how to work out their differing goals remained.
What they had four years ago was juvenile and almost dangerous. Alex didn’t know if it was the dangerous part that re-awakened her desire for him, but she did know a few other things. What she felt four years ago was what passed for lust in a schoolgirl. She could still feel the tingling anticipation caused any time he kissed her then. What she felt right now was complicated. Her heart ached for the boy who’d had to grow up too fast. Her brain was concerned about what he hadn’t told her. And other parts of her…well, those had been awakened by the dreams that insisted on showing her what Dylan’s body could do to hers, if she allowed it. Fueled by books, movies and even TV shows, her imagination was much too graphic for her experience. But the tingle was familiar.
Alex was surprised to find it was still light outside when they left the bar. She felt as if she’d been in there for hours and hours, but in reality it had only been one. Dylan suggested they get some dessert, maybe an ice cream cone at the drive-in. Still concerned about the appearance of things, she said okay, but they should take both cars. On the way, she tried to decide whether to give him some indication she’d go out with him for real if he asked. By the time they were at the drive-in, she’d decided she wasn’t that brave. If he was going to ask, he’d do it without her hinting around. If he wasn’t, it would be too humiliating for her to throw herself at him. He hadn’t given her any hint he wanted her. Except for that kiss…
Chapter Seventeen
10:00 p.m., Friday, July 18
“Fax just came in at work,” Joe said.
“And?”
“They’ve got positive ID. We need to move on this shit.”
“I’ll take care of my end of the bargain. You take care of yours.”
“Got i
t covered.” Joe answered. “Listen, Wells will probably call Chaves to Tucson tomorrow.”
“Thanks for the tip, I’ll take it from here. What’s your plan?”
Joe was nervous. He didn’t dare push it any further. The other man was known to have a short temper, and Joe didn’t want to be in his cross-hairs. But if things didn’t go right, it was his butt on the hot seat. He really didn’t want to spell out his plan. Silence on the line gave him the idea he’d better.
“Meet me Tuesday, you know the place. I’ll show you.” He’d prove he was up to whatever they needed. Maybe it was a chance to move up the ranks. “I need to be in place by eight or so.”
“I’ll see you at your place, ride with you. Don’t screw up.”
Joe could have said the same thing, but again, there was nothing to be gained from it, and possibly a lot to lose.
“I won’t.”
Chapter Eighteen
Saturday, July 19
On Saturday morning, Alex slept in, the victim of a long night setting up her blog. Everything took time, as she had to keep looking up the way to do things. But, by three a.m., she was satisfied with what she had so far, and finally went to sleep. Now it was ten a.m., and she was going to be late for work if she didn’t get up and get moving. Alex was used to working on the weekend, having done it since she was twelve. By Saturday, everywhere that carried their newspapers for sale were usually out of them, and it was her job to replenish the supply. The office did close at noon, though, so she only went in for an hour or so in the morning, and then would be free for the rest of the weekend if there were no events to cover. Grocery shopping and laundry had to get done some time, though, and this was her only free time.
What would it have been like to have a normal childhood? She probably wouldn’t be so world-weary and tired of the same old grind. On the other hand, she wouldn’t be as mature as she was. She was mature for her age; everybody said so, even Dad, when he wasn’t treating her like an eight-year-old. Since she was so mature, she quickly showered and got ready for her hour of work, deciding to deliver to the grocery store last and do the weekly shopping while there.
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