Then, she drew out Kenny’s picture.
The office manager looked at it, then looked at Mitch. “What’s he done now?”
Mitch took out his badge and identification.
“Sure,” the office manager said. “I know Kenny.”
“Is he renting a space from you?” Mitch asked.
“Sure is.” The office manager gave the number, then said, “He’s been around off and on for about four years. He usually doesn’t take a space and all he seems to have is just a tent. I think he just goes out in the desert and camps.”
“You require the people renting space from you to fill out a leasing agreement.”
“Sure do.”
Without asking for a warrant, the office manager took out a file box and, in a matter of moments, handed Mitch a piece of paper.
Mary peered over his shoulder. “That’s Kenny’s handwriting, but his last name is not Hunter.”
“You seen Kenny around today?” Mitch asked the office manager.
“No, he doesn’t come in the office much and I haven’t needed to go outside. You might want to try asking some of the vendors. A few of the diehards are open today.”
Mitch held up the information sheet. “You have a copy machine?”
“Sure do.” In the matter of a minute, Mitch had a copy of the leasing agreement and they exited the office. Mary clutched the photo of Justin, desperately wanting to find her son safe and unharmed.
How on earth was Alma surviving each day and staying calm not knowing where her son was?
The vendors lined the main street and even behind the office. Their canopies battled the sun and the merchants sold everything from prospecting tools to jewelry.
It would take an hour or more to talk to all of them. Mitch made the decision for her. “We’ll look at Kenny’s tent first and then target the vendors closest to it.”
The “neighborhood” Kenny lived in had everything from full-blown RVs with pullout sides to simple tents like Kenny’s. Big enough for one and built to be assembled—and disassembled—in a matter of minutes. The best thing about it was the lack of a lock. Mitch looked around and then crawled in. Mary followed. What a waste of time. Kenny had a sleeping bag, a change of clothes in a brown grocery sack, a case of bottled water and a few paperback books.
“Nothing,” Mitch said. “The manager’s right. Kenny has a more permanent dwelling somewhere else.”
They left the tent and headed for the first two vendors. Both knew Kenny, liked him and hadn’t seen him today. The first didn’t recognize Justin; the second did. “He was here about a half hour ago. When he found out Kenny wasn’t here, he took off that way.” The vendor pointed to the desert.
Mitch turned and looked at Mary. “We don’t want to take the time to go back.”
Mary didn’t miss a beat. She turned to the vendor. “Where do we rent ATVs?”
He told her.
This time Mitch’s mouth opened and closed. Probably because he knew he’d have to handcuff her to be sure she didn’t follow. She’d said it once already, but she said it again. “I know how to talk to Kenny. He loves me and he loves Justin.”
“Do you know where he might be?”
“Sure.” Mary swallowed. It wasn’t that much of a stretch. Obviously Kenny had been in the area for quite a while. Longer than she and Justin. The tent proved this wasn’t his permanent or really even part-time residence. “He inherited a ghost town, remember? In this desert, too. Unfortunately, I don’t know where it is.”
She bit her lip for the next few minutes. The problem with law enforcement was the hurry-up-and-wait mentality. Mitch got on his cell phone and made a call. It took exactly four minutes for him to get a return call with the name and location of the ghost town.
And what better place to find a map of lost Arizona places than an old-time gold camp. The office manager had two. Once the vendors found out they were looking for a lost young boy, more maps appeared. Some were pretty old.
“It’s going to take more than an hour to get there,” Mitch said. “Does Justin know the way?”
“I’m not sure. Now that I think about it, he’s been meeting Kenny on and off for more than a week. He spent time with you; he spent time with Carl; he spent time exploring. I was trying so hard to let him be a boy, let him have space.”
“You did fine. You had no idea he’d been in contact with Kenny all this time. Plus, think. Kenny gave him that phone in case of emergencies. Justin is not in danger. Kenny is. The only dangerous part is that Justin happens to be leading us right to Kenny which is the last thing Kenny wants.”
“Justin will be in the way,” Mary muttered, remembering how her big brothers treated Kenny when he got in the way.
But she also remembered how she and Eric treated Kenny.
Mitch shot her a look that didn’t make her feel any better and then went over and rented the ATVs. While she would have hopped on and ridden quickly into the desert, he checked the gas and loaded a pack with water and power bars. When she started to complain, he silenced her with, “Justin might need the water and food.”
Mary felt useless. She clutched the maps and stared at the landscape waiting for Mitch to finish. What to do? What to do? What really amazed her was that in a locale where the noise was continuous—ATVs roaring to life, vendors shouting to each other and the noise of air vacs and motors—it was much too quiet.
Maybe Mitch was the perfect person to have along on this quest. No wonder Alma put her faith in him.
Alma didn’t only put her faith in Mitch.
Alma put her faith in God.
Like Mary’s mother had. Like Eric and Ruth did.
Mary bowed her head, shut her eyes and prayed.
It felt good.
Great, just great. He’d finally gotten everything ready against the backdrop of her tapping foot, her excessive bottom lip biting, and her over-all body language of hurry up and what was she doing: praying!
“Ah, you ready?” he asked finally.
Mary’s head flew up and in a fluid motion she was on the ATV and asking him how to turn it on.
“You don’t know how to turn it on?” He heard the impatience in his voice, and tried to steady it. He handed her a helmet and waited until she put it on before reaching over and turning the key.
Luckily, Mitch was good about moving his toes because she wasn’t waiting around. Mary’s feet went straight up, her body bounced in the air once, then she settled down like a bronc rider who’d found her seat. She took off.
What a woman.
Mitch shook his head and headed toward the ATV he’d rented. He didn’t put on his helmet yet. His goal right now was keeping her in sight, not trying to catch up. Catching up would only mean lots of dirt in his face.
He started off slowly, getting the feel for the bike, then he took out his cell phone. He could ride and talk. Eric needed to know what was going on. Chances were Mary’s brother knew about the ghost town, maybe even could give better directions than a map.
Eric Santellis wasn’t normally an excitable man. Mitch couldn’t remember ever hearing Eric shout out in anger, throw something or hit a wall. Ruth once said that the most she’d seen Eric do was punch the steering wheel.
But he was excited now. His words came out in short bursts of fragmented sentences. “Found twin doctor. In Maricopa. Ruth, Alma, going. Amber Alert worked. Father took baby. Not related case. George, Rico, lost tracks. I’ll call.”
Mitch turned off the engine and held the phone to his ear. “Say that again.”
Ahead, Mary had just looked back and noticed Mitch not moving. She was one smart lady. She figured out where the horn was. When he ignored her honking and frantic waving, she shook her head and did a wide turn, heading back for him.
Okay, she didn’t intend to give him even a moment to talk. Fair enough. He’d feel the same way if he had the lead position, but chances were this was something important. “Eric, where are you?”
On the other end of t
he phone, the noise of an ATV finally stopped. “Just got back to Mary’s cabin. I had to come in. Rico’s done in, man. Where are you?”
“Heading for Kenny’s ghost town.”
“Kenny’s ghost town? You’ve got to be kidding. Why?”
“Because I don’t think it’s a ghost town anymore.”
“Is my sister with you?”
Mary zoomed past him, circled again and managed to stop a few feet from Mitch. She took off her helmet and glared.
He glared back. “It’s your brother. He’s at your place. They have a lead on José and Tomás. Ruth and Alma are heading for Maricopa. Seems there’s a doctor that’s treating a pair of twins. George and Rico lost Justin’s trail, but Eric found them and took them back to your cabin. Oh, and the baby that was kidnapped last night was taken by her father. Not related to Roberto Herrara at all.”
Mary reached for his phone and took over the yelling. “Eric, did you know Kenny was in the area?”
Mitch couldn’t hear the answer but could tell by her expression it was a no.
“I think Justin’s heading for the ghost town and I’m guessing he knows how to get there. Can you come?” She nodded and then handed the phone to Mitch.
“We’re about an hour closer than you,” Mitch said.
“We’re on your tail.”
“George still with you?”
“He is.”
Mitch bit back a retort. Civilians, civilians, everywhere. And the only cop in the neighborhood had other things to do, namely take Alma and Angelina to possibly ID their children. No doubt Rico would get a second wind when he figured out little José might be just hours from being returned to Angelina’s arms—and Tomás to Alma’s.
Well, actually, the civilians were doing a pretty good job. Mary was jiggling impatiently, and George was looking like a pretty good back-up man.
“You ready to—” Mitch started to shout, but Mary was already on her way.
Hmm, it may have taken him thirty-five years, but he finally found himself a woman with a good sense of direction.
He put on his helmet and let her keep the lead for over an hour. Her wheels shot gravel and bits of hardened clay back at him. She stopped twice, took off her helmet, looked at a map, drank water in quick gulps and flexed her left hand.
Finally, when the sun seemed it couldn’t shine any hotter and Mitch regretted not purchasing sunblock and shorts from a vendor back at the ghost town, Mary let him catch up.
“This is it for me. I’m lost.”
“You did great. I can see why you said this plot of land was worthless. There are very few markers. The only reason I have my bearings is the time we spent here last year looking for Ruth’s husband’s killer. I think we’re just twenty minutes from Davidville.”
“The ghost town has a name?”
“According to this map.” He held up a map he’d purchased. It looked like a child’s drawing. A date in the bottom left corner said circa 1918.
“Let’s go.” Those two words seemed to be her favorite. He was pretty fond of them, too. He put his helmet back on, headed between a couple of boulders and immediately found a man-made road.
In his rearview mirror, he saw Mary shaking her head. Had she waited just two more minutes, she’d still be in the lead.
Some other day, some other time, he intended to head back to the beginning of this trail, see where it originated, because to his surprise, this was a much-traveled trail, which simply reinforced his belief that Kenny’s ghost town was alive and well.
Suddenly, the road smoothed and up ahead he could see a few buildings.
Davidville didn’t have a welcome sign. There was no posted population estimate. No, Davidville wasn’t a place the Census Bureau thought to include in their statistics. He motioned for Mary to stop, he turned off the engine and took off his helmet and gloves.
“There’s your ATV, parked right—” Mary pointed.
He put his hand over her mouth and felt a moment’s relief when she didn’t bite him. He whispered, “And he’s not alone. Let’s go ahead and look around the place before we announce our arrival.”
She turned off her ATV and nodded. “Hey, do I hear—”
“Generators? Yes, good thing too because they probably blocked out the noise of our arrival.” He wiped at the sweat that threatened to drip into his eyes. His head pounded. The five-piece band was starting up practice again. He looked at Mary.
“And the minute I tell you to run, I mean run. If you don’t act immediately, you could endanger yourself—or Justin.”
She nodded.
Mitch checked his cell phone. No service. Mary didn’t need a nudge. She pulled hers from her purse, hit a button or two and shook her head.
He pushed his ATV over to what looked like some old mining equipment. It wasn’t a perfect hiding place, but it would allow them to get to the bikes quickly. It also gave them four different directions to head.
Mary pushed her bike. She’d taken off her helmet and gloves. Her purse still hung on her shoulder.
Mitch hurried to the sturdiest building at the beginning of the town. Mary was the perfect shadow, noiseless at his side.
Davidville had four buildings that were probably original and about three tents that definitely came from the last few years. Tents were getting bigger as outdoorsmen were getting richer. The generators sitting close to the tents were top-of-the-line. And the noise they made gave Mitch more hope that their ATVs had escaped detection.
“Where are we going first?” Mary whispered.
“You’re staying here,” he whispered back.
She almost forgot to whisper, “But—!”
“No buts. From here you can see the town, namely me. Watch my every move. I don’t care what else you see. Don’t react. If you see Justin and not me, you look for me. If it’s safe, let me repeat, if it appears safe, you come tell me.”
“But—!”
“No buts. From here you can also see the road. Eric and George will be here as soon as they can. I want you to meet them and tell them everything that is going on.”
“But—!”
“Mary, how many missing people have you found?”
“None.”
“How many hostage situations have you successfully negotiated?”
“None.”
“Shall I tell you my numbers? Oh, and by the way, the time I’m spending here convincing you to let me do my job is keeping me from helping Justin.”
She finally nodded.
“Good.”
Slipping behind an adobe building, he inched toward a spot where a window should be and peeked in. If Kenny was the ghost who’d repopulated this town, he’d declared this building beyond hope. The ceiling had caved in years ago, animal droppings littered the floor and only a century of grime kept the walls from falling in.
The first huge tent was next to the building. Inside, Mitch could see at least four shadows. Judging by their size and shape, they were adult men. Fans were positioned in every corner. Justin didn’t appear to be in the tent. Mitch moved closer. The sun followed him, burning the top of his head and causing him to lick his lips for some semblance of moisture.
This was not fun.
The second tent was right up against the first. This one made him rethink his appraisal of the first. In this second tent, he could see at least two men standing. On the ground, though, he could make out at least a dozen people lying down. Made sense. The Arizona sun was unrelenting in the afternoon. The fans the generators were powering were barely helping. It was a good time to take a nap, try to find a cool spot.
He looked across the tiny road and almost let out a whistle. In its prime, this combination hotel and saloon probably was the town hub. For a town out here in the middle of the hot, hot, desert, it was impressive.
Two stories high, made of wood, and the size of a large convenience store, Davidville’s main building still looked sturdy enough to house a few guests.
It felt strange to be conduc
ting surveillance alone, without backup, make that sanctioned backup, and without his cell phone. He hoped Eric got here soon. If push came to shove and Mary caught sight of Justin, Mitch wasn’t sure she’d stay put.
Glancing back at the two tents, Mitch didn’t see any signs of occupants coming or going. There was a tent next to the hotel. It, too, looked in use.
Mitch decided to chance it, get to the hotel and find out what was going on inside.
He took one step, two.
“¡Madre, veo a un forastero!”
Yup, that’s all it took. One small Hispanic girl to yell for her mother, announcing a forastero, a stranger, and all the tents sprang to life and a full-scale evacuation took place. Mitch had helped secure quite a few drop houses in his time, but this was his first exposure to a drop ghost town.
As soon as he had a phone, he would call the border patrol. No one, including the woman who grabbed the little girl’s hand, looked to be packing water or food.
It took two minutes for the town to empty.
Mary, impressing him all the more, stayed at her post. He saw her peek around the corner. If he hadn’t been looking, he’d have missed it. She was that good.
With nothing to lose, now that whoever was in the hotel had to know Mitch was out there, Mitch moved to the street.
That’s when Kenny Santellis, with a firm grip on Justin’s shoulder, stepped onto the front porch.
Mary bit her bottom lip so hard, she tasted blood. From her angle, she could see Kenny’s gun. She could see how Justin arched away from the uncle he loved so much.
What was keeping Eric and George? She glanced at the road. All she saw were the backs of the retreating immigrants who’d had the misfortune to meet up with her brother.
Well, what else would a Santellis do with a ghost town?
“Let the boy go.”
She whirled back and stared at the scene in front of her. Mitch stood in the middle of the street, hands at his sides, his mouth a thin line of disapproval. Once again Mary saw what no one else would, the slightest tremors in his hand. No wonder, considering he’d been bashed in the head just twenty-four hours ago!
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