Midnight Crossing: A Mystery

by Tricia Fields

  “You think that’s true, that the media will want to know how I’m involved, since the murder took place next to my house?”

  “I think it is if he plants that seed,” Otto said. “You think he hates you enough that he’d tarnish an investigation just to put you in a bad place?”

  Josie thought about Otto’s question. It was hard to imagine the mayor would purposely mislead an investigation, but if he could turn the public against her, or cast doubt about her ability to lead the department, she had no doubt he’d do it.

  * * *

  With the body finally loaded into the hearse, Josie and Otto called Marta out to the front porch to discuss what they’d found.

  “That poor girl. I suppose she’s been hiding out here for days, knowing her friend was lying alone in the pasture,” Marta said. “Makes you wonder what could have happened to make her so afraid to ask someone for help.”

  Josie described the plastic bag she’d found the previous morning, but explained she’d not seen any other signs of someone hiding around her home.

  “Has she spoken at all?” Otto asked.

  “Not a word,” Marta said.

  “Vie said they have a room ready for her,” Josie said. “Vie said her shift ends at eight this morning, so she’ll get her checked in.”

  “Any ideas on what happens now?” Otto said. “She’s not a criminal. We can’t hold her.”

  “I don’t know where she’d go. If she knew someone, she’d have found a way out of this mess days ago,” said Josie. “I’ll have a translator meet me at the trauma center as soon as Vie clears it. For now … Marta, I’d like you to get her settled into a bed there. Surely we can keep her for observation for a day or two.”

  “I’ll start running missing persons reports,” Otto said.

  “That’s good. I’ll finish up here and meet you at the office.”

  FOUR

  The trauma center in Artemis was equipped with a one-room surgical unit not typically seen in small towns along the border. The center was located in a building shared with the county health department. Emergency room doctors served the trauma center on rotation, and a federal grant had at least ensured that the facility could handle some of the increased violence the area had experienced over the past decade.

  Marta pulled into the rear parking lot. It had been a quiet drive from Josie’s house into town. Marta had talked about her daughter’s first few weeks living away at college, trying to engage the woman in conversation, but she had remained quiet.

  Marta opened the jeep door and walked around to the backseat to lead the young woman into the center. The woman was staring at Marta as if she had no idea what was happening to her.

  Marta spoke to her in Spanish, explaining that the doctor needed to check her to make sure she was okay. The young woman’s eyes were wide and her mouth downturned into an exaggerated frown. Her arms were drawn up and crossed at her chest, as if she thought Marta was going to drag her out of the vehicle. Marta still had no idea if the woman spoke English or Spanish, so she alternated between the languages.

  After several minutes the woman timidly put a foot onto the pavement and stepped out of the jeep. They walked slowly into the reception area, where a young female receptionist picked up the phone and waved a finger in the air for Marta to give her a minute.

  A moment later, Vie Blessings, the trauma center head nurse, came bustling out from the nurse’s station in bright purple scrubs and neon green glasses. Her hair was short and spiked. Marta would have thought Vie’s vibrant personality would have frightened the young woman into retreating, but Vie came across as so incredibly competent that people just gave in to her. Marta had seen it before with great ER nurses; they could take control of anyone, from babies to crack addicts, all of them in crisis and needing help.

  Vie wrapped her arm under the woman’s and took her in to the patient wing. She motioned with her head for Marta to follow.

  “I’ve got a bed ready for her,” Vie said. “No sense processing paperwork if she can’t talk with us yet. Let’s just get her stable and feeling safe.”

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later Vie was able to sit down with Marta.

  “Obviously I’m not a psychiatrist,” said Vie, “but I’m quite sure she’s suffering from psychological trauma. I think she’ll need to be treated for acute stress disorder.”

  “How is she physically?”

  “Her vital signs are good. She’s dehydrated, but not severely. I’ll call Dr. Brazen, a psychiatrist out of Odessa, and see if he’ll pay us a visit later today to evaluate her. He has a good reputation for working with military personnel with PTSD.”

  Marta looked at her watch. It was almost seven-thirty a.m.

  Vie continued, “We’ll be lucky if we get him today. He’s a busy man.”

  “The other problem is a possible language barrier,” Marta said.

  Vie sighed. “For now, we have her stabilized. I’ll give her a sedative to help her sleep this morning. We may be surprised what a meal and hydration and a bed might do for her by late afternoon.”

  “I’ll post outside her room. Until we have a better handle on the investigation we’ll work with the sheriff’s department to have someone here with you.”

  Vie patted Marta’s arm. “I’d appreciate that. Let’s get you set up in the hallway.”

  As they walked down the hallway Marta said, “I keep thinking about Teresa. She’s not that much younger than that poor woman in there. I can’t help thinking our lives are just one bad decision away from tragedy. I just wish I could get Teresa to think that way.”

  Vie smiled. “Come on, Marta. You were young once too. If we all second-guessed every decision we made in our youth we’d never leave home and experience the world.”

  Marta pointed back toward the patient room. “Leaving home isn’t always a good thing.”

  * * *

  At nine o’clock that morning Josie walked into the office at the police department and found Otto typing something into his computer, his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. Josie’s desk was full of paperwork and pink “While you were out” messages. She wondered how many were checked “Urgent,” and felt a weariness settle into her bones. In her mid-thirties now, she’d noticed working a twenty-four-hour shift affected her differently than it had ten years ago. The adrenaline surge didn’t last as long as it used to.

  Josie filled her coffee cup from the pot at the back of the office and sat down at her desk. She found a package of cheese crackers in a drawer and opened them for breakfast.

  Otto hung up and scowled as he turned to face her.

  “Nothing. No leads on two young women missing over the past week. At least not in the surrounding areas. Cowan called and said he’s already entered information into the NamUs system from the Department of Justice.”

  “That’s the unidentified persons database?”

  “Yep. No hits. I checked Texas missing persons and a few other databases.”

  “You checked Piedra Labrada?”

  “Nothing connects with anything that’s happened in the past week. I’ll expand the search parameters.” He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “How’s the other woman doing?”

  “Marta just called with an update. The woman’s still not said a word. Vie said she’ll call a psychiatrist from Odessa to come talk with her later today, after she’s had some sleep. And on my way over here I called Ms. Beacon to see if she’d meet me at the trauma center later today to translate.”

  The phone on Josie’s desk buzzed and Lou said, “Mayor’s on his way up.”

  Josie leaned her head back and looked at the ceiling. “Otto. I do not have the patience for him right now.”

  “Pick up your phone. I’ll deal with him.”

  “You’re a saint.”

  It was pathetic, but she blamed it on sleep deprivation and picked up her phone. She pressed the handset to her ear and turned from the door to face her computer monitor, eavesdrop
ping on the conversation taking place behind her.

  “Morning, Mayor,” Otto said.

  “How the hell are you?” the mayor said.

  Josie pressed her lips together in irritation. The mayor had never once in her career addressed her in such a casual, friendly manner. Generally, he greeted her with a disapproving nod of his head. She imagined he viewed their relationship as drill sergeant to lowly private. And it ticked her off.

  She opened the drawing program on her computer and began entering measurements from her crime scene diagram. With the measurements in place, she’d be able to print a drawing to scale. Josie occasionally muttered yes or no into the phone, hoping the mayor would get a quick update on the investigation and leave.

  “You keep me updated, you hear?” she heard him tell Otto.

  “Yes, sir,” Otto said.

  “Who’s she talking to?”

  Josie heard Otto hesitate. “I’m not sure, Mayor. Can I give her a message for you?”

  “Tell her Caroline’s sponsoring a tea for the women of Artemis to support her mission project. I expect Josie will want to attend. Tomorrow at six in the basement of the Methodist church.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do that.”

  “Tell her to invite her mom. I’m sure she’d enjoy the event. You take care, now.”

  Josie listened to his boots clip-clop down the stairs and replaced the handset. “So now I’m required to support his wife’s charity work? That bastard infuriates me.”

  “It’s not like he’s asking you to do something immoral. It’s a charity event.”

  Josie’s eyes widened and Otto threw his hands in the air. “All right, all right. Just tell him you’re busy.”

  “I have a murder to solve. I’m not worried about his wife’s latest do-good cause.”

  “So send your mom. It’ll keep her occupied for the evening.”

  * * *

  Josie clocked off at ten a.m. to get a quick shower before returning for an eleven to seven-thirty shift. In order to get their shifts straightened out again, she would be back at work at eight the next morning. The swing shift was the worst. It would take her a day or so to get acclimated to the new sleeping schedule, and she had her mom visiting from Indiana, hoping to be entertained on Josie’s off hours.

  Josie called her mom on the drive home to fill her in on the situation.

  “What am I supposed to do tonight while you’re working?” she asked.

  “Just hang out at the motel for tonight and get caught up on your sleep. Tomorrow, the mayor invited us to his wife’s charity event.” Josie winced as she said the words. She couldn’t believe she was using his summons to buy off her mother.

  “At least that’s something.” She paused. “He’s married?”

  Josie sighed. “Yes. Her name is Caroline. She’s a senator’s daughter with money. Her goal appears to be getting the mayor elected into the state senate, but so far, no luck.”

  “That’s hard to believe. Seems like he’d be a great politician.”

  Josie stifled a sarcastic comment and promised to stop by the motel later that evening on her break to check in.

  * * *

  Otto drove home to his ranch on the outskirts of town and found Delores standing on the front porch when he pulled into the driveway. She appeared to be placing something on the ground. Then he saw the gray cat weaving in and out between her feet, and he realized she was setting down a bowl.

  Otto opened the jeep door, hollering to Delores before his feet even hit the driveway. “No, no, no. We’ve had this discussion. No more strays. Especially cats. They’re evil animals. They leave prints on my patrol car.”

  “Oh, Otto,” she said. Her tone was irritated, and she waved her arm at him dismissively. “You can’t call that old jeep a patrol car. And with all this dust on the roads, who’d notice a paw print anyway?”

  “Cats multiply like rabbits. We have enough animals to feed. We don’t need another one, that will eventually turn into twenty, milling around my feet every time I walk in the barn.”

  “We’ll get him fixed. You have your goat herd to take care of. I just want one cat. And he showed up looking for love. Look at him. He loves you already.”

  The cat was greedily lapping up the bowl of milk Delores had given him.

  “My goats serve a purpose. Cats are pointless rodents.”

  “They aren’t rodents.” Delores opened the screen door and ushered Otto into the living room.

  He stopped just inside the door and took a long deep breath through his nose. He closed his eyes and stood perfectly still. “Do I smell corned beef?”

  “And?”

  “Sauerkraut?”

  “You have a nose like a chef.”

  He opened his eyes and turned to face her, feeling a mix of betrayal and excitement. “Sauerkraut balls for breakfast?”

  “It’s almost ten-thirty. Brunch,” she said.

  “Bribing me with food. You want this cat bad, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  Otto sighed, knowing he’d already lost the battle.

  He followed his wife into the kitchen, where she pulled a platter of deep-fried sauerkraut balls out of the oven.

  He snatched one as she carried them over to the kitchen table, and popped it into his mouth. “A perfect, mouth-sized piece of Polish goodness.”

  “Since we’re having the rest of the apple dumplings for dessert, I thought we’d best just eat the kraut balls and nothing else. Josie will cut you from the department if you gain any more weight.”

  “She’s got bigger problems than my midsection.”

  Delores poured them both tea and sat down across from him at the table. “Fill me in.”

  Otto had called Delores after they’d found the women to let her know he’d be working at least a double shift. He’d given her the basics but no details.

  “Josie and Marta took the woman they found hiding on the front porch to the trauma center.”

  “Was she hurt?”

  “Josie said physically she’s fine, but she’s not said a word. She acts as if she doesn’t understand any English or Spanish.”

  “Maybe she’s from Latin America. They speak other languages besides Spanish.”

  “We can’t even get a yes or no out of her, not even a shake of the head.”

  “She didn’t carry a purse or any ID?” she asked.

  “Nothing. The woman who was shot in the pasture didn’t have an ID either. She was running away from the road and was shot in the back. I imagine the women were traveling together, and after her friend was shot, she hid at Josie’s.”

  “I’m surprised Josie’s dog didn’t sniff out those women,” Delores said.

  Otto spread horseradish sauce on another sauerkraut ball and looked at Delores like she’d said something ridiculous.

  “What?” she asked, looking slightly offended. “He’s a bloodhound. Surely he knew the woman was hiding there.”

  “He’s the laziest dog I’ve ever seen. He probably kept her company during the day while Josie was gone.”

  “What’s going to happen to her now?”

  “She’s been admitted to the trauma center for now. They’ll treat her for PTSD, I guess. We don’t have any kind of victims’ assistance here in Artemis, so we’ll have to work with one of the bigger cities to see if she can get help. See if we can find her a place to stay so we can keep tabs on her.” Otto suddenly felt irritable and realized his lack of sleep was catching up with him. “I don’t know. It’s not a good situation.”

  “Let her stay here. We’ve got a spare bedroom,” she said.

  He sighed and stifled a yawn. “However unlikely, she’s still a suspect in a murder investigation.”

  “That’s awfully coldhearted to say, after what she’s been through.”

  “Delores, you’ve been married to a cop for too many years to make comments like that. You know very well we can’t take this woman into our home right now.”

  “Fine, then.
If you won’t let me help this woman, then I’ll be helping out that poor starving cat.”

  Otto scooted his chair back and stood. He kissed Delores on the head, thanked her for breakfast—or brunch—and headed down the hallway to drop into bed for a few hours’ sleep. People thought he was married to the sweetest lady in Arroyo County, but she was awfully bossy for someone so sweet.

  FIVE

  Later that afternoon, after several hours of slogging through paperwork, Josie told Lou she was headed to Marfa to meet with Jimmy Dixon, a Border Patrol Agent with the Big Bend Sector. Agents in the Big Bend Sector were responsible for the entire state of Oklahoma, as well as seventy-seven Texas counties, which included over four hundred miles of the Rio Grande border. While making the thirty minute drive to Marfa, Josie scanned the vast desert that spread out in all directions and thought about the hundreds of miles of unsecured border. Considering the incredible cartel violence in Juárez, Mexico, located just a few hours from Artemis, she marveled that the crime had primarily remained across the border. But she also wondered, as remote as the area was, how much drug smuggling and gunrunning went on completely undetected.

  Dixon was standing under the shade of a massive live oak tree on the courthouse lawn talking on his cell phone. He was in his mid-forties, wearing the standard olive-green BP uniform. Jimmy was trim and well turned out: brass polished, uniform starched, and boots shiny. She liked Jimmy, and respected him as a competent officer. He’d asked her out to dinner a few times through the years, but she’d been in a relationship with Dillon Reese. With Dillon out of her life, she hoped Jimmy wouldn’t pursue it. He was attractive and a good guy, but his manic intensity wore her out. She couldn’t handle his energy more than a few hours at a time.

  He saw Josie get out of her jeep and waved.

  She reached him as he was slipping his phone in the holder on his belt. She held her hand out and they shook. “How’s it going, Josie?” he asked. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “You too, Jimmy. How’s life in Marfa?”

  He motioned toward the park bench under the tree and they both sat down. She listened to his story about a two-hundred-pound load of marijuana they’d confiscated a week ago, and the ensuing chase through the river that brought down the smugglers. Josie laughed at his retelling, full of drama and mishaps.