by Frank Hayes
“You know Wade, don’t you, Virgil?”
“Yes, but I had forgotten his connection with the trucking operation.”
“Wade handles all the maintenance now. He and his crew do everything. And he’s hands-on. Oversees everything.”
“I guess Wade’s doing okay,” Virgil said. “When I stopped by his place, I saw he’s opening a car dealership.”
“And Hayward Trucking is sponsoring his NASCAR ambitions. I’d say he’s doing a little better than okay. Anyhow, they got the rig back to the depot and Buddy just figured they’d transfer the load to another container and he’d be back on the road to Juárez. But it didn’t happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Buddy said they told him to take the rest of the day off. He wasn’t exactly unhappy about that, but the next day he had to wait till they finished making the repairs to that container.”
“I don’t understand,” Virgil said. “What’s so unusual about that? I mean, the repair, isn’t that part of the maintenance?”
“Yes, at some point, but Buddy said that didn’t make any sense. You’ve been to the yard. We’ve got containers sitting around all over the place. Buddy said they could have unloaded that box with a couple of forklifts and reloaded the contents into another container in a couple of hours. There was no reason to lose a day waiting for that particular container to be repaired. He said it just didn’t make any sense.”
“Okay.” Virgil said. “Then the next logical question is, why did they do that?”
“That’s what Buddy said.”
“Did he go any further with it?”
“He told me he was going to find out why. Ask Wade what was so special about that particular container and why he was the only driver that pulled it.”
“Did he? I mean, do you know if he spoke to Wade?”
Carlos sat back in the chair and didn’t answer right away. Then he stood up. He gave Connie and the baby a quick hug.
“Honey, why don’t you take the baby out to the patio for a couple of minutes? Let him play with some of his toys. I’ll be out in a little while and we’ll talk about what has to be done.”
They looked at each other for a long, quiet moment. Connie finally left and went through the door to the patio without a word.
“I’m sorry we have to be here, Carlos, and for all of this. But like I said earlier, I’m afraid this has gone beyond Buddy’s murder. I don’t know exactly where this is going to end up, but I’ve got to follow the trail before it goes cold.”
“I understand.”
“So did Buddy find out anything?”
“Yes, but he wouldn’t tell me what. He said it was better if I didn’t know. It would be too dangerous for me. It was the last time we spoke before . . . before he was killed. He told me that he had found out something and he was going to speak to Wade about it, but when I pressed him, all I could get out of him was that it had something to do with that particular container. That’s when he said it was better if I didn’t know. It was Buddy who told me not to talk to you, or anyone for that matter, about this. That’s why after Buddy was found in that stock tank and I saw you at the Black Bull, I didn’t want to say anything. Virgil, look how my wife’s brother and sister ended up. I guess because of them and her connection to Buddy, and his to me . . . Well, that’s why they were killed and why they ended up down here. Someone is sending a message and I guess it was to me. So what am I going to do now? They’re going to know I’ve spoken to you. This is my family. How am I going to protect them?”
“With our help, Carlos,” Virgil said, looking at Dave. “With our help.”
A few minutes later, Virgil and Dave were standing by their vehicles in the driveway.
“How are we going to handle this, Virgil?”
“For the time being, I want you or Alex here all the time. I’ll send Jimmy down to help as soon as I can.”
Dave leaned against the car, which was parked under the shade of a mimosa standing by the driveway.
“Virgil, we’re not really up to this for the long run. I mean we’re small-town.”
Virgil didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked back at the house, the well-kept yard, and a bike lying on the lawn.
“I know, Dave. And these are some big-city crimes.”
24
The ride back to Hayward took longer than usual. Virgil needed the extra time. There was a lot to think about. At one point he just pulled off the road and sat for a while. Dave’s words were lingering in his mind. He didn’t want this thing to get ahead of him, just because he was small-town. Ego couldn’t be a roadblock. At the moment, his immediate concern was the protection of Carlos and his family. He was back on the road and halfway to Hayward when the answer came to him. He slammed on the brakes and did a quick one-eighty on the deserted road.
The turnoff was only a mile or so back. Most would barely notice it. Even if they did, they would probably think of it as a road to nowhere. The land had been baked hard, so he barely slowed as he left the main road. The dust he did kick up had settled before he was a quarter mile farther on. It was only when he started up the butte, toward the tabletop, that he slowed. The cholla and sage had given way to occasional patches of green as he climbed. It wasn’t long before he saw a few sheep. Another mile on, he got the first glimpse of his grandfather’s place.
The old man was sitting in one of the chairs outside, again facing the western sky, getting an early start waiting and watching for the evening choreography.
“I see the sheep got clipped,” Virgil said as he stepped out of the cruiser.
“Billy and his sons,” the old man said.
“Sons?”
“Well, the little one is only seven, so Billy brought him along to teach him a few things.” He paused for a moment, never taking his eyes from the faraway view of the horizon. “Imagine. Seven. When I was seven, the world was a different place.”
“Do you think it was a better place then?”
The old man didn’t answer right away. Then he looked at Virgil.
“No. This is better.”
Virgil was surprised by his quick answer, but before he could say a word, the old man continued.
“Too many babies died. My mother lost five. Life was hard. There was no pizza. Sometimes it was cornmeal over and over. Just flatbread. Sometimes nothing. There was no fine home like this.” He gestured toward the double-wide. “We would be hungry and cold when the north wind came. Many times. Now, I am comfortable and my stomach is full. But it was nice to be young. There were good times. Riding my pony while I was watching the sheep, being with my friends at the mission school. It was not all bad.”
He got up from his chair unexpectedly and with a smoothness that contradicted his age. Then he waved his hand over the broad landscape.
“Many things have changed in the world, but this is the same.”
Slanting light of the late afternoon crisscrossed the land in broken patterns, highlighting the rough topography. Sloping buttes, softened and worn by centuries of weathering, sharp arroyos cut by torrents of water, and always the desert stretching to meet the distant sky.
“Stay to eat,” the old man said.
“I am hungry, but I should have brought something.”
“There’s plenty. More than I can eat by myself.” With one more glance at the sky, he turned to go into the trailer. “A change is coming. Look at those thunderheads. The earth is thirsty. It needs a drink.”
“No argument there. A lot of the creeks are running low. Cesar says there’s no chance for a second cutting unless we get some serious water soon.”
Virgil followed his grandfather into the trailer. For the next twenty minutes he helped with the preparation of their meal.
“Would you like a beer or a glass of wine?”
Virgil had just pulled his chai
r into the table. A square of lasagna and a bowl of mixed greens sat in front of him.
“Wine . . . I don’t remember you having wine.”
“I’ve been trying some new things. Red wine goes good with lasagna.”
“Tired of cornbread and frijoles?”
“No, but I’m trying to eat healthier and it’s good to try something new. The red wine goes better with the pasta. I like it.”
Virgil nodded. “Grandfather, you continue to surprise me. The lasagna looks good. Are you developing new cooking skills, too?”
“A little, but I didn’t make this. Mrs. Hoya did.”
Virgil had poured the wine and just put his glass to his lips. “Mrs. Hoya? From the Senior Center?”
His grandfather nodded.
“So, how’s that going?”
“It is going well, but we have not slept together yet. We will see.”
Virgil choked a little.
“You all right, Virgil?”
“Just went down the wrong pipe. I’m fine.”
They ate in silence until they finished the meal. Virgil filled their emptied wineglasses for the second time, then sat back in his chair and looked around the kitchen. It was indeed a nice place for his grandfather. There was very little maintenance and plenty of room. Much more than he needed for himself.
“Grandfather, I have a favor to ask of you.”
“I did not think you came so soon after your last visit for no reason. How can I help you?”
For the next twenty minutes, Virgil explained what had happened as the investigation into Buddy’s death had progressed.
“Now it’s reached a kind of critical point. To go further I’ve got to make sure Carlos, his wife, and children are safe. I don’t want anything to happen to them. They’re good people. But I don’t have the resources to draw on like a big-city police force. I know I can reach out for state or federal help, but that will take time and I have to do something now. Carlos’s family was a thought, but then I realized that if someone was after them that’s the first place they’d look. Then I thought of you. You have no connection with them and plenty of room here. You’re also pretty hard to find and even harder to get to. It’d be a good safe place for them.”
“Bring them here, but tell as few people as you can. Remember what I said to you before, Virgil. The people that left that man in the stock tank will do anything and they have just proved that.”
“I know.”
An hour later, as he was headed toward the hard-surface road, night was beginning to cover the land. He glanced in the rearview mirror and he saw the light from the double-wide disappear around the edge of a butte. Coming off the plateau, he reached the flatland, then glanced once more back at the tabletop as he turned onto the county road. Night had taken over. He could not see the cutoff to the desert road or anything but prairie and the low-lying ridge in the distance.
By the time he got back to the ranch, it was a little past nine. He’d thought about stopping at the office, but he was drained. Besides, he didn’t need any more on his plate just then. He saw the light outside the door on the porch and he was glad. It was nice to have someone remember you. Once inside, he shed his uniform, draped it over the back of a kitchen chair, then in shorts and T-shirt went to the fridge and took out the quart of cold milk. He put it to his lips and with the door still open, he drank his fill. Then he went upstairs. His shorts and tee lay on the floor where he dropped them. He climbed into the bed relishing the smooth feel of the sheets. He closed his eyes and let a deep breath escape his body. Finally, he set about the task of driving the image of two headless bodies from his mind so he could slip into the narcotic sleep he so badly needed.
25
The world felt different when he awoke. There was no sunlight flooding the room, and when he flipped the switch off on the window AC and opened the other window to let in some fresh air, it was oddly still. No hum of insect life, no soft breeze, no morning song.
He came into the kitchen a half hour later, freshly showered and dressed. His other uniform still hung over the back of the chair. It was a little after eight when he finished his coffee. He called the office and was surprised when Dif Taylor answered.
“Rosie not in yet, Dif?”
“No, Virgil. Something about Dave staying down in Redbud throwing her off her schedule.”
“You all right? I mean, she spoke to you about coming in more.”
“No problem. I been here since midnight. I’ll stay till she shows.”
“What about Edna?”
“She’s visiting her sister over to Alamogordo for the next few days.”
“I don’t know how long this will be for, Dif, but I really need the coverage.”
“I’m good, Virgil, but lotsa luck explaining the extra expense in the budget to the council. They still think Main Street is a dirt road.”
“Yeah, that point came up the other day. Guess they’re a little reluctant to move into the twenty-first century. Thanks for stepping in, Dif.”
He left the house right after his call and walked to the barn. There was no sign of Cesar, but he knew he couldn’t wait around to see him. He had to be at the hospital by nine for the formal identifications. The barn was empty except for Star and her foal in the extra-large box stall. As he got closer, the mare gave a soft nicker. He stood with one foot on the bottom rail, looking over the quiet scene. The foal was lying stretched out on the mix of stage dry and straw, the only movement an occasional twitch of an ear to shake a fly. Star stood in a fixed pose, her weight on three feet, the fourth bent at the ankle, resting on a little mound of bedding at her feet. Virgil knew that while the foal rested, she would hold that position, only shifting her weight from time to time to rest the other front foot. He nodded as he took his foot off the rail and, as if in acknowledgement, she dropped her head in a similar movement. It was one of those moments that he had experienced before, when the communication seemed intuitive. Many times with Jack, the course of action was still forming in his brain when the horse had already acted in anticipation. He’d spoken of it once to his mother. He could still see her nodding, her dark eyes smiling.
“The language of intimacy,” she had said. At that age, he had puzzled at her words, but now as he walked the corridor between stalls to the opened barn door he understood their meaning.
* * *
He was at the hospital before Dave, so he took the time to make sure the viewing would be as painless as it could be. Ark Kincaid was in another part of the hospital, but Chet the intern met Virgil when he went downstairs.
“Your deputy called to say they were running late. Something about the kids and all the stuff they had to take.”
“Okay.”
“Sheriff, they’re not bringing children here, are they?”
“No. The children will be outside with the deputy. Only the parents will be here. The children are too young to be left home alone, and the parents are too upset to leave them with anyone.”
Virgil didn’t want to have to offer more explanation. He hadn’t even told Dave about Carlos and his family not returning to their home, and when he told Carlos to pack the necessaries for an extended stay, where they were going was still an unformed idea to him. Now that he had it worked out, he knew that it was key to keep it as secret as possible. No one except him knew that they were going directly from the hospital to his grandfather’s. Virgil didn’t want to indicate a lack of trust to his deputies, but he knew that the less they knew, the safer Carlos and his family would be. His plan was to send Dave back to Redbud after the viewing, then bring them directly up to the mesa.
“Here we are, Sheriff.”
Virgil knew they had been making extensive renovations to the hospital complex over the last year and was pleasantly surprised by the room he entered. The colors were muted and soft. Although he knew what was behind the drape tha
t covered the viewing window on the far wall, he felt much less anxiety than expected.
“Hey, Virgil.” Doctor Kincaid had followed them into the room.
“Hey, Ark. I gotta say, considering what this room is used for, you made it as palatable as possible.”
“Hats off to Chet here. It was his idea to get away from that institutional green. A lot of the current dialogue about death and healing speaks to the physical environment which initiates the process. He’s even carried some of what he’s learned into the actual viewing during the identification process. The board didn’t object, because the cost factor was minimal. It’s more about a supportive atmosphere for those left behind after a tragedy.”
“I had to identify my brother after a motorcycle accident in Chicago,” the intern said. “It was one of the worst experiences of my life. I still feel the coldness of the room. I understood how in a big city hospital, death almost becomes routine, just a part of the fabric, but I sat in a bare room on a paint-chipped metal chair waiting for the attendant to bring my brother into the other room. There wasn’t even a picture on a wall, a plastic flower in a vase . . . nothing. I’ve never felt so alone in my life. Then, when the curtain was drawn back and I saw my brother, I could barely process it. It was like a bad dream. The only thing I could think of was that my parents weren’t there to see him. That would’ve killed them.”
“Sometimes it takes an experience like that to force change,” the doctor said. The moment of silence that followed was broken by a soft knock on the door. Virgil opened it. Dave stood in the hallway. Behind him were Carlos and his wife.
“Jimmy’s outside with the children,” he said.
“Jimmy?”
“I didn’t want to leave the office in Redbud unattended. Jimmy said he didn’t mind coming in early.”
“Okay. Good, Dave. I should’ve thought of that.”
“Like I said, Virgil, we’re in deeper water here than we’re used to. You can’t think of everything. That’s why you have deputies.” He gave a little wink then turned and walked down the hall. Virgil watched him go then turned and shook Carlos’s hand.