Her Good Name

by Josi S. Kilpack

  “Ms. Salazar?” a voice asked, and it didn’t sound like the bartender of her fantasy island. She flipped her hair up and looked at an Asian man with spiky hair and angular features. His name tag read “Dr. Jon Nasagi.” As he looked at her, his face softened, something she hadn’t expected. “Chressaidia Salazar?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly.

  He pulled out a chair and sat down, looking at her. She waited a few seconds, assuming that he’d take the lead, but he didn’t.

  “Someone has stolen my identity,” she explained, just as she had to the security guard. “And had a baby in this hospital.”

  He nodded. “You’re from Idaho?”

  Chrissy furrowed her brow and pulled back slightly. “How do you know that?”

  “I was looking for family members.” He shook his head. “I—I wondered if something like this had happened. You do know your insurance information on file is all relayed to California, right?”

  Chrissy shook her head. “No,” she said, in awe, once again, of the details her thief had thought to take care of. “You were . . . looking for me, I mean, the other Chressaidia?”

  He shook his head. “Not her, just her family, for her baby.”

  Chrissy leaned forward and realized that maybe he could help her. “Yes, her baby. She’s into something bad—really bad. That’s why I’m here. That baby isn’t safe, but you must know that if you were trying to find help for it.” He didn’t say anything so Chrissy continued. “This woman is involved in gun smuggling. I think she’s also involved in the death of her husband, except I guess he wasn’t really her husband because she used my name to marry him.” Did that mean he was Chrissy’s husband? “Anyway, to know there’s a baby involved just makes me sick. Someone has to find her.”

  “I wish I could be of more help,” he said. “However, I personally followed up every lead in her file and found nothing.”

  Chrissy leaned forward and tucked her hair behind her ear, staring at him, pleading in her mind that he could give her something she could use. “Can you tell me anything about her? Anything that can help me figure out who she is?”

  “There are privacy issues.”

  “For a woman like her? Someone who’s putting her baby in the middle of a situation like this?”

  He leaned back in his chair and regarded her in a way that made her feel as if he could see right through her. “I don’t think I have anything that would help you anyway,” he said, letting out a breath. “She was here less than eight hours, and I only met her once.”

  “What did she look like?” Chrissy asked, leaning forward.

  “Dark. Darker than you, smaller, pretty—one of the nurses thought she was Guatemalan.”

  “Guatemalan? Why did they think that?” Chrissy asked, feeling starved for this information.

  “Well, it might not mean anything, but she also brought in a red-and-yellow woven blanket. This nurse I mentioned thought the designs were Guatemalan, where this nurse is from.”

  Chrissy looked down at the table. She knew very little about the country of Guatemala other than the fact that there was a great deal of fighting there and that sometimes tourists were attacked. Were the guns part of that? And the baby was born to a woman like this?

  “She took the blanket with her when she left,” he continued. “However, her son is here and is very safe.”

  Chrissy looked up and blinked in absolute shock. “He’s here?” she breathed.

  Why was he still here? Did he get sick? Why hadn’t Social Services already taken him away? Relief washed over her and she let out a breath. “He’s here,” she repeated again. “He’s safe?”

  Chapter 89

  Micah Heet has two rooms at the El Venturo Motel,” Carbon said into the phone. He’d lived in this area most of his life, which was why he was such a valuable dealer to have on their line. He had also proved valuable when she needed information about details such as this. He knew everyone. “He checked in yesterday. Has the rooms for two more nights.”

  The woman on the phone had confirmed that the real Chressaidia was here, but it wasn’t until she compared the Salazar and Heet files that she realized the connection. They were from the same town. Their information had been purchased around the same time. How stupid could Frederico be?

  Chressaidia grabbed her keys and yelled for Eduardo as she headed out the door. He quickly appeared with only a towel around his waist, his dark chest still wet from the shower. She’d insisted he wash the smell of gasoline off him as soon as possible.

  “We found them,” she said. “Get dressed. We have work to do.”

  Chapter 90

  Cleft palate?” Chrissy repeated as the elevator doors opened to a long sterile hallway. Micah, still the strong, silent sentry, stood behind her and followed them out of the elevator. He placed his hand on the small of her back and she felt more support than she could have imagined from such a simple thing. It connected them, reminding her she wasn’t alone. “That’s when the top lip is kind of messed up, right?” she asked.

  “That’s what people see,” Dr. Nasagi explained as they made their way down the sterile hallway. “But it’s only one part of the condition. The palate, or bone across the top of the mouth, isn’t fully formed during embryonic development. He has what we call a bilateral cleft, which means that the fissure in his lip is wide and the gap in his palate is severe. On a scale of one to ten, our maxofacial surgeon says Baby Salazar registers as a seven or eight. Several surgeries should be able to repair most of the defect over time.”

  “Baby Salazar,” Chrissy whispered, a rush of wind traveling through her as Dr. Nasagi continued. No one else seemed to notice the way the floor shifted. Baby Salazar? Since learning the baby was here, she felt as if she were in the eye of the storm, as if everything else, all her other worries, had been put on hold.

  “Since he’s a ward of the state, there is no time line for his first surgery. For now, he can finally suction for bottle feeding, though it’s intensive to feed him. Often we feed him through a syringe.”

  “And he’s been here for five weeks?” Chrissy asked.

  Dr. Nasagi nodded. “Once he’d been here for thirty days and his mother hadn’t returned, he became what we call a Boarder Baby, and we reported him to Social Services. Unfortunately, it’s not that rare. He was number ninety-two this year.”

  Chrissy let out a breath. “That’s horrible.”

  “Typically, Social Services would find a foster or adoptive home for an abandoned child, but with his condition and circumstance, it’s complicated. The nurses often stay late and hold him, and we have some volunteers who also make it a priority to spend time with him.”

  “He’s living in a hospital,” Micah said. His hand wasn’t on her back anymore, but Chrissy could still feel it somehow. “It’s still an institution.”

  Dr. Nasagi looked at Micah. “Yes, it’s certainly not ideal. That’s why I called your sister, to see if there was family available who could take him in. I guess . . . that’s not really an option.” He hurried forward with his words. “I should warn you that his appearance is shocking.” His eyes moved past her and focused on the window.

  Chrissy turned her head, following his gaze, and gasped. She heard Micah do the same. They all fell silent as they stared at the infant on the other side of the glass.

  He was sleeping, but the peaceful picture was ruined by the large gap in the middle of his upper lip. One side extended up through his nose, and his left nostril was pulled out to the side. It looked as if someone had sculpted a perfect little boy, and then pinched a chunk of flesh from the middle of his face.

  Chrissy had seen pictures of children like this, and known a few adults who’d had cleft lips as children and later had them repaired, but to see it up close, on a child this small, was different. She swallowed a lump in her throat and tried not to give in to her desire to look away.

  “Are there any other problems?” Micah asked after a silent minute.

  �
�He has a heart murmur,” Dr. Nasagi said. “We’ve been watching it, and it seems to be okay. At first we thought it meant he had a more serious condition, but we’ve managed to rule that out. He was only five pounds when he was born, and has struggled to gain weight, but considering his circumstances, he’s quite healthy. Healthy enough that the state will likely not consider surgery an absolute necessity, though several of us at the hospital are trying to convince them otherwise.

  “If he’s adopted, then I’m sure the parents will see to it that he gets the help he needs, but the chances of him being adopted are slim. At least his toxicology tests came back normal. His mother seemed healthy to those of us who met her, so that’s a plus.”

  Chrissy was still staring at Baby Salazar. Would the other Chressaidia have kept him if not for his disfigured face? “She came to the U.S. to have him?” Chrissy asked even though the answer seemed obvious. Relief flooded through her and she wished she could communicate to the child how blessed he was to be free of this woman. This woman who may have killed this child’s father, who was involved in something horrible. Thank goodness for his deformity. It may have saved his life.

  “It’s possible,” Dr. Nasagi said. “And at least she came to the hospital, where he could get the help he needs. We’re doing everything in our power to find a home for him, but his mother could help us a great deal. She still has parental rights. Taking them away from her, without her present, is a lengthy process.”

  Chrissy turned and he met her eyes as he continued. “If you find her—if the police find her—please don’t forget this little guy.” He waved toward the glass, and she followed his hand, looking at the baby again, feeling a lump in her throat.

  “I won’t forget him,” she said, looking back at the baby behind the glass, the baby that shared her name.

  Chapter 91

  I know what you’re thinking,” Micah said from the driver’s seat of her car.

  Chrissy chuckled humorlessly and continued to stare out the window at the cement walls that paralleled the I-5. “I bet you don’t.” She wasn’t even sure what she was thinking and she wasn’t about to say it out loud.

  “You’d make a good mother,” Micah said, though the casual tone in his voice was forced and pointed.

  “Said by the man whose daughter hates me.” She turned to look at him long enough to see that he understood her point. She went back to the window.

  “Mallory’s feelings are much more about me, and her mother, and herself, than you. She’s fourteen. She’s been through a lot and I can’t say I blame her for being hesitant to embrace new people in her parents’ lives. I can tell you she was worried about you when you left on Sunday.” He paused for a moment. “And I talked with both kids before coming out here, and they both agreed it was the right thing for me to do.”

  She was surprised by that and went back to the subject he’d originally brought up. “It would never work,” she said, still thinking of the baby in the hospital. “Can you imagine the red tape? I’m single, I’m unemployed. I’m still considered a felon.”

  “You’re the one who was looking for purpose in all this,” Micah said. “I’m just saying—”

  “Don’t,” Chrissy said. “I can’t—I need to focus on this right now. I can’t get caught up in daydreams.” And yet, in a weird, cosmic—maybe happily-ever-after way—it made sense. Chrissy wanted a family and had none. Baby Salazar needed a family and was similarly without. But, sheesh, Chrissy wasn’t a romantic. She lived in the real world and didn’t believe in fairy tales anymore.

  “So, where to now?” Micah said, effectively changing the subject away from the homeless, disfigured child in the isolette. “You ready to go to the police yet? Jon said he’d help out. He’ll tell them it wasn’t you.”

  Chrissy inhaled deeply and looked out the window. They weren’t stuck in traffic tonight, it was too early for that. She found herself wishing for a traffic jam. The morning cloud cover—June Gloom—had lifted, opening the sky to the splendor of beach living. Micah had taken the Silver Strand highway south from San Diego this time. The road followed the coastline, allowing a view of the ocean nearly the entire way. It was lovely, and she kept watching

  the waves, waiting for a solution to rise up like King Triton from the depths of the sea and point her in the direction she should go. But other than the cresting water, some shore birds, and endless tourists, there were no underwater messengers to lead her.

  “I know he’d vouch for me,” Chrissy said. The very idea of going to the police was still as enticing as going back to work for Brandon. “I just wish we had more to give them.”

  “Chrissy,” he said, in a please-be-reasonable tone. “What more do you want? You’ve got the documents, half the parts, a hair sample, and an eyewitness who can prove you are not the same Chressaidia Salazar everyone is looking for. How much more do we need?”

  “Do you think we should check out that address you got?” Chrissy asked, knowing she was stalling. “Carefully, of course, but if we had a location to give them, they’d have somewhere to start looking for her and they would realize I’m trying to help.”

  “We’ll give the address to them, let them know where she is—or where she was. It’s not just about us anymore. The police need to find her so they can start proceedings on taking parental rights away from her. We don’t want to hold that up.”

  Chrissy nodded, but her stomach was in knots. Going to the police was an overwhelming thought, but as Micah had pointed out, they had gathered a great deal of information. She deflated against the seat of the car and gave in. Maybe there was something someone else could do that she could not. But it was hard to let go—hard to trust another person with something this important. However, she felt the same thing he did, that they’d pushed this as far as they could—as far as they should.

  “You’re probably right.”

  “What?” Micah said, feigning shock. “Did you actually say I was right about something?” He patted his chest and pockets as if looking for something. “Gosh, where’s a pen? I think I need to write that down.”

  She gave him a scrunched look and shook her head. “Let’s go to the motel first, though. You could pick us up some dinner, and I’ll get all my stuff packed. That way, if things don’t go well, you don’t end up packing my underwear for me.”

  “Sounds fair,” Micah said. They stopped at a light, and he looked over at her, taking her hand in his. She looked from his hand to his eyes and tried really, really hard to ignore the intensity she felt at his touch. “But I’m not going back to Idaho without you, okay?”

  She swallowed and could find no words, so she just nodded. He squeezed her hand and then pulled his away as the light turned green.

  Chapter 92

  Chressaidia sat in the car, parked across the street. Waiting. Watching. It was almost five o’clock when the red-and-black Mazda pulled into the parking lot. She narrowed her eyes as the woman—the real Chressaidia—stepped out of the car, said something to the driver, and then shut the door. She watched for Micah Heet to get out as well, but instead, the reverse lights went on and he pulled out of the space and then the parking lot. She looked up in time to see the real Chressaidia go into room four.

  “Follow him,” she said to Eduardo as she threw her door open. They were in her car. The delivery truck would have been too noticeable. “I’ll watch her. Don’t do anything until we know where the parts are.”

  Eduardo nodded and scooted into the driver’s seat before taking off after the red-and-black car. Chressaidia looked both ways for traffic and crossed the street, focusing her eyes on the motel room door as she approached.

  After finding a spot amid some landscaping where she could watch the door without being easily seen, she waited five minutes before calling Eduardo’s phone.

  “Where is he going?”

  “Subway,” Eduardo said. “He’s inside getting sandwiches. The parts might be in the trunk.”

  “Stay with him,” she said in
to the phone, stepping out of her shadowy hiding place. “I’ll be with her.”

  Chapter 93

  You want onions and peppers?” Micah said into the phone.

  “Sí, señor, porciones de cebollas y pimientas,” she said, stretching her back as she headed for her suitcase. “And jalapeños.” She was tired of her skirt, and her shirt smelled nasty from the heat, humidity, and box hauling. She definitely needed to change her clothes. Her typical skirt and heels weren’t what she wanted to wear to jail. Her stomach rolled again as she thought of what lay ahead. Maybe she’d have time for a quick shower before Micah got back.

  There was a knock at the door, and she turned to face it.

  “What’s that?” Micah asked over the phone.

  “Someone knocking,” Chrissy said, heading for the door. She peered through the peephole but couldn’t see anything. She leaned to the side and looked through the window. “There’s no one there,” she said, still scanning the sidewalk. The angle of the afternoon sun made it hard to see much.

  “That’s weird,” Micah said. “Hang on.” He must have moved his phone from his mouth, as his voice faded while he ordered their sandwiches, emphasizing lots of peppers and onions on the turkey on white.

  Chrissy let the curtain fall back and headed for her suitcase again. She’d brought a pair of jeans and some sneakers. It would be drab and completely unflattering, but it was the best option, considering. A knock sounded again.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered. She walked quickly to the door and had her hand on the doorknob when she glanced at the “For Your Safety” plaque. Chrissy hooked the chain before pulling the door open about four inches.

  “So sorry,” the woman said, staring at Chrissy. “I am working the front desk tonight, and we are having a problem with our phones. Can I come in and call the manager? I am going through every room to find out which ones are affected.”