“It’s your families. It’s hard to see straight.”
“You won’t let us down?”
“Have the men at Debbie’s house at six. Come on, Jolene.”
35
“W HAT ARE YOU DOING?” NINA FOUND Sandy at Wish’s desk in Paul’s office, only a pool of light from his desk lamp lighting the room. “It’s late. Go home.”
“You’re here,” she said.
Nina dumped the contents of her briefcase on the small table in her corner. No longer skimpy with a pad and paper, it now stored a library of paper. “I have to think.”
“Maybe you should be sleeping. You’ve been a busy bee. I get your calls all afternoon. You call from court, but the judge still won’t dismiss the case-”
“Jaime got a three-day continuance. I couldn’t get Wish out quite yet. Jaime told me afterward that if the judge had dismissed he would have kept Wish in custody as a material witness until he gets this straightened out anyway. I’m sorry.”
“-you call from Crockett’s office-”
“Another child was kidnapped this afternoon. Mikey Eubanks.”
“-and then you went out to the Valley?”
“I had a meeting I couldn’t miss. And then, yes, back to Crockett for the past few hours. That was the hardest job I ever had, Sandy, persuading Crockett and Jaime Sandoval to let my new clients be released on their own recognizance.”
“How about we start over?”
Nina went over to Paul’s chair and stretched out in it while she explained it all to Sandy.
Mikey Eubanks had left his aunt’s house at twelve forty-five, while Nina was still talking to the women at the courthouse. He had run down the hill to his house to pick up a video game.
That was the last anyone had seen of him. No ransom note.
The meeting with the men of Siesta Court took place at four instead of six. It was chaos at first. Darryl Eubanks was practically beating his head against the wall. George Hill, Callie’s grandfather, wept throughout.
They agreed to turn themselves in. Nina put them all in her Bronco and drove them to the police station, where they made limited statements, were booked, and then declined to talk further upon advice of counsel. After her lengthy palaver with Jaime, they all went into Judge Salas’s court at nine o’clock. He came in specially and heard them out.
“He would definitely have jailed them, but Jaime said he thought they’d be more use outside,” Nina said. “I owe Jaime.”
“Where’s Paul?” Sandy had taken all this in with unblinking aplomb.
“In Carmel Valley. Talking with Ben Cervantes. Trying to find Danny before he-”
“He was the one who was trying to kill Wish, wasn’t he?”
“I suppose,” Nina said. She went to the bar refrigerator and pulled out some cold bottled water, which she used to chase the three ibuprofen she swallowed.
“You should go home, Sandy.”
“I have some calls to make,” Sandy said pointedly.
“Then don’t mind me,” Nina said, putting her hands behind her head and her feet on Paul’s desk. If Sandy needed privacy, she could go home and make her calls. She picked up a folder, leaned back in her chair, and read, quickly becoming absorbed in the paperwork. She reviewed the autopsy of the body found on Robles Ridge, examined the discovery materials Jaime’s office had provided, looked over her notes on Elizabeth’s tapes, tasks she had done before, and would do again until something startling leapt off these dry pages.
Sandy made a number of phone calls, punching with vigor, but talking in such a low voice, she made a soothing background hum. In the night, the busy street outside quieted, the crickets that hid in the picturesque Carmel alleyways awakened and sang. Nina yawned and flipped through her papers. She yawned again.
“Wake up!” Sandy had her by the shoulders and was shaking her.
Nina opened her eyes, sighing. “I fell asleep.”
“Uh huh.”
“Guess you were right.” She started stuffing her papers back inside her case. “Guess I should get home and get some rest. Maybe all the answers will come to me in a dream.”
“You need to call Paul.”
Nina looked at her watch. “Wow. Two o’clock. Sandy, he’s sound asleep.”
“He’ll want to hear this. I just spoke to Danny’s mother. I think she knows where he is.”
“Fantastic work, Sandy! We have to notify the police right away,” Nina said. “Back to my favorite people for the third time today.”
“Not yet.”
“Sandy, he’s taken two children!”
“They won’t be able to do anything unless we go up there and talk to her and find out where he is. She won’t say anything more on the phone. She didn’t even say she knew where he was,” Sandy admitted. “I just know she does.”
“How?”
She did not like the question, but she answered anyway. “I used to know her pretty well years ago, when Danny and Wish were friends. And I’m a mother.” Sandy folded her arms, and Nina knew the look meant, no justifications, no proofs, just unadulterated belief. “You understand that.”
Strangely, she did. “Did you talk to Danny’s father?”
“No. He’s working, and I remember Danny being closer to his mother.”
“What’s she like?”
“Weak. That’s how I know he went there. He depends on her when things get tough. She always loved him, but she’s kind of a hopeless character. She never really knew how to handle him.”
What a mess, Nina thought. Sons and mothers. “She wouldn’t help him hide, under the circumstances.”
“She isn’t convinced he took any kids. She doesn’t want to believe he would hurt anyone.”
“Did she say she saw him?” Nina asked.
“No.”
But Sandy knew she had, and by extension, so did Nina. She called Paul and woke him up. He packed up a bag for himself and one for her, and met her half an hour later outside on the street, wipers going because the fog had grown so thick.
Sandy roared up in Wish’s brown van.
“You’re coming, Sandy?”
She wore her voluminous purple coat and clutched a small suitcase. “Yep. She’ll talk to me.”
Paul steered Nina’s Bronco onto Highway 101 and started the long haul over Pacheco Pass, through the central valley, and up the mountains. Nina and Sandy slept.
He had left a message for Bob on the kitchen counter saying that he should call his grandpa and stay with him for a few days. No doubt the boy would find it when he was looking for cereal in the morning. Good that Nina’s son was old enough to be left alone for a short time, bad that he lived in the study.
This late at night, the truckers ruled the highways. At the interstate heading to Sacramento, Paul got into the slipstream of a big semi doing seventy and let himself relax and think about what all this meant for him and Nina.
He had worked so hard and for so long to have Nina here with him, and here she was, entangled as always in problems, far removed from the peaceable kingdom he imagined for them both. He glanced at her, snoring lightly on the seat beside him, brown hair balled up under her neck, cheeks flushed. He wanted life to be easy for her, but it never would be.
He couldn’t accept that he couldn’t protect her. He thought of her on a sunny summer day, back in those days of the Bucket, sixteen or so, hanging with the local hoodlums, skimpy or nonexistent swimsuit, maybe a little grass blowing in the wind.
If he’d met her then, before the baby, the broken heart, the law school, the years of grinding work, and they had gotten married-what would she be like? What would they be like? Maybe he would still be a cop. And she… an artist, a teacher maybe.
He let himself daydream another existence, because this one was so full of problems.
Because it was so late at night, they made the six-hour trip in five hours, the Bronco flying up the long slog through the foothills as lightly as a flag in the breeze. The mountains, usually a daunting pro
spect, offered clear sailing, twinkling stars, and a polished moon to light the way. They arrived just a little after seven-thirty on Thursday morning.
Located at the end of the highway from Truckee, stopped cold by the big lake, the road split at King’s Beach to circle Tahoe in both directions, the eastern branch taking the Nevada side to the casinos of North Lake Tahoe, and the western branch moving along the California side of the lake past Emerald Bay until it reached the South Lake Tahoe casinos.
At the junction, a shadowy blue in the early-morning light, Paul turned right, then right again into the first gas station. Nina and Sandy stirred, murmured, found their shoes, and coughed a few times, complaining about the dry mountain air. After several minutes, while Paul pumped gas into the Bronco, they emerged, fresh-skinned, hair brushed into place. They drove a little farther along to the supermarket, where Nina told him to stop.
While they bought hydrogenated treats for breakfast, water bottles, and coffee in large containers, Paul moved into the passenger’s seat, looked away into the mirror, and realized he had forgotten his razor. But instead of running in to buy another to make himself presentable, he put his head back and closed his eyes.
When he woke up, they were parked in front of a crudely built log cabin with a weedy flagstone pathway leading to a door with a single step up. No porch or overhang softened the furious winter’s passion or this morning’s mountain sun. Sandy got out, motioning them to remain behind.
“You drove?” he asked Nina. They were parked on a slight rise on the northern part of the little town.
“You got a solid ten minutes’ sleep. That plus what you got before I woke you up ought to keep us going for the day. Sandy’s inside with Danny’s mother. Want some coffee?” She handed him a cup, which he eagerly slurped. After drinking half the cup, he ate a sticky roll without examining the ingredients.
Nina rolled the windows down. “See the white pines?” she said, her voice nostalgic. “The scent of Tahoe. Oh, Paul. I’ve missed Tahoe.”
As they watched the cabin, a yellow porch light came on.
“You think she’ll tell Sandy where he is?”
At that moment, Sandy appeared in the doorway and beckoned them inside.
“So you came.” An unusually tall woman, made taller by the lowness of the ceilings, Connie Cervantes stepped back into the gloom of her cabin and allowed them to enter. “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”
“They had to,” Sandy answered. “This is Nina. And this is Paul.” They all shook hands.
Across from the front door on the opposite wall Nina saw a stone fireplace with an efficient insert for holding the heat in winter, and wood in the wood box even now, because June at Tahoe still meant cool nights. Over a mile high in the Sierras, people around the lake could find themselves in the midst of a snowstorm any month of the year. Sandy went straight to a table and chairs under the single window in the room; they all sat down and looked through it at the rocky yard with its low stone wall. A couple of blue jays squabbled in the pine tree by Connie’s gate.
“Snow’s all melted,” Sandy said.
“For the next three months anyway.” Sunken-eyed and older than she had first appeared, Connie wore blue jeans and a sweatshirt. Black hair now going gray flowed down her back. She hadn’t looked again at Nina and Paul; her expression wasn’t exactly hostile, but she was struggling with some inner turmoil, which preoccupied her so totally that she had little interest in her visitors, and Nina felt sure she never would have talked with them at all if she hadn’t known Sandy. Nina folded her hands and listened while Paul rocked a little in his chair and kept his eyes down.
Sandy said in her matter-of-fact voice, “Where’s Gary?”
“Staying with his sister in San Diego for a while.” Danny’s parents had been married for thirty years, Nina knew, but Sandy hadn’t mentioned a separation.
Sandy and Connie seemed to be continuing some old conversation. Sandy said, “You remember my husband, Joseph? Well, he went and broke his foot. He was cutting down some limbs behind the house and tripped over a rock. He’s home in Markleeville right now.”
“Left all this trouble for you to clean up.”
“Now that’s not fair. He’d help if he could.”
“He ran out on you before.”
“He came back. What about Gary? Is he coming back?” Sandy asked.
“Let me know when you find out,” Connie said.
“Oh, so that’s how it is.”
“I’m workin’ at least. In the cashier cage at the CalNeva. Right up the road at Crystal Bay. Gary has the car, but the bus goes right there.”
“Good money?”
“Enough to keep this place going. When you comin’ back to Tahoe?”
“Pretty soon. I’ll see you at the powwow in August.” Connie got up and went into the other room, returning wearing a shawl over her sweatshirt. The little room was cold and dreary, and Nina wanted to gather the information and leave, but forced herself to stay patient. She imagined the older woman returning from her job day after day, sitting at this table, looking out, as the snow came and the heat of summer and then the snow again.
“So you’re chasing my son,” Connie said to Sandy as she sat back down. “You didn’t say anything to the police, like you promised?”
“Nobody knows but these two,” Sandy answered, waving a hand at Paul and Nina. “They just want to stop him.”
“He loves kids. You’re crazy if you think he’d hurt a kid.”
“Maybe,” Sandy said.
“He kidnapped two kids? You’re sure about that?” She paused, then went on, “I guess you wouldn’t drive all the way up here if you weren’t sure.”
“If we find him and there aren’t any kids, that’ll be great. But see, the kids are gone and it looks like Danny.”
Connie closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers and said, “I thought something was wrong when he got here. He likes it here a lot when Gary’s not around, and he would normally stay a few days if he came up. But he was in a big hurry. He didn’t look right, and he didn’t talk right. I thought maybe he was on drugs, but now I think he was just very scared.”
“He let everyone think he was dead,” Sandy said. “How did he explain that?”
“It wasn’t a big plot. I asked him, and he said nobody really cared one way or another. I told him I did, and he just said, ‘Well, you.’ ” She swallowed and put one bony hand over the other, as if to hold it still.
“I hate to say it,” Sandy told her, “you know I hate to say it. But if we don’t find him right away somebody really could die.”
Connie frowned deeply. In the back room Nina heard a clock ticking. Apparently Sandy had spared Connie the details of all that Danny might have done.
“Tell us what happened when he came,” Sandy persisted.
Connie, who seemed to be still deciding whether to steer them toward Danny or not, said, “That time when they’re nineteen, twenty… it’s the hardest time for a boy. Figure out what you’re gonna work at, figure out who you’re gonna marry. They don’t realize they’ve got time, they can go slow, the weight of all of it crashes down and they feel like they can’t do it, growing up is too hard. Danny tried. He went to Ben’s and tried to work, tried to do it right.”
“He did,” Sandy said, nodding.
“He was always lonely. We moved so much. Two months here, six months there… Danny never had a chance to stay put and have real friends, except that year or so we spent in Markleeville, living near you and Wish, Sandy. The happiest times Danny had growing up were with Wish,” she said. “You know, Danny was a little older… he felt like a leader with Wish.”
“Led him straight into trouble,” Sandy said, “that time they set the tree on fire.”
Nina bit her lip. So Danny had been with Wish during that first prank involving the stump of a tree. She should have known!
Connie did not look offended at the comment, taking it as Sandy offered it, as
fact, not as criticism. She played with the fringe of her shawl and said, “Normal life never seemed exciting enough. He started playing with explosives and fire, always getting up to something he shouldn’t. I tried to keep better track, to stay through one entire school year in the same area, but there’s a time with kids, a right time, and I had missed it being busy, working all the time, trying to keep us in food. He wouldn’t talk to me anymore.
“Ben found that job for him at the car-repair shop in Carmel Valley. He was good at that. He loved cars. I really thought things were looking hopeful for him finally.”
“I hear he was good at it,” Sandy said. Her calm kept them all calm, especially Connie.
“Then the business got sold. But Wish had come to town by then, and Ben says he was happy to have a buddy again. But then Ben says Wish decided to part ways with Danny.”
“He did. I won’t say he didn’t.”
“Another time things that could have gone good went bad,” Connie said half-angrily. “Danny made me promise not to tell anybody he came here, and now look at me, I’m breaking my promise to him. His whole life is one broken promise.”
“Stop. Stop it. You took the best care of him you could. You’re still taking care of him by helping us get ahold of him. That’s being a good mother. You know it.”
“He’ll hate me.”
“Don’t-”
“It’s all right. He will hate me, because he’s got a soul-sickness, but that’s how it has to be. You know, we had a funeral for him. Flowers and speeches. Twenty-one years old, and we thought he was dead. We laid him in the ground. I suffered through my boy’s death. I can’t quite believe he’s still alive. But seein’ as how he is, I want your word that you won’t bring in the police if I tell you what I know.”
“I can’t swear that, he’s so far gone,” Sandy said. “But tell me anyway.”
After a long silence, Connie said, “He needed money.”
“How much did you give him?”
“Everything I had. Three hundred dollars.”
“What was he driving?”
Presumption Of Death Page 37