by Rick Reed
“This is my partner, Liddell Blanchard.”
Her wrinkled face turned skyward to take in Bigfoot’s towering figure. Bony hands wrapped around Liddell’s massive hand like roots around a tree. Her smile was warm. “Hello, Detective Blanchard. Liddell is a fine name.”
“Yes ma’am, erm, yes Sister.”
Sister Aquinas patted his hand and smiled. “Sister is just fine,” she said. “Aquinas for Saint Thomas Aquinas, the patron saint of Catholic education.” She studied his face. “Liddell is Scottish.”
“Cajun,” Liddell said. “Creole to be exact.”
“Originally it was Scottish,” Sister Aquinas continued. “The Scots, French, and English settled in what would become the Louisiana Territories. They mixed with slaves and freeborn alike from other countries and the indigenous Indian tribes here. Blanchard is French. It means ‘one who rides a white horse.’ You have an interesting ancestry. We should talk sometime.”
Liddell stood openmouthed. “The Saint of Education definitely suits you, Sister.”
Jack said, “Sister Aquinas taught Geography and World History.”
“Latin, French, Spanish, and Math,” Sister Aquinas said with a smile and turned to Jack. “And detention.”
Liddell said, “Jack’s Irish. His name means ‘one who steals a white horse.’” He punched Jack on the arm. “Stay away from my horse, pod’na.”
Jack didn’t think it was funny. His dad had hinted there were horse thieves in his family tree before coming to America. Maybe afterward as well. Dad said the family turned to law enforcement to keep from going to prison or being hung.
“We’re on the job, Sister, and...”
“You might as well come in the kitchen,” she said, interrupting him. “I’ve just made a pot of tea. Have you had breakfast?”
“I’m afraid we don’t have time, Sister. A patient is missing from Deaconess and...”
“I know. Ruth called me from the church. She’s a widow and spends most of her time cleaning. She said you were quite rude.”
“We weren’t rude. We told her we were looking for a...”
“Yes. I know what you said. She’s a crime story fanatic and thinks all men are rapists and child molesters. Please, come in and have tea. Policemen may never get cold, but I’m old, in case you haven’t noticed. It’s much warmer in the kitchen.”
Jack and Liddell followed the diminutive nun to the room at the back.
“You’re searching for a runaway,” she said.
“How did you hear our missing kid was a runaway?” Jack asked. They hadn’t mentioned that to Ruth of the Cleaning Obsession.
“You’ll want that tea,” Sister Aquinas said.
They passed between stacks of boxes on each side of the hallway. More boxes ran along one side of the stairway leading to the second floor. It brought back a memory of a grade school classmate. Crazy Bobby Sanders.
Crazy Bobby had made it as far as the first-floor hallway in the nunnery before he was caught by Sister Aquinas and escorted to the rectory. The rectory was an even scarier place than the nunnery. It was where the priests lived, and the rumor was that several kids had gone in and never came out again. The lucky ones had been forced to wear gowns and carry burning pots of incense and become altar boys. Bobby Sanders had made it out with wild stories of being tied in a chair and pummeled by the nuns. Of course, Bobby Sanders had lied. He became a journalist when he grew up.
When Jack and Liddell entered the kitchen, they saw Joe sitting at the table. A glass of orange juice, a large glass of milk, and a half-demolished plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast sat in front of him. “Hello, Detective Murphy.”
“Bigfoot, this is Joe. Joe, Bigfoot.”
Liddell said, “Glad to finally meet you. My name is Liddell.”
Joe asked with a serious expression, “Does Detective Murphy call you Bigfoot when you are going to eat?”
Jack said, “It’s a long story, Bigfoot.” To Joe he said, “I promised you a cheeseburger. You didn’t need to leave the hospital, Joe.”
“I must go now,” Joe said to Sister Aquinas.
“I think that’s up to these policemen,” she said.
A bomber jacket, two sizes too big for the boy, hung on the back of a chair. Joe was wearing hospital scrubs over his own clothes and old army boots.
Jack asked Sister Aquinas, “Do any of the boxes in the hallway have clothing in them?”
“I was just going to find something when you knocked,” she said and left the kitchen.
Jack said, “I guess you were hungry.”
Joe shoveled the last scraps from his plate into his mouth.
Jack asked, “Why did you leave the hospital, Joe?”
“People with cameras came in my room. The woman said she is a newsperson. I left to find Shadow,” he said. “You are a good man, Detective Murphy, but your president doesn’t let people like me come here. My grandfather told me this. I will be sent back.”
“What would happen if you went back to Honduras, Joe?” Liddell asked.
“I would be killed. Made an example by Mara Salvatrucha.”
Jack pulled up a chair and sat. “Is that why you left Honduras? MS-13?”
“I’m not to talk of this. My grandfather told me they hear and see everything.”
“I can promise you that MS-13 can’t hear or see anything in here. You’re safe with us.” Jack inclined his head toward Liddell. “Bigfoot here would stomp them like bugs.”
“Grandfather couldn’t protect me or my family,” Joe said in a whisper. “I will never be safe.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Joe. I said I’d try to help you stay here, and I will, but I don’t know if I can do that.” Jack could sense the boy shrinking away.
“I would rather die here, Detective Murphy.”
Jack didn’t know what to say. Joe’s grandfather was right. If Joe was turned over to ICE, he would be deported. If MS-13 was after him, they would end him. The kid had already faced things most grown men would never experience.
Jack asked, “Joe, do you know what honesty means?”
“Lying. To tell a lie is a sin,” Joe said.
“Why did you and your grandfather leave Honduras? Why did you come here to live?” Jack asked.
“Grandfather has a business...” Joe began and hesitated before saying, “Detective Murphy, I told a lie and I am ashamed. My family lived in San Pedro Sula. My mother, my father, my sister. Grandfather owns a small printing shop in San Pedro. Another one in Puerto Lempira. One day some men come to our house. They tell my grandfather that he must work for them now. My grandfather told the men no, and they laughed. They said Grandfather must work for them or bad things will happen.”
“MS-13?” Jack asked.
“That is what you call them.”
“Is that why you left your home? Because your grandfather was being threatened by MS-13? Mara Salvatrucha?”
“Grandfather says they are everywhere. He says they are killers of women and children. Even babies. I have seen what they do. Grandfather says we must stand up for what is right and be brave, honorable. He tried to bring others together to resist Mara Salvatrucha. But everyone is afraid. Mara Salvatrucha killed my mother, my father, and took my sister when they learned of Grandfather’s talk. They came back and took me and told Grandfather he will work for them or I will die.” Joe looked down at his feet.
“Is that where you got the burns, Joe?” Jack asked.
Joe didn’t answer.
“How did you get away from them, Joe?” Jack asked.
“Grandfather and his man found me. They killed the one watching me and said I had to leave with them. Grandfather said other people from San Pedro will follow. But I know MS-13 is angry. They will kill everyone. They will find me.”
Claudine Setera had painted a b
ig target on the boy’s back with her “public has a right to know” type of excuse for getting her face on television.
“This other man you say came with your grandfather to find you. Did he travel with you?”
Joe’s eyes remained downcast. “I did not tell you all, Detective Murphy. I’m sorry. My grandfather says not to tell anyone because Mara...MS-13 will find us. It doesn’t matter if I tell now because the ones that found us are dead and I will be sent back.”
Joe said a word in Spanish.
“What does that mean, Joe?” Jack asked.
“Bodyguard,” Joe answered. “Grandfather always had one or two personal bodyguards protecting him.”
Sister Aquinas stood motionless in the shadow of the kitchen doorway, listening to the boy’s story.
“I have no one now. My mother and father were killed. My sister was with them, so she must be dead.”
Jack asked, “The fight you heard in the truck trailer was your grandfather’s bodyguard protecting you from the man and woman?”
“Yes,” Joe said. “He died so that I might live.”
“Who were the man and woman he was fighting with?” Jack asked.
“MS-13,” Joe answered. “But they were not Honduran. That is all I know.”
“During the fight did you hear any words spoken?” Jack continued.
“They called my grandfather by his name. The man and woman who were killed did. The bodyguard rushed toward the man and woman, and they fought. Grandfather took me away from the sounds of fighting, and I heard a man cry out. A woman screamed. The bodyguard came to Grandfather and brought coats. Grandfather put them on me. I remember nothing else, Detective Murphy. I am sorry.”
Sister Aquinas said, “I have some warmer clothes for this young man.” She put the clothing on a chair.
Joe didn’t take the clothes. “Thank you, Sister. You are kind, but I cannot take them.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “We need to get you warm. I’ll make another breakfast. You must be starving. The second door on your right is a restroom where you can change clothes. Hurry, or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
“You don’t want to hurt her feelings, Joe, and to be honest, you stink to high heaven,” Jack said.
Joe sniffed at his shirt-sleeve and made a face.
Joe gathered up the clothes.
Chapter 14
Jack left the boy with Sister Aquinas. He wanted to keep Joe away from the press, and he knew no reporter was a match for the tough little nun. Plus, he wasn’t ready to turn the boy over to ICE and make further contact with him difficult. As they were leaving the convent Captain Franklin called.
“You should have let me know the boy was missing,” Captain Franklin said. “I don’t like hearing things from the deputy chief.”
The deputy chief knew Jack had found Joe because Jack had called Deaconess Hospital and dispatch to call off the search. The captain had probably heard dispatch calling the search off, but Jack should have called him directly. The deputy chief probably had been informed by Detective Jansen, who was at Deaconess Hospital sniffing around the case. He hoped Jansen hadn’t called the news media, too.
“Joe was missing for twenty minutes tops, but you’re right. I should have called you when I found him.” If Double Dick knew where Joe was, he would be arranging a well-televised search and rescue event, with himself at center stage.
“Captain, the boy is safe and having breakfast,” Jack said.
“I’ll call the State Department, Jack,” Captain Franklin said. “We have a duty to report this. Not to mention that the boy’s embassy needs to be made aware of his involvement to protect his rights.”
“Involvement in what? Captain, he’s just a scared kid. After what he’s been through, I say we cut him a little slack,” Jack said.
“He’s not just a kid, and you know it. Let the State Department do their thing. He won’t go to jail, Jack. He most likely won’t even be sent back to Honduras for a long while. If he has family here in the US, he’ll go through Immigration procedures and they’ll take care of him. It’s out of your hands. You don’t want to screw with Assistant Deputy Director Toomey. Need I remind you this is exactly the type of thing Deputy Chief Dick can use to have you fired?”
Jack knew, but he’d promised Joe he’d do what he could. Besides, maybe not jumping through federal hoops was the best impression to give Toomey. The man should know what he was getting. Hopefully Toomey wouldn’t have Jack sign a prenuptial promising not to screw the Feds.
“I’ll call the State Department and tell them we have the boy in custody,” Jack lied. “I’m pulling up their phone number right now.”
“Bring the boy in, and I’ll make some calls to see where we can house him until State or ICE decides what to do with him. No messing around here, Jack. And when you’re done talking to State, you need to call Assistant Deputy Director Toomey. He’s called here twice and said you’re not answering your phone. Don’t let me catch you screwing around.”
“You won’t catch me screwing around. I mean I won’t. I promise,” Jack said and ended the call.
Jack pulled in to Donut Bank on First Avenue where even on this cold morning the lot outside was full and the inside was packed, but they were in luck. An older couple had just gotten up and left an empty table in the corner.
As they sat down, Liddell asked, “Do you even have the State Department’s phone number, pod’na?”
“Why would I have that?” Jack said. “I’m going to call Anna Whiteside. Apparently the captain has already called them. Maybe she can help stall this.”
He found her number and called.
Anna Whiteside, special agent with Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or ICE, was part of a task force dealing with human trafficking when Jack and Liddell had met her in Louisiana. Whiteside had used them as bait to take down some members of the law enforcement community who were involved in a sex trafficking ring. Jack considered her a ruthless friend with federal benefits. She considered Jack a loose cannon just one step this side of illegal. It was a match made in heaven.
“Whiteside,” the phone was answered.
“Anna. It’s Jack Murphy. I need a favor.”
“The last time I did you a favor a historic mansion burned to the ground, hundreds of acres of sugar cane fields went up in flames, and lots of people died, Jack.”
“Only the right ones,” Jack responded. “And the mansion wasn’t my fault. They tried to kill me and Bigfoot first.”
“That’s your story and you should stick to it,” Anna said. “By the way, congratulations on being selected for USOC. I’ll be at your swearing-in ceremony next Friday. I’ll be the one dressed in total body armor in case you get excited. Now what can I do for you?”
“We have a situation here that ICE might be interested in,” Jack said.
Anna said, “You have a nine-year-old Honduran boy, the survivor of an illegal entry into the US via Mexico. You have thirty-one dead in a truck trailer, and the driver of the truck was murdered across town.”
Jack didn’t say anything.
“Your captain and Assistant Deputy Director Toomey called me. Apparently neither of them trusts you to keep anyone informed. I feel the same, by the way.”
Jack came back with, “You seem to know everything, so tell me what I need from you.”
“You need lots of things, Jack. But you should tell me what you haven’t shared with your other bosses. When I know everything, I can tell you if you’re going to federal prison.”
Liddell snickered. “She’s on to you, pod’na.”
“As a sworn officer of the law, you are under an obligation to report his presence and custody to the State Department through his embassy. As a federal agent you are doubly obligated.”
“I’m not a federal agent yet, Anna,” Jack said.
“You wil
l be soon. I won’t believe it until I see it, but there it is. I’ve got to tell you, Bobby Troup was a little concerned that you and Blanchard would be working for us,” Anna said.
Bobby Troup had been a detective with the Vice Unit for Iberville Parish Sheriff Department in Louisiana during the days Liddell worked there. Bobby had become a suspect in a suspicious death and subsequently resigned under a cloud. Liddell was the sheriff’s detective that had investigated Troup. There was no love lost between Bobby Troup and Liddell. “I’m sure Troup will live,” Jack said. “At least he won’t be working with us, so there shouldn’t be an issue.”
Quiet from Anna’s side of the conversation.
“Shit,” Jack said. “What?”
“Director Toomey assigned Troup and yours truly to your investigations,” she said. “I’ve put Troup on hold, but I’m considering sending him to Evansville. I will if you give me any reason.”
“Anna, you don’t have to send Bobby Troup here. I’ll keep you informed. I promise.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“I’m calling you now,” Jack said.
“You weren’t going to until you needed a favor, Jack. Now, tell me everything you know.”
“Okay,” Jack said, and he did. Sort of. He told her about Freyda Rademacher, the customer, the stolen car with the dog inside. About the key they found hidden in the dead man’s shoe and how it fit the padlock on the truck, and finding Joe half buried beneath a mound of frozen bodies.
“I interviewed Joe at the hospital,” Jack continued. “He was traveling with his grandfather. The grandfather had a bodyguard with them. Apparently, the grandfather was confronted by MS-13 in Honduras. He was being threatened to work for them.”
“What kind of work?” Anna asked.
“He owned a couple of small printing businesses,” Jack said.
“And they wanted to take over his business,” Anna said. “I’m guessing he refused and fled the country.”