The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set

by Shannon Baker

  She wagged her head and spit out the goop.

  The kids ewwwed at the slobbery pink paste dribbling down her chin.

  I swiveled around to make eye contact with the aide. It only took a second for her to read my meaning and she grabbed hands of the two closest kids. “Let’s back up and give them room.”

  With my face close to Patricia’s, I clamped her mouth shut. “Swallow it.”

  Fingers gripped my shoulder and yanked. I resisted and wrenched free, then realized the EMTs were trying to get me out of the way. I scooted back so the EMT could do his job. “She’s diabetic. I think she’s in insulin shock.”

  The county deputy shot me a puzzled look before he too moved aside for the second EMT to get to work.

  The teacher appeared, a young woman probably a year or two out of college. She stood hands to her mouth, eyes bright and teary. Maybe next time something like this happened, she’d be better equipped to handle it, but today, she needed help. The kids clumped around her, creating confusion. The blonde aide tried to assert authority, but her soft voice and lack of experience were no match for a panicky teacher. Some of the kids started to cry.

  I clapped my hands. “Okay, let’s line up by the swings so the emergency responders can help Ranger Sanchez.”

  Only a couple of the kids turned their heads toward me. The teacher stared at Patricia.

  The young aide spread her arms and corralled several youngsters. “Listen to the Ranger. She wants us to go over here.”

  Patricia’s eyes closed and she lay still. The first EMT spoke in a loud, commanding voice. “Ms. Sanchez. We’re going to help you.”

  The deputy must have told them Patricia’s name. I hadn’t been aware they knew each other. Patricia and I had arrived much earlier than the deputy for this law enforcement appreciation day at the grade school. Our two-hour stint involved speaking about the Arizona Rangers, a civilian auxiliary that assists law enforcement. We talked about stranger danger and self-defense training to get the kids involved and interested. The deputy’s session had something to do with an investigation where he’d staged a burglary scene on the playground.

  The deputy, with a friendly face and a commanding presence, stood up, and with calm authority said, “You’re all under arrest. March single file to the swings.”

  He hadn’t raised his voice. In fact, he spoke much quieter than I had. The kids scrambled away from Patricia and hurried to the swings.

  The aide scurried behind them, her voice high-pitched, on the verge of laughter, and it worked to distract the kids into feeling like they played a game. “Hurry, hurry!”

  Even the young teacher snapped out of her paralysis and made a stab at establishing order. “Let’s go.”

  The deputy caught up to me. “Call Deon. I’ll get the kids settled.”

  “Deon?”

  He shook his head, puzzled. “Pete’s husband.”

  I knew Patricia was married but not his name. She had kids, but I hadn’t asked for details. In another lifetime, I’d have known their names and ages. We’d have shared babysitting and pool days. I was getting better, but I hadn’t yet made the leap to friendship. “I don’t have his number.”

  He reached for his phone. “Got it.”

  By now, the kids were stretched out at the edge of the pavement as if in a pint-sized police lineup. The teacher stood in front, right arm raised and hand flat. A signal, I assumed, for the kids to be silent and still.

  Movement on the other side of the chain-link raised the hairs on my neck again. The guy in the blue golf shirt watched me. From this distance the details of his eyes and smile should be impossible to see. Yet, familiarity sliced at me with an edge so sharp I slapped a hand over my chest at the pain.

  The deputy stuffed his phone into his pocket. “Deon is on his way to Tucson Med Center. Go with Pete. I’ll talk to the kids about emergency responders. A real object lesson here.”

  The guy on the other side of the fence watched me, another ghoul from a hidden memory. I said, “We should get the kids back inside.”

  The EMTs had Patricia on a stretcher, still talking to her. They wheeled her toward the gate into the parking lot.

  Without raising his voice, the deputy said, “Okay, kids. Ranger Sanchez is going to be fine. The Emergency Medical Technicians are doing their job. Police, fire, ambulance… we all work hard to make sure you stay safe.”

  Patricia on the stretcher, the deputy with the kids. The man watching me. I couldn’t help seeking out the plucky girl with the blonde ponytail. She focused on the deputy with rapt attention, and a warm drop of relief spread through my chest. The helpful aide knelt next to a crying boy and hugged him.

  Maybe it was wrong for me to focus on these two girls. They shared the soft blonde hair, long legs, and a certain kindness. So familiar. So painful.

  A six-foot fence kept the man and the rest of the world away from the children. The deputy and the teacher wouldn’t let them out of sight.

  One more glance at the man before running to the ambulance. He tipped his head back and laughed.

  THE DESERT BEHIND ME: Chapter 2

  The county deputy knew Patricia well enough to have her husband’s phone number, so he should be riding with her, not me. But, since he already had the kids engaged, and someone should be with Patricia, I reluctantly climbed into the ambulance.

  “Helps knowing she’s diabetic,” the EMT said to me. He inserted a PICC line into the back of Patricia’s hand.

  I’d done one thing right today. Steeling myself, I reached for Patricia’s free hand and squeezed. “It’s okay. Deon is on his way.”

  I had nothing else to offer so I kept hold of her hand until we pulled up to the emergency entrance and they rushed her through the glass doors. A handsome man with dark skin and black hair rushed from the hall. He wore a suit and tie. “Pete!”

  Assuming it was Deon, I stopped and watched them move down the hall. There was no reason for me to hang around, but I did. They’d give her something to stabilize her blood sugar and she’d be fine in a couple of hours. At most, overnight.

  The cool of the air conditioning made me jumpy and the hospital antiseptic smell kicked at my nerves.

  Nothing waited for me at home, so I perched on the vinyl seats in the lobby of the ER. Early afternoon on a weekday, the staff seemed capable of dealing with the few emergencies and I sat with only the voices in my head.

  After a time, the sliding doors to the outside opened and the deputy rushed inside. He spotted me and hurried over. “How is she?”

  “Deon is with her. I’m sure she’s fine.” I glanced at my watch. An hour had passed. It had felt like a couple of minutes.

  An hour. Gone. Missing chunks of time unsettled me.

  He sank onto the orange chair next to me. “I’m Rafe.”

  The name badge on his breast pocket said Grijalva.

  By now, I’d mastered the art of meeting people again, most of the time even able to shake hands without snatching mine away. “Jamie Butler.”

  He watched the corridor where they’d taken Patricia. “You’ve known Pete for a long time?”

  My answer came after the smallest of delays. Maybe he didn’t notice. “We’ve worked together for a year or so. A couple of times a month, I’d guess.”

  “You must be pretty good friends.”

  I had hoped Patricia and I would become friends, but the constant fear she’d hate me if she knew my secret kept me at a distance. “Not really, just work.”

  His face remained passive but I felt scrutinized. “You know she’s diabetic. Pete and I have been friends for a long time; our kids even play ball together. I never knew about her diabetes. But she told you, even though you aren’t close?”

  The industrial tile floor suddenly seemed fascinating. “She didn’t tell me. I noticed her taking one of those glucose packs a few months ago.”

  He seemed curious. “You ask her about it?”

  “Nope.” Everyone is entitled to their secrets.
I had enough of my own to protect.

  Deon appeared from down the corridor and Officer Grijalva jumped up to meet him. “How’s she doing?”

  Deon slapped Grijalva’s back. “They’re talking about keeping her overnight but she’s got them convinced she’s fine and won’t miss her assignment patrolling a high school baseball tournament tomorrow. I was looking for soda or something.”

  Grijalva directed him in another direction. Cops know the lay of the land in their city’s ERs. Information gleaned from unhappy circumstances. He tipped a chin my way. “Can I get you something?”

  I’d already risen and headed for the door. They didn’t need me hanging around. “I should get going.”

  Deon hurried away, probably anxious to get his drink and return to Patricia. Grijalva started to say something, stopped and started again. “Isn’t your car at the grade school?”

  I’d already thought of that. “I’ll call an Uber.”

  “Wait.” He trotted after Deon and exchanged a few words. In seconds he was back at my side. “I’ll take you.”

  Sure. Natural. No problem climbing into a cop car and making small talk with a stranger. I’d practiced in front of my bathroom mirror responding to invitations and introductions. My script and rehearsed facial expressions pulled from memories of Before. “Thanks.”

  We stepped into the blazing spring sunshine reflecting on the hospital parking lot, and Grijalva led the way to his Charger. He unlocked it and I braced myself. It had been three years since I’d been in a cop car. The light bar decorating the roof and the county logo on the side of the door pricked like a heat rash. The radio secured to the dash and the heft of the door, the controls for the siren and the unforgettable smell of coffee, old food, boredom, and adrenaline made me squirm.

  I climbed in and reminded myself to draw the seatbelt across my chest, though Grijalva wouldn’t. A cop on duty might need to dash out of a car, but that wasn’t my job anymore. We maneuvered through the lot and onto busy Grant Road. He flicked his eyes toward me, then back at traffic. “Are you new to Tucson?”

  Again with the questions. Of course this is how people get acquainted, but I was out of practice. “I’ve been here about two years.”

  “Where did you move from?” Friendly. Interested. Normal.

  “Buffalo, New York.” I answered before thinking of lying.

  He didn’t laugh or even chuckle, but his eyes somehow gave me that impression. “I can see where moving to the desert would be a big change. Were you a cop in Buffalo?”

  I blurted, “How did you know?”

  “You took charge when Pete went down. You didn’t hesitate. Looked like you’ve had experience in emergency situations.”

  “Yeah. I was a cop.”

  “How long?”

  “Twenty-three years. I’m retired.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You don’t look old enough to be retired.”

  A cold wave smacked my forehead. I’d said the wrong thing. Always. “I started young.”

  “My misspent youth will keep me working for a long time, I’m afraid.” He didn’t seem suspicious. Maybe I’d be okay.

  “I liked being a cop.” That was the truth, even though it had surprised me then.

  “I do, too, I suppose. The brotherhood.” His lips turned up in a hint of a smile. “Camaraderie is the better term.”

  Exactly. Friendships deeper than family ties. My chest contracted with a labored breath. Long, lost friends. “What about you? Been in Tucson long?”

  He seemed to smile, though his face barely moved. “Born here. Three sisters, one brother. Sometimes they drive me crazy, you know? But it’s family and you gotta love ‘em. Don’t see myself living anywhere else.”

  What must it be like to be part of such a large clan? Surrounded by so much love and acceptance?

  We flowed through afternoon traffic to the school. Dismissal time clogged the street and parents lined up to take their turn in the circular drive to pick up their kids. In a well-choreographed dance, the cars moved through until school monitors placed their precious cargo into the safety of their vehicles. These parents probably believed their children were safe.

  In the melee of children, teachers, helpers, and parents, I picked out one of the messy little girls from my earlier group. My heart beat quicker until she climbed into the back of a shiny SUV and the adult helper strapped a seatbelt around her before shutting the door.

  Grijalva pulled into the lot to the west of the front doors and I directed him to my car. “You’ve been in Tucson for a couple of years, have you been to happy hour at the Hotel Congress?”

  My chest tightened. He was steering me toward social waters. “I don’t go out much.”

  He stopped beside my car. “I get you. When you’re young, going to school or hanging with your group of friends, it’s easy to meet people. Everyone is going out and having fun. Then you start to pair off and pretty soon you’re having kids and just trying to keep up. Then, if you move or life changes, it’s not so easy to meet people and make friends.”

  In another time, his easy conversation would have prompted me to join in. “I like being alone.” Liar.

  Not that Grijalva boiled over with exuberance earlier, but my words, or maybe the dull tone of my voice, seemed to shut him down. “Sure. Solitude is good. If you feel like you want to have some social interaction, though, feel free to give me a call.”

  Isn’t this what I wanted, to make a connection? Maybe not best buddies, but someone to talk to besides Tara and Mom? I hadn’t prepared for it to happen today. I needed more time to get used to the risk of someone getting to know me.

  He fished in his shirt pocket and brought out his Pima County Sheriff’s Deputy card. “I hike a lot on my days off. If you haven’t been up to Seven Falls in Sabino Canyon, we could plan a day.”

  This whole encounter threw me. Privacy kept me safe. Being alone made my secrets easier to hide. Still, I couldn’t stop from spouting, “That’s one of my favorite hikes. I did it a couple of months ago and the stream was running so high I had to take my boots off to cross.”

  This time he smiled wide enough to see his teeth. “That’s the best time of year.”

  “I even saw a couple of big horned sheep.” It seemed almost easy to carry on.

  “That’s rare. I’ve never seen them up there.”

  “In Buffalo we mostly had deer and squirrels. There’s a lot more wildlife here. I’ve come across javalinas and bobcats in the desert behind my house. Lots of lizards and jackrabbits, of course. I even heard a mountain lion in Madera Canyon.”

  That nearly passive face somehow showed excitement. “Have you been to the Huachucas?”

  “I was stationed there when I was in the Army a long time ago.” The crack in my armor surprised me.

  This time it didn’t feel so much like interrogation. “You were in the Army?”

  “Right out of high school. Like lots of kids, it was my rebellious phase. Kind of a ‘screw you’ to my mother. I grew out of it, went home, and became a cop.”

  “Me becoming a cop was my rebellion. My family hates it.”

  “I loved Arizona when I was in the Army, so when I retired, it seemed like the place to come.” Not to mention the distance between Buffalo and the desert, which could never be enough.

  He glanced at his watch. “Hey, I’m off duty in another hour. Would you like to catch a drink or coffee?”

  Whoa. My pulse ratcheted up and heat scalded my cheeks. Far enough. “I’m. I. There’s something I need to do.” Lame, lame, lame.

  He narrowed his eyes, seeing through my bluster, but he let it go. “Sure.”

  I opened my door and climbed out. “Thanks for the ride.”

  Most of the congestion from after school student pickup had cleared. One of the kids from our demonstration, the plump boy in baggy shorts, held the hand of another boy who couldn’t be more than six or seven years old. They walked away from the school. No adult.

  Rafe leaned dow
n to look up at me from the open door. “You’ve got my card. Let’s do a hike sometime. Or a drink. Or dinner. I like to eat.”

  I tried my best to smile and hide the fear throbbing through me. When the confident blonde fifth-grader with the gangly legs skipped out of the school and down the sidewalk, I quit even trying to smile. She headed off away from us, waving and shouting to friends, before she disappeared around the corner of the school.

  Rafe lowered his chin in resignation. “I’m not as desperate as I sound. Sorry to come on so strong.”

  “It’s fine. You’re… it’s good. Thanks for the ride.” I swung the door closed before it got any worse.

  I was so distracted tracking where the girl went I almost missed seeing the blonde teacher’s aide exit the front doors. She scanned the street, then her face lit up. A generic gray sedan with the typical tinted windows of the desert crept into the pick-up lane. When it lined up with her, the girl leaned over and spoke into the passenger side window. She stepped back, swung open the door and slipped inside. I wanted to shout at her to stop, but couldn’t pinpoint why. The driver was probably someone she knew.

  Something pushed at my brain. It lay buried inside my head. But I wasn’t in any shape to go looking for it.

  Thankfully Grijalva drove away and didn’t wait for me because as soon as he was out of sight, I started my car and drove slowly through the neighborhood surrounding the school.

  I drove the route I’d seen the little blonde girl take. Around the corner of the school. She skipped and sang, her backpack flopping with her movements. We could teach them all about stranger danger and even some self-defense, but this girl paid no attention to anything, not even my red car idling past her.

  The two boys, I assumed brothers, took their time, throwing rocks at a stop sign and petting someone’s friendly Pitbull through a fence, not in any hurry to get to the house a few blocks away from the school.

  I didn’t think I encountered the car that had picked up the aide, but there are a million gray sedans in Tucson. It could have been just about anyone.