The Ties That Bind

by Andi Marquette

  She didn't respond for a few moments. When she did, she reached over and squeezed my shoulder. "Truce."

  My shoulders relaxed and I imagined that the big black cloud that had been following me for the past couple of hours dissipated.

  "So what's next?" she asked.

  "I say we stop by the police station and see if Simmons is in."

  "Okay," Kara said, wary, as if she was testing me to make sure I had all my marbles. "Sounds good. Then back to Albuquerque? I know we checked out of the motel already, but I'm sure there'll be rooms available for tonight. Not like Farmington is hoppin' right now."

  I stopped at a stoplight, staring at the bumper of the car in front of me. "No. I just want to go home."

  She didn't respond and I waited for the car in front of us to move when the light changed. I just needed to get on the road and away from this place, away from Monroe and Purcell, away from gas rigs and an industry that sometimes put profit before people, and away from dark forces and the beliefs that sheltered them. But first, I wanted to divest myself of information and put it in the hands of proper authorities. Chris was right. I had no business poking around in a murder investigation like this. I chewed my lip as I turned into the police department parking lot. No business at all. Well, here's me getting out of the business. I pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine.

  Chapter Eighteen

  CHRIS DIDN'T SAY anything for a while after I finished telling her about my day thus far with Kara. I winced, waiting for her lecture, which I deserved though I didn't think I needed at this point. I'd already kicked myself enough to feel a kinship with a soccer ball during the World Cup, but the years I'd known Chris, I could tell she was working up to a lecture. I imagined it forming in the long silence emanating from her end of the phone and I sank lower in the driver's seat of my car, bracing myself. I'd left the driver's side door open, and a breeze alleviated some of the eighty-five-degree heat.

  "You know I should chew your ass," she said.

  "Yes."

  "And you know I want to kick that ass from Farmington back to Albuquerque."

  I sighed and stared down at my feet, near the gas pedal and the brake. "Yeah."

  "Shit, Kase," she said with a mixture of frustration and relief. "But knowing you, you've already been hard on yourself and dragged a cross up Tomé Hill and back again."

  "Yep. Barefoot and half-naked."

  "With the Penitentes flogging you?"

  "Yep." I relaxed a little and looked out the windshield at the sand-colored structure of the police station and municipal court, sort of a mixture of faux-dobe and 1960s office box. Kara was talking on her phone outside, slowly walking up and back along the sidewalk.

  "So anything I say is overkill," Chris said. "You know how I feel about this, but you told me yourself that you screwed up and you did the right thing when you went to Simmons and told her everything. Now will you please let her handle this?"

  "Yes," I answered, like a kid pouting. I felt that way sometimes around Chris.

  "Kase, come on. I have such huge respect for you and your work and how you go about collecting and interpreting information. Those are things you're good at and trained to do. But there's a lot more to police work than that."

  Amen. "It's not like I wanted this situation to end up like this." I took my sunglasses off the dashboard and put them on. They were warm on my face from the afternoon sun. "Damn. I don't go looking for crap like this. And yes, it's been a monster cluster-fuck. As soon as I talk to Sage and find out when she plans to head back to Albuquerque, Kara and I are outta here."

  "Okay. And you'll do what when you get back?" She sounded like a grade school teacher running her students through a lesson.

  "Call Melissa so Sage and River can get that stock portfolio shit figured out."

  "And?"

  "And leave Bill's murder investigation here in Farmington with Detective Simmons," I said in a sing-song voice. Then, more serious, "And I'm leaving the police work to the trained professionals, like Detective Chris Gutierrez, who's my best friend and ass-kicker."

  "Your ass included," she said, warmth in her voice.

  "Fine. After all, if I can't let you kick my ass, who can I let do it?"

  "Exactly."

  "Thanks, Chris. I'm sorry."

  "I know. And I'm sorry you've had to deal with all this shit. I'll take you to dinner when you get back."

  "Can you have Abuelita whip up a freak-be-gone herbal mix?"

  She laughed. "I'm sure she's got one in her stash. Oh, hey. That's my work cell. Gotta go. Call me when you get back, amiga."

  "Will do. Bye." I hung up before she responded so she could take care of her other phone and waited for Kara, who was still engaged in a conversation with whomever she'd called. My stomach rumbled and I looked at the clock on my phone. No wonder. It was almost two-thirty. I speed-dialed Sage while I waited for Kara.

  "Hi," she answered. "How'd it go?"

  "Um, okay. I'll fill you in when we get home."

  "What happened?" she asked, concerned.

  "Do you know how annoying it is to be madly in love with Madam Knows All, Sees All?"

  "About as annoying as it is to be madly in love with Madam Know It All," she teased back. "What happened?"

  "It's a long story and I'll tell you all about it later. Suffice it to say that Clint Monroe bailed on his appointment with us this morning so we improvised. How are things at Tonya's?"

  "We just got here. She called and said she had to fill in at work for someone for an extra hour, so we went and got something to eat and now we're outside the place, waiting for her. It's on the way out of town toward Shiprock."

  "So how long do you think you'll be?"

  "Don't know. I want to be on the road by six, though."

  That would put them back in Albuquerque around 9.30. At least they wouldn't be traveling at night the whole way. Maybe an hour or so, since it would still be light around 8.30. "Okay. How about Kara and I hang out and wait for you and we'll convoy back together?"

  "Sweetie, you don't need to do that. I've got River with me, after all."

  I hesitated. Killing another three hours or so wasn't that big a deal. On the other hand, I wanted to go home as soon as possible. "You sure?"

  "Yes. And I know how much you want to go home."

  I smiled as Sage seemed to read my mind again. "How about this? Kara and I haven't eaten yet so we'll grab a late lunch and I'll check in after that to see where things are."

  "Honey, it's okay. You don't need to wait. But do call me after you eat so I know what time you leave Farmington."

  Again, I hesitated. I didn't like the idea of driving back separately but for the life of me, I had no logical reason for it. Just irrational. Like weird feelings, freaky ju-ju, and creepy occurrences. "How about we eat and then meet you out at Tonya's?"

  "How about you call me after you eat and we'll see where things are? I think you might scare her a little," Sage said with laughter in her voice.

  "I scare her? Jesus, she could kick my ass with one arm tied behind her back."

  "Just call me after you eat."

  "Okay," I grumbled, watching through the windshield as Kara hung up. "Talk to you later."

  Sage spoke again. "K.C.?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I love you."

  "I love you, too. Talk to you after lunch."

  "Okay. Bye."

  "Bye." I hung up and sat staring at the phone for a moment, and a little chill zipped up my spine. I dismissed it, figuring I was just wigged from the whole day. Nothing to worry about. Sage and River would hang out with Tonya for a while, go through Bill's things, and then get on the road and we'd all be back in Albuquerque that night, and Detective Simmons would continue working the case. Some time in the future, she'd call us and tell us that someone had been arrested for Bill's murder or she'd call and say they were still looking. Either way, we were done with it. Kara opened the passenger door and plopped herself into t
he seat.

  "Let's eat," she said as she buckled up.

  I nodded and shut my door, refraining from asking her who she'd been yakking with for the past half-hour. Shoshana, I guessed. I buckled my own seatbelt and started the car. It's none of my business, I chanted in my head. If Kara wanted to date freaky art chicks, that was her gig, not mine. "Mexican okay?" I asked as I steered toward the parking lot entrance.

  "Yum."

  "Cool. I saw a place near the motel."

  "Sounds good. So how about we talk about our other sister and her latest project? That was Mom, by the way." She shot me a knowing look that I caught out of the corner of my eye, letting me know that she'd busted me in Dad mode. "And no, I didn't tell her what you'd been up to today."

  I grinned. "Thanks. And yes, please talk to me about Joely's project. I feel like I've been in the Twilight Zone for the past few days. Normal family weirdness would suit me just fine." And I settled back on the way to the restaurant, Kara regaling me with imitations of Joely lecturing our mom about the vagaries of her two wayward younger sisters. By the time we got to the restaurant, I was in a much better frame of mind.

  I HUNG UP with Sage and waited for Kara to exit the food mart of the gas station. She emerged, carrying a bottle of water and a scrap of paper.

  "What's that?" I asked, gesturing at the piece of paper as she got in.

  "Powerball. Hello! The jackpot's around a hundred million."

  I shook my head and fastened my seatbelt. "Good luck with that."

  "I figure it's worth a couple bucks when it hits a hundred million or more," she said as she got settled.

  "So ninety-nine million isn't enough?"

  "Not quite. A hundred million or nothin', baby." She held the cold water bottle against my thigh, startling me.

  "Quit it," I whined like when we were kids. "Or I'll tell Mom on you."

  "Wuss." She took the cap off and took a swig then held the bottle out for me.

  "No, thanks." I backed up.

  "So are we going to Tonya's?"

  I shook my head and pulled into traffic. Such as it was. This was Farmington, after all. "Sage said she and River are almost done going through Bill's papers. It's a lot of bank statements and pay stubs, but he kept things pretty organized. There's a small box of pictures Sage wants to go through, but from what she said, River's not too keen on it."

  "He's pretty over it," Kara said before she took another drink of water.

  "No, I think he just doesn't want to dredge up the past."

  "Sometimes it might be a good thing to just let it go."

  "Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know." I glanced in the rearview mirror. "All I know is that Bill was a bastard when Sage and River were growing up and that's the way they remember him. He was never around and when he was, he was drunk and behaved like a total prick. And yes, maybe he behaved badly because of the alcohol. Yes, he was sick because of his drinking. It explains why he did the things he did, but it sure as hell doesn't excuse it." I eased off the accelerator, realizing that I'd gotten a bit worked up.

  "I agree. But the fact remains that Bill drank, he was a dick, and now he's dead. Maybe River would prefer to just leave that in the past. The guy whose death he's dealing with now was a different man than the father he knew."

  I shrugged, not wanting to get further into this conversation with Kara. Whatever demons the past nursed in River, I suspected that sooner or later he'd need to deal with them. For his sake, I hoped it was sooner.

  "You want me to drive?" Kara asked.

  "I'm all right for now." I glanced at the digital clock above the radio. Almost six. Kara and I had taken our time over our meal, for which I was glad because I wanted to hang around as long as possible. Maybe Sage and River would be ready to go by the time Kara and I were gassed up. No deal, but Sage said she'd call when she and River left. I couldn't shake the weird feeling I'd had since that morning. Everything would be so much better once Sage and River were back in Albuquerque. Just a few more hours. But it was a long drive through one of the most unpopulated parts of the state. That made me nervous, too.

  "So what do you think about this whole Jimmy Surano-Jamison Purcell connection?" Kara broke my train of thought and I switched gears, glad for the chance to do some analysis and get my mind off other things.

  "They knew each other because they worked together. I don't get the feeling they were buddies or anything. And if Surano's calling Purcell to threaten him, then they probably didn't know each other that well. What I'm not sure about is the Surano-Monroe connection. Surano has a hell of a lot to lose in this, if he's part of the shit. Nestor said he had priors, which means finding a job has got to be hard for him. Maybe Monroe is using that to get Surano to make threats to Purcell."

  "But why Purcell? He doesn't know about the notebook."

  I thought about it for a bit, seeing the notes I'd taken at our afternoon session with Simmons in my mind's eye. I wasn't too sure Purcell hadn't known about the notebook. I still wasn't sure how much we could believe from Purcell. While we had talked to Simmons, I added information to the lists I'd made on my legal pad.

  It helped organize my thoughts with her, and it helped organize my thoughts now. "So maybe Monroe knows that now, but he's pressuring Purcell to put the squeeze on other guys who knew Bill. He's trying to flush game out of the brush. Monroe might want the notebook so he can get rid of it because if Bill collected evidence that'll stick about willful negligence resulting in injuries and deaths, Ridge Star is in a shitload of trouble."

  "Maybe Monroe wants Purcell to contact Nestor," Kara mused. "Monroe knew Bill was tight with Nestor, but maybe it's easier for Monroe to get to Purcell."

  I passed a truck that looked like a leftover from World War II, chugging up a hill. "Purcell's alone most of the day. And he's pretty isolated out there. Nestor at least is surrounded by other houses that might be owned by family members or at least friends." The insular reservation culture might have protected Nestor from an asshole like Monroe. "I don't know why, but I think there's something about Surano in all this."

  Kara glanced over at me. "Well, Purcell's pretty sure he's the one who called him with the threat. Why would he do that, though? Why get involved in all this?"

  "Because maybe he already is involved." I accelerated to the speed limit and put the visor down to block some of the sunlight. "Maybe Monroe--and whoever else--put Surano up to messing with Bill. Maybe he's even the guy who took Bill out to the Rez, thinking that he was just going to scare him into leaving things alone." And maybe that tactic went way wrong when Bill managed to get away. But why, then, hit him and kill him? Unless that part wasn't supposed to happen. I chewed my lip, thinking.

  "Purcell said that Monroe's managed to keep himself pretty clear of this," Kara said before she took another swig of water.

  "Not really. He was at Purcell's today acting like an asshole and Purcell's got other witnesses--that would be us--though Monroe doesn't know that. Purcell might come clean to Simmons, now." And with Bill's notebook, she's got some ammo to question Monroe.

  "Okay," Kara said, but in a tone that suggested she wasn't convinced. "So let's suppose that Monroe just wanted to scare Bill off the investigation and maybe get his notebook. How did it manage to get so screwed up?"

  I didn't answer right away, thinking. We crested a hill south of the town of Bloomfield, east of Farmington, where farmers had managed to coax fields of crops from desert plateau. I was struck again by the sight of pumpjacks chugging away on the edge of rows of corn. "I'm guessing they didn't figure Bill would be able to get away. What if Surano--because I don't think Monroe would get directly in on this--took Bill out to that wash that Tom Manyhorses was talking about and he left him there, tied to something? What if he knew the rumors about it and knew that Bill was sort of into Navajo beliefs because he hung out with Nestor? So Surano figured it would scare Bill to be out there and he'd agree to stop his investigating and to hand over his documentation."

  "Huh
."

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kara nod. "But Bill got away," she said. "He managed to somehow cut through the rope and he started walking back toward the road. Maybe he was on his way to Manyhorses' place."

  "But his body was past that. He didn't stop at Manyhorses' turnoff. He kept going." Why didn't he go up the road to Manyhorses' spread? I frowned, remembering the vast openness of the area. How far was Tom Manyhorses' house from the main road we had parked on to find the spot where Bill died? I hadn't thought to ask. Did Bill decide to take his chances on the main road rather than go up any side roads? Maybe that's what he was doing. He didn't want to go up any lesser roads in a dark, creepy area of the Navajo Reservation.

  "How about this as a scenario," I said. "Bill is walking on the main road because he doesn't want to take his chances on those other roads. He doesn't know the area, but he knows the road they brought him in on. And maybe he sees a vehicle approaching but he's not sure it's friendly. So he finds a place to hide. Maybe he goes off the road a bit and hides behind some sagebrush or something. He was wearing dark clothing, after all. So the vehicle approaches and passes and it's the guy or guys who brought him out there and he knows at that moment that as soon as they find him gone, they're going to go looking for him."

  Kara picked up my train of thought. "So he starts walking or running toward the highway. How fast could he go?"

  "Not very, compared to a car. But he's scared. Adrenaline kicks in." I slowed down behind an RV, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. But that still doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't Bill stay hidden? All he had to do was go away from the road a bit and lie down behind some sagebrush. Chances were the driver of the vehicle wouldn't have seen him, even if he was looking for him, because he wouldn't know for sure when Bill got away or how far he might have gotten. What were we not seeing?

  Kara reached over and turned the car radio on, but she switched it to CD and the world beat album I'd left in there started playing. She sat back and stared out the window and after a while, I figured she'd fallen asleep.