by Freya Barker
"How is Katie?"
"She's... she's stuck. Her legs aren't coming along like the rest of her body did and she seems to be losing the fight a little. I plan on bringing her here."
Gus's eyebrows shoot up. "That so? Does she know about that?" he chuckles.
"Told you there were some things I needed to go over with her about," I tell him with a smirk.
"Gonna enjoy watching this one develop," Gus leans back in his chair and rubs his hands together. "Seen it coming for a while, but I can't wait for the show."
Smug bastard.
"Yeah, yeah. Fuck off, asshole. I'm sure it won't be half as entertaining as it was to see you get balled and chained."
"Those were just fireworks compared to the nuclear explosion I see a-comin'!"
CHAPTER THREE
"Her name is Cora Helen Acker, nee Simpson. Date of birth is December 14, 1948. My dad always said she was originally from Boulder, but I haven't been able to locate any known relatives there. Everything so far has been a dead end. Last known place of residence is Montrose, Colorado, and she walked out of there 23 years ago without a trace."
I scan over the paperwork to see if there was any more information that I could give Neil, but other than my adoptive father's name and the date of adoption, it's all I have.
"I'll run it through DMV and I'll see if there are any warrants outstanding. I'll include any other databases I can think of. Katie, are you sure you don't want Gus's help with this?"
"Keep it to yourself for now, but I don't want you to lie about it. If he finds out, he finds out. It's just something I want to do for myself. I really appreciate your help with this, Neil. With GFI now based from Cedar Tree, are you considering moving down as well?"
"Meh, not sure yet. Don't want to leave Dana alone in Grand Junction, and we still have the office to keep running. Caleb continues to use this as a base for some of his jobs as well. We'll see what the next year brings. I'm too young to give up on the Grand Junction nightlife already," he says with a chuckle.
Neil is such a sweetie; a young mid-twenties computer techie who has worked for Gus Flemming Investigations for a few years now and runs the satellite office in Grand Junction along with Dana, who is one hell of an office manager.
"Well, I really appreciate your help, Neil. I wasn't able to get very far on my own and the adoption lawyer was a dead end without my adoptive mother's consent."
"I'll let you know if I find something, Katie, and you take care of yourself. We miss you."
I have trouble swallowing the big lump that forms in my throat. I miss them all too. So much.
"Yeah, me too."
"Ah fuck Yázhí, come here."
I hadn't heard Caleb come in. The rumble of his voice penetrates and his big arms fold around me from behind.
The phone call with Neil had left me unsettled, and the flow of emotions, once started, seems endless. So I just let it come. Let it all fucking flow out of me, because frankly, I'm so tired of not feeling myself. I've always been alone, I guess, but I've never felt really lonely until now. It sucks. It really does, and it makes me weepy and emotional. I'm not good with that. I normally stay busy, but I feel idle; useless. Arghhh!
Now being held by in his strong arms, and his warm breath against my ear, I start bawling in earnest. What the fuck is wrong with me? I don't even resist when Caleb lifts me out of the chair and settles me on his lap on the bed, still firmly held in the circle of his arms. One of his hands slides up to press my head to his chest. Those fucking arms...
Feels like I've cried a bathtub full by the time the flow stems a little, and all this time, Caleb hasn't said a word. He just keeps massaging my scalp with the fingers of his hand and never lets up the tight hold on my body.
"Sorry," I mumble.
"For what? Been waiting for that."
I push back and look at him indignantly. "What do you mean, you've been waiting for that?"
A small pull at the corner of his mouth is a tell he's amused, which only pisses me off. Waiting for me to fall apart? I try to move off his lap, but his hands slide to my hips and hold me in place.
"Been waiting for you to do some processing instead of burying, which is what you've mostly been doing. Can't rebuild on loose ground, Katie. You bury too much, the ground's gonna be pretty loose," Caleb cups my chin in his hand and lifts it so I’m looking into his dark, hazel eyes. "You know you gotta get rid of the build-up in order to move forward."
I hate it when he talks in that obscure language, but I still know exactly what he means. I hate it even more when he's right. Frig. Leaning forward, I let my forehead drop against his chest and I can feel the vibrations of his deep chuckle.
"You annoy me."
This only makes him chuckle louder.
"I know. Now, you wanna tell me what brought that on?"
"Nope, ‘cause that's probably gonna have me blubbering again and I really don't wanna go there." I shake my head but don't lift my head off Caleb's chest. It feels nice. His large hand slowly strokes up and down my spine, giving my exposed neck a small squeeze every time he reaches it, sending vague shivers of awareness over the surface of my skin.
"Fair enough. We'll save it, but I'm not gonna drop it. We'll tackle it when I get back."
"Back?" I sit back to create a bit of distance. The close contact is confusing me, but I'm struck by the dark look on Caleb's face.
"Yeah, I've gotta head out on a job in New Mexico; heading back to the old stomping grounds it looks like. It's where I grew up on the reservation. Not sure how long it will be, but I won't be too far so you need me for anything, you call."
"Okay. Well, no need to worry ‘cause I'm fine. Taken care of, and all that."
I know I'm being dismissive, but my emotions are still a bit raw and I don't know what the hell to say.
Then Caleb frames my face in his hands and leans his forehead against mine.
"No, little one. You don't get it. I wanted to be around to hold you when you let go a little, and I'm fucking thrilled I could do that. It's a start. There is so much more we need to talk about but it's getting late and I have to get a move on. When I'm back, I really want to spend some time talking, but in the meantime, you need me for anything, you call me. You hear me now?"
I heard. I’m still not quite sure I'm computing, but I nod.
"Good."
After he lifts me back into my chair, he gives me a peck on the cheek and ensures me he'll be in touch. Caleb is out the door, leaving me to check out his fine physique as he walks away, which is nearly as fine as it is coming. Holy shit.
The rest of the afternoon, I spend scanning archives and back issues of the Montrose Daily Press and the Boulder Daily Camera to look for any reference to Cora Acker, without much success. That, and replaying Caleb's slightly cryptic words over and over again in my head. For the past six months, he’s gone from a good friend at the periphery of my life, to someone who seems to be in the thick of things. Every time I open my eyes, and as with everything else, I have successfully avoided looking too closely. I've never been comfortable being anyone's focus. It makes me very uneasy. The more their attention is on you, the more you feel the loss when they tire of you. No, I've been quite happy keeping everyone outside a certain perimeter, and making sure I stay there as well.
Somehow though, Caleb snuck in closer than anyone has before, and I honestly don't know how to feel about that. Part of me wants that safe space back, but shit. There’s a huge part that really, really likes this―This closeness, or whatever it is. I just know that it feels nice, yet scary, too. Damn. These feelings I get, they're not 'friendly' feelings, not at all. Especially not when he calls me 'little one.' I want to purr and rub up against him. Gah!
My eyes are gritty from rubbing and staring at the screen for hours, when there’s a knock at my door.
"Yup, door's open." I call out, expecting one of the nursing staff. What I didn't expect was Juan pushing the door open gingerly, a tentative smile on his fac
e.
"Afternoon Juan. Are you alright?"
I wheel myself over to him when he doesn't come into the room any further and lingers in the doorway. Close up, I can see his eyes are red-rimmed and watery.
"You want to come in and sit down?"
Concerned with his continued silence, I gently grab his hand and encourage him to come inside, considering whether I should ring the bell for nursing staff or not. The poor man looks desolate as he makes his way over to the lone chair and sits down, his eyes down on his hands he holds, folded in his lap.
"Juan, you’re worrying me. What’s wrong?" I try again, and this time when his eyes scan up to meet mine, a lone tear trickles down his cheek and a shuddering breath leaves him.
"I... I received some bad news." With that, his head drops down again.
Rolling as close as I can get, I lean forward and put my hands over his.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" I ask him, but he immediately starts shaking his head.
"Can't... They won't like that. I'm not supposed to talk, it makes them angry." Juan pulls his hands out from under mine and pushes himself up from the chair.
I'm at a loss. Angry? Who would get mad at a harmless old man?
Who gets angry, Juan?"
But he’s already moving toward the door, mumbling to himself in Spanish before he opens the door, almost falling through when it’s pulled open from the outside.
"Qué estás haciendo aquí , viejo?"
The bitten-off Spanish words don't match the sharply dressed, handsome man standing in the hallway. Neither does the furious look he throws poor Juan who seems to shrink even further under his glare.
"Excuse me," I offer, trying to get some control of a situation that feels out of control. "Are you looking for someone?"
The man's eyes whip to me and his face does an instant transformation.
"Ah, discúlpeme. I'm sorry for the disturbance. My uncle... he is confused. I hope he didn't bother you?"
The toothy smile he throws me is blinding, or at least it would be if I were looking directly at him, which I'm not. I'm keeping an eye on Juan who’s tried to slip out into the hallway, but his nephew seems to have quite a firm grasp on his arm. Something feels off, so I tread carefully.
"No bother at all. Your uncle came to check on me. I haven't been feeling well and he’s always kind enough to look in on me.”
Fuck. I can't lie for shit, and it is abundantly clear when I see the slight narrowing of the man's eyes―he’s not buying it for one second. The brilliant white smile has all but disappeared and all that's left on his dark face is the slight sneer of his lips.
"Wonderful! I see you found your uncle," Sue, who is apparently on shift again, walks right up behind him and breaks a rather awkward stare down between us.
With a terse nod in my direction, he turns and walks out, taking his uncle with him. Just before the door to Juan's room closes behind them, shutting off all sound, I hear the old man's voice say, "Por favor, mi hijo,"
"That guy gives me the creeps," Sue whispers to me. "This is the second time I've seen him and it’s not getting better." With a grimace and a faux shiver, she pulls the door shut and leaves me alone with my thoughts.
Mi hijo?
I remember enough high school Spanish to know that means, my son.
CHAPTER FOUR
My phone rings shortly after I cross state lines into New Mexico.
"Whereabouts are you?" Gus wants to know.
"Just coming up to Aztec, New Mexico. The drive through the mountains was pretty bad. I should've come the other way and cut through Utah, but since the weather forecast was clear, I thought I'd be ok. Didn't expect parts of the 550 would be closed off because of mudslides."
"Where was this?"
"Just north of Durango, but there were slides as far back as Ouray, they just weren't blocking the road all the way, but it made driving treacherous even so."
"Must be the early spring runoff we're having. I know they've had some flooding in the lower lying areas here. Mancos has had a few issues. So what are your plans? It's almost eight o'clock now."
"I'll stop in Farmington, grab a bite and check into the Travelodge. Too late to do anything useful tonight, so I might as well set up camp there. No half-decent motels any closer to Shiprock anyway, and I don't mind a little bit of distance for when I need it."
"Sounds good. Check in tomorrow night when you've had a chance to look around."
Gus seems ready to hang up, but before he does, I decide to address the unsettled feeling that’s been with me ever since I left Katie about six hours ago.
"Will do, but can you do me a favor and keep tabs on Katie? Saw her this afternoon and she knows I'm on a job, but I don't feel settled."
"Did she say anything? Something come up?" he wants to know.
"No. Just don't feel good about being half a day away from her."
I hear a low chuckle over the line and curse under my breath.
"You are so fucked," Gus feels the need to point out.
"Pointing out the obvious, my friend. Quit yanking my chain."
"No worries. I'll keep tabs. I’ll give Neil a call in a bit. He's almost around the corner from Larchwood Inns, that close enough for you?"
"That's about as effective as buying her a watch-bunny. Jesus, Gus..." I run my hand through my hair, not feeling any better at all when Gus starts laughing.
"One of these days, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret about our quiet Neil. His waters run deeper than even you have obviously detected, and I can't tell you how much that tickles me. Trust me when I say Katie will be well taken care of. You have my word."
Not left with much choice, I reluctantly agree and sign off, ready for something hot in my stomach and a place to bed down.
A decent meal and a good night's sleep have done me good, and I find I'm not dreading the upcoming reunion with my family and childhood home as much as I thought I might. The drive into Shiprock is pretty uneventful, and it isn't long before I find myself turning onto the dirt road that leads to my parents' place.
The old house is surrounded by farm fields―had been for as long as I can remember. We used to walk to and from school, which is close to the centre of town. Wouldn't take us more than ten or fifteen minutes and we'd snatch whatever was growing on the fields to munch on, coming or going.
Pulling up to the neglected house, I notice a brand-new Dodge Ram parked right beside my dad's old rusty Ford pickup. Before I’m even out of my SUV, the front door slams open and the angry form of my brother appears in the doorway; arms crossed over his chest and a dark scowl on his face. Fan-fucking-tastic. We have a welcoming committee. I simply wanted to alert my mother I would be around for a bit, doing some work from Farmington without going into detail, but apparently Malachi has already gotten wind of my presence. I’d hoped my father wouldn’t be around, but I guess I’m out of luck on that front too, since his truck is there.
"The fuck do you want?"
"Mal, Good to see you too. I'm here to see nihimá, to say hello. Gonna be around for a bit for work."
"And nihizhé'é, Caleb? Aren't you forgetting your father?"
"Not forgetting a soul, Mal. I'll say hello to everyone."
I don't want to get into an immediate confrontation with my brother, who also happens to be the leader of the Klesh: a gang based out of Shiprock, suspected of involvement in drug trafficking. Yeah, I’m the lucky guy assigned to investigate his own fucking family members.
Managing to get by Malachi, who insists on staying in the doorway like some sentry, I walk into the small living room, which hasn't changed in the past twenty-five years. I'm not even sure if it's been cleaned. A rank smell of unwashed bodies and decaying food assaults my nostrils. I have to fight the urge to turn on my heels and walk right back out that door, but family loyalty, a sense of responsibility, and a love that’s undeniable has me standing my ground.
"Mom. Pops."
I’m met with the blank
look of my mother, who continues to rock herself on the edge of her seat, lost to her pain and the memories of happiness. She still clings to the old horseshoe frame with the baby picture of my sister, Nascha. Pops doesn't respond either, but he isn't even conscious. Passed out in his old Lazy Boy recliner, the only sound he makes is the gentle snoring of oblivion. Just the way he likes it. Claustrophobia tugs at my senses, but I shake it off as I turn to Mal, who still lingers in the doorway.
"Have they eaten?"
His eyes register surprise, his anger momentarily forgotten.
"Nothing in the house. I was gonna grab some stuff. Just got here."
So maybe my arrival had been as much of a surprise to him as his presence was to me.
"Why don't you go do that, and I'll go clean out the kitchen. It fucking smells like a dumpster in here," I suggest, looking over my shoulder into the kitchen where every surface is covered in dirty dishes and empty containers. Christ!
"And get some bleach while you're out. We're gonna need it."
Turning my back, I can hear Mal's involuntary chuckle behind me and it about freezes me in my tracks. It’s a sound I haven't heard since he was a teenager. It's been fucking years.
"On it, El Jefe," he taunts me with my childhood nickname.
It hadn't been my plan to clean out my parents’ place. I had intended just to go in, say hi and start nosing around, but given that my potential biggest lead was standing on their doorstep had me shifting gears quickly.
That's how I find myself three hours later, with my fingers pruning from the hot water and bleach concoction that I'm using to disinfect the grimy surfaces of my parents' bathroom. Holy hell, it must've been some time since this place has seen a sponge or water. The kitchen has already been sanitized and I've tossed the entire contents of the refrigerator. There was nothing in there that hadn't expired over two months ago. To think that this place was once a source of great pride for my mother, who was like a Native version of June Cleaver.
Mal came back loaded down with boxes of groceries and had the foresight to stock up on the basics as well. Good thing too, since everything that was there before is now in the trash. He’s still here, not talking much mind you, but I figure this silent standoff we have going on here, on home ground, might provide me with a better chance to get some information than when I try and chase him down on his turf. Still, it fills me with guilt. All of it does. The conditions my parents live under, lying about the reason for being here, lulling my brother into some kind of companionship just to fuck him over. Sure, I stand on the right side of the law, but Christ. These are my people; my family. They’re all I have left and it shames me. They shame me. Fuck.