“And what was her response?”
“She just kind of shrugged and said she had heard that you could change your sexual orientation and then Cody called—”
“Cody? That’s the boyfriend?” I interrupted.
“Yes. And she took the call and said she had to go.”I chewed my lip, thinking. “Did she bring it up again after that?”
“No.”
“Has she said anything about your grandma?”
Melissa shook her head, sad. “She stopped talking to her.”
Oh, hell. Melissa’s Nez Perce grandmother lived in Oregon. She had married a white man and their kids married other whites, as well. Still, Melissa was close to her grandmother and her Native roots. Megan was the child of Melissa’s father and his second wife.
Because of dad, Megan and Melissa shared their Native American grandmother. I sat back. “It sounds like this guy’s not trying to leave the movement and that he’s recruiting Megan.”
Melissa watched me, lips drawn in a thin, tight line.“Here’s the hard part,” I said gently. “She’s an adult. And you can’t really tell her what she can and cannot do. The police can’t do anything about this unless one of them has committed a crime. Belonging to a white supremacist group is not a crime in this country. I’m sorry.” She looked at me and I could see tears in her eyes, which made me want to hug her. I refrained, with a mighty internal effort.
“But what if you think they might commit a crime?” she pressed.
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think she really wants to be with Cody or his group. Not anymore, anyway. She calls about once a week and she’s vague about where they are, but some of the stuff she says makes me think that she’s waking up to what’s happening here. And if she really did totally buy into Cody’s message, why is she still calling her dyke sister?”
“What does she say to make you think she’s not on board?” I leaned back in my chair, mentally calling up my research files.
“It’s not so much what she says, it’s how she says it. She’ll say that she’s fine and everything’s fine and she doesn’t want me to worry about her and then she’ll say weird shit like if I think it’s wrong to take money from corporations and give it to struggling Americans.”
“What?” I furrowed my brows in thought.
“Remember I told you that back in the late eighties I was involved in ActUP! And QueerNation and all those groups that protested Reagan’s response to AIDS?”
“Yeah.” I had done that, too.
“Okay, Megan knows I did that stuff and she knows that I rag on corporate interests and I’ve told her that if you believe in something, you should fight for it. Except I never thought she’d believe in the supremacy of the white race, especially after knowing you and what you research.” Melissa paused for a moment. “Anyway, she asked about belief and what it might take to make you believe something. I told her that belief was a really powerful thing but it could also work against you and it could make some people do bad things, things that hurt others. And she said she had to go and she hung up.”
I tugged on my chin, listening.
“I asked her why she just doesn’t come home and she said that she has something to do that’s bigger than herself but something in her voice... I don’t think she wants to be part of it anymore.”
“Do you think she’s being held against her will?”
“I don’t know.” Melissa sighed. “Pressure from a group...”
“Cult.”
She looked at me, surprised. “Is this a cult?”
“What my research shows is, yes. White supremacist groups are like cults. There’s usually a charismatic leader who convinces others to follow his—the leader’s usually male—example and then the underlings perpetuate the message and actively recruit outsiders. The group controls access to information through whatever means, whether peer pressure, threats to tell the leader, appeals to your convictions, things like that. You’re indoctrinated with the beliefs of the group through constant repetition and constant reinforcement.” Jesus, I sound like a documentary.
“The group controls information?”
“Yeah. And eventually, you come to think that any outside news or information is suspect and part of the larger conspiracy that the group’s leaders and indoctrinated members are trying to convince you is real.” I ran a hand through my hair. “See, not many people think of white supremacists as a cult so there isn’t really a network of de-programmers.”
“People who get you out of a cult.” She reached for her iced tea, avoiding my eyes.
“Exactly. It’s an approach to white supremacists that I’ve been digging around in for the past couple of years especially. Anyway, de-programmers help those who leave the groups adjust to real life outside the cult. However, even if you do manage to leave the movement, it takes a long time to let go of what it did to you.”
Melissa’s shoulders sagged. “So I can’t do anything until Megan either commits a crime, comes home on her own, or winds up hurt or dead somewhere?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that so I kept my mouth shut.
“That’s total bullshit, K.C. That is total fucking bullshit.”
“Megan’s an adult.”
“She’s a hostage!”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Cults...” I paused, considering the ramifications of my words, decided to say it anyway. “They’re like addictions.”
She glared at me. “Megan’s not using anymore.”
“Hey, relax.” I wanted to believe her. “One of the things many modern white supremacists espouse is absolutely no drug or alcohol use. So if Megan’s with this crowd, chances are they’re not allowing her access to anything. Which is a good thing because it keeps her from completely falling under their control.
Think about it. Did you ever see Cody drinking?”
Melissa shook her head, realization in her eyes.
“No. He always went for the Diet Coke.”
“Did you see any names on the literature from Megan’s apartment? Any group affiliations?”
“No. I was so disgusted and scared I didn’t really read it.”
“Did you save it?”
“Yes,” she said with a well, duh tone. “I’m an attorney. It’s evidence.”
Before I could think about what I was saying, I said it anyway. “Let me have a look at it.” The relief in her eyes wouldn’t allow me to change my mind. I kicked myself mentally from Grandpa’s porch to Amarillo and back again.
“Thank you. It would mean so much to me. When can you come?” She leaned forward, hopeful.
“Um. Where? To Albuquerque?”
“That is where I live,” she said snappishly.
“Whoa. Hold on. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“How else are you going to see the stuff I found?”
Mail it? “Melissa...”
“You can stay at Megan’s place,” she continued.
“I’m paying the rent and bills on it until...” She stopped and bit her lip.
I shook my head slowly. “Hold on. As much as I think it sucks what’s going on with Megan, I don’t know if I can help. Why don’t you hire a private investigator?”
“I tried that,” she said impatiently. “And most would have taken the case but they don’t know anything about groups like this. I even tried contacting other people who research them and they all politely told me that it sounded like I needed the police or a PI.”
I ran both hands through my hair, extremely uncomfortable with what she was asking of me. “Hey, I don’t have any sort of affiliation with law enforcement. There’s not a whole lot I can do. And besides, you’re a lawyer. You deal with stuff like this all the time. Why can’t you just—”
“Please, K.C.,” she said, a slight sarcastic edge to her words. “Don’t think I haven’t considered that. It would make everything so much easier.” I heard the unspoken “than having to deal with you.” She looked at me, pleading.
“You know Megan’s history. You know her. She trusts you.” Melissa watched me.
“Remember what happened the last time?”
I did. Megan got strung out somewhere five years ago and Melissa didn’t see her for a week. She hired a PI her firm used to track her down and he found her in some dive over in Albuquerque’s War Zone. The police had to get involved because drug paraphernalia littered the apartment. Megan was arrested but Melissa managed to get her probation—
Megan was a minor—and treatment.
“If Megan’s caught up in something illegal, I might not be able to keep her out of prison this time.”
Melissa faltered and glanced away, clearing her throat.
“So you want to know exactly what she’s doing with this guy,” I said slowly, to make sure I understood what she wanted. “And you want it sort of ‘unofficial.’ ”
Her gaze snapped back to mine. “Yes. If Megan is caught screwing up again, I have some decisions to make. I can either let it go, as much as that hurts, or report it. As much as that hurts. But if she’s not with him of her own volition, then I might be able to cut a deal with the DA if Cody’s doing anything illegal that Megan’s privy to.”
I saw Melissa’s point, but I felt extremely uneasy.
“What about Chris? Did you call her? Or think about calling her?” I was reaching here, knowing almost instinctively she hadn’t, because Chris would’ve called and told me if Melissa contacted her. Chris tells me pretty much everything, unless it’s something that’ll compromise her investigations with the Albuquerque Police Department.
Melissa’s eyes clouded. “I didn’t feel right doing that. Especially since I haven’t talked to her since you left. Besides, she would have told me to talk to you, too.”
She was right. Shit.
“You’ve worked with groups like this,” she continued. “You’ve talked to people who are still part of them. You’ve gone to meetings with them. You know these people. Maybe you can figure out which group it is and what they might be planning to do.”
She leaned forward. “And Megan knows you. She likes you. She’s always liked you. Maybe she’ll come back on her own.”
Dammit. I chewed my lip, trying to find an excuse, any plausible reason, to avoid this situation.
“Believe me,” she said, as if reading my thoughts.
“If there was any other way to do this, I would have.”
I watched her as she looked down at the table. She looked like she was going to cry again.
“I would do anything to have someone else do this, but I trust you with Megan’s past.”
In spite of our own, I finished for her. I could hear a slight catch in her voice.
“I’ll pay you.”
I stared at her as if she had just offered to pay me for sex.
“No,” she said, realizing how it must have sounded. “I mean as a researcher. I know you’ve done that in the past. I’ll pay your going rate for research.”
I continued to stare at her. She might as well have just slapped me.
“Plus room and board? Please. It would mean a lot to me. You could use it for your next book. You’re doing research this fall semester, anyway.”
My stomach lurched. “How did you know that?”
She looked away.
“How did you know that?” I said again. She had been tracking me and it bothered me. Why didn’t she just call? Because she knows it’d be harder to say no to her in person. I clenched my teeth, feeling used.
She stood, slightly flustered. “I checked. I needed to know where I could find you.”
“It’s not on my Web site,” I said, testing her.
“I called the department.”
I stood as well and stared out at the fields. By the sun, it must have been almost three o’clock.
Somewhere in the heat and haze I heard a tractor.
And somewhere further away than that I heard the engine of Melissa’s Toyota Camry as she drove out of my life and into someone else’s sunset. Don’t burn your bridges, I heard someone saying. ’Cause you might have to cross the river again.
“On the off-chance—” I started, keeping my eyes on the field, “that there was some other way for you to do this, would you have done it?”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
I shifted my full attention back to her. “What exactly does this entail?”
“So you’ll do it?”
“I didn’t say that. I want to know what it is you’re expecting.”
She went into professional mode. “I want to know who Cody is, what group he’s with, what they’re planning to do, and where they might be.”
“And?”
“Once you get that figured out, I’ll take the next step myself. If she really does want to leave and he’s forcing her to stay, I’ll get the proper authorities involved.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t want your money, Melissa.”
“I’m hiring you to do research.”
I wondered if Hillary had bought Melissa the same way she was trying to buy me. Here ya go.
Money’ll fix it. I’ll buy your heart and give you a new one.
A mouthful of bitterness accompanied my thoughts.
How much is your sister worth? How much am I worth? I tugged my left earlobe, staring out across the fields again. “If I do this, I don’t want your money,” I said stubbornly.
“Will you at least let me provide the place to stay?
And help with expenses?”
“If I do it.” I sounded petulant.
“Thank you.”
“I’m not sure. Let me think about it.”
“Thanks for hearing me out.” A faint smile lifted the edges of her mouth.
I nodded, feeling numb and cold inside, like I’d been left out in an early fall snow. The silence stretched between us until Melissa broke it when she opened the screen door. “Walk me to my car?” She raised her right eyebrow quizzically, almost playfully, like when she used to flirt with me. I guess I could still fall for it because I examined the outline of her back as she pulled the screen door open and stepped into the kitchen. Even underneath the T-shirt, I could envision her wiry muscles plunging below the waistline of her shorts. I quickly glanced away.
Misdirected lechery, I attempted to convince myself as I grabbed my hat and followed her through the house.
Grandpa rocked slowly on the front porch, his eyes closed. The heat of the day weighed heavily on him and the dogs. Barb and Dan gave Melissa only a cursory once-over as she stopped to say goodbye to Grandpa, thought better of it, and quietly descended the five steps.
I took my time putting my hat back on, waiting for her to slide into the driver’s seat and shut the door, saving me from any inadvertent physical contact.
Sinking my hands into my pockets, I maintained a respectful two-foot distance from the Lexus. She twisted in her seat and fumbled through something on the floor in back. She must have found what she wanted because she resumed appropriate driving posture and fastened her seatbelt before directing her attention at me. Automatically, I stepped closer.
“It’s good to see you,” she said with what sounded like genuine pleasure, though tinged with sadness. She was holding a business card and she wrote something on the back with a black pen. “I know you might think differently, but I’d like to maybe talk sometime.”
I shrugged.
She handed me the business card. “I know you’ll think about this. And I know you’ll call me either way.”
I took the card, glanced at it and shoved it into a front pocket of my jeans. She started the engine. It purred smoothly, powerfully.
“Nice rig,” I said softly. “You must be doing okay.”
She smiled and slipped her shades on before resting her right hand on the steering wheel. I heard Bonnie Raitt issuing from the vehicle’s sound system.
“K.C.,” Melissa said firmly, over Bonnie’s voice,
“no matter what you decide, I’m glad I s
aw you.” She smiled and shook her head in a “well, hell” motion. “I used to think you were a damn good-looking woman, and I didn’t think it could get any better.” Even through her shades, I could see her eyes sweep over me, from the toes of my boots to my hat. “I was wrong.” And she was backing up before I could retort.
Damn her. Damn ex-girlfriends in general. Dammit. I watched the Lexus until it turned left onto the main road, heatwaves swallowing the sound of its engine.
She was gone again, leaving me staring after her. I guess there were a few ghosts that needed to be put to rest. Out of habit, I glanced skyward. Evening was coming on. I had to finish with the alfalfa.
Chapter Two
MY EVENING RUN lasted longer than usual.
When I returned to the house, darkness was forcing a reluctant sunset behind a gathering thunderstorm.
Rain would be nice. Nights in the old house were nearly as oppressive as the days out of it. I thought I heard a quiet assurance from the distant clouds and I turned to study them. Grandpa’s match scraped in the darkness behind me. He stood on the porch, leaning against the railing. The embers from his pipe glowed.
“I didn’t see you,” I said, searching the dark for his face. “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”
I could almost hear him shrug. “A bit too hot yet.”
I joined him on the porch, feeling a breeze ruffle the sweaty hair around my face. The breeze died as quickly as it had come. The evening felt stuffy. We might be in for some rain after all. “Luke’ll be here in a few days. He’s excited to be coming back.”
Grandpa didn’t reply, but I knew he liked the idea. Luke was his youngest and favorite grandson. I didn’t mind my cousin, but he was a bit too Texas good ol’ boy for my tastes. What was important was that he loved Grandpa and I knew that he’d take care of him.
“I’ll be heading out in a couple of days,” I said simply. I waited for him to say something. Instead, he nodded in the dark. I caught the motion because the embers in his pipe bowl bobbed.
“I asked Luke if he’d install an air conditioner for you. He’ll pick one up at Home Depot and take care of that.”
Land of Entrapment Page 2