Land of Entrapment

by Andi Marquette

  “I’m going to try to get in contact with Cody this weekend. I don’t know if I’ll be able to. I’ll also stick close to Megan’s because I want to see if anybody shows up. Chris will have the reports on Cody’s run-ins with the law in Colorado. Maybe we can get him on parole violation or something. She’ll also know more about the fingerprints from the other night. So just hang loose and I’ll keep in touch. Where are you going to be?”

  “Packing up.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I can’t stand it anymore. She’s staying away most of the time and this weekend she says she has to be in Los Angeles. I don’t really know and I don’t really care. Isn’t that sad?”

  That was pretty sad. “Are you okay by yourself?”

  “The existential question. We’ll find out, won’t we?”

  “I’m serious.”

  She smiled. “Yes, I am. I actually really enjoy it when she’s not around and when I have time and space to myself.”

  “Okay, but if you need anything or want to talk or whatever, just call me.” Holy shit. If someone had said a couple of weeks ago that I’d be sitting in Albuquerque with my ex, whom I hadn’t spoken with in three years, telling her to call me, I would’ve thought that person had smoked a bagful of supreme Mexican weed. But here I was. And it felt okay. It felt good, actually.

  Her eyes filled with tears again. She released my hand and hastily wiped at her face. The server returned with the check and Melissa handed her a credit card before I was able to say anything. The server retreated. “I asked you, ” she said. “And I know you didn’t really want to come.”

  I gave her a wry smile. “True. Thanks.”

  The server returned and Melissa signed off on the receipts.

  “I’ll walk you to your car. Where are you parked?”

  “The garage across Mountain.”

  “Cool. Same here.” I picked up the notebook she had brought as I stood and waited for her to squeeze out from her chair. I removed her blazer from the back of the chair and handed it to her. We exited the restaurant, sharing a comfortable silence as we walked down San Felipe. The best part of Albuquerque summers was like right now, when nightfall nudged evening and the temperature along that boundary was just right. Not hot, but not cool.

  Traffic was fairly heavy since it was a Friday night so we had to wait to get across Mountain. I heard laughing and shouting from somewhere on the Plaza.

  To my right—east—the jagged outlines of the Sandias hung in the dusk. I did miss New Mexico. Maybe Sage was right. I stopped thinking about her. Shit. That was another problem I had to deal with.

  As we neared Melissa’s car her phone rang. She pulled it out of her blazer pocket and looked at the screen. “I don’t recognize the number,” she said.

  “Is it local?”

  “Yes.”

  “Answer it.”

  She did so. “Hello?” A few seconds later she brought her free hand to her mouth as tears started rolling down her cheeks. I stood nearby, watching.

  “Where are you? Oh, God. Are you okay? When—”

  I caught Melissa’s eye and shook my head vehemently. Don’t ask her that.

  “Listen, I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”

  My eyebrows shot up to my hairline.

  “Hold on.” Melissa handed me the phone. There was no getting out of it now.

  “Hey,” I said, trying to stay calm.

  “K.C.?” Megan’s voice was low, like she was trying not to be detected.

  “Yep. How are you holding up?”

  “What are you doing in New Mexico?”

  I debated what to tell her and opted for something relatively innocuous, since I guessed telling her that Melissa asked me to find her would piss her off, maybe drive her further away emotionally. “Visiting your sister. Doing some research. And I missed Albuquerque but I find out that you’re not around and I can’t catch up with you. So what’s going on?”

  “I can’t really talk,” she said tightly.

  “Are you at a pay phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you still in Albuquerque?” I pushed a little because from her voice, she sounded like she might be ready to tell me some things. I recognized the tone from all the conversations we’d had in the past.

  “Sort of.”

  “Edgewood?”

  Pause. “Yeah.” She said it with slight relief, like she’d been keeping a secret that she no longer wanted to hide.

  “Can I see you?”

  Longer pause. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  I tried a different tack. “Remember when Melissa and I went through the bad time? I left you a card.”

  I heard her breathing.

  “I told you no matter what, you could always call me. No matter what happened. I meant that.”

  “I guess I didn’t believe it,” she said so softly I wasn’t sure I heard her right.

  “I wouldn’t say something like that unless I meant it.” “I have to go,” she said. She sounded scared.

  “Is he hurting you?” I said it and then immediately kicked myself because Melissa was standing right there, listening, and I didn’t want her to worry about that, too.

  “I really have to go.”

  “No matter what. You can call me.”

  “Bye.” She hung up. I pulled the phone away from my ear. Melissa was watching me, tears in her eyes.

  I closed the phone and handed it to her. “Write that number down. I’ll have Chris find out which pay phone it is.” I handed the notebook back to her.

  “Is she in Edgewood?”

  “She says she is.”

  “Is he hurting her?” The dread in Melissa’s voice was palpable.

  “She didn’t say. Don’t go there right now, okay?”

  “I’ve been thinking it for a while now.” She exhaled and I worried she would collapse so I walked her slowly to the driver’s side door of her SUV. Her hands trembled as she checked her cell phone and copied the number into the notebook with a pen from her glove compartment. She handed the notebook back to me.

  “All right,” I said, trying to make her feel a little better. “Here’s the good news. She’s close. She’s still checking in, which I’m thinking means she wants to come home. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t bother calling you. She knows I’m here now, which means she knows we’re offering to help her if she’s ready. She knows now that she has a way out. You need to focus on that and make sure you keep your phone with you.”

  She nodded, jaw clenched. She stared straight out the windshield.

  “Are you okay going home?”

  She nodded again.

  “Are you okay by yourself?” It felt strange, taking this caretaker role with her. Melissa had always tried to do that with me in the past. And with Megan.

  Never any room for herself. I hoped that changed.

  “I think I actually prefer it.” She turned to look at me. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too. Drive carefully. Call me if you need to.”

  I stepped back and she shut her car door and started the engine. I watched her back out of the parking space then drive toward the exit. I walked to my car and got in. I headed for Megan’s, feeling drained but somehow liberated as several different things careened through my head. Chris was right. So was Melissa. We had needed to talk. And I’d been able to talk to Megan, which might help us get her away from that rat-bastard Cody. Though she was scared, she sounded like herself, like Megan. There was nothing more I could do right now until I gave the number to Chris and she pinpointed the location of the phone. I called Chris and left her a message, letting her know that Megan had phoned and to give me a call when she had a chance.

  My thoughts veered to Sage. I wasn’t sure what to do about that so I instead focused on the fact that Cody had been by earlier. And extremely pissed off that he couldn’t get in. Caught in the slow crawl of Friday traffic on Central, I had even more time to think about the
incident. Maybe there was something in Megan’s house that he wanted. Maybe it wasn’t about Megan after all. And whatever it was he was looking for, it might have something to do with the incident earlier that week, when somebody else had tried to get in. I’d better go through Megan’s stuff again the next day. Maybe I’d find something I overlooked.

  Chapter Twelve

  I WAS UP around seven Saturday morning and decided to head up to the Sandias and do a trail run before the summer heat kicked in. I ran there all the time when I lived here and it really helped clear my head. I pulled my “skinnies” on—my runner’s underwear. They’re made of some ungodly chemical mixture and they hug my body like a second skin.

  Over those I put a pair of cargo shorts so I had pockets to carry my keys, band-aids, and cell phone. I then donned a sports bra and a muscle tee, filled my CamelBak, and laced my shoes up.

  Twenty minutes later I pulled into the dirt parking area at the end of Montgomery, a major east-west street that narrows as it enters the ritzy residential area along the base of the Sandias until it dead-ends here, the open space area riddled with dirt trails for running, hiking, biking, and walking. I put my Camelbak on, adjusted the straps, and headed out, starting at a light jog. Soon I was loping along one of the wide main trails headed east into the mountains. I wanted to take it easy because I was running at altitude and I hadn’t been here in a while. So I did a three-mile loop at a leisurely pace then jogged a half-mile to cool down.

  The rich odors of dirt, sage, and piñon followed me along the trail. I passed a few other runners and we smiled and waved, commiserating in our shared pain. A few people were out with their dogs and I saw three people who had to be in their seventies hiking up a steep incline. I slowed to a walk and by the time I got back to the car it was eight-thirty. I headed down into the city and stopped at a gas station to call Cody. Four rings and voice-mail. I didn’t leave a message, deciding that I’d probably have to get a temporary cell phone with a local number.

  I drove to Megan’s and parked in front of Sage and Jeff’s. Both of their cars were gone. I sat thinking for a minute and then decided to park on the next block. If Cody or any of his associates were going to come around, seeing my car there might scare them off. I walked the block back to Megan’s and found a note taped to the door:

  Good morning, neighbor! I thought you might want to hang out in the big house today in case assmuncher decides to show up and spar with the door again. You could catch him in the act! Just go on in. Back door’s open and there’s a key on the kitchen counter. See you tonight.

  Sage.

  P.S. my cell is 332-4535.

  She had drawn a little cartoon of Cody with boxing gloves on. I laughed. Assmuncher. I wondered if she made that up. I read it again, thinking that she had delightful handwriting. I didn’t know what other word to use. If it were pictures, it would look like little nymphs bouncing around in an enchanted forest. I groaned inwardly. Definitely a messy situation, and the more I tried not to think about it, the more I did. I unlocked the doors and went inside, making sure to lock the security door from the inside.

  I stripped on my way to the shower, tossing Sage’s note onto the bed.

  I stood in the shower for a long time. For the first time in three years, I felt a sense of peace about Melissa. I guess I’d never really understand why she crossed the line and had the affair, but maybe now I had a better explanation for it, at least. And I recognized my unavailability. Which doesn’t necessarily excuse what she did, but it did make me see a bigger picture. I thought about Melissa leaving Hillary and the messed-up relationship she’d had with her over the last three years. I thought about holding Melissa’s hand in the restaurant the night before and how it was like a time warp, how it had made me feel. Do I miss her? The water poured over my neck and shoulders. Yeah, in some ways. Would I get back with her? No. Not now. I couldn’t honestly say if that would change in the future, but right now, I was pretty happy with who I was and what I was doing. I missed New Mexico, and maybe I’d come back, but right now, this was how things were and I was okay with that.

  My mind wandered to Sage. I had no doubt that she intrigued me, no doubt that I was attracted to her on several levels. I’d never met anyone so uninhibited, so unfettered. She eschewed conventional thinking but she wasn’t a flake or an airhead. She simply was. She owned the space she occupied. She reveled in it. She said what was on her mind and she accepted the consequences of her honesty. God, why can’t I be ten years younger? I was leery about seeing younger women. Maybe that was biased, but in my thinking, there was a world of difference between twenty-four and thirty-four. Not only that, but I could see myself being interested in more than dating with someone like Sage, but at twenty-four—which was what I estimated her age to be—the novelty of playing house can wear a little thin after a while. Different priorities, different paths.

  I thought then about dancing with her. She had let me lead, no doubt about that, but she made it clear that my leading was contingent on her following. I liked that she claimed her space, and that she wasn’t afraid to ask questions or talk about things. “Shit,” I said to myself. Who am I kidding? She’s hot. And she moved me in some strange and inviting way. I shut the water off. Well, whatever. I’ve acknowledged it and now I can move on. I simply would not go there. Shit.

  I’m living an episode of The L Word. Here I am, acting like my ex’s best friend, lusting after a woman young enough to be my student, and trying to corral a bunch of white supremacists. What the hell kind of reality show is this? I dried off and threw on clean clothes before I started the coffee, then spent the next couple of hours organizing my notes. I checked Megan’s e-mail again, but saw nothing but spam. I then checked mine. Junk mail, a couple of notices about upcoming lectures at UT, one from a colleague in Boston. I e-mailed him and told him I was in New Mexico doing research. I checked in with my department. I wouldn’t hear anything until Monday or Tuesday, but that was okay. I then did a search on “Aryan Desert Rats.”

  Nope. No formal Web site. I was hoping to at least get a line on the plans they might have. I sat back, tugging on my chin and pondering my next move when my phone rang. I picked it up and looked at the ID. Good. Maybe Chris had some more information.

  “Hola, mujer,” I answered.

  “Hey, I’ve got a couple of minutes. I got those reports in from Colorado and I got a match to the prints.”

  “Yeah? Our buddy Cody?”

  “Negative. Raymond Watkins. He’s got a couple of priors. I think you’ll be interested to see who this guy is. You might know him as Roy Whistler.”

  Holy shit! “Chris, you’re a goddess among all us mere mortals.”

  She laughed. “Takes one to know one. So what’s going on with Megan?”

  “She called Melissa last night. Do you have a pen and paper?”

  “Yep.”

  “I talked to her. She called Melissa’s cell from a phone in Edgewood. Can you do a trace and find out where the phone is?”

  “Sure. Give me the number.”

  I did and she repeated it back to me. She paused for a moment, then continued, in typical Chris fashion, to another major issue in my life. “So,” she started. “Melissa?”

  “No, not what you think. Remember you told me a few days ago that maybe I should talk to her? Get stuff out in the open? Well, we did. We had dinner in Old Town yesterday. And you’re right. It felt really good.”

  “And?”

  “That’s it. It felt good. I’m glad I did it and I’m really glad I’m where I am.” I knew what she wanted to ask. I answered before she did. “No. I don’t want to get back with her. I mean, there’s still some stuff I need to work out with regard to what happened, but I don’t want to go there. Down the line, I don’t know. I never say never, as you know, but for now, things are where they need to be.”

  “I’m glad, Kase. I just don’t want you to get hurt again. I know, I know. I sound like your mom or something. But you’re pretty spe
cial and you deserve someone who sees that.”

  “Geez, you’re making me wanna grab a tissue here,” I said, only half-teasing.

  “Yeah, whatever. Listen, I’m working this weekend to get caught up but I have time tomorrow evening. Can I swing by?”

  “That’d be awesome. Oh, before I forget—Cody was poking around here yesterday around two. Sage saw him. No, she didn’t run out there and open a can on his ass, but she said he was really pissed that he couldn’t get in.”

  “Keep me posted on that. Do you want me to spend the night tonight? I have a training seminar I have to deal with that ends at ten so I can be there around eleven.”

  “Jesus. No, don’t worry. Go home and have your space, you big ol’ detective, you. You need your rest to keep us civilians safe.”

  She laughed again. “I’m so glad you’re in town.

  All right, I’ll check in with you later.”

  “Thanks. Bye.”

  We hung up and I sat for a bit, staring blankly at the computer. So Roy was Raymond. And he had a criminal past. I wondered if that meant anything with regard to John Talbot. My legal pad was lying next to the computer. I flipped to my organizational columns and wrote “Raymond Watkins” in the Roy column. I added “criminal record” and then wrote “Talbot” and a question mark. I tapped the pen against the paper, trying to see if there was any definitive connection. I added “called” under the Megan column and yesterday’s date and time along with the place and the number from which she had called. I added

  “probably abused.” I wrote “asshole abuser” in Cody’s column. That reminded me. I needed to look at Melissa’s log of Megan’s calls, which I’d left in the car.I stood and retrieved a half-full bottle of Tazo from the fridge and walked to my car to get the notebook. Once back at the computer, I set my tea on a nearby coaster and stared at the notebook, but I Googled Sage instead and her Web site popped up. I ended up perusing it for a good half-hour. Nicely designed, it included some stunning flash images of landscapes that I figured she had taken. A small recent shot of her graced the upper right-hand corner of her homepage. From what I could tell, it might have been taken on top of a mesa somewhere. She was grinning broadly, gazing past the camera, a mischievous faraway expression in her eyes. Her arms were folded casually over her chest. I stared at the photo for a long time. God help me. She’s absolutely gorgeous.