The Replacement Child

by Christine Barber

  “Well, yes, I told you we were widows. I’m almost positive I said we were a bunch of police wives. All of our husbands were police officers. I said we were blue widows, right? I’m sure I did. That’s what we call ourselves, you know. It’s a dumb name, if you ask me, but all the other ladies liked it. Patsy wanted to get some kind of T-shirts made with that on it, navy blue with white lettering. I wanted turquoise because we were in Santa Fe.”

  “Have you ever played over at Mrs. Cordova’s or Mrs. Baca’s house?”

  “Oh, yes, all the time. I feel so bad for Maxine, she just lost her daughter, Melissa, bless her heart.”

  “Did you ever meet Mrs. Cordova’s or Mrs. Baca’s sons?”

  “Well, I met Manny Cordova. A police officer like his father was. And I met one of Maxine’s boys, I don’t remember his name, but he’s a police officer, too, if you can believe it. You would think those women would have more sense than to let their boys be cops when their husbands got killed on the job.”

  “Was it common knowledge that Mrs. Burke listened to a police scanner?”

  “Oh yes. Veronica’s boy, Manny, used to tease her about it all the time. He’d say things like, ‘You know, Mrs. Burke, every time I talk on my radio, I’ll be thinking of you listening to me.’” Mrs. Schoen laughed. “That boy. What a clown.”

  “And everyone knew she called the newspapers?”

  “Pat told anybody who would listen about it. She wouldn’t shut up. She would go on and on when one of her stories was in the Santa Fe Times.”

  “But she also called the Capital Tribune, right?”

  “I don’t know. I know she had a subscription to the Santa Fe Times. She liked their classifieds.”

  While Pollack went back to finish interviewing Manny Cordova, Gil went to Mrs. Baca’s. The police records officer called back as Gil was driving—Sandra Paine’s arresting officers had been Kristen Valdez and Eduardo Cordova, a fifteen-year veteran of the force and no relation to Manny Cordova. One more loose end tied up.

  Gil pulled up to the Baca house. There were four cars in the driveway. More company that Mrs. Baca didn’t want. An unknown relative let him in the front door without asking who he was. There were a few people in the living room. Veronica Cordova appeared at his side.

  “Detective Montoya, I need to talk to you,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you. The police have mi hito and won’t tell me why. They just keep saying, ‘We’ll call you when we know something.’”

  “Mrs. Cordova, there’s nothing I can do. It’s a state police investigation.”

  “But you know what’s going on?” Her voice was quiet and full of tension. She kept glancing around the room to make sure no one could hear them. “You have to tell me. He didn’t do anything. You know him. You know he’d never do anything. He’s a good boy.”

  “Mrs. Cordova, I can’t discuss it. The state police will call you when they know more. You should go home.”

  He went to Mrs. Baca’s room. She was on the bed and looked like she was asleep, but Gil knew that she wasn’t. Her breathing wasn’t right.

  He called her name. She didn’t move.

  He walked over to the shrine to Daniel. He counted fifteen pictures of Daniel; the last one showed him at about age eighteen. Someone had added a framed picture of Melissa to the shrine since Gil had last been there. It was the one that Gil had seen of Melissa with her father. Now all the dead people in the Baca family had their pictures on the shrine.

  He turned back to Mrs. Baca.

  “Mrs. Baca, I need to know about Ron and Melissa.”

  She mumbled something. Gil had to crouch down to hear her.

  “Mrs. Baca, I didn’t hear you. I need to know about Ron and Melissa.”

  He heard her more clearly this time when she said, “Melissa and who?”

  “Melissa and Ron.” Mrs. Baca didn’t answer. He said more loudly, “Ron, your son.” She still didn’t answer.

  Someone said from the doorway, “What do you want to know?” He looked up at Veronica Cordova. She was more composed now.

  “I want to know about Ron. How did he and Melissa get along?”

  “I’ll tell you if you get the state police to let me see my son.”

  “Mrs. Cordova, I can’t promise anything….”

  “Just ask them. I just want you to ask them if I can see him.”

  Gil nodded. He would ask Pollack, but he knew what the answer would be.

  Mrs. Cordova sighed. “I’ve known Ron all his life, and I can tell you how he was with Melissa. They hardly ever talked to each other.”

  “How did Ron get along with Daniel?”

  “He didn’t. The two of them fought like you wouldn’t believe. They would get into fistfights out in the street.”

  “What did they fight over?”

  “Everything since the day they were born. I truly thought those boys would kill each other someday. When they were done, I would clean them up so Maxine wouldn’t see. I hate to speak ill of the dead,” she crossed herself twice and whispered, “but Daniel started the fights. He once pushed Ron through a window because he didn’t like how Ron was eating.”

  Her voice went back to normal as she said, “After Daniel died, things got better. Ron stayed at our house mostly and shared Manny’s room. Maxine wasn’t … Maxine wasn’t able to take care of him.”

  “How long did Ron stay with you?”

  “Almost two years. He would try to go home every once in a while, but Maxine would forget to make him meals, so then he would come back. After Melissa was born, Maxine tried to take care of him, but she couldn’t handle a new baby and a teenager, so he came back here.” Mrs. Cordova seemed not to be watching her words around Mrs. Baca.

  “How did he act around Melissa?”

  “I never really saw them together. He was fourteen when she was born. He had moved out on his own by the time he was eighteen. He always said …” Mrs. Cordova stopped and looked over at Mrs. Baca, on the bed.

  “What did he always say, Mrs. Cordova?” Gil asked quietly.

  She sighed. “Ron always said that Manny was his real brother … and …” She stopped again. Gil waited for her to finish. She said in a whisper, “He said that Melissa stole his mother and made her crazy.”

  Mrs. Baca moved on the bed; she sat up and stared at them. “I want you out of here. Get out,” she said in a daze.

  Mrs. Cordova started to go to her friend, saying, “Maxine, it’s all right….” But Mrs. Baca pushed her away. Mrs. Baca got to her feet and went to the shrine. She picked up her rosary beads and knelt, steadying herself on the altar. Mrs. Cordova knelt beside her. Gil looked at their two gray heads bent in prayer and wondered what would happen when Mrs. Baca found out that Manny Cordova had killed her daughter.

  Gil went to Melissa’s room and took his cell phone out of his pocket, intending to call Pollack to keep his promise to Mrs. Cordova. But just as he was about to punch in the number, his phone rang.

  Lucy sat at her desk at work, tapping her foot against the floor, waiting for Gil to answer. He finally did, on the fourth ring.

  “Hi, Gil. It’s Lucy. I hope you don’t mind, but I sweet-talked a police officer at the station into giving me your cell number.”

  “Not a problem. What’s up?”

  “Actually, a couple of things. I heard you’re searching the principal’s house?” Gil didn’t answer right away. He was amazed that she knew about it already. He needed to stop being surprised so easily. It was all over the police scanner at work. She had been listening to the cops chatter about it while waiting for Gil to answer his phone.

  She knew what Gil’s silence meant. “Before you say it, this is all off the record, completely. Let me explain why I’m asking. Scanner Lady used to keep a log of all the calls she heard. Now that log is missing. The sheriff’s department is thinking that the killer took the log, and I was just wondering if you knew to look for it at the principal’s house.”

  “I didn’t know about
it, but I’m not in charge of the search. I’m sure the sheriff’s department told the state police about it, but I’ll check,” Gil said, then added, “But Principal Strunk didn’t kill Mrs. Burke. He was with his wife all night on Tuesday.”

  “Actually, I didn’t think it was him, either. I think it was Ron Baca or Manny Cordova.”

  She explained to Gil about the bridge-club photo and talking to Mrs. Schoen.

  Gil listened silently, then he said, “You told this—”

  “Yes, I told all this to the sheriff’s department. I called them right before I called you. You’re getting predictable, Montoya. I think the mystery in our relationship is starting to fade,” she said with a laugh.

  She could almost hear his smile before he said, “Manny Cordova confessed to killing Melissa. They got into a fight at the park, and he started choking her—”

  “The usual.”

  “And …” He stopped. “You know, the state police are going to have a press conference about this tomorrow morning. I’d feel more comfortable if you heard all this from them.”

  “Goddammit, Gil.” Now she was pissed. She let her anger get the better of her. “Has a single word you’ve told me gotten into the paper? Has it? I’ve been nothing but straight with you. Are you ever going to trust me?”

  “I think we should just stick to discussing the facts of the case in which you were directly involved,” Gil said, his voice never breaking from its monotone.

  “Fine. Whatever.” He was such a cop. His skin probably felt like a polyester uniform. “So what can you tell me about Patsy Burke’s murder? Please make sure to speak clearly so my tape recorder catches it all.”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “We’re fairly certain Ron Baca killed Mrs. Burke. Manny Cordova had another officer with him all night Tuesday, so he couldn’t have done it. But Officer Cordova did admit that he made a cell-phone call to Ron on Monday night right about the time Mrs. Burke said she heard it.”

  Lucy had thought that when she finally had concrete confirmation that she wasn’t crazy—that she had been right in believing Scanner Lady’s death was connected to Melissa Baca’s—something would happen inside her. But nothing did. She felt empty, sodden.

  “Manny Cordova was standing right next to you and me at the station when we talked about Scanner Lady and the cellphone call she overheard,” Gil said.

  “Which one was Manny?”

  “He was sitting on the desk next to mine. He’s kinda stocky; short, like you.”

  “I’m not short. I’ll have you know I’m the tallest person in my pygmy tribe,” she said with no humor in her voice, more to annoy him than as a joke. She was still mad.

  Gil didn’t take the bait. “Manny Cordova and Ron Baca both knew that Patsy Burke was Scanner Lady.”

  “I seem to be the only person who didn’t know….”

  Gil continued. “So, Manny Cordova tells Ron Baca that Patsy Burke overheard their cell-phone call—”

  “And Ron kills Patsy Burke because maybe it’s only a matter of time before she recognizes his voice. Maybe he’s afraid she’ll mention it to his mom at one of the bridge-club get-togethers. He takes the log from her house, probably burns it,” Lucy said. It was so much supposition. So much guesswork. “But, of course, you realize what the problem is, Gil?”

  “Yeah, I know. Ron killed her, and we can’t prove it. At least not yet. But now we know that he knew Patsy Burke. It’s a start. And if he confesses …”

  “He won’t. He’s been so smart. He just shuts up and all they can get him on is accessory for Melissa’s murder, right? And he never gets convicted for Patsy Burke’s murder. How many years is that?”

  “Actually, we’re not sure we can get Ron on accessory. We might only be able to manage a conspiracy charge. That’s a fourth-degree felony. I think the standard time is eighteen months; but he’s a cop with no priors, so I’d say he gets probation.”

  Maxine stood in the doorway of Melissa’s bedroom. Detective Montoya’s back was to her as he talked on the phone. “Ron killed her, but we can never prove it.” The rest of the conversation hadn’t made any sense to her. She had heard only Detective Montoya’s half of it. “Ron killed her, but we can never prove it.”

  She gripped the doorjamb. She seemed to be moving, floating. She held on tighter.

  Someone was talking to her, but she couldn’t let go. The voice got louder and someone touched her elbow. They took her arm, and she let go of the doorjamb; she knew she would float away. The person guided her down the hallway and put her in a chair.

  Maxine heard Detective Montoya in the kitchen, filling a glass with water. She smoothed the armrests of the chair and wondered where the keys to her car were.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Saturday Night

  Ron Baca flipped through the notebook, looking for calls he had gone to. There was one about a woman getting slapped by her granddaughter. He had been to that one. Mrs. Burke only wrote down calls about kids and old people.

  The writing in the notebook was that old-lady writing, like his mother’s. It was hard to read. He flipped the notebook shut. He would dump it tomorrow.

  He got a Coke from the fridge and peered out the corner of the kitchen window. It was starting to get dark. He could leave soon and go check on his mom. He’d take only back roads.

  On Monday, he would show up back at work. By then the state police would have busted Hector Morales or some other drug dealer for Melissa’s killing. He was only a little worried that Manny hadn’t called to check in. He was probably still on patrol and sticking to the rules: no calling from cell phones. That was how they had gotten into this mess. Well, part of it, anyway.

  At one point, he had thought about having Manny take Melissa’s jewelry off her so that they could plant it at Hector Morales’s house. But too many things could have gone wrong.

  He wondered again where Melissa had hidden the Polaroids of Sandra Paine. When he was supposed to be fixing the dishwasher, he had looked through everything in Melissa’s bedroom twice. He’d never found them. But even if they were found, it wouldn’t be a huge problem—for him, anyway. At most the photos might lead the police to Strunk. But no one knew that Melissa had shown the photos to him. His fingerprints weren’t on them. He had been careful not to touch the pictures when she showed them to him at McDonald’s. At the time, he had been doing it to preserve evidence. He’d planned to bring it up to his boss the next morning. He had tried to talk Melissa into giving him the photos, but she wouldn’t turn them over until she had a promise that the girl would be put into some kind of therapy. That had been so like Melissa.

  He picked up Mrs. Burke’s notebook and went with it into the kitchen, trying to decide how to get rid of it. Mrs. Burke had recognized him as Maxine’s son and invited him inside, never asking him why he’d come to her back door. He had only wanted to talk to her, maybe scare her a little so that she wouldn’t tell his mom about his cell-phone call with Manny. Afterward, he’d thought about taking her TV and VCR, to make it look more like a robbery. But the problem was getting rid of it. He had taken her log of scanner calls, just to be on the safe side. He hadn’t realized until he got home that Mrs. Burke hadn’t written down his cell-phone call to Manny that she’d overheard.

  He was itching to get out of the trailer and go find his mom. She really needed him. He was the only one left.

  The police scanner on the kitchen table started to beep. Santa Fe dispatch was paging out one of the volunteer fire-and-rescue crews. Somewhere on US 84/285 there had been an accident. He listened as the volunteers called in.

  A noise outside made him jump. Someone was on the front steps. He reached for his Smith & Wesson.

  Gil watched Mrs. Baca go into the mobile home before he could stop her.

  He had left her sitting in her living room while he had gone in search of a glass of water, hoping that it would snap her out of her stupor. By the time he’d gotten back to the living room with the water, she had left. He had go
ne out the front door, thinking that she might be getting some air, just in time to see her pull away in her car. He had twisted his ankle on the curb as he ran to his car to catch up with her.

  He followed her through town, with his ankle aching every time he pushed on the brake or the gas pedal, wondering if he should stop her. He decided that the best thing was to find out where she was going. She was driving slowly, as if she wasn’t used to being behind the wheel. He followed her for about five minutes as they went down side streets, away from the busy roads.

  Gil was about a block behind her when she pulled into a mobile-home park and up to an old trailer. It wasn’t Ron’s trailer. This mobile home had weeds growing snugly next to it. Gil checked the address in his map book. It sounded familiar. Then he realized—it was Daniel’s. The family must have kept it. Mrs. Baca had known where Ron was the whole time.

  Gil tried to get out of his car to stop Mrs. Baca from going inside, but his ankle gave way under him. He was close enough to hear the trailer door shut behind her.

  He was on the radio, calling for backup, when he heard two loud pops inside.

  He ran down the street, gun in his hand, holding his body-armor vest and trying not to put any weight on his ankle. As he stopped in front of the trailer, he heard the police radio—dispatch was sending out three backup units. But the sound hadn’t come from his own radio. It had come from the trailer. Gil strained his ears. He heard the muffled sounds of a police scanner somewhere inside the mobile home. Now Ron knew that they were coming. But it didn’t change things. Gil still had to get inside.

  As Gil put on his vest, he looked around the corner and slowly made his way to the front door. He glanced along the side of the trailer, looking for a back door. There was one, but it had no steps leading down. A person would have to jump about four feet to get to the ground. Gil decided that he would have one of the incoming officers stationed there as he moved to the front of the trailer. Gil wanted to get into position while he waited for his backup and make sure that Mrs. Baca was all right.