Nobody's Damsel

by E. M. Tippetts

  I let myself drift off again and only woke when he pressed his lips to my forehead and whispered, “I love you. See you as soon as possible, okay?” His hand squeezed my shoulder through the covers and then I heard his footsteps retreat.

  The third time I woke up was a few minutes before my alarm, which I promptly shut off. I’d yet to find an alarm that wasn’t annoying, but that probably had to do with the purpose of an alarm rather than the specific sound. Rich red light poured in through the translucent window treatment; the Sandia Mountains, true to their name, were providing a watermelon red sunrise.

  I got out my phone and looked up the news. The first thing I could find about the prior night’s crime scene was an Amber Alert for one Esperanza Dominguez, age ten, last seen at her daycare center the day before yesterday. Her picture showed a smiling little girl with dark brown hair that frizzed out of its ponytail, belying the fact that she’d probably had a recess or two before her school pictures were taken. There was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and her eyes were a greenish gray. As I looked at her, my groggy mind put all the facts together. Her mother had been shot yesterday morning, which meant Esperanza had been gone almost twenty-four hours. All those hours that the police had only knocked, and not had authorization to do more, had given the abductor a good head start.

  Much to my relief, the next news story said the primary person of interest was her biological father. Facts about him were limited, other than that his name was Luis Dominguez. The picture they used of him was a grainy mug shot, which meant he’d been arrested for something before. That, I insisted to myself, didn’t mean he’d hurt his daughter. In fact, family abductions were often done out of a perverse sort of love. Maybe he didn’t get enough access to her for his tastes and had carried her off. He wouldn’t be the first man to do so.

  The rest of the news was light on the facts and heavy on pleas for information.

  Please, I thought, let there be informants.

  A soft knock at the door roused me out of bed and I went to answer it, conscious of my morning breath and the fact that the room smelled musty.

  Kyra stood in the hallway in the same clothes she’d worn yesterday. “Hey,” she said. “Can we talk?”

  The house was so quiet, I could immediately tell that Jen and Kyle weren’t up yet. I changed quickly, brushed my hair and teeth, and went out to the kitchen to fire up the coffeemaker, only to find Kyra in the middle of doing just that. “I feel like such an idiot,” she said. She was still teenager enough to be willow thin and mostly leg, the proportions of a model if she were only a few inches taller. She was perhaps five foot four. Her skin was a deep bronze, thanks to her mestizo heritage, and her hair was a brown so dark that it was nearly black. I noticed that Boots weaved around her ankles. He didn’t show affection to anyone else in the family.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Dad and Jen must’ve wondered if I was lying in a ditch somewhere. I’ve been without a curfew for one week and look how I blew it.”

  “Did you just get in?”

  Moisture flooded her eyes and beaded on her long lashes as she nodded and swallowed, hard. “I’m an idiot.”

  “Hey, no you’re not.” I took her by the shoulder, turned her to face me and pulled her in for a hug.

  She clung to me and began to cry in earnest.

  I made a mental list of what I could do for her. If she needed a morning after pill, I needed to find out where she could get one. New Mexico was very Catholic, not all the medical providers would prescribe them. Or maybe she needed to go in for tests for STDs. Again, I’d have to do some hunting. My chaste lifestyle before my marriage meant I was not an expert in this sort of thing.

  “His name’s Zach,” she said.

  “What’s he like?”

  She took a deep, shaky breath, then pulled back and dabbed away her tears with her fingertips. “We just clicked. I mean, all of us went out to eat and he and I ended up next to each other and we were talking and talking and talking and totally ignored everyone else.”

  I nodded.

  “So afterwards, we all went back to his place.”

  “How old is he?” It wasn’t a very trusting question, but she’d hooked up with men much older than her before.

  “Twenty-one. He lives on his own.”

  “Okay.”

  “People were watching a DVD and Zach and I decided to go back to his room to talk, which I know is stupid, okay? Going into the bedroom of a guy I’ve only just met, alone.”

  My heartbeat picked up. I hoped her father wasn’t eavesdropping on us. “What happened?”

  “We talked and… then the next thing I know I’m waking up on his bed and it’s 4:30 a.m.”

  “Do you think he drugged you?”

  She blinked at me, surprised. “Um… no. I think I just got tired and drifted off.”

  “What do you think he might have done to you?”

  “Huh? You mean, like, molested me or whatever?”

  “Yeah.”

  She lowered her eyebrows, parsing my reaction. “Oh… no. It’s not... I’m an idiot because I really like him and the last thing I need is for everyone to think we slept together, like, a few hours after we met. I’m afraid of the rumors.”

  “Rumors from your friends?”

  “Yeah. Zach is gonna hate me.”

  “So that’s all? You fell asleep and you think it might look bad?”

  “Yeah.”

  Kyra was in a much better place than she’d been in when I first met her. Much better. “What did he say when you guys woke up?” I asked.

  “He wasn’t awake. I woke up and just ran. I haven’t talked to him. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Just call him.”

  “He’s going to hate me.”

  “Then you can do better. Forget about him. Sounds like a judgmental jerk. I mean, he fell asleep too. It’s not like this is all your fault.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes.”

  “Morning,” said Jen, padding into the kitchen in her slippers and bathrobe.

  “Morning,” I said.

  “Nice waiting in the hall to eavesdrop until we’re done talking about the juicy stuff,” said Kyra. Her smile was genuine, though.

  Jen cuffed her on the shoulder. “I love you.”

  “Love you too. And I’m sorry. I fell asleep. I totally would’ve been home by midnight. It was an accident.”

  Jen winked at me as she got her own coffee mug. The Armijos credited me with taming Kyra. I’d been the first person in the family that she’d opened up to. We were only five years apart in age and she’d latched onto me the moment I’d begun dating Jason. I wasn’t convinced I had anything to do with her settling down, though. She’d grown up. Everyone did that sooner or later.

  At work, everyone was subdued. The police scanner was off, which was a relief. Miguel and I met briefly to discuss the evidence we’d taken in last night.

  “You take the hair strands,” he said. “I’ve already finished with them. One of them had a little bit of root, so I can do a DNA profile for it, and I took the blood off them. Now, I’ve tried to get a rush on the DNA, so we could have it back as soon as Monday.”

  “I don’t suppose you know offhand if there was more than one blood type in those stains on the carpet?” I asked.

  “No. But I’d assume if the kiddo were hurt, we’d have seen drops of blood leading out of the house.”

  “True, but if she was carried out, the blood wouldn’t necessarily have hit the ground. I’m assuming she was carried out given how violent the crime scene was and the fact that there are no small footprints in the entryway, just big ones. But, you know what?” I said. “What do I know?”

  “Nah, that all makes sense. I mean, it’s the detective’s job to work theories like that, but what you say isn’t wrong.”

  “Is the victim still alive? The mother, I mean.”

  He nodded. “This evening I was going to stop by
the hospital. Make sure they got the blood draws and all that.”

  Again, this was Miguel going well outside of his responsibilities. The police were responsible for things like this, but I supposed it never hurt to double check.

  “It’s good that she’s still alive,” I said

  “Barely, Vanderholt. She hasn’t regained consciousness. On a totally different topic, some tabloid websites posted pictures of you working the scene Friday.” He kept his voice low.

  “I’m sorry. Maybe I can get an injunction and-”

  “So the Chief said that we need a lab uniform. Polo shirts so that we look like professionals.”

  That was an extra drain on the budget. I’d been here two days and already I was a burden. “How many shirts do each of us get?”

  “What? It’s just one shirt with APD Crime Lab on the breast-”

  “No, I mean how many of the shirts do each of us get? Just one?”

  “Oh, two.”

  I shook my head. “Give me the procurement person’s number. I’ll buy each person here ten.”

  “You think that’ll make up for media swarming whenever we work a scene?”

  “No. Of course not. This isn’t about that. This is about people not having to do their laundry every other day. I mean, come on, some of the guys here may not even have their own washer and dryer. It’s ridiculous.”

  Miguel inclined his head and looked me over. “You shouldn’t have to pay-”

  “Please. Would you guys be in uniforms if it wasn’t for me attracting attention? Just do me a favor and don’t tell anyone. I don’t want things to be weird, you know?”

  He nodded. “Deal.”

  “Thanks.” At least I was getting along with one person in the lab. Miguel gave me the phone number for procurement and I called them from my work phone, got the information for the shirt manufacturer and the pattern number. The actual order I’d have to wait to place until all the guys in the lab filled out slips with their sizes. Miguel promised he’d get me that info once he had it.

  I did my best to get this done fast and get to work, though I still saw some irritated glances in my direction.

  Needless to say, everything to do with last night’s crime scene was top priority. The faster we found Esperanza, the better. I put the hair strands under the comparison microscope along with a strand of the victim’s hair that we’d lifted from her hairbrush.

  One hair was definitely not hers. It was bleached blond with a dark root, which made me think of the fan who’d harassed me. She was a neighbor who could have all kinds of legitimate reasons to go into the house, so that didn’t really make her a suspect. The other hair did appear to be the victim’s.

  None of the fingerprints matched anything in the database. I had some blurred partial prints that were no good but so infuriating, as one or more of them likely did belong to the suspect.

  As I worked, I reminded myself over and over again that as a crim, I did not solve crimes. That was the detective’s job. Much of the time, when I was testing evidence, I didn’t know enough about the crime to even know if my results were a breakthrough or not. Really, my job was nowhere near as interesting as it looked on television. If only I had the ability to freeze a video, zoom in on a blurry license plate, and magically make the numbers come out crisp and clear like I’d seen on CSI.

  I went to Miguel to ask how I should write up my findings and he told me to first call Detective Baca. “We’re working under real time pressure, so that’s how we’ll go. You write your report too, but make sure he has all the key information you get as soon as you get it.”

  So I called his line and left a message, then jumped in surprise when my line rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Chloe dear?” My mother-in-law’s voice. “Are you free for lunch?”

  I wished I wasn’t, not because I didn’t want to see Lillian, but because I wished I had more evidence to test. “Of course.”

  “Come meet me at Il Vicino at noon. The one on Central.”

  A lunch with my mother-in-law wasn’t unusual, but the timing gave me pause. Lillian tended to be a quiet person; I could go through an entire visit to her house and only exchange a few words with her. Doug, Jason’s father, was the talkative one. She almost never called me, and this lunch date was a first. I tried not to overthink it. There was just too much excitement in my life right now.

  Il Vicino was a popular Italian chain set into a strip mall along Central; its purple sign with silver letters in a narrow, stylized font was easy to pick out from a distance. As I drove past, I saw Lillian’s tall, slender figure standing out front with Jason and Jen’s little brother, Steve, who wore jeans and a t-shirt that advertised some heavy metal band I’d never heard of. He was stockier than Jason, and his eyes and skin paler, though Jason’s skin was likely the same color naturally. I’d never seen him without a spray on tan, and he probably hadn’t seen himself without a spray on tan since he was a teenager. I waved to my in-laws before turning the corner to drive around back and park the car.

  When I returned to them on foot, a woman with my face and a navy blue skirt and polka dot blouse had joined them. She wasn’t as petite as I was, but was still slender and very elegant. Seeing her made my day. “Hey, Beth.”

  Her uncertain smile faded as we embraced, me getting a whiff of her floral scented shampoo. I hadn’t seen my sister since my wedding, and had never known her all that well. I’d assumed, growing up, that she hated me as much as our brother, Chris, did, and she’d assumed that I’d never forgive her for being so closely related to a guy who tried to kill me. But when I needed help putting Chris back in jail, Beth broke ranks from her family and sided with me. She even referred to our father as “Dad,” as if she expected me to think of him that way. I didn’t. Dr. Winters was a virtual stranger to me, irrespective of the fact that he’d been Mom’s source of income. I’d never spoken to him, and when I got my teeth worked on, I’d been seen by one of the other dentists in the practice. He kept me at arm’s length and that suited me just fine.

  I hugged Lillian and Steve and the four of us headed into the restaurant, which wasn’t too crowded for a Friday. The place was all dark wood and elegance, and we stood in line between a room divider and the glass windows that looked out onto Central, where the noontime traffic crept past in a state of semi-gridlock. Lillian announced, “I’m buying, by the way-” She held up a hand to ward off our protestations. “I have a motherly lecture for you. I’m not going to charge you admission for it.” She and the twins had the same deep blue eyes, though hers were usually more somber. She wasn’t a melancholy person, but she was a quiet one. Even when she found something funny, she was the sort to smile, maybe shake her head. Only when her kids were slinging snarky comments, as only Vanderholts can, did I hear her laugh.

  A lecture? I thought. Beth, Steve, and I exchanged speculative glances. After we reached the front of the line and placed our orders, Lillian guided us to a booth in the very back, which offered some measure of seclusion. The tables here were round, so the booth was a semicircle. I clambered into the middle seat, since that’s the hardest one to get in and out of. Beth climbed in on one side of me and Lillian, followed by Steve, on the other.

  There was an awkward silence after we all sat down. This was the thing about knowing we were in for a lecture, now we all waited for it to start. Lillian’s gaze turned to me. Not only had she given Jason her blue eyes; she had the same penetrating stare when she was serious. “I hear you worked the Esperanza Dominguez crime scene.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Jason called last night.”

  “I don’t know this case,” said Steve. “Should I?”

  “A little girl is missing,” said Beth. “The Amber Alert went out this morning. Ten years old, named Esperanza Dominguez. You worked the crime scene, Chloe?”

  “Wait, a crime scene for a kidnapping?” Steve looked at me in confusion. “How do you get a crime scene for a kidnapping? How incompetent d
oes an abductor have to be to leave a scene?” He was being borderline sarcastic, and I wished we could just be ironic and laugh this off, but I knew not even he would be able to do that once he knew the full story.

  “The crime scene was for an assault,” I said. “One victim in the hospital and the little girl gone.”

  “Battery if you want to get technical,” said Beth. “By the time blood’s flowing, it’s battery. Never mind, I’m being a dork.”

  “Oh, no, you’re right.” Steve touched a finger to his temple. “Gotta remember this for the bar exam.” He’d just finished law school and was now staying home with his children while his wife finished teaching summer school.

  Beth was already a member of the New Mexico Bar and worked for the DA’s office. There was a definite trend in both families when it came to choosing careers.

  Lillian now had her gaze fixed on Beth. “You know about the case?”

  “Yeah, I’m in crimes against children now.” That, I surmised, was the name of her department in the DA’s office.

  Lillian’s expression went from calm kindness to heartwrenching sympathy. “Oh, honey, are you sure you want to do that?”

  “I have to. It’s why I became a lawyer,” she said.

  “Eleven year old me is grateful,” I jibed, hoping the joke would fly despite the somber atmosphere.

  Beth’s head snapped around. “That is totally who haunts my dreams at night.”

  “Who, me?”

  “Yeah, all helpless and alone.”

  Lillian reached across the table in front of me to take my sister’s hand.

  I’d known my case affected my sister. She had a top notch law school education that could have gotten her a job anywhere, but she’d come back to the second poorest state in the union and gone to work in the public sector.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “That was a long time ago. Really, it’s all good now.”

  “No, it’s not,” said Beth. “I mean, I get what you’re saying, but as long as I live in a world where stuff like that happens, I have to do something about it.”

  “I know exactly how you feel,” said Lillian. “And I’m so sorry for that. This is why I arranged this little meetup.”