Nobody's Damsel

by E. M. Tippetts

  “That’s just awful.”

  “What was awful, my dear, was not knowing. All the days and hours that Dina and Sabrina could have been anywhere.”

  “My first case when I got my badge,” said Detective Baca. “We found Sabrina, the mother’s, body. I won’t go into the details about that, but they sent me to tell Eddie here,” said Detective Baca.

  That was shocking. “APD sent a rookie-”

  “Nah, wasn’t the APD,” said Eddie. “We’re from up by Peñasco.”

  “Yeah, I started with a little department and lasted about a week before I quit, took a lot of years off, then moved here to the big city ‘bout ten, maybe twelve years ago.”

  Eddie picked up the picture of Sabrina and gazed down at it. “When the police knocked on my door, this guy and his partner, I knew what the news was going to be.”

  “Three days later, we got a call from the feds. They had apprehended the killer and he’d confessed to disposing of little Dina’s body in an incinerator. They’d been to the site and found the wire used to bind her hands and feet, still bent into the shape it had been to tie her up. Made my first visit to a grieving relative twice as bad because I had to go back and break more bad news.”

  “Or good,” said Eddie. “It wasn’t what I wanted, but they were good visits. I told him that then and I always tell him that. I miss my girls, but now I know they’re in the Good Lord’s hands, and He can take better care of them than anyone.”

  Appealing words, at least. I turned and looked him in the eye. “Do you really mean that?”

  His expression grew serious and he looked at me a long moment. “Yes ma’am I do. Listen, there’s only one reason that there cop ever has to visit me. Something’s happened. You lost someone else?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  His gaze stayed fixed on my face, long enough that I felt I should look away, but I didn’t. The moment grew awkward, downright rude, and then subsided to awkward again. “You’re her, aren’t you?” He made it sound like a statement, not a question.

  “Yeah,” said Detective Baca. “It’s her.”

  Eddie held out his hand to me again. “It’s an honor.”

  We shook and I shot Detective Baca a questioning look.

  “First case that Jesse had when he moved here-”

  “It wasn’t my first, but near enough. I was still a rookie. Had one week’s experience with that first department before I quit, and had maybe three weeks experience with the APD.” His chuckle was grim.

  “Well anyway, in that case a little girl got shot. He was so torn up I was sure he’d ditch the badge and just quit again. Decide police work wasn’t for him. But you know, that little girl wouldn’t give up, so he didn’t either.” He looked down at my polo shirt. “Jesse, you been holding out on me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s one of you now. You didn’t say nothing about that.” Much to my surprise, Eddie pulled me in for a rough hug. I didn’t know what to do or say as he held me, so I just hugged back. “You do the Lord’s work. I’ve got all the respect in the world for people like you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So let me tell you so that you understand, you’ve gotta solve that case. The worst outcome is no outcome, I can promise you that. You find out what happened. Good or bad, it’s all better than nothing. Nothing is the worst. I only had to deal with nothing for a few weeks, and it just about killed me.”

  I nodded. Detective Baca had brought me to hear the exact words I needed to hear, and I was both impressed, and sad to know he’d had enough experience to know the emotions I was going through.

  “We’ll clear outta your hair now,” said Detective Baca.

  “You’re welcome by any time.” Eddie let me go.

  I said a polite goodbye as we left the room and headed out of the facility. My head still spun a little.

  “It’s not all good, don’t misunderstand,” said Detective Baca. “That little girl of his was abused pretty bad by her stepfather. That burn on the side of her face? He threw boiling water at her.”

  “Was the stepfather the one who killed her?”

  “Yes, and he wasn’t actually a stepfather. He was the mother’s boyfriend and was a part-Navajo, part-Jicarilla Apache, I think. Some mix like that. Her mother was a beautiful girl. All the local boys wanted to be with her. Eddie there beats himself up that he wasn’t more protective, but he was an alcoholic back then. Plenty of dysfunction. Dina’s father was a man most of us never met. All we knew about him was that he was killed in combat – I guess he was in the Army or something – and he was black, or part black at least. I mean, you could see that from Dina. She was a cutie.”

  “Eddie’s being well taken care of now, though,” I said. “That’s a nice facility.”

  “They’re land grant, Miss Chloe.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Their family is one of the old New Mexican families, given some land by the Spanish Crown.”

  “Oh, right.” I knew a little something about this. Huge tracts of New Mexico were owned by families who’d taken possession while the area was part of Spain, and some more when it was later Mexico.

  “They own the whole area where the Cloud Singer Resort is, with the golf course and all that? All that’s on ground lease from them, and it’s a small family, only about a dozen of them left. They can afford whatever he needs.”

  “That’s something, at least.”

  Detective Baca nodded. “Not to stereotype, but whenever you see a Spanish person in a nursing home, you know they’ve got no real family left. We tend to keep our old people.” “Spanish” here referred to someone descended from subjects of the Spanish crown. It was a term used commonly in New Mexico, even though it could be confusing in other contexts.

  Despite a few bright spots, this day was an all around downer. But, I reasoned, there wasn’t any point in dwelling on that. Best to find a way through to the other side, and if me taking a podium and speaking for Esperanza might do that, then I was game. “Should we head straight to the press conference now?”

  We’d reached the car by now and he unlocked my door and held it open for me. “Why don’t we? The Chief’ll be real happy you agreed to do this.”

  “The Chief?”

  He went around to the driver’s side and got in, the suspension rocking slightly. “Well, I don’t expect you’ll remember, but she was the beat cop assigned to your school. She was the first one to nip after you when you were kidnapped and the first one to find you all laid out, bleeding to death.”

  We shut our doors.

  “Really?”

  “When you were finishing off your masters, a group of us got together to see if we could find a way to get you a job. We just wanted you home, was all, so we’d have the chance to see your smiling face, and your education was top notch, so no one could accuse us of favoritism. We also needed another crim and couldn’t afford one and the Chief reasoned that maybe we could hire you at a discount, since it clearly wasn’t about the money for you.”

  “Okay, that explains a lot.”

  “And that husband of yours is always hanging around Albuquerque. Seemed like he’d want to live here. It was an opportunity none of us could pass up.”

  “Thanks.”

  “For?”

  “Bringing me home. You’re right. This was where we both wanted to be, Jason and I.”

  “Not that I put much stock in tabloids, but if he ever disrespects you, he’ll have the whole of the APD to answer to.” He winked before putting on his sunglasses and turning to back out of his space.

  Twenty minutes later I stood behind a podium, with no less than a dozen mics on it, a huge sea of reporters and cameras in front of me. I swallowed hard and looked to my right, where Detective Baca stood, watching me, apprehensively. I’d assumed this was a small press conference, and for all I knew, it could be. Were there really this many local news outlets? The room I was in was featureless and unfinished. There
was no carpet, only small slit windows, and plain walls. Behind me was a plain blue curtain and a lone American flag in a stand. I felt shorter, homelier, and younger than I had since the first time I walked a red carpet with Jason.

  At least I didn’t have to smile or pose or wear a corset. I let my eyes unfocus and began. “I’ve got a brief statement to read,” I said, grateful that the mics were there to pick up my voice. I couldn’t project out to the back of an auditorium like Jason could. I wondered if he could see me now. I hadn’t told him of my plan to do this.

  “At this time, the whereabouts of Esperanza Dominguez are still unknown. The Albuquerque Police Department seeks her father, Luis Dominguez, as a person of interest. We have not charged him with any crime, but need to bring him in for questioning. This is our sole avenue of investigation at this point. Any information about the whereabouts of Esperanza or Luis Dominguez should be given to the APD.” I rattled off the phone number.

  And could immediately sense the disappointment of the reporters, like a change in the direction of the tide. They’d been eager before, curious. Now they were annoyed. I hadn’t said a single thing they didn’t already know. I wondered how many of them had interrupted scheduled programming for this.

  “I’ll now take questions.”

  Several people shouted, “Ms. Vanderholt!” and I picked one at random, feeling like I was a teacher calling on a student, only I looked like the student and any of these reporters could have been my teacher.

  “Are you now the spokesperson for this case?” a woman with gray hair and aristocratic bearing asked.

  “I may be doing press conferences of this nature from time to time.”

  “Why?” shouted someone else. “You work in the crime lab.”

  Now it was well and truly showtime. I took a deep breath. “I am a crime survivor myself. I was a year older than Esperanza when I was abducted. This case and cases like this are of personal interest to me.”

  And they were off, asking question after question about my brush with death all those years ago. I answered as carefully and methodically as I could.

  “I want to speak for Esperanza because she needs a voice.”

  “There have been no updates, no reported sightings, nothing. But this may be due to a lack of exposure. In fact, we hope it is.”

  “Do I personally identify with her? Suffice it to say I know what it feels like to be a little person at the mercy of the big bad world. Unfortunately, a lot of people know how this feels. I need everyone’s help to find this girl.”

  “I can’t release any other information at this time. That is all at the discretion of the detective on this case.”

  “The purpose of this press conference is to focus attention on the father as a person of interest. As I said, this is the only avenue we are pursuing at this time. We’ve released his picture, and we’re asking that you post it on your websites and broadcast it to viewers.”

  “Not knowing the father’s whereabouts is a major roadblock in this investigation. Things would be able to move forward if only he would talk to us.” I took a deep breath. That’s the note I wanted to end on, though I wasn’t sure how to call the end to a press conference. Did I just say, “No further questions,” and leave?

  Detective Baca came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. “We got him,” he whispered in my ear. “Luis Dominguez called from Jemez Springs ten minutes ago. The Jemez police went to his location and he’s turned himself over.”

  The media all stared at this exchange with interest. I could feel their stares of curiosity like a million little pinpricks in my skin.

  “At this time,” I announced, “there will be no further questions.” I stepped down from the podium as the crowd erupted into shouts.

  As soon as I got out of the room, I noticed my cellphone buzzing. Jason. “Hey,” I said.

  “Were you planning to tell me that you’d be on television?”

  “Did you watch?”

  “Are you kidding? The whole country saw it. You were live on all the national networks.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yep. So yeah, if he’d been in northern Alaska, I’m sure the father saw your announcement.”

  “Well, no comment there.”

  “Since when did you do press conferences for the APD?”

  “Are you angry?”

  “Seriously, you didn’t mention one word about this even as a possibility.”

  “It was a last minute decision. Someone’s gotta speak for Esperanza. Detective Baca thought I was a good candidate.”

  “Probably don’t want to go making decisions like that at the last minute. This is the media, remember? Come on, Chloe. This retaliation for me not telling you about Vicki? Because I’m sorry about that. I don’t know how to say it enough times that you’ll believe me.”

  I glanced around. Detective Baca and everyone else had moved away to a respectable distance so that I could talk. “Look,” I said. “I know you’re having a rough time, but so am I.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too. It’s been a rough few days here on my job.” And don’t, I thought, point out that I just made it rougher by getting on national television.

  “Are there any other major decisions I should know about? You taking over as Police Chief or anything like that?”

  “No. Like I said, this was a last minute choice I made. I’m worried about this little girl, all right?”

  “Right there with you. Listen, I know media relations, okay? You used my idea. Don’t you think I might have been able to help you with a press conference? Coach you a little, at least? Why’d you shut me out after listening to my ideas last night?”

  “It wasn’t on purpose.”

  “Please stop being mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “I’ve gotta get back to work. I love you. I’ll talk to you later?”

  “Yeah, love you too.” He still sounded upset, and that made me feel guilty as I ended the call.

  When I got home that night, the day glo arrows were still there, pointing the way to our house, and there were more notes and posters and flowers than usual on our front gate. But I didn’t really pay attention until one caught my eye. “Mrs. Vanderholt” it read, in bright red marker. I got out of the car to take a closer look. Underneath the title, in childish scrawl was:

  Thanks for standing up for Esperanza.

  I hope you find her soon and that she’s safe.

  You’re my hero.

  Esperanza is in my class at school.

  We all really miss her.

  She is a great person.

  Love, Ramona

  I carefully detached the piece of paper from the gate and read it again. Esperanza wasn’t completely alone after all, and for that matter, neither was I. Not everyone in the world wanted me divorced from my husband and banished to obscurity. I was stunned by how good that made me feel.

  Hope’s father was brought into the interrogation room and thrown roughly against the table. Since his hands were cuffed behind his back, he couldn’t catch himself, but rather collapsed onto the tabletop with an, “Oof.” His hair was scraggly and unkempt and his deep blue eyes the very picture of desperation.

  “Mr. Tanner,” said Clayborn, clacking her way into the room in her heels. The door swung shut behind her. “You were hard to flush out.”

  “I just want to know where my little girl is.” He eased himself to his feet, found the stool, and sat down with a wince.

  “Why were you so hard to find?”

  “I know you think I hurt her.”

  “And why do you know that?”

  “I’m her closest relative. Isn’t that always the prime suspect? But I didn’t hurt her. I’d never hurt her. Please, you have to-”

  “What do you know about what happened the night of her disappearance?”

  “Just what you’ve released to the press.”

&nbs
p; “Walk me through it, then.” She put her arms on the table and leaned forward, eager not to miss any details.

  I wasn’t there in the interrogation room when they interviewed Luis Dominguez, of course, so I had to piece events together from what Detective Baca told me afterwards.

  “He didn’t know anything other than what we told him,” he explained as we sat at my desk, each with a steaming cup of coffee set next to Esperanza’s purple sock monkey doll, which, with its cock-eyed gaze, seemed to listen with a sage sort of despair. “I mean, he knew stuff like the layout of the house and that kind of thing, but he really, honestly didn’t know how his ex-girlfriend got shot or anything like that. We worked on him for eight hours. Nothing.”

  “You think he’s innocent?”

  “I do. I mean, I didn’t let him know that, but my read of the guy is that he’s a father driven to the brink with worry over his little girl. He kept asking me, ‘Where’s Mr. Banana?’” He nodded at the sock monkey doll. “He’s the one who gave the toy to Esperanza. It meant a lot to him that it was her favorite. I guess he promised it would look out for her just like her daddy ought to.”

  “So can he give us anything? Any clues?”

  “Well, like I told you before, he’s a junkie. Got tracks on his arms and is just skin and bones. Not the soundest mind, you know? I mean, he seems clean enough now. Don’t know if the abduction made him do that or what, but he wasn’t goin’ through any kind of withdrawal. Thing is, your press conference burnt up the newsvine enough that Esperanza’s picture is everywhere, so even if the dad doesn’t yield anything, we’re ahead of where we were yesterday. We’ve had hundreds of sightings, but none of them have panned out yet.”

  I still felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “So, Teresa was his ex-girlfriend? I thought they were still involved.”

  “He talked about her as an ex.”

  “So what about the mother having another boyfriend? You looked for one?”

  “Oh yeah, first line of inquiry once I finished the interrogation. Problem was, she don’t got no friends who would know about a boyfriend, and no one she worked with on either of her jobs knew anything about her personal life.” The longer Detective Baca spoke to me, the more he lapsed into New Mexican English, with its double negatives. “Esperanza’s dad was an only child and his parents have cut him off completely. They didn’t even know they had a grandchild, and I wish I coulda slapped them through the phone. When I called to talk to them, they didn’t care about the girl and just went on and on about how much they disliked their own son. The girl had no siblings, no cousins-”