Reluctant Runaway

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  Jo whirled, wiping her hands on a dishrag. She pinned Max with a look. “You were always the smart one in the family. If you can’t figure this out, I don’t know … ” She turned away and gripped the edge of the counter.

  Max put her arms around her sister. “I believe Karen’s innocent, too. And you know I’d do anything to help her, but—”

  “Oh, thank you!” Jo collapsed on Max’s shoulder, weeping.

  The baby stiffened and howled. Desi stood up, bouncing the child. She met Max’s eyes. Bewildered and frustrated? Yeah, me, too.

  Desi left the room, baby still squealing. Max needed space to deal with her sister. Firmly. They were not getting involved in the investigation.

  Any woman who can handle a terrorist? She could do without that kind of notoriety. People had the wrong idea if they thought a desperate act of self-preservation meant she flew into town, minus airplane, dressed in a blue bodysuit with a red S on the chest.

  “Sh-sh-sh.” Desi paced the living room, patting Adam’s back.

  A real superwoman would be able to get a hysterical infant to stop crying.

  “He’s colicky.”

  Desi turned at the male voice.

  A young man stood on the braided rug inside the front door. Lean and on the tall side with light brown hair, longish and a bit shaggy. Stealthy sort—walked in without a sound. Or maybe not. Hard to hear anything with a baby wailing in your ear.

  The man smiled. “Desiree Jacobs. It’s been a while. Mama Jo said you were coming with Aunt Max. How was your flight?” He brushed a strand of hair away from blue eyes.

  Now the family resemblance became clear. “Brent Webb! You were a gangly teenager when you visited Boston that time. You’ve grown into a—”

  “Married man with a baby. Let me take him.”

  “Gladly.” Desi handed Adam off.

  Brent held the baby facing away from him, dangling over one arm. Adam’s wails tapered off into hiccups and whimpers.

  Desi studied them. “What are you doing? Squeezing the air out of him?”

  Brent laughed. “He’s got a tummy ache. Sometimes pressure on the stomach eases the pain. It’ll pass, but maybe later rather than sooner.”

  “I’ll leave it to your expertise.” Desi held up her hands. “He’s a cute little fellow, but I don’t have the credentials. Single woman. Never babysat a day in my life.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Brent settled into a wooden rocker. “When you become a parent, you pick up on stuff. As one of my profs says about an archaeology dig, ‘you become invested in the project.’ “

  Adam screamed and went stick straight.

  Brent got up. “Guess I can’t sit yet.” He took up pacing where Desi left off.

  She flopped onto the sofa. “Let me get my second wind. No wonder parenting is a two-person job.”

  Brent paled and fixed his eyes on the tile floor.

  Desi smacked herself in the forehead. “That was a dumb thing to say. I’m sorry My brain isn’t in this time zone yet. We’ve got to trust that Karen is going to turn up unharmed.”

  The young man frowned. “I don’t believe she ran away. She wouldn’t do that to us!” He stared at Desi, daring her to challenge his statement.

  She kept silent. The baby was quiet, too.

  “And if she didn’t leave on her own, that means—” a muscle in Brent’s cheek jumped—”she was taken. Do you know how horrible the statistics are for recovering someone alive after they’ve been gone for two days?”

  Desi sat forward. “Two days! I thought she disappeared last night.”

  Brent sighed. He put the baby on his shoulder and sat in the rocking chair again. Adam lay against his father, sucking his thumb, eyelids drooping.

  “That’s the first Mama Jo knew about it. I didn’t want to worry her. Thought I could find Karen myself. When I didn’t, I notified the cops, but they didn’t give the matter high priority” The rocker picked up speed. “Someone’s unhappy wife packs a bag and runs? No biggie. But then they figured out she was a receptionist from the museum where those Anasazi artifacts were stolen, and all of a sudden they’re hot to locate her.”

  “Did the theft happen on the same day Karen disappeared?” She picked up a magazine from the coffee table and fanned herself.

  “The night before.”

  “Don’t the police think it’s strange that she’d take off after the theft?”

  “Yeah, they think it’s real weird.” The rocker creaked into overdrive. “I’m a prime suspect as the thief, and maybe I did away with my wife because she found out.”

  “That’s bogus! You’re no murderer. One look at you with that baby over your shoulder and … ” Desi’s breath hitched. She quit fanning.

  Brent’s brother had looked like a dedicated family man, and he turned out to be—

  “You’re thinking about Dean.” The rocker stopped, and his eyes darkened. “I love him, but I don’t understand what he did. We’re not at all alike.”

  “Yes, you are.” Desi nodded. “He’s not a killer, and neither are you.”

  “Thanks. I think. But you didn’t say I’m not a thief.”

  Desi shrugged. “You could be, but that feels too much like lightning striking twice.”

  “To the police, it looks like bad seed related to bad seed.”

  “The cops are paid to have suspicious minds. You reported your wife missing. Real dumb if you wanted to get away with murder and burglary.”

  “Not so dumb if I wanted to make myself look innocent.”

  Desi groaned. “Do I ever know how you feel! I’ve had the long finger of the law pointed my direction.”

  “But you came out of it great.” Adam stirred. Brent sighed, and the rocker started in. “If they don’t find out who took those things, this is going to ruin my career. Who’ll want to hire an archaeologist suspected of stealing artifacts in grad school? I’ve already been barred from my internship at the museum. Temporarily, they say.” Brent’s nostrils flared. “But who cares? I just want my wife back. And Adam needs his mommy.”

  Desi eyed the sleeping baby. Brent’s reactions rang true. It was Jo who seemed off. But that was a subject to take up with Max. She met Brent’s gaze. “You see me now, after my mess has been sorted out. When I was in the middle of it, I didn’t know how I’d come out alive. But by the grace of God, here I am. We can trust Him now, too.”

  Brent shook his head. “He’s seemed pretty far away these past months.”

  “Months?” Desi sat forward.

  “Yeah. Karen’s pregnancy was rough, and she missed a lot of work. Good thing she had an understanding supervisor. Then after the baby came, she took a leave of absence. Depression set in, and she … changed. Wouldn’t go to church. Wouldn’t even step out of the house. At least not until the day of the robbery, when she went in to work for a few hours. She came home wiped out and slept the clock around.”

  “I suppose her returning to work the same day as the robbery looks suspicious to the police.”

  “Sure, and exhibiting symptoms of mental instability doesn’t help.”

  Desi frowned. “Postpartum depression isn’t uncommon. You’d think people, especially professionals, would be aware of that these days. Did you get help for her?”

  “Sure. The doc put her on medication. That meant she couldn’t nurse, so she felt like a failure as a mother on top of everything else.”

  Desi got up and stretched out a kink in her back. She tossed the magazine onto the table and took a chair next to Brent. “Max said Karen had some issues before coming to the Lord. Maybe that’s a nosy comment, but.

  “No offense. When we first met, she was messed up, but then she fell in love with Jesus. Got out of a dangerous relationship. Turned her life around. I was so proud of her. Proud to be her husband. Then, a few months ago it was like her faith got—well—twisted. She turned into some brittle person I didn’t even know.”

  “Still conflicted about her heritage.”

  Br
ent looked up as Jo walked into the room, Max close behind. “How long have you been listening?”

  “Long enough to know you’ve missed an important piece of the puzzle. Not meanin’ to, of course, because you see Karen for herself and not as a half-breed.”

  Jo turned her gaze on Desi. “Even in the twenty-first century, marriages between Native Americans and whites aren’t well received, especially if it’s an Indian man with a white wife. My marriage couldn’t survive the strain. Pete found comfort in meth. I chose divorce to protect Karen from the drugs, but I couldn’t guard her from everything. She grew up torn between two cultures and not accepted by either. The motorcycle gang accepted her. The church accepted her … to a point.”

  Brent surged to his feet. The baby startled and fussed. “What does that mean?”

  Jo shook her head. “Not a good presupper subject. Max and I had an interestin’ conversation, but I think we should save more serious talk until after supper.”

  Brent jerked a nod. “I’ll put Adam in his crib.”

  “Great.” Jo’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “The food’ll be ready in about twenty minutes. Time for me to run to the store for milk. I know that’s what you like with your meal.”

  Desi looked from one to the other. The thought’s kind, but the tone’s subzero. What’s between these two?

  “Des and I’ll get the milk.” Max stepped between her sister and Brent. “I know the way.”

  Jo shrugged. “The car keys are hangin’ on the hook inside the door. I’ll set the table.” She walked away.

  Max’s gaze followed her sister from the room and then locked onto Desi. “Off we go, then. Bye, Brent.”

  He nodded and headed toward the back bedroom.

  “Bring that along.” Max pointed at the glossy periodical Desi had used as a fan.

  Desi picked it up and opened her mouth.

  Max held up a hand. “Don’t ask. Yet.” She led the way into the warm New Mexico dusk. They climbed into Jo’s beat-up car and pulled out of the driveway.

  Max let out a long breath. “Under control, she says? Not hardly. What my sister calls an interestin’ conversation, I call downright spooky.”

  “Spooky how?”

  Max tapped the magazine in Desi’s hand. “Like that.”

  Desi looked at the title on the cover. “The Inner Witness? Jo used that phrase in the kitchen. Sounds like something to do with Jehovah’s Witnesses.” She wrinkled her nose. “Is your sister getting hooked in with them? I can see why you’re nervous.”

  “Beyond nervous. Jehovah’s Witness stuff I have an answer for, but I don’t know what to do with the Reverend Archer Romlin.”

  “Romlin? I’ve heard that name recently.”

  “Maybe you caught his TV show sometime.”

  “No, but I met this large fellow at that White House party Tony says Hamilton’s a crook, but Ham claims to have come to the Lord under this Reverend Romlin’s ministry. Says his life’s turned around. I don’t know the whole story, but if it’s legit, that’s a pretty cool testimony”

  “Big ‘if there. Jo talks about this Romlin every time I call these days. I tuned into the show a few times out of curiosity. I’ve got to admit that the man sounds and looks great.” Max cast Desi a sideways glance.

  “But?”

  “He feels wrong. When he talks about Jesus, he calls Him the Lamb of God.”

  “That’s scriptural.”

  “Yeah, but they’ve got this ritual Feast of the Lamb thing goin’, kind of a cross between the Jewish Passover and Christian Communion. Romlin promises miracles to those who daily consume the body and blood.”

  Desi looked down at the magazine. “I’m all for regular Communion. I’ve received answers to prayer when the bread and wine reminded me of the price Jesus paid to redeem me.” She flipped the pages and stopped on one displaying a full color photo of the Lord with His pierced hands outstretched. Our Communion is with Him through the precious blood, the caption read. She tapped her upper lip. “On the surface, this stuff looks great. But you’re right. It feels wrong.”

  “That’s the spooky part. The lingo is ambiguous enough to question and yet close enough not to condemn. Jo says Romlin teaches his followers to listen to their Inner Witness. She’s convinced hers is sayin’ we’re the ones to get to the bottom of what happened to Karen.”

  Desi groaned. “Is Inner Witness another term for the leading of the Holy Spirit, or does it refer to another kind of spirit—a dangerous fake?”

  “Exactly!” Max turned the vehicle into the grocery store lot. “I love my sister, but she goes from one faddy spirituality to the next.”

  “Yeah, you’ve told me about a few of her faith experiments. ‘Always learning, but never coming to knowledge of the truth.’ One of the toughest kinds of people to reach.”

  Max parked the car. “My opinion? A lot of Karen’s identity problems came from all the screwed up philosophies Jo’s tried. I had high hopes when Karen met Brent and started goin’ to his church. Thought maybe she’d help her mom find the way, but I think the opposite happened. Jo and this Inner Witness Ministries pulled Karen into something that’s … off. And did it before she had a chance to get her feet on solid ground with the Lord.”

  “Could the Inner Witness have anything to do with Karen’s disappearance?”

  “Wouldn’t a cult be a better explanation than bein’ a thief or a murder victim?”

  Desi shook her head. “I’ve heard how hard it is to get people free of cult ideology, but it’s an avenue to explore that won’t put us afoul of a legal investigation. The magazine says the ministry headquarters is in Santa Fe. Too convenient to ignore. We should look into this.”

  ‘Deal.” Max held up her hand.

  Desi smacked it. She laid the magazine on the seat. “Just a PO box listed. Think you can dig the street address off the Internet tonight?”

  Max shot her a look.

  Desi laughed. “Sorry I asked.”

  They went into the store, bought the milk, and drove back to the house. A big pickup with dual rear wheels was parked at the curb. The rays of the lowering sun sparkled off the chrome on the roll bar.

  “Oh, man, Jo’s ex is here. He’d better not be high. With that baby in there … ” Max got out and slammed the door.

  Desi followed at a hustle. Raised voices came from inside the house. Max broke into a run; Desi followed. When a woman screamed, Desi pulled her cell phone from her purse. A man bellowed as she punched in nine. Glass smashed. She punched in one.

  All went still.

  Max stopped with one foot on the porch step. Desi crept up behind her, finger poised over that last button.

  A bird called from the branches of a tree.

  Max jumped and let out a little laugh. Desi breathed again.

  A gun blast shattered the air.

  Five

  No, Max!” Desi tackled her friend from behind, and they tumbled together up the single step onto the porch.

  Max struggled. “Let go of me! That’s my sister in there!”

  “And that’s a gun in there. Hold your horses, and let me scoot up to the window and take a peek inside. You finish calling 9-1-1.” Desi handed Max the phone and scrambled on all fours to the living room window.

  Desi raised her head and peeked over the sash. The great room was empty. No, wait! A man with a long black ponytail and shiny cowboy boots backed in from the kitchen, hands raised. Jo followed with a shotgun pointed at Shiny Boots’s middle.

  “Go on. Git now!” Jo’s voice blasted almost as loud as the gun.

  “You’ll wish you’d let me take him.” The man rushed for the door.

  Desi turned toward her friend. “Look out!”

  Max jumped up as Shiny Boots charged outside. The man dodged around Max and hopped off the porch. Long, jeans-clad legs ate up the distance to the pickup. Shiny Boots leaped in, gunned the motor, and peeled out, leaving black streaks on the road.

  Desi stood up on unsteady legs.
“Your sister is the gun-toter, not the guy who left a layer of rubber behind.”

  Max groaned. “Jo inherited the lion’s share of the temper in our Irish. Pete must have done somethin’ to provoke her. No one can do that like her ex.”

  The front door banged open, and Jo came out. No gun, but her eyes spat fire. “Would you believe that crackhead came here to get Adam? Said he needed to take him to a safe place.”

  A siren’s wail approached. Jo’s gaze targeted Max and the cell phone. “You didn’t call the police!”

  Max planted her hands on her hips. “We heard gunfire. What were we supposed to do? Twiddle our thumbs?”

  “Point taken.” Jo stepped across the lawn as the cruiser pulled up to the curb.

  A pair of officers got out. Thankfully, not the ones who’d tried to haul Max in for questioning. Desi stood beside her friend. “I wonder if they get called here often. Those uniforms don’t look too alarmed.”

  Max’s shoulders slumped. “I work for you to get a little peace and quiet. My family’s always been chock-full of drama.”

  “I didn’t know you found our brand of adventure relaxing.”

  Jo came back across the lawn, and the police cruiser pulled away. “Guess we got that straightened out. No law against a woman accidentally discharging a firearm in her home.”

  “What did you shoot?” Max stared at her sister. “Pete didn’t have holes in him.”

  “Oh, I’d’ve peppered him with buckshot. He knew that for sure when I emptied a barrel into my wall tiles. Let’s go eat. And don’t forget the milk.” She went into the house.

  Desi got the carton out of the car. “Wonder where Brent and Adam were when the OK Corral went down?”

  Max took the milk. “Good question.”

  “Right here.” Brent stepped around the side of the house, carrying a bright-eyed baby. “Jo shooed us out the back door as soon as she saw who drove up. We took a walk to the park. Was that a gunshot I heard?”

  “It wasn’t a truck backfiring.” Max marched toward the house. “Which you’d know—” she tossed over her shoulder— “if you’d stuck around to help my sister.”