by Betty Webb
He nodded. “Been a family keepsake ever since.”
“And it’s unregistered.”
The smile returned. “It was against regulations to bring commandeered firearms into the country, so he sort of smuggled it in.”
There were two other things I’d already guessed but wanted confirmed. “Norma. You shot her in both eyes. Why?”
“Because she refused to see.”
“That eighth burn on Wycoff’s thigh. Who was it for?”
He glanced over at the photograph of him as a young man guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. “We don’t always know their names.”
I got it. “So the eighth burn was a symbol, too.”
“We discussed the importance of symbols the last time you were here.”
“Acetylene torch?”
He gestured toward his kitchen. “Culinary torch. I use it whenever I make crème brûlée.”
“I saw your dessert cookbook but since your tea is so terrible I never thought of you as a foodie.”
“Only when it comes to dessert. Speaking of terrible tea, want some more?”
The question, coming from left field, caught me by surprise. I looked at my empty glass. “That would be nice.”
“Coming right up.” He took the glass from me and went back to the kitchen. When he returned fully five minutes later, he wore a look of surprise on his face. “You still here? I thought you’d be halfway to the nearest police station by now.”
“You thought wrong.”
He handed me the tea. “After what I did, you’re not afraid of me?”
“Why should I be?”
He was silent for a moment, then said, “You’re right. I would never hurt you, Little Girl Doe.”
“I’m a big girl now, Mr. DeLucca.”
“When I look at you, I still see that scared nine-year-old I placed with the Wycoffs. And all the other children whose lives I ruined.”
My memories were bad, but in a way, his were worse. None of mine included self-hate.
“This is it, then?” he said, sitting down. “You’re not turning me in?”
Instead of answering, I opened my tote and removed the rest of the printout, all two hundred eighty-eight pages. “Here are the highlights of the investigations into the children’s disappearances. Names, dates, alibis, etc. To my way of thinking, Brian Wycoff snatched Lindsey Margules and Trish Ceballos and killed them, but that’s just a guess. You might find out otherwise. As for the other children, they’re also cold cases. What with budget cuts and all, the detectives’ caseloads are stretched pretty thin these days. So is Desert Investigations’, although Jimmy and I will make time for you whenever you ask. One smart, resourceful man devoting himself full time to these disappearances might be able to make inroads where overburdened cops can’t.” I gave him a wry smile. “And unlike them, you wouldn’t feel hampered by legalities, would you?”
He glanced at the Walther PPK hanging on the wall. “No. No I wouldn’t.”
Satisfied, I drained the awful tea and left.
***
Business accomplished, I aimed the Jeep north and drove through the warm night until I reached Black Canyon City. I passed by Coyote Corral, recognizing Mario’s Chevy pickup and Shana’s old Volvo. Despite the fact that it was only Tuesday, the parking lot was crowded.
Further along, I saw one light burning in the little yellow house at Debbie’s Desert Oasis. All the guest trailers were in the dark, yet Debbie’s small parking lot was crowded, too. There was something independent about a trailer—especially a trailer painted with horses or butterflies—that appealed to the nomad in all of us.
I continued on up the gravel road to the crest of the hill, then pulled off into a grove of scrub pine and stopped, looking down at the Genovese spread. Lit only by moonlight, the house sat in darkness. Brittany and Luke were asleep, maybe dreaming of new bikes and .22 varmint rifles. What did poor, confused Grace dream about, I wondered? Her dead brother?
If so, did she smile? Or did she scream?
For the rest of the night I sat there listening to the wind, the creek, the crickets, and the coyotes. Once I even thought I heard a baby cry but put that down to my imagination.
Oh, Jamie!
By the time the inky sky lightened into gray, then milky blue, the way forward had become clear. I turned my Jeep around and headed for the Pima Reservation.
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