“We all did,” Ouray rumbles behind me.
All I can do is nod.
“We’ll check with Nosh, but I’m thinking; quiet funeral with just her club, but a big celebration of her life after at the clubhouse.”
Fuck, I can’t believe we’re even talking about this.
“Sure,” I mumble, looking at Ouray who nods.
A few minutes later my father walks in, looking a hundred years old, followed by Janine, the nurse who stayed close all night.
“The doctor is with your mother, filling out a death certificate. Then we’ll get her ready for the funeral home to come pick her up. Do you have a preference?”
She looks at me, but it’s Nosh who answers.
“Tell her Hook,” he signs.
“Hook Funeral Home.”
“No problem. We can give them a call, and they’ll be in touch with you sometime tomorrow when they’ve collected your mother.”
She gives my father a gentle smile and slips out the door.
I watch as each of the men pay their respects to my father, something he allows only briefly before straightening his shoulders.
“Get me out of here.”
To my surprise my truck is still parked in the spot reserved for the physician when we walk outside.
“Some woman was taking down your number when we got here. I had to discourage her to call a tow.”
“Appreciate it.”
To my surprise, my father gets in my passenger seat instead of Ouray’s, and I end up driving him up the mountain. When I pass through the gate at the compound and want to pull in front of the clubhouse, he grabs my arm.
“Home,” he insists in his gravelly voice.
I continue past the main buildings to my parents’ cabin. When I park the truck and turn to him, I see the silent plea in his red-rimmed eyes.
For the first time in over twenty-five years, I spend the night under my parents’ roof in my old bedroom.
It still smells like home.
CHAPTER 18
Lissie
I’LL ONLY CHASE for so long.
It was two days ago Yuma basically disappeared off the face of the earth, leaving nothing more than my journal notes he’d marked up with pencil spread over my loveseat.
By now I’m pissed at his lack of response. I draw the line at five messages. I will not send more.
If he had second thoughts about pursuing something with me, all he had to do was tell me. Or message me for chrissake. How long does that take? Two seconds to say ‘I’m done.’
I’ve barely been home since we unearthed the three unknown bodies. We have five bodies in total, two identified males, three unknown women, and two potential witnesses vanished off the face of the earth. In addition, we have a complex interdepartmental investigation, political pressure, and a shortening of tempers as we’re trying to get answers from people unwilling to talk.
This morning’s meeting was evidence of the latter. A brief face-off between Gomez and Blackfoot—who as I understand have been friends since forever—over a different interpretation of what is within the rules of law, had to be called to a halt by Chief Benedetti. The FBI agent’s take on the law is pretty rigid, whereas Keith Blackfoot has a more relaxed view.
On the plus side, though, the crime scene techs were done literally sifting through the massive amounts of dirt at the job site and recovered a few things they think may be related to the bodies.
Tony and I are heading over to the lab now to have a look.
“Any luck on missing person’s cases?”
I snort. “Statewide we have fourteen who fit the profile. Neighboring states I pulled up another thirty-three. All women between eighteen and forty and all known to have given birth at least once. It’s going to take some work to sort through all of them.”
The FBI had flown in a forensic anthropologist to help Doc Carter determine the approximate age of the victims. They were also able to get DNA samples from all three victims, which are being analyzed and will hopefully help to eventually identify the women. Time of death differed between the victims, who had clearly not all been killed at the same time, but what they did have in common was all three women had a child or children.
Before we received that information, there’d been moments I had this far-fetched thought: what the odds would be if Dani turned out to be one of the victims, but she never mentioned any children and I’m sure she would’ve.
“Maybe we’ll find something in the evidence collected to help narrow the options down,” Tony suggests when he pulls up in front of the lab.
“Ramirez, good to see you.”
A rotund man I peg to be in his early fifties approaches the moment we walk into the building.
“Parnak. This is Detective Bucco. Lissie, I don’t think you’ve had the pleasure, meet Investigator Boris Parnak. He runs the lab.”
“Nice to meet you,” I mumble, shaking the man’s hand.
“Like your new partner better than your old one.”
“Ignore him,” Tony instructs me. “He and Keith have never seen eye to eye.” Then he turns to the older man. “You had stuff to show us?”
“Yes. Follow me.”
He leads the way into a room with end-to-end stainless steel counters filled with microscopes and other odds and ends of equipment. A woman working at one of the stations lifts up her head when we come in.
Parnak hands us each a pair of gloves.
“We’re still examining some of the evidence, so handle it carefully. Lydia is trying to see if she can get any biological material off some of the items that could tell us which victim it might belong to.”
He points at a tray next to the woman who is looking at something under the microscope. On the tray is a collection of teeth, a couple of rings, a belt buckle, what looks like an earring, a watch, and a necklace.
I pull out my phone and start snapping some pictures of the items on the tray.
“We’ll have pictures which we’ll include in our report,” Parnak volunteers.
“I know, but this way I’ll have them on hand. You don’t mind, do you?”
He shakes his head. “Be my guest.”
I make sure I have isolated shots of each piece of jewelry before I tuck my phone back in my pocket.
“Don’t forget this,” Lydia says, pulling a small pendant from under the microscope.
I bend over for a closer look and suck in a sharp breath.
“The chain was no longer attached,” Lydia continues, oblivious to my shock. “Just this pendant. Looks like a bean or something with a couple of stones set in.”
“Two peas in a pod,” I whisper, trying to control the shaking of my voice. “Peridot and topaz.”
“You okay, Bucco?”
I plaster on a smile I hope doesn’t look too deranged. “Just peachy.”
He leaves it alone until we get back in his truck.
“Now you wanna tell me what that was all about?”
No, I don’t. Putting it into words makes it real and I’m not ready for that. True, the possibility has always been there something happened to Dani, but I always had hope this was perhaps all a big misunderstanding.
I take in a deep breath, force down the lump in my throat, and dive right in.
“Topaz is my birthstone, my birthday is November. Peridot represents August, which was my best friend’s birth month. I had that pendant made at Sunwest Silver Co on Lomas Boulevard in Albuquerque, in June or July of 2005.”
“What the hell?”
“It was for my best friend Dani’s twenty-fifth birthday. As far as I know, she always wore it.”
“I’m gonna need more than that,” Tony says sternly. “You don’t even wanna know what I think the odds are at this point, your transfer from Albuquerque to Durango was just a change of scenery.”
“I have my file at my apartment.” At his raised eyebrow I clarify, “The file on Dani’s disappearance.”
_______________
I leave Ram
irez sitting on the loveseat to read through my notes and move to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. I need it. I’m pretty sure my tea isn’t going to cut it this afternoon.
He’d listened attentively while I gave him the history on Dani, leading up to the last phone call. Then I handed him my file. While he reads I try to keep my hands busy, so my mind doesn’t wander to places I’m not ready to face yet. It’s always possible she gave that pendant to someone else, or maybe she had it stolen. I also can’t imagine her having a baby without letting me know. It’s too early to jump to conclusions, despite what my gut is telling me.
I kill time puttering around the apartment, tidying up, throwing in a load of laundry, and washing this morning’s dishes. I’m just putting the last of them back in the cupboard when Tony walks up, dropping the folder on the island.
“Do you have a few Ziplock baggies?”
I dig in my drawer and pull a few out, handing them over. I’m not sure what he wants them for until he slips each of the postcards in a separate baggie.
“DNA.”
He looks up at me. “The stamps, yeah. One of the most overlooked sources of DNA.”
“I can’t even wrap my head around this. If it’s her, how did she end up in a grave with two other bodies? And she never once mentioned a child.”
To my horror, the tears start rolling. I whip around and grab a tea towel, pressing it to my face while I hear a mumbled, “Fuck,” behind me. “I’m sorry, Lissie.” I feel his hand between my shoulder blades.
“I’m fine,” I quickly mutter, stepping out of his reach and moving to the coffeemaker. “Want a cup?”
“Sure, but make it to go. I want to drop these off at the lab and then we need to go talk to Joe.”
Shit. I’m pretty sure the chief is going to sideline me on this case. It doesn’t sit well, but I get it. Especially, a case of this magnitude involving several levels of law enforcement, but one that is also politically sensitive.
I’m grateful when Tony takes the lead when we sit down in Benedetti’s office, and force myself to look the chief straight in the eye when his gaze snaps to me.
“Tell me you didn’t know there was any connection to this case,” he grinds out.
“I had no idea,” I tell him honestly.
“Jesus Christ…” He agitatedly runs a hand through his hair and I wait for him to speak. “You know I can’t have you on this case, Bucco. Can’t take that chance.”
“I hear you, Sir.”
“It’s Joe, and I’m not gonna tell you again. Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m teaming you up with Jay VanDyken, he’s a good man and you’re gonna need the extra hands, because I need Ramirez and Blackfoot to focus on the Wildcat Canyon case. You’re gonna catch anything else coming in.”
“Yes, Sir…I mean, Joe.”
“Good. Now get out of here. I’ll tell Mike Bolter you’re back on regular rotation.”
It’s dark out when I finally get back to my apartment. As I’m getting out of my truck, Lisa pulls up beside me.
“How are ya? Haven’t seen you around much,” she says, climbing out of her car.
“Hi, Lisa. Yeah, work’s been busy.”
Kiara comes running around the car and slams in my midsection. She tilts her head back and smiles up at me.
“Hi, Ms. Lissie.”
I can’t help smile back. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“Guess what?”
“I give up.”
“I got a new pretty dress.”
“Oh yeah? How come?”
“Nana says we have a party Saturday.”
“That’s exciting.”
“Not a party, stupid,” her brother jumps in.
“Is so. Nana said lotsa people gonna be there and she’s cooking a lot of food.”
“Don’t call your sister stupid, Ezrah. And, Kiara, we don’t call it a party when somebody died. We call it a funeral.”
“Oh, no.” I put my hand on Lisa’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”
She looks at me funny, tilting her head to the side.
“You don’t know, do ya?”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to know.”
“Momma passed away earlier this week.” I guess my face is blank because she repeats, “Momma? Yuma’s Momma?”
Yuma
“More?”
Wapi comes walking up from the clubhouse just as I toss another garbage bag in the back of my truck, which is already close to overflowing.
I shrug in response.
My father has been on a rampage these past couple of days. After making funeral arrangements for Momma, he’d thrown himself on the house. Her closet was first; my mother rarely ever threw anything out.
Nosh touched every piece of clothing, and occasionally would tell me what he remembered about it. Jeans, the flannel shirts she liked to wear, the occasional dressy pants or skirt. Shoes, nighties, underwear, he touched them for moment as if he was locking in the memories associated with the items, before tossing them into a garbage bag. He was determined every last stitch would go to Goodwill—even stuff well beyond their expiration date—because that’s what Momma would’ve wanted.
Heck, even Momma’s old leathers, she hadn’t worn since I was in my early twenties, were packed in a box on the top shelf in her closet. Pop had wanted to give those away too, but somehow that felt wrong to me, so I fished the box out of the garbage bag and tossed it in the passenger seat of my truck.
“He’s working on the kitchen now,” I tell Wapi. “I’m having him toss what he doesn’t want in a plastic tote. Why don’t you take that over to the clubhouse so Lisa has a chance to go through it first.”
“She already left. Was coming to tell you dinner’s gettin’ cold.”
“Just leave it in the kitchen for her then.”
Wapi follows me inside, where Nosh is sitting on a chair in Momma’s pantry. I tap him on the shoulder.
“Come on. Let’s go grab some dinner,” I sign when he looks up. “Wapi is gonna let Lisa have a look at that. Okay?”
Nosh shrugs, struggling to get to his feet, so I grab his arm to help him up but he brushes me off, determined to do things on his own. He’s an ornery old bastard, but for the past three nights I’ve been lying awake in the small twin bed in my old room, listening to him cry on the other side of the thin wall separating us. I’ve never seen or heard my father cry before. Not ever.
When we walk into the clubhouse, Ouray walks up to Nosh, inviting him to sit at the large table where Luna and Ahiga are eating dinner.
“Hey, brother,” Tse, who is standing at the sink in the kitchen, says when I walk in. “He still at it?”
“Yup. Ouray already took a load to town in his truck yesterday, and I took a bunch of furniture this morning. I’m almost fully loaded up again.”
“Jesus. Got anything left in the house?”
I shake my head. “Barely. It’s like he’s eradicating her from his life.”
“Maybe it’s just too hard to have her stuff around.”
“Maybe.” I grab a bowl and ladle some chili from the large pot on the stove, adding a few pieces of cornbread on top.
“What about you, brother? How are you holdin’ up?”
“Fuck if I know. One foot in front of the other, I guess.” I surprise myself with the truth of my answer. It’s all I’ve been doing, shuffling along, focusing on menial stuff, just to keep my mind occupied so I don’t slip and slide downhill. Fuck those demons telling me I don’t have to feel this raw.
“Fair enough. You need an ear, you know where to find me,” Tse says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah.”
I’m about to take the bowl to Nosh, when a familiar voice sounds from inside.
“I need to speak to Yuma.”
CHAPTER 19
Lissie
ALL EYES TURN my way.
Most of them don’t look too happy.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, but when
Lisa mentioned Momma had died, I climbed right back in my truck and came here. I was immediately concerned for Yuma, but as I was driving up the mountain, I started getting pissed as well. Why wouldn’t he have told me?
Still, it probably wasn’t smart to walk into his clubhouse with attitude. In fact, judging from the looks aimed my way; I didn’t make any friends just now.
“Look.” I raise my hands defensively as I scan around the room. “I’m really sorry to intrude. I—”
“Lissie.” My head swings around. Yuma walks out of the kitchen with a steaming bowl in his hand. “One sec.”
He takes the bowl over his father sitting at the table, before turning to face me. With a nudge of his head, he indicates for me to follow him.
“Lissie,” Ouray mumbles in greeting when I pass the table.
I throw a little smile in that direction before rushing to follow Yuma down the hallway. He waits for me by the office and shuts the door behind us. When I turn to face him, I notice how haggard he looks and any anger I feel disappears.
“I’m so sorry about your mother, Yuma. I didn’t know. Lisa just told me.”
His head drops and I lose sight of his eyes.
“Shoulda called you.”
“I would’ve been here for you.”
“I know, it’s why I didn’t,” he mumbles, lifting his head. His blue eyes are dull and his expression worries me.
“I don’t understand…”
“Would’ve leaned on you, Babe. Fuck, I wouldn’t even have thought twice about it. Just would’ve let you prop me up.”
“Why is that a bad thing?”
As his face softens and he reaches for me, I feel something twist in my chest even as he pulls me into his hold. I feel the vibration of his voice in my chest as he starts talking.
“Because you deserve better. Someone who can handle his shit and be there for you when you need him.” I freeze up in his arms and pull back, but his grip on me tightens. “I want you, but I can’t be that man if I let you carry the weight every time things get rough.”
That aching twist in my chest becomes a painful crater when I realize he’s ending this—us—before we’ve even had a chance.
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