The Swick and the Dead

by Maggie Foster

  “Do you want me to stay with you?”

  He peeked at her, then nodded.

  “Okay.” She settled down in the chair, thinking hard.

  Maria Perez knew Phyllis Kyle. Knew her well enough to entrust her child to strangers on Phyllis’ word alone. Maria believed her only chance of saving her child was to dump him and run. If what Maria believed was true, then Phyllis’ murder took on a whole new dimension. Murdered, because of what Maria had told her and Maria running for her life. What could she know that would be that dangerous?

  Luis spent the next hour sneaking peeks at Ginny to make sure she was still there, then finally drifted off to sleep. Around two a.m. he awoke, crying. She wrapped her arms around him and held on, rocking him until he was quiet, then crawled in beside him, acutely aware of how rapidly a world could dissolve around a child’s ears. She understood. It had happened to her. She pulled him close and kissed his curls as he slept.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  Day 4 – Monday morning

  Forbes residence

  By Monday morning a dismal, gray front had moved in, blanketing the entire north Texas area with patchy fog and a shivering damp. Her mother had to work, so Ginny took charge of Luis, making sure he was clean, warmly dressed, and fed.

  Sinia Forbes taught history for the Loch Lonach Independent School District on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, then for the Dallas County Regional College District on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Ginny worked three twelve-hour nights per week and every other weekend at the hospital. Between the two schedules, there were days they didn’t see one another.

  At nine a.m. Ginny opened the front door to a trio of authority figures. Himself introduced the strangers.

  “Mrs. MacGregor runs th’ Loch Lonach Children’s Emergency Shelter. She’ll see Luis gets everything he needs.” The Child Protective Services representative was nearer fifty than forty, short, plump, cheerful, and smelled of fresh bread, with a hint of cinnamon.

  “This is Officer Ventura. He would like tae tak’ yer statement.” Ginny nodded to the policeman. He was in his early thirties, dark complexioned, with a tight, earnest expression that made his smile seem forced.

  “Please come in.”

  She took them into the kitchen, then left Himself and Mrs. MacGregor with Luis while she spoke with the policeman. The officer listened carefully, consulted his notebook, then stowed his recording device. Ginny hesitated. “May I ask if anyone has looked for Mrs. Perez, yet?”

  The police officer looked Ginny over, then appeared to make up his mind. “We checked out the apartment last night. There’s no evidence of a disturbance. No reason to think she isn’t just away for the weekend. Except for the boy, of course.” He touched his cap, then strode off down the sidewalk.

  Ginny watched him get in the patrol car and drive away, realizing she had no idea how many missing persons there were in the DFW area. The population was too fluid and too likely to be flying under the radar. It was at least possible Mrs. Perez was already dead, which would be a really dirty trick to pull on Luis, especially at Christmas.

  Ginny poked her nose into the kitchen to find the Laird and Rose MacGregor talking to Luis. He had apparently taken to Mrs. MacGregor as he was sitting in her lap, showing her the turtle and explaining that it liked to eat lettuce.

  “How old are you, Luis?” she asked. “Five?”

  “Five-and-a-half!” He emphasized the difference.

  “Of course. Any brothers and sisters?”

  He shook his head.

  “Where’s your father?”

  “Mexico.”

  Ginny left them to it and went upstairs. She stripped the bed in Alex’s room, then turned, her arms full of linens to find Himself watching her.

  “A verry engaging child,” he said.

  “Yes.” She dumped the linens in the basket.

  “I ken tha’ look. Ye’d like tae find the bairn’s mither fer him.”

  Ginny’s eyebrows rose. “What can I possibly do that the police can’t do better?”

  “Talk tae him, fer one. Between you an’ Rose MacGregor, ye might find oot something worth knowin’. Ha’e a wee keek aroond, fer anither. Ye’ve an eye fer detail, as I ha’e reason tae know.” He lifted an eyebrow at her. “’Tis a verry useful talent, that one.”

  Before Ginny could answer, the doorbell rang again. This time it was Jim, bearing gifts in the form of clothes and toys suitable for a five-and-a-half-year-old boy. Luis accepted the gifts cautiously and Ginny got the impression some adult had tried to buy him off in the past. He looked up at her. “I want my bear.”

  “You have a Teddy Bear?”

  Luis nodded. “He sleeps with me.”

  “Where is he?”

  “At home.”

  “Do you have a key to your apartment, Luis?”

  He nodded, reached into his backpack, and produced a perfectly normal looking door key.

  “May I borrow it, please?”

  “Mama told me to keep it safe.”

  Ginny nodded solemnly. “I’ll make sure you get it back, but I need it to go get your Teddy Bear. Is he on your bed?”

  Luis nodded. “I want to go with you. I want to go home.”

  Ginny held out her arms and Luis came to her. She gave him a big hug and a kiss. “I know, sweetheart,” she said, “but it will be faster if I go get him for you. Trust me.”

  * * *

  By ten a.m. Luis had been packed off to Mrs. MacGregor’s, Angus had excused himself, saying he had business to attend to, and Ginny was left to deal with the Teddy Bear—and Jim.

  He planted his feet on the kitchen floor and crossed his arms on his chest, his eyes steadily on hers. “This is a bad idea.”

  Ginny blinked, suddenly aware of how tall he was, and how strong his biceps looked. If he chose to use those muscles against her, there would be nothing she could do to stop him. She swallowed. “The child needs his bear.”

  Jim frowned. “Whatever trouble that woman has gotten herself into is likely to be dangerous. She’s scared. You should be, too.”

  “We have no idea what her problem is,” Ginny pointed out. “If we go look, maybe we can find a clue.”

  Jim uncrossed his arms and came over to stand looking down at her. “The police have already searched the apartment. If there was something there, they would have found it.” He lifted a hand and reached for her cheek.

  Ginny took a step back. His gesture had raised a ghost in her mind and her skin crawled. She fought back the fear, reminding herself that this was not the same man, but she couldn’t hide the dilated pupils or the racing pulse that meant her instinct was urging her to run.

  She dropped her eyes to the floor, telling herself he wouldn’t hurt her, no matter how sorely tried.

  “I’m sorry, Jim. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “I know.”

  She heard the subtle change in his voice—the frustration, carefully controlled. The man had an amazing amount of self-control, but it was a bitter pill to swallow to know she had forced him to use it.

  “The reason Detective Tran asked me to help,” she said, “was because the police might overlook a detail that would mean something to an insider.”

  His words, when he spoke, were measured and reasonable, even though, technically, he was arguing with her.

  “Detective Tran specified the ICU.”

  Ginny could feel her heart beating against her ribs, but she stood her ground. She lifted her eyes to his. “Yes, she did and this may be a wild goose chase, but Maria thinks Phyllis was murdered because of her. I’d like to know why she said that.”

  “Even if it puts you in danger?”

  Ginny sucked in a breath. “You’re the one who said the only way I was going to get my confidence back was by taking chances. Trial and error. Well, I’m trying.”

  She watched Jim’s brow furrow, his eyes on her. It was more than a minute before he spoke and when he did, it was with a note of mi
sgiving. “Okay, but you’re not going alone.”

  “I hadn’t planned to,” she said. “Come on.”

  * * *

  Monday midmorning

  Streets of Dallas / Perez apartment

  Jim pulled the car onto the freeway and headed for one of the less affluent parts of town. He took a deep breath and held it to the count of ten, then let it slowly out, feeling his heart rate settle back to normal. Letting Ginny take risks was a necessary part of her healing, but he wasn’t happy about it.

  The circumstances of the missing woman’s departure suggested an imminent threat, and a deadly one. Ginny poking her nose into the other woman’s affairs could attract some very unpleasant attention. Maybe he should have put his foot down, forbidden her to go. He felt an almost irresistible urge to protect her, from herself, if necessary. He glanced over to find her eyes down on a scratchpad, pen in hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m making notes for my report to Detective Tran.”

  Jim took another breath, making sure his voice was steady. He had not missed how pale her cheeks were. There was nothing wrong with her understanding. “Are you nervous?”

  She let the notepad sink into her lap, looking out at the passing scenery, then at him. “Yes.”

  He reached over and took her hand. Even with the heat on, her flesh felt cold. “You don’t have to get out of the car. I can go get the bear.”

  When she spoke, her voice was low and tightly controlled. “You’re wrong, Jim. I have to face this. All of it. I’m sick of feeling helpless and stupid and afraid.”

  He gave her a quick smile. “Okay. We’ll go together.”

  They turned into the parking lot of the apartment complex and located the correct building. Concrete blocks and metal railings had replaced the single-family homes that had stood here for the better part of the last century. The few remaining trees looked barren, and the earth as if it hadn’t brought forth anything live since the walls went up. Empty playground equipment stood in the muddy yard, fringed by abandoned toys. Jim could hear adult voices echoing in the concrete corridors, sounding as flat and gray as the surroundings.

  “This way.” He led Ginny toward an exterior staircase.

  The Perez family lived on the second floor. Jim counted off the numbers, then slid the key into the lock.

  “María, ¿eres tú?”

  A woman stuck her head out of the doorway of the next apartment, looked them over, then disappeared.

  “Think she’s calling the super?” Ginny asked.

  “Or the police.” Jim opened the door and let them in.

  The place wasn’t immaculate. A five-year-old lived here, after all, but it wasn’t trashed, either. Ginny headed for the back of the apartment, returning in a moment with the stuffed bear.

  Jim stood in the middle of the main room and looked around. The central heat was still on, but the burners on the stove had been turned off and there were no dirty dishes in the sink.

  Ginny set the bear down on the table next to the door and crooked a finger at Jim. “Come see what I found.”

  He followed her into the sleeping areas; two bedrooms, one bath. The larger was clearly Maria’s. Ginny walked over to the bookcase, pulled out a massive tome, and held it up for Jim’s inspection. His eyebrows rose.

  “Nursing textbooks?”

  “In English and Spanish, and there’s more.” She pointed to a certificate on the wall. “I have one just like that at home.”

  Jim looked at it more closely. “It’s a certificate from the State of Texas.”

  “From the State Board of Nursing, to be exact. She’s a Registered Nurse.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  Jim gestured for Ginny to lead the way, flipping the lights off as they went. The door was already swinging open to reveal the neighbor who had spoken to them standing behind a man with a bunch of keys on a ring. The man blinked in surprise.

  “Who are you?”

  Jim held out his hand, introducing himself and Ginny, and explaining their errand.

  “His bear? Oh, of course.”

  The woman pushed forward. “Is he all right?”

  Ginny nodded. “Yes. Can you tell us where his mother is?”

  The woman and man exchanged glances, then the woman shook her head. “No. She just left.”

  The man straightened his back and gestured toward the door. “You go, too.”

  Jim looked at him for a moment, then dug a business card out of his wallet. “If you see Maria, will you give this to her? Luis is safe. She can find him by calling me.”

  “Sí, if we see her. You go now.”

  Jim took Ginny’s hand and moved in the direction of the door. She grabbed the bear and followed. The man stepped aside to let them by.

  Once out in the corridor, Jim pulled Ginny in front of him, herding her down the stairs and into the car. He could feel the eyes of the other two on their backs and was not surprised to see faces peering at them from behind curtains that were hastily replaced when he looked in their direction. He put the car in gear and headed home.

  “Whew! That was interesting.”

  Ginny nodded. “Do you think they know where she is?”

  “I couldn’t tell. Maybe. At least we gave her a way to contact us, if she wants to.”

  “And we found something.” Ginny slipped her notepad out of her pocket and turned it so Jim could see. “I wrote down her license number. Maybe the Board of Nursing can help.”

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  Day 4 – Monday noon

  Forbes residence

  Ginny asked Jim to drop her off at home. There were a number of things she wanted to do, among them, think.

  She put on a load of laundry and tackled the kitchen, cleaning away the morning’s debris, then chopping vegetables and sorting them into plastic containers. That done, she began to rearrange the refrigerator, pantry, and spice shelf.

  When Mrs. Forbes returned, she settled down at the kitchen table and watched. “You look like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

  Ginny sighed, put the spices back in the rack, then sat down across from her. “I feel like one.”

  “What is it, darling?”

  Ginny took a deep breath. “How could anyone do that? Dump her son and drive away?”

  “She said she was desperate, and I believe her.”

  “You couldn’t do that, not to Alex, or me, could you?”

  “If I had to, yes, I could.” Mrs. Forbes took a sip of her tea. “Have you decided how you’re going to handle Jim?”

  Ginny shook her head. “He agreed the only way for me to regain my confidence is to take risks, but he still wants to decide which and when. He’s behaving as if we’re married.”

  Mrs. Forbes set her cup down, eyeing Ginny. “Do you want to be married, Ginny?”

  She thought about it for a minute. “Yes.”

  “Do you want children?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want Jim?”

  Ginny considered the question, probing deep, trying to come up with an honest answer. “He has many fine qualities.”

  Her mother smiled. “Yes, he does, and he will be Laird.”

  Ginny squirmed. “That’s not the problem.”

  “Then what is?”

  It took Ginny a minute to find the right words. “I can’t know if he’s really who and what he seems to be.”

  Her mother sighed. “We can’t know that about anyone, except in retrospect, but he’s Angus’ grandson. That should count for something.”

  “He’s a stranger. Angus hasn’t seen him since he was a child. He was raised outside Loch Lonach, outside any Homestead. There’s no telling what he may believe or be willing to do. Do we know what drove his father off?”

  Sinia Forbes shook her head. “I don’t. Does Jim?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t asked him.”

  Her mother sighed, then smiled. “Well, there’s one
thing I am sure of. That man loves you and wants to marry you.”

  Ginny sighed. “That’s what I thought last time.”

  * * *

  Monday early afternoon

  Hillcrest Regional Medical Center

  Jim had a meeting. It was inconvenient to be pulled in on his afternoon off, but he didn’t have to report again for another twenty-four hours, so it could have been worse. The subject of the meeting was fentanyl.

  “Where’s this stuff coming from?” The speaker was another ER physician. Jim had met him (and most of the rest of the medical staff) when he hired on, but hadn’t seen him since. His name was Devlin Jones, known as ‘DJ.’ He was a large, ruddy, aging patrician, a fixture in the community. Not Homestead, but born and bred in Dallas. He owned the remnants of a local ranch, now within the boundaries of one of the suburbs, though it had been open land when he’d been born. He had a genuine Texas drawl, and a habit of ‘talkin’ country’ that sounded odd to Jim’s Virginia-trained ears.

  “That’s what we want to find out.” The DEA agent was dressed in a suit and tie and was perched on the end of the conference room table, one leg dangling. Jim couldn’t tell if this was habitual or an affectation, adopted for the benefit of the locals he now faced.

  He had Washington written all over him. Around the same age as Jim, Agent DeSoto had the slick, no-nonsense haircut and physique that said he could run and was packing heat. He also had no concept of the traditional deference paid to elder statesmen in Texas.

  “We already know about the synthetic fentanyl coming in from China,” one of the white heads at the table noted. “Why focus on us?”

  “What we’re seeing in Dallas is not coming from China. The chemical signature is wrong. We’re seeing high-quality narcotics clearly manufactured in the U.S. and they’re not being combined with anything. That’s suspicious. As you know, most dealers want to stretch their profits so they mix whatever they get with something else.”

  Everyone around the table nodded. They were familiar with the problems caused by this practice. One of the more common involved mixing crack cocaine with baking soda, powdered sugar, or powdered milk. These substances didn’t always dissolve completely and, when injected, could form a solid mass that acted like a clot, cutting off the blood supply when the foreign material reached a tight spot in the circulatory system.