Fatal Divide (3 page)

The feud came to a head during the search for Alex last summer, when Wanda, with no authority to do so, placed Thurston on administrative leave and made it stick. He’d been looking to return the favor ever since. Wanda had no need to repeat that history to the young people, though. Dylan witnessed the argument, and no doubt told Alex of it once she was home safe.

Wanda shrugged. “He thinks I know something that would shed light on the……” She couldn’t say murder. If what she suspected were true, it was a serious breach of The Way — the O’odham’s cultural and spiritual values called him-dag in the language of The People. She wouldn’t utter it until she had an opportunity to speak to her cousin.

Dylan nodded, then looked at Alex, who gave him a tremulous smile and nodded in encouragement.

“Tia Wanda, I haven’t had a chance to talk to my lawyer, but I’m going to be talking to Thurston tonight or first thing tomorrow morning about something, before he has a chance to find out on his own. Maybe that will distract him.”

Alarm shivered through Wanda’s veins and sharpened her voice. “What? What do you know about it?”

Dylan stared at her, puzzled. “Nothing, Tia Wanda. But Herman Alvarez is — was — head of the tribal council considering the adoption. Thurston is going to consider me a suspect.”

“No!” Wanda objected. Dylan nodded again.

“It can’t be helped. He’ll find out. If I tell him myself, maybe that will get me some brownie points. I was just going to call Rick Englebright when Paul came and told us what happened at the city council meeting. So, are you saying that Thurston actually accused you of wrong-doing, and that’s why the council requested you to step down?”

“Demanded,” Wanda answered, her face warring between bewilderment and fury. “After all the years I’ve served and no one has ever even accused me of jaywalking before, Thurston comes in and whispers ‘withholding evidence’ and they try to throw me out without due process. I thought I was doing a good job!”

Fury gave way to despair, and Wanda’s promise to herself that she wouldn’t break down was broken as her voice rose to a wail. In a flash, Hector was at his wife’s side, glaring at Dylan and Alex in turn, as he knelt at Wanda’s side to comfort her.

Dylan held his hands up as if in surrender. “We didn’t... she was just...”

“Mr. Lopez,” Alex interrupted. “Is that fry bread I smell? Can I help you in the kitchen? Dylan and Wanda need to talk.”

Wanda patted her husband’s arm, and said, “Yes, Hector. Let Alex help you. Are you fixing tacos? Is there enough for the kids?”

“Of course,” Hector grumbled. He fixed Dylan with a stern eye. “Don’t upset her,” he commanded.

“I won’t, sir,” Dylan assured him. Hector followed Alex into the kitchen.

As soon as she was sure her husband and Alex were out of earshot, she put her hand on Dylan’s arm. “Be careful. Kevin Thurston is a dangerous man. He has no imagination, sees everything in black and white.”

“I know,” answered Dylan. “But I’m almost certain time of death will clear me. Once the city council realizes he’s shooting in the dark, they’ll apologize to you. It will be okay, you’ll see.”

“You don’t know. Listen to me, Dylan, I need your help. I do know something I haven’t told him. Herman was sheltering one of my brothers, but I don’t know much more than that. I need to know which cartel my brother is hiding from. Then we’ll know who killed my grandfather.”

FIVE

Before Dylan could ask Wanda to explain more, Alex was back to say that Hector was putting dinner on the table. While he was helping Wanda up, she clutched his arm.

“Come to my office tomorrow. There’s more,” she said.

“I will, as soon as I’ve seen Rick,” Dylan answered.

During dinner, Alex looked from one to the other of them, and Dylan was certain she knew something was up, but she didn’t ask. Afterward, he insisted on helping Hector clean up while the women went back to the living room.

“How is it that you ended up doing the cooking, Hector?” Dylan teased. KP definitely wasn’t in the job description for most Native men, nor most Latino men, for that matter. He wanted to ask Hector in which camp he belonged, but didn’t, thinking it may be rude.

When the kitchen was clean, both men joined the ladies in the living room, where Alex was getting a lesson in O’odham relationship conventions. She had already heard most of it from Dylan as he learned it, but she’d told him before, some parts confused her, just as they did him. Wanda was explaining that her first cousins, in the conventions of whites, would be considered brothers and sisters by the O’odham.

Dylan tilted his head in sudden understanding. Wanda hadn’t meant that one of her mother’s sons was hiding from a cartel, but that one of her vast number of cousins was. That could be anyone in three generations on her mother’s side. In fact, he belonged in the cousins group - a second cousin maybe, though he called her aunt because she was of his never-known grandmother’s generation. No wonder Alex was confused. Who wouldn’t be?

But, what would a member of the tribe have to do with the cartels? That was even more confusing. He’d have to wait for the next day to satisfy his curiosity, though. Wanda was gently hinting that it was time for them to go, and Dylan knew it would be impolite to outstay their welcome. He stood to go, kissing Wanda’s cheek and pulling Alex to her feet. She bent to give Wanda a hug.

“It will be okay, Wanda. I’ll talk to Dad about an editorial. You know he’s one of your biggest supporters.”

“Thank you, Alex, but maybe it would be better to let it simmer down a bit. I’ll give you a call,” Wanda said.

“Let me know if there’s anything we can do,” Alex said.

“I will.”

Alex had left her car at the newspaper plant when they left straight from the park to go to Wanda’s. Dylan drove her back, then persuaded her to walk with him in the park. The sun had set nearly two hours ago, and with the moon waning, it was dark among the palms, except for an occasional streetlamp. Dylan drew her to a bench that was in deep shadow and put his arm around her.

“We haven’t had a chance to do this for a while,” he whispered.

“I know,” she sighed. “With school...”

He put his finger on her lips to shush her. They had so little time together, even now that he had round-the-clock help with his mother. Tomorrow he would see his lawyer, find out what Wanda knew, and with any luck, get to Tucson for a quick visit with his brothers, while she was on her way to or from Casa Grande and in classes all day.

He wouldn’t see her again until Wednesday, at the earliest. If Herman’s time of death didn’t clear him, he could even be in jail by then. Tonight, he didn’t want to talk about any of it. He just wanted to hold his woman and kiss her, as if there were no cares in the world.

Alex stopped talking as soon as he put his finger on her mouth, but her lips opened and her tongue peeked out to touch it. A bolt of electricity went through him, as it always did when he and Alex stole a moment of intimacy. The purely physical attraction he’d held for her before her kidnapping had deepened to a constant thrum of emotional need to know she was safe at all times.

But, when her natural sensuality revealed itself, he was as lost as any high-school jock in his first fumbling experience with an older cheerleader. He shifted, hoping to find a more comfortable space for the unruly appendage making its presence known. He wasn’t going to make love to her on a park bench, no way in hell.

There was little opportunity for them. No privacy at his mom’s place, and Dylan wouldn’t consider hers. The debacle of their first encounter was still raw after four years, and he’d taken to heart what her dad said then — not in his house. A town this size wasn’t safe for motel trysts. Everyone would know their business before they even concluded it. They stole what time together they could when she accompanied him to Tucson to see his brothers.

Alex understood his brothers had to come first right now, though he loved her deeply. His brothers had no one else. Their dad was dead, their mom nearly so, from the stage four breast cancer that had metastasized to her brain, stolen her mind, and was consuming her body. They’d be stuck in an imperfect foster system, or handed over to a distant O’odham relative, if he couldn’t convince the tribe and DCS he was a worthy candidate to adopt them. Their foster family recommended he not bring Alex into their lives right now, and she agreed. Romance had to take a back seat for now, for both of them.

That didn’t make it any easier when an occasional breeze moved the palm leaves to allow a beam of light from the street lamps to fall across her porcelain skin and the deep mahogany of her hair.

Once, when she was far too young and he was far too eager, he had the opportunity to see every inch of that flawless skin. Thankfully, her dad intervened before he did more than look or touch the side of her perfect breast. If it had happened then, there would have been no future for them.

Remembering, Dylan slid his hand under her blouse and stroked the smooth skin with his thumb. He’d go no further tonight; it wasn’t fair to either of them. He dipped his head for another deep kiss.

Alex sighed into his parted lips. “Dyl...”

“I know, baby. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.” With difficulty, Dylan adjusted himself and then took her hand, swinging it like children did, as he walked the short block to the plant with her. “When can I see you again?”

“I hope on Wednesday afternoon. Depends on how much homework I have, I guess,” she answered. “But, you better keep me up to date on what’s going on with the investigation. Text me?”

“I will. Or email, if it’s too much to text.” Reaching her car, Dylan swung her around to face him and moved in close, fitting his body to hers in a close embrace. “You be safe on the road, baby. I worry.”

“I know. I will.” She lifted her face for the goodbye kiss that neither of them wanted to end, and then opened her door and slipped behind the wheel. “You be careful, too.”

Dylan watched her drive away, feeling like a skunk for keeping it from her that he would be meeting with Wanda tomorrow. He only hoped that whatever Wanda told him, she’d give him permission to share it with Alex. Keeping things from her wasn’t part of their deal.

SIX

Tuesday, 6:30 a.m.

“Does she need anything?” Dylan asked Ange, his mom’s home-care nurse, as Ange ate a bowl of cereal for breakfast. He’d persuaded her to move in last summer, and had given her his bedroom, but he needed to make other arrangements as soon as possible.

Before he brought the boys home, he’d need a bedroom for them and one for himself. He hadn’t decided whether to rent a big house and move Mom in with them, or a small one, leaving Mom and Ange in the mobile home and keeping the boys from seeing and smelling what was happening to their mother.

The whole trailer smelled like a hospital, disinfectant warring with an underlying odor of decay. There was nothing anyone could do for her now but keep her relatively pain-free. She didn’t know Dylan at all, most of the time. He often wondered if she knew what was happening to her, and hoped she was as unaware of that as she was everything else.

“No, we’re set until next week,” Ange answered.

Dylan kissed her cheek as he walked out the door. “Thanks, Ange. Are you getting someone in today, so you can catch a break?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”

He hadn’t told Ange anything about his current worries, but she knew. Dylan had no doubt that the whole town was abuzz with the news of Tia Wanda’s connection to the murder victim. By the end of the day, they’d be talking about him, too. He was glad Alex would be out of town, since today was one of her college campus days. At least it wouldn’t touch his mom. Nothing could, now.

Dylan sat in his new pickup, a replacement for the one he wrecked in the summer, and dialed Rick Englebright’s cell phone. It was too early to expect to catch him in the office, but there wasn’t any more time to waste. He’d half expected Thurston at his door last night. He had until noon, maybe not that long, before the shit hit the fan. He wanted to be covered before that, and choose the time it happened, if possible. For that, he needed his lawyer. Rick answered on the third ring.

“What the hell, Dylan? I haven’t even had breakfast.”

“Let me buy you some. I need to talk to you ASAP.”

“You’re on. See you at the coffee shop in half an hour?”

“Can you make it fifteen?” Dylan replied. A silence on the line told him that Rick was processing his request.

“Yeah.”

Dylan had to hand it to the guy. He was sharp. By now, he’d probably already figured out what it was all about. In any case, Dylan would lay his cards on the table over breakfast. Hopefully, the noise in the place would cover their conversation. No use giving the gossip mill an early start.

Dylan slid into the corner booth across from Rick, who beat him there by only a moment as Dylan followed him into the parking lot. Rick picked the perfect spot inside, away from other patrons and separated from them by a high booth back.

“Thanks for meeting me, bro.”

“I’m not your bro, I’m your attorney. What have you done this time?” Rick’s terse answer was actually a joke, as Dylan hadn’t done anything wrong the last time either. He took it in the same spirit.