The Replacement Child (20 page)

She was about five feet from Morales before Gil realized that she wasn’t heading to the bathroom. She was too close to Morales for Gil to stop her. A couple of Morales’s friends were already checking her out.

He watched her brush her elbow against Morales’s back. Gil heard her laugh and then apologize. They turned back to the bar together, but not before Gil caught sight of Morales’s face—a man who’d just gotten lucky.

Gil didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what her game was. He had done everything he could to keep her out of this. Should he go up there and get her? But that might put Lucy in danger. Maybe he should take the chance. But maybe not. Gil was not used to being so uncertain. In the end, logic won. They were all in a public place and safe because of that. He would wait it out. For a little while.

He felt wooden, solid. He knew he looked too much like a cop. He got up and walked to the pool tables, making a show of watching a game between two rough-looking white men. He studied them closely for a second to make sure he hadn’t arrested them before, then went back to his surveillance.

He saw Lucy and Morales walk out onto the dance floor before he lost them in the crowd. They popped back up again near the stage, where the band was playing some fast country song. Morales was spinning Lucy in circles, and she laughed as she came to rest back in his arms. Now they were on the side of the floor nearest Gil, shuffling along with the beat. Morales’s back was to him as he whispered something in Lucy’s ear. She laughed again—and then quickly stuck her tongue out at Gil as
she caught sight of him in the crowd. Gil laughed out loud, startling himself.

Morales and Lucy spent another twenty-five minutes dancing and drinking—with Morales doing most of the drinking. Gil had been hoping that she would finish whatever she was doing and leave fairly quickly. The less contact she had with him, the less danger she was in. Gil considered pretending to arrest her. Or acting like a jealous husband. He would give it another ten minutes.

It was one fifteen
A.M.
and Gil was trying not to yawn when she made her move. Morales and Lucy were sitting at a table working on margaritas when Gil saw Lucy’s hand slowly slip up Morales’s back. She whispered in his ear.

Gil turned away to watch a couple on the dance floor do a fast two-step. Lucy was seducing Morales. If he had known that she was going to do this, he would have stopped her a half hour ago.

He looked back. Lucy’s hand played on the back of Morales’s neck; Morales moved closer to her and kissed her lightly on her mouth. As he did, Lucy looked over at Gil and winked. Then she turned back to Morales and smiled at him as she got up slowly. The two of them headed out the door, Morales’s arm around her waist.

Gil went out the door after them, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark night. He was just outside the door when he heard her say to Morales, “But I like it when you do that.” Lucy and Morales were just disappearing around the corner of the bar when Gil caught up with them. Gil grabbed Morales by the back of his collar and pushed him up against the stone building a little too hard.

Morales started cursing. Lucy started yelling, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Let him go, you asshole.” She pushed Gil. He fished his badge out of his pocket and flashed it at her.

Lucy stumbled backward. “Oh, man. You’re a cop? I’m
outta here.” She was overdoing it a little, but Morales seemed not to notice. She winked at Gil again and slipped around the corner. Gil could see her shadow and knew that she was listening. At least she was safely out of the way.

Gil had Morales against the wall and was frisking him with one hand while holding him with the other. “Do you know who I am?” Gil asked as he worked.

Morales looked at him over his shoulder. “Yeah, you’re a damn cop.”

“Right, and I have a few questions.”

“Go to hell.” Gil pushed him against the wall again to get his attention. He carefully pulled Morales’s keys out of his pocket and tossed them onto the ground. Sometimes gang members sharpened one key on the chain into a knife for the cops to cut themselves on as they frisked. Morales had nothing else on him except his wallet.

“Let’s try this again,” Gil said.

“What do you want? I’m not carrying. I ain’t got nothing on me. You can’t bust me.”

“I don’t want to bust you. I want to ask you some questions.”

“I’m no snitch.”

“It’s not about your business, Hector. It’s about a dead girl. Melissa Baca.”

“The girl who went over the bridge?” Hector momentarily looked confused. “I don’t know nothing about that shit.”

Gil let go of Morales’s shirt.

“I’m not asking about who killed her. I’m asking did you ever deal to her?”

“I don’t deal, man.” Morales’s eyes were glazed over from the alcohol. Gil had watched him drink four beers and two shots of tequila in less than two hours.

“Right. But maybe you heard about someone dealing to her.”

“Hell no. She saw me on the street once, you know, and
spat at me. She spat at me. I didn’t do nothing ‘cause her brother had died on the stuff, and I felt bad about that. I liked Melissa, man. We went to school together, you know.”

“What do you know about her boyfriend, Jonathan Hammond—was he a user?”

“Shit, I don’t know. I’ve never seen him.”

“Someone said they saw you with her the day she died, handing her something out your car window at about four thirty that afternoon at Oñate Park. You drive a purple ‘eighty-six Dodge Reliant, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what I drive, but they’re lying. What day was that? Monday? Hell, I was in district court all day. And you can check on that shit. I was up for my DWI hearing before that lady judge—that Padilla woman—in Española.”

Judge Janet Padilla’s magistrate court was a half-hour drive from Santa Fe.

“And your car was with you at your hearing?”

“Hell yeah, man. With the alarm set and all that shit. My car was there, and I was there.”

“How do you know no one took your car? Do you know where it was at four thirty that afternoon?”

“Yeah, I know where it was. I was in it. The court was out for a, whatddaya call it—recess?—for an hour from like three thirty to four thirty, and I went outside to smoke a cigarette, man. I smoked in the car ‘cause it was cold as a bitch that day, you know? I was only going to stay outside for one smoke but the asshole parking-lot guard was watching me the whole time like I was going to steal a sign or some shit. So I sat there for the whole hour just watching him. I wasn’t gonna let that asshole intimidate me, you know, man?”

It would be easy enough to check. Morales and his car were pretty hard to forget.

“What happened at your hearing?” Gil asked.

“They let me off, man,” Morales said with a sly smile, “‘cause it’s my first offense for drinking and driving.”

“Good for you, Hector.” Gil backed away, allowing Morales room to get by.

Morales started to leave but stopped after a few steps.

“Melissa didn’t do that shit. Whoever said she did, you look at them. She’d of died first before doing that shit.”

And maybe that’s what happened,
Gil thought.

M
axine Baca knew only that it was past midnight. She sat in Melissa’s bedroom with the lights turned off. She was holding one of Melissa’s old shirts, one she had worn in high school. Maxine had given it to her as a birthday present. It was dark red with gold buttons. Maxine had given her gold earrings and black pants to match. Maxine and Ernesto had fought about it. “You spoil her too much,” he’d said. “You shouldn’t get her presents that we can’t afford.” But Ernesto hadn’t understood.

After Daniel died, Maxine knew she had to do penance for the sin that had caused Daniel’s death. Her sin of gluttony. One of the seven deadly sins. She had been selfish. Her mother had warned her, but she hadn’t listened. When Daniel was born, her mother had told her to follow the
dieta.
The
curandera
had warned her, too. But Maxine hadn’t wanted the priest to eat alone, so she ate a whole plate of enchiladas and green-chile stew. She knew right away that she had sinned. The food had gotten her sick. But she had hoped that the coral would stop the sin. But it hadn’t been enough. Maxine had been too selfish. It had been a test from God. God was trying to see if she would give up everything for her child. But she hadn’t. She couldn’t go even a day without eating a full meal—her child meant that little to her. And God had punished her for her selfishness by taking the thing she loved most in the world.

After Daniel died, Maxine had been worried that her sin would cause him to go to limbo, the place where God sends all the unbaptized, since she had committed the sin before he was
baptized. Her sin had undone the protection of his baptism. She prayed the rosary three times a day. The only food she would eat was the host and the wine at Mass every day on her way to visit Daniel’s grave. Ernesto ate mostly frozen foods and Ron didn’t come home for dinner. Ron stayed at Manny Cordova’s house down the street. Veronica Cordova would bring over a casserole every few days for Ernesto to eat. For two years she prayed to God the Almighty to forgive her and not to punish Daniel, but God hadn’t listened. Maxine knew this because her pain over his death had never healed. She found a
curandera
to go to in Española. Most of the other
curanderas
had died because no one went to them anymore. But the one in Española told her she had the Anger Sickness over Daniel’s death and sent her home with some holy water and ground-up osha root. The
curandera
told Maxine to make enchiladas and green-chile stew and bury it to the left of Daniel’s grave as penance for not obeying her mother. She buried the osha root as instructed, to show her sacrifice to God, and poured the holy water at the left of the grave to prove that she was ready to accept God’s will. Then she had to spend the night praying at Daniel’s shrine.

Maxine had been tired after staying up all night praying and had gone to bed. When she woke up, she had felt sick. Ernesto took her to the doctor. She sat in the waiting room of her doctor’s office knowing that she had the flu. Ron had brought it home from school. She had a runny nose, vomiting, and fever. She wasn’t pregnant. She knew what it felt like to be pregnant. She’d had two babies, after all.

She knew exactly when she became pregnant—the moment the flu had turned into a baby inside her. She was sitting in the doctor’s office with Ernesto when the room began spinning. She had to put out a hand. Her stomach hurt and, a moment later, it became warm. By the time the doctor came in, she knew that she was pregnant. Her fever and runny nose were gone. She felt the fullness of a baby in her. In that instant,
God had given her a little girl. It was a miracle from God and Our Lady. God had accepted her penance for her sin and had given her another baby to care for. God was giving her a second chance.

Maxine touched the sleeve of the soft blouse. The color had looked so good on Melissa.

She pulled a loose thread on the blouse and watched a button fall to the carpet and bounce its way over to Melissa’s dresser. Maxine just stared. Melissa had used the broken bottom drawer on the dresser as a treasure chest. The drawer didn’t open, but there was a hidden shelf underneath. When she was a teenager, Melissa had kept her private things there. Maxine got up slowly from the bed, bent over the bottom drawer, and pried it open.

G
il had waited until Morales had driven away before he and Lucy left. He was giving her a ride home. Lucy had argued with him, wanting to drive herself, but he had seen her drink a margarita. And this way, he could guarantee that Morales wasn’t following her.

They were driving quietly in the car when Lucy said, “I find it interesting that during that entire conversation with Hector you never said one swear word.”

Gil looked at her; she wasn’t smiling.

“I don’t see what difference it makes,” Gil said.

“But it does. You just roughed up a drug dealer and never once said damn or hell. He was swearing up a storm and you did nothing.”

“I didn’t rough him up and still don’t get what difference it makes.” And he didn’t. What was she getting at? He looked at her again. She still wasn’t smiling.

“It’s just interesting,” she said.

He pulled up in front of her house and went around to the other side of the car, opening the door for her out of habit,
just as he did for his wife and his mother. She smiled up at him. “Why, heavens be, Detective, you are so gallant,” she said in a southern accent.

He walked her up to her front door, surveying the street as he did so, looking for any sign of Morales. As she was unlocking her door he said, “Just so we’re clear, you obviously aren’t going to tell anyone what you overheard tonight.”

“Obviously.”

“And if for any reason you think that Morales is trying to get in touch with you …”

“News flash, Gil. I didn’t give Hector my phone number or even my real name. He thinks I’m Tina.”

“Just be careful.”

“Oh, you do care. Does that mean you’re not mad at me for taking the Hector matter into my own hands?” She smiled coyly. “So to speak.”

“Let’s not get into that.”

“You are mad at me. Look, I was only trying to help. You said yourself that you needed to get Hector away from other people in order to question him. I was just doing my civic duty.”

“Like I said, I don’t want to get into it.”

“Okay, but you’re missing a great opportunity for us to get into our first fight,” she said as she went inside, adding “good night” over her shoulder as she closed the door. He waited until he saw the living-room light go on before he walked back to the car.

He sat in his car for another five minutes to make sure that they hadn’t been followed, then he drove home. Gil pulled up to his house and got out. He took the four plates of
bizcochitos
that his mother had given him out of the trunk of his car and tried to balance them on top of one another. He opened the front door of his house quietly, then bolted it behind him, almost dropping the cookies. It was almost two
A.M.
He put the
bizcochitos
on the kitchen counter and walked as silently as
possible to his bedroom. He reached around the corner and flicked on the closet light so that he could see as he undressed. He was down to his underwear before he realized that Susan wasn’t in bed. He turned on the lights in the bedroom, in the hallway, in the girls’ room, in the family room, in the kitchen—they weren’t there. He sat down on a stool in the kitchen in his underwear. The answering-machine light was blinking—most likely the message he had left for the girls, wishing them a good night. Had Susan said that they were staying at her mother’s tonight? He didn’t remember. She must have. But he couldn’t remember. He pulled his pants and shirt back on and drove the four blocks to his mother-in-law’s house. Susan’s car was in the driveway. He headed back home.