Fatal Divide (5 page)

“I’ve explained that,” Rick said. “Your reaction proves that he was right to consult me before saying anything.”

“Every minute that we don’t have relevant information compromises the investigation,” Thurston said.

“In this case, that information may be interesting, but it isn’t relevant. My client did not kill Mr. Alvarez, so telling you at the scene may have halted the investigation. That would certainly have compromised it.”

“We’ll see. Chaves, you’re not to leave town.”

“You know I work out of town, Thurston. I won’t leave the county, but you can’t restrict me to town unless you’re prepared to arrest me.” Dylan regretted his words the minute they were out of his mouth. Now Thurston would be almost required to arrest him, to save face. Rick came to the rescue.

“Gentlemen, I suggest that the two of you cease your pissing contest and work on finding the real killer.”

“You’re out of the investigation, Chaves. I’ll speak to your supervisor today. I will arrest you if you interfere again.” Thurston’s stare bored a hole into the bridge of Dylan’s nose.

Everyone in the room knew he was referring to Dylan taking the search for Alex last July into his own hands and going over Thurston’s head to Wells. Thurston’s department, and worse, he personally, looked bad after the truth came out that one of the deputies had kidnapped her. Even though Thurston needed to stay on the good side of the local media, meaning Alex’s dad’s newspaper, he would never forgive Dylan for showing him up.

Dylan shrugged. “I expected that. But, I’ll take that order from my supervisor only. The victim was found on Monument land, and I’m a Park Service ranger. It’s my duty and responsibility to investigate that aspect of the crime, unless I’m relieved through proper channels.” He could see Rick, whose head had dropped when Dylan came back at Thurston. Rick was shaking his head, his shoulders slumped. Dylan guessed he’d gone too far, again. But he couldn’t take back the words now.

“I’ll be watching you, Chaves. Better not make a wrong move. You know your way out, don’t you?”

Dismissed, Dylan took his time sauntering out behind Rick, who shot out of the office like he’d been fired from a cannon. When Dylan caught up to him outside, Rick hissed, “Do you have a death wish? Why the hell did you have to antagonize him?”

“Best entertainment in town,” Dylan answered. Inside, he was chastising himself just as harshly. “Do you have time for me in the office?”

“Yeah, let’s get it over with so I can go to lunch and have a stiff drink,” Rick grumbled.

They walked, since Rick’s office was in the same block as the city building and the cop shop. Rick’s receptionist looked up, ready to say something to him, but abruptly closed her mouth as she saw Dylan following Rick. Dylan tilted his head in apology and grinned back as the girl gave him a brilliant smile. Pretty, but she couldn’t compete with Alex in a million years. Besides, blondes were overrated.

“Make it quick,” Rick said, looking at his watch. “I’ve got another appointment in ten.”

“Okay. I’ve received some information that the victim may have been harboring a cartel member. It’s unclear whether the guy is hiding from his own cartel or a warring one, but it may have been the motive for Alvarez’ death.”

Rick dropped his head into his hands, tearing at his hair in the process. “And you didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell the sheriff this? Where did you hear it? Is it credible?”

“I think it’s credible, and I can’t tell you or the sheriff where I heard it. That’s why I didn’t mention it. I need you to cover for me while I run it down.”

“You’re asking a lot.”

“Attorney-client privilege, remember? I solemnly swear to you that I had nothing to do with the old man’s death, and that I didn’t know about the cartel member until... recently,” Dylan said, switching at the last minute from ‘this morning’. If Rick found out he heard it between breakfast and their meeting at the cop shop, he’d know immediately where he heard it. Before he revealed anything to Rick, he needed to decide whether to help Wanda, and persuade her to lawyer up too.

NINE

10:00 a.m.

Hector was waiting for Wanda when she returned home. He met her outside and took the box from her, saying nothing. Wanda loved him fiercely, and knew he returned her love, but they had never been able to talk comfortably. Hector didn’t have the vocabulary to express his feelings, much less the cultural background to do so.

The O’odham were a happy people by nature, but the men didn’t chatter like the women. Still, she owed him an explanation for the tears she’d shed, her decision to take a leave of absence from her job, and the fact that Dylan was going to show up here in a little while, wanting complete disclosure. Hector should hear it first.

Wanda took her husband by the hand and pulled him into the bedroom as soon as he’d put the box down on the kitchen table. It was the only place she could feel close enough to him to tell him what she knew would upset him. He would disapprove, and normally that would be the end of it. But she owed it to her family on the rez to protect Jimmy. Herman had given his life to do so.

True to her expectations, Hector heard her story and told her he didn’t want her involved. But, to her surprise, it wasn’t for the reason she thought. Hector, for the first time in their forty-five year marriage, told her he would be lost without her at his side, and he loved her. He said the words! And then, he proved them, by telling her he would stand behind her decision, and, even though he wished she would make a different one, he was proud of her. Her heart full of both love and gratitude, she let him hold her until the doorbell rang. As he went to let Dylan in, Wanda smoothed her hair and composed her face.

Dylan was seated in the living room when she made her appearance. Hector took her hand and drew her to the sofa, where he could sit beside her as she talked with Dylan.

Everything depended on Dylan’s willingness to help. To gain his agreement, she was willing to break a promise. Hector didn’t agree with that decision either, but after stating his objection once, he didn’t argue. This was her show, but she waited for Dylan to speak.

“I’m in trouble with my lawyer,” he said, with no further explanation.

“Why?” Wanda asked.

“I told him what you said about the cartel,” he said, looking her in the eye. “I didn’t tell him where I heard it, and I didn’t tell the sheriff anything except that I knew Alvarez. I’m withholding evidence, and that’s breaking the law. I told Rick I needed time to run it down, and he’ll do everything in his power to keep me free. But Wanda, you’ve put me in a bad position, and I think you need to retain a lawyer too, for the same reason.”

“Thank you for not revealing your source,” she said.

“I need to understand what you’re doing, Wanda, or I’m going to have to reveal it. What you told me this morning came out of left field. Did I hear you right? You approve of these border crossings?”

“Not of the way they’re being done, no. But our federal government betrayed us, Dylan. I’ve dedicated my life to correcting that wrong.”

“You campaigned on a promise to stop illegal crossings!”

“And I stand behind that. But our people should have the right to cross unhindered. It is wrong that the only way we have to keep our people together is illegal. And while that’s the case, my first loyalty is to my people. That border shouldn’t even be where it is.”

“Wanda, you don’t even live on the rez. When did you become a Native activist?”

“I’ve always been an activist, Dylan. I left the rez because I thought I could do more for my people if I assimilated into the white world. That’s still true, but now I need to protect my family from the cartel war. That was never part of the equation.”

“What do you want me to do? I’ve never been part of that world. I’m only half O’odham, and they rejected my mother. I don’t think I’m even registered with the tribe. I don’t know anything about them, or their politics. Just how do you think I can help?”

Here it was, the secret she’d kept for over twenty-five years, both from Dylan and from the People. It was time to reveal it. It couldn’t hurt Maria anymore; she was dying. And, it would help Dylan’s cause, but he was going to hate her for not telling him before. Wanda took a deep breath.

“You aren’t, but I’ve been working to fix that. Maria was never drummed out of membership, she was shunned. That’s what drove her off the rez when she was pregnant with you. Dylan, you’re full-blooded O’odham.”

Wanda watched the expressions chase themselves across Dylan’s handsome features. Shock, disbelief, hope, and then, as she’d expected, anger.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he shouted. Beside Wanda, Hector made a move to stand, but she held him back by refusing to let go of his hand.

“I know who your father was, Dylan. He and your mother married against the wishes of their families, but he was O’odham.”

“Married? Families? I don’t understand. Where is he?” Dylan asked, the questions so numerous that they overran each other, rendering his speech nearly unintelligible.

Wanda held up her hand to silence Dylan’s sputtering. “I’ll tell you everything, but let me finish before you shout any more questions at me, okay?”

“Just one. Why didn’t my mother...?”

“I’ll get to that. Hector, could you get us some coffee?”

He squeezed her hand and questioned her with his eyes. “It will be okay. Please?” she said.

He got up and went to the kitchen. When Wanda returned her attention to Dylan, he was sitting forward in the easy chair, his brows knitted into a scowl, and if she wasn’t mistaken, unshed tears threatened to spill over. With all her heart, she wished she hadn’t made Maria that promise so long ago. It wasn’t right that the boy not know.

“I promised your mother never to tell anyone this,” she said. “Not even you. But it was wrong of me. And it can’t hurt her now.”

Dylan looked about to burst, but was restraining himself. She wasn’t doing a good job, but the secret was of such long-standing that Wanda couldn’t get a grasp on where to start. Finally, she resorted to starting at the beginning, before Dylan was born. Before he was even conceived.

“Nephew, the People aren’t that different from any other society. There are families who are somehow more respected than others, though it isn’t always for the same reasons as whites have. Our culture is thousands of years old.” Wanda caught herself from going on about history, as Dylan made an impatient noise.

“Your mother’s family were, shall we say, from the wrong side of the tracks. Your father’s were well-respected. It was the classic Romeo and Juliet story. Neither family approved of a romance between them. Your father was sent away to keep them apart. He was given a choice, college or military service. He chose the Marines.

“Before he left, though, he saw Maria to explain his reasoning. As soon as he was through with boot camp, he’d acknowledge her and no one would be able to stop them. He smuggled her onto the bus when he left for Camp Pendleton. As soon as they reached a town in Nevada, they got married and consummated their love, and then he sent her home and reported to boot camp.”

Dylan’s expression settled on bewildered. Wanda’s heart went out to him, knowing he’d spent twenty-five years believing he was a bastard and a half-breed. She gazed at his familiar features, handsome and strong like his forebears, but also easily mistaken for Latino in an area where the genetic lines were blurred. Before her story was over, he was going to hurt even more, but he was honoring her request not to shout questions. She needed to step up the pace.

“He wasn’t able to send for her after boot camp after all, and by that time, she knew that you were on the way. Maria foolishly kept secret that she was married, and left the rez to move here.”

Unable to contain himself any longer, Dylan barked one short question. “Why?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was fear for her family. She came to me, told me her problem, and asked if she should have an abortion. I’m so glad I talked her out of that.”

Wanda was lost in the memory, staring at nothing as she recalled the scene. Catching herself, she swung her eyes quickly to Dylan’s face. He looked stricken.

“Honey, I’m sorry. It wasn’t that she didn’t want you. She was young, only seventeen. She didn’t know what to do.”

“Why didn’t my father ever send for her?” Dylan asked, but quietly, as if he anticipated the answer.

“No one remembers it now, but do the math, Dylan. Your father was a Marine, and he was stationed in Beirut twenty-five years ago.”

“The Marine barracks bombing,” Dylan whispered.

“Yes. Your father was killed in the line of duty. Maria was frightened because of something else; she didn’t know that she could have claimed some assistance for you both. And by the time she came to me, the marriage certificate was long gone. She burned it when she learned of your father’s death.”

Wanda fell silent, allowing Dylan to work through his confusion and grief. She wondered how it would be to learn simultaneously that he had a legitimate father, and that the man died before he was born. Not easy, she suspected.

Hector came back in with the coffee, took in Dylan’s hunched form, and set the tray down to put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. It was almost finished now, what she had to tell him, what she would promise, and then his decision. In spite of her near-panic over the situation, she waited until Dylan’s head came up.