Fatal Divide (6 page)

TEN

Dylan felt Hector’s big hand on his shoulder but couldn’t react. His brain had come to a full stop, or rather a very short loop. He had a father. His father was dead. End of loop. One part of him wanted to run from Wanda’s house, burst into his own, and confront his mother for her stupidity.

How could she not have told him? How could Wanda keep a secret like that? His mind refused to follow the trail of logic that told him his childhood poverty had been unnecessary. It was what it was. He was missing something important. Then he had it.

“Wanda! If I’m full-blooded O’odham and I can prove it, the council won’t have an issue with the adoption!” His joy at the realization wiped out the confusion, the bitterness, everything except the good news. Wanda was nodding.

“I’ve already set it in motion, and now we can work together to get you registered with the tribe. I’ll see it through, if you’ll help me with Jimmy. There’s one more thing you need to know.”

Dylan narrowed his eyes at her. She couldn’t seriously think she could blackmail him into helping, could she? It was more important than ever he not be involved in anything even perceived to be illegal. His brothers needed him more than this mysterious Jimmy did. Surely she could see that.

Wanda didn’t seem to notice she’d lost him. She took a sip of her coffee and looked up, flinching at his baleful stare.

“His name, Dylan. You need to know his name. It’s Jimmy Chaves.”

Dylan’s world shattered. She couldn’t mean... No, the math didn’t work out. He couldn’t have another brother if his mom had been only seventeen when she had him, which of course he knew. Wanda’s face was changing, and she said something, but his ears were buzzing and he didn’t hear it.

“Dylan, are you all right? Dylan!”

Slowly, his vision and hearing cleared, and he responded. “What?”

“Are you all right?”

“Tell me you aren’t saying I have another brother.”

“What? No! I mean, in our culture he’s your brother. He is the son of your mother’s brother, or rather, you would say her cousin.”

“That would mean...”

“I know. Don’t try to sort it out now. Are you going to pass out? Put your head between your knees.”

Indignant, Dylan snapped. “I’m not going to pass out. So what you’re telling me is that if I don’t help find this cousin I knew nothing about, and get him off the rez and hide him somewhere, some cartel, you don’t know which, is going to kill him, and you don’t know why?”

Put that way, it sounded highly unlikely, but Wanda was nodding. “Yes, that sums it up exactly.”

Dylan sighed heavily. “Where am I supposed to start looking for him? How will I even know him? I don’t suppose you have a photo?”

“I’ll help. I can help find him. It’s getting him out of danger that I need your help with. There’s just one more thing.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard that one before. Let’s have it.”

“He’s from the Mexican side of the border. He’s illegal.”

“Of course he is,” Dylan said. The bitter taste in his mouth was now complete. “I suppose that’s what you meant by ‘wrong side of the tracks’. My mother’s illegal too, is that it?”

Wanda hung her head. “She shouldn’t be.”

“But she is. Whose social security number have we been using?” Dylan’s disillusionment was complete. For weeks now, he’d been fighting with Medicaid about what he thought was an error in their refusal to pay for his mom’s meds. Now he wondered if he was going to have to pay back every penny her illness had cost.

Endless layers of red tape awaited him, and Wanda thought he was going to have an easier time adopting the boys? He’d be lucky not to be deported to Mexico.

“Wait, Wanda. Was I born here?”

“Of course you were! Right here in Dodge. Oh!” she said, suddenly getting it. “You’re legal, Dylan. Don’t worry about that.”

It was the only thing he didn’t have to worry about, it seemed. Where was he going to start sorting this out?

“Wanda, the sheriff is never going to be able to close this case without knowing why Alvarez was killed. I need to tell him.”

“You can’t!” Wanda cried.

“Why not? Are you afraid he’ll arrest you?”

“No. Well, yes, but that isn’t why. You can’t tell him because then the cartel will come after you!”

Jesus Christ, what next? Dylan shook his head, but failed to clear it. “I’ll have to think about it then. Can I at least tell Alex? All of this affects her too. And I don’t like keeping things from her.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. If you have to, then let me help. But I won’t tell her unless she swears not to talk about it, or God forbid, print it.”

“I’ll get her promise. I don’t have a clue how she’ll react, though. Okay, let me think about what to do with Jimmy when you find him, and I’ll get back to you. Let me know how your part goes.”

Dylan had never been so confused in his life or so alone. All his life he’d looked up to Tia Wanda as the one he could count on to be on his side, and now she wasn’t the same person he loved and respected. But she’d done what she thought was right, not for personal gain, but to keep a promise to his mother. She’d hidden his mom’s status from everyone, even while she was working to stop illegal immigration, or her definition of it, which evidently didn’t include members of their tribe.

Their tribe.
His
tribe. It was hard to get his mind around that, too. He never thought of himself as Native, or anything in particular, though sometimes prejudiced people threw it in his face. He didn’t know the history or the language of his people, other than what he’d been taught in elementary school. He didn’t know if he wanted to, except that he did want the advantage, if it meant he could cut through tribal red tape for the adoption.

What he did know was that he was going to have to gather his wits and drive to Tucson to see his brothers on Saturday, because he promised. Deciding to think about it later, he turned into the parking lot of the Rattler and went into the bar for a burger.

ELEVEN

7:30 p.m
.

Alex filed her story on the death in the national monument, accompanied by a picture of Kevin Thurston looking every inch the self-important jackass he was, standing in front of the crime scene tape. The story was sparse on details, since she couldn’t quote Dylan on even the basics and Thurston hadn’t released anything yet. With luck, he’d do so before tomorrow’s deadline. Meanwhile, there was nothing she could do but go to school.

It wasn’t easy, being a college student in a town that was an hour and a half away from the closest college. With no money to live away from home, her solution had been to save for a year after high school to pay for tuition, and then take a combination of distance-learning and on-campus classes.

The latter required her to commute to Casa Grande twice a week for classes from noon to seven. It was already getting old, and she was a little less than halfway through. Alex was no quitter, though. She had a goal and she was going to achieve it, one way or another.

Her part-time job at her dad’s newspaper paid for gas, books, and personal stuff like clothes, her cell phone bill, and the dozens of small expenses that she hadn’t thought about before becoming an adult. When she sat her dad down and told him she intended to go to college and knew he couldn’t help, he’d been so sweet about it.

She had a roof over her head and food in her belly that he didn’t ask her to pay for, even after she’d turned eighteen and then nineteen. He would have paid for clothes, too, but she drew the line there. If she wanted to be treated as an adult, she had to take on some of the responsibilities. Her dad hadn’t argued with that, but now she wondered where next semester’s tuition was going to come from. Everything was so much more expensive than she realized.

During her drive and between classes, she’d been occupied thinking about applying for student aid and worrying about Dylan. It was odd he hadn’t sent her a text, at least. Could Thurston have been a big enough jerk to take him in and hold him, even though there surely wasn’t enough for an arrest?

There wasn’t enough time between classes to call her dad, who didn’t have a cell phone and wouldn’t have texted if he did. Sometimes it seemed her father was older than his own mother. Nana sent long, rambling texts that cracked Alex up with their formality.

By the end of her classes, she was eager to get home, and she didn’t try to call her dad. Chances were, he was at the Rattler instead of home, anyway. It had become a habit for him to spend Tuesday and Thursday evenings there, since Alex didn’t get home from Casa Grande in time to put much of a dinner on the table.

Halfway home, she decided to apply for financial aid. She wasn’t sure her dad’s income wouldn’t disqualify her, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. If that didn’t work out, she was going to have to drop half her planned classes and just be patient about finishing school. There weren’t enough hours in the day to take a second job, and her dad couldn’t pay her more.

After that, there was nothing to think about, except Dylan. Resolutely, she refused to do that. If he were in jail, she’d deal with it. If not, there was nothing to worry about. What she should really think about was what she was doing with him, when their plans were so different.

It didn’t matter if his touch made her dizzy, or if looking into those bottomless brown eyes made her see visions of little brown-eyed children with her red hair. She was too young for that. Not to mention too young to mother his eight-year-old and six-year-old brothers. No, she was setting herself up for heartbreak, and him too. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t logical, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him it was over.

By the time she hit town, Alex was mentally exhausted and the last thing she wanted to do was go home to an empty house and try to rustle up dinner. She turned her Sentra right at the crossroads instead of left and found the Rattler a block later.

Her dad’s car was there, all right. Maybe he’d buy her a burger. It was eight-thirty, not too late to call Dylan maybe, but she didn’t want to do that. He’d call her if there were any news, and she’d see him tomorrow afternoon. She pulled into the parking lot and stopped the car, stretching as she got out to get the kinks of the road out of her long limbs.

“Hey, Alex!” called Jen from behind the bar as she walked in. “Good to see you! Your dad’s around somewhere.”

She tipped her head back in a silent greeting and scanned the bar for her dad. She found him playing pool with a few guys around his age. “Hi, Daddy,” she said, as she tiptoed to kiss his cheek.

“Hey, Baby Girl. Did you just get in?”

“Yuh-huh. I’m tired, Daddy, any chance you’d buy me a burger?”

“I think that could be arranged; I’m up.” Signaling to Jen, he pulled a wad of ones from his pocket.

“Daddy! Are you gambling on pool?” Alex was amused. Her staid father had never shown a wild side before. On the other hand, he didn’t have money to gamble away.

“Just a buck a game. Don’t worry, Lexi, I know what I’m doing.” He handed her six of the bills and stuffed the rest back in his pocket.

Grinning, she took them and went to the snack bar, where Jen already had two burgers on the grill. “How long has he been doing that?” she asked her dad’s best friend. Jen turned, spatula in hand, and stared over at him.

“Not long. He started playing after he and your boyfriend had a run-in with a player who thought he owned me.”

Alex raised her eyebrows. “Oh? I don’t think I heard about that.”

“Nothing to tell, really. I kicked the guy out, but I guess Paul noticed that I didn’t exactly object to the pool players paying me some attention. It’s good for business. Not his ego, though.”

She looked over at her dad. It hadn’t occurred to her that he had an ego. He never showed it, or at least not to her. She turned back to Jen.

“Do you ever get tired of waiting for him, Jen? I tell him at least once a week to pull his head out of his butt and marry you.”

Jen let out a startled laugh. “Um, wouldn’t it be better if he asked me first?”

Alex was embarrassed by her spoken-out-loud thoughts. “Gosh, I’m sorry, and my foot doesn’t taste good without ketchup. Could I have some please?”

Jen laughed. “It’s okay. I know the whole town thinks that, but your dad and I are just friends. I know he’s still waiting for your mom.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “My mom’s never coming back, Jen. You know that, I know that. Everyone knows that, except my dad. What the hell is wrong with him?”

“Language, Baby Girl. There’s nothing wrong with him that finding out whatever happened to her wouldn’t cure. He’s lost, in limbo, without knowing. I’m surprised you don’t understand that.”

Alex paused, her burger halfway to her mouth. “Oh, I do. But I started living again a long time ago. I don’t know why he can’t.”

TWELVE