Hallowed Ground (11 page)

“I ought to walk away from this case.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t tell me when you hired me that Rondelle didn’t know about it.”

“If I told you at the time I didn’t think it mattered, would you believe me?”

I shrugged.

“I thought I was doing Harvey a favor.”

“Harvey has a shitty way of showing his gratitude.”

He lifted his hands in resignation. “That’s why I’d rather have the reputation of being a bastard.

Every time I play nice guy it turns around and bites me in the ass.”

Oh I didn’t touch that comment. Not nearly enough space between me and his very bitable ass.

Jesus, Julie, just focus, would you?

“Harvey should’ve listened to Rondelle in the first place,” I said.

“Let me explain something about Harvey.”

I held up a hand. “Don’t.”
Don’t make me feel sorry for him; don’t humanize him.
I needed Harvey to be the bad guy because if he wasn’t, who was?

“Don’t what? Tell you that his mother killed herself by driving drunk? How Rondelle survived but their sixteen-year old brother Lonnie didn’t?”

“Martinez, don’t do this.”

His boots whumped the floor. “She was ten years old and Harvey couldn’t get custody of her because he had a felony. He had to watch his only surviving family member shuffled from foster home to foster home on the reservation, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and was tempted to clap my hands over my ears.

He scooted closer; his melodious voice held a knife’s edge. “Rondelle believed he’d abandoned her. Nothing he did for her was ever enough. She totally rejected him.”

An image of my father appeared. Ben had dealt with his rejection from our father by establishing a relationship with me. Not for the first time I wondered if Ben’s motives in getting to know me were fuelled by revenge on our father.

“When she got pregnant at nineteen,” Martinez continued, “she had nowhere else to go—”

“So she finally came to Harvey.”

“Yes.”

“Where was Donovan during this time?”

“In Pine Ridge. Drunk, unemployed, unable to take on the responsibility of a baby. Harvey mostly kept Rondelle off the booze during her pregnancy. After Chloe was born, Rondelle became the party girl again.”

I opened my eyes. “How long did Harvey take care of Chloe?”

“A year. While Rondelle played at being a mother, Harvey changed diapers and made sure Chloe had food in her belly.”

Don’t ask
, my brain warned. My mouth opened like a drawbridge anyway. “Rondelle’s mother was dead. Where was her father?”

“In the state pen.”

I examined the silver buckles on my shoes. “Shit.”

“Considering the alternatives, it was a good thing Donovan sobered up and stepped up to his responsibilities. Still, Rondelle saw an opportunity to hurt Harvey like she believed he’d hurt her.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Martinez mocked. “She moved. Didn’t stay in one place more than a few months.

Drove Harvey nuts when he didn’t know where they were.”

I’d been through that when Ben disappeared. It’d driven me crazy and driven a wedge in my marriage that had splintered it completely.

“Things haven’t improved. Rondelle still uses Chloe as leverage. Harvey, being Harvey, pushes the issue and ends up pushing Rondelle further away.”

Silence weighed between us while I processed the information. Everyone I came in contact with had family issues. Nothing easy and simple like Mom and Dad occasionally playing favorites, but deep-rooted hatred stemming from tragedy—whether accidental or intentional.

I sighed. “This is so fucked up. Is everybody’s family like this?”

“Guess we’re just the unlucky ones.”

“Yours too?”

“You have no idea.”

I waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.

“I’ll get started on this again Monday.”

Martinez lifted both brows. “Not tomorrow?”

“I wish. Instead I get to suffer through a
family
thing.” The clock on the far side of the room caught my attention as it clicked to 9:00. “Look. I’ve gotta go.”

Maybe I could block this night, last night, and tomorrow from my memory banks with earsplitting music and cold beer.

He placed his palm on my knee. “Stay.”

A simple request. But hanging around would be a stupid move on my part, despite my body going soft simply from the heat of his hand.

“I can’t,” I said with genuine regret.

His hand slid away. A heartbeat later his fingers were on my chin, turning my face toward his. “I wish you’d stop running from this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s gonna catch us eventually.”

I wanted to deny it. I didn’t.

He smiled. “Be careful.”

Unnerved by his confidence, I blurted, “Why? Think the Carluccis shot Donovan?”

All the teasing warmth bled from his eyes. “Concentrate on finding Chloe and let me worry about the Carluccis.”

“They know who I am, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t lie, another point in his favor.

Before I asked another question I didn’t want the answer to, I snapped my mouth shut, gathered my stuff and left before I did something foolish and stayed.

I’d barely made it to my car when I sensed someone behind me.

I whirled around in the darkness, automatically dropping into a fighting stance. I’d been involved in a brawl in this parking lot before. Although I’d won that particular battle, I wasn’t anxious for a repeat performance, especially in heels.

Rondelle materialized, her hands held up in surrender. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”

“God, Rondelle. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“You sound just like Harvey,” she scoffed.

Comparing me to her brother was not a wise move. “What are you doing skulking around in the parking lot?”

“Waiting to talk to you.”

“About?”

She sidled closer, fingers twisted in a knot, gaze aimed at the tips of her Keds. “Chloe.”

I leaned back against my car, crossing my arms over my chest. Didn’t care if it looked belligerent, because I was definitely feeling it. “Excuse me for acting stupid, but weren’t we just talking about Chloe?”

She raised her wet eyes to mine, firmed her trembling lip. Her despair—whether real or feigned—was quite a performance. “You think I don’t care about her, don’t you?”

I shrugged.

“I do care.” Tears trickled out; she wiped them with the heel of her hand. “It’s just when you told me that Donovan had been shot . . . it shocked me and I sorta went crazy.”

“Bullshit.”

Her gaze flew to me. “W-w-what?”

“Don’t play the ‘I-was-so-upset-I-didn’t-know-what-I-was-saying’ card with me, Rondelle.

Unlike Harvey and Martinez, I can see right through you.”

The internal debate showed on her face. Continue to act like a spoiled child? Or reveal the real Rondelle? Little girl lost disappeared. “You ain’t very sympathetic, are ya?”

“Nope. I’m saving my small amount of sympathy for Donovan. It’ll be a miracle if he lives.”

“I never meant for him to get hurt.” Her sorrow actually looked real.

“A little late for that now, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” Rondelle focused on the bar behind us and said thoughtfully, “Interestin’ that you ain’t still in there with Tony.”

“Why is that interesting?”

“You’re out here in under thirty minutes and you ain’t wearin’ that ‘I-just-got-laid’ smile.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said dryly. “How do you know we didn’t just have a quickie?”

“He likes to take his time.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask how she knew Martinez’s sexual preferences, but the bottom line was I really didn’t want to hear a second hand answer.

“That’s why you’re acting like you trust me all of a sudden? Because I’m not screwing Tony Martinez?”

“That, and because Harvey don’t trust you.”

So much for my ego.

“Man.” She dragged her hand through her tangled hair. “I fucked up. I never shoulda let him make me do that job.”

Who made her do what? Had she been forced into prostitution? “How did you . . . I mean . . .

Hell, were you really taking money for sex at those parties?”

Her lips curled with contempt. “Nah. I just like fuckin’ with Harvey’s head. Asshole deserves it.

Thinks the worst of me anyway. When I wasn’t workin’ the cage I really was just a cocktail waitress.”

Why would she tell such a big lie?

A rusted Buick LeSabre cruised right toward us. She watched it cagily, slouching out of sight.

It braked in front of us anyway. The driver’s side window rolled down. A man poked his head out.

“Rondelle. Come on. We gotta go.”

He was a good-looking Native American male, about thirty, cocky, with intense eyes. On second thought, shifty eyes.

“Frankie, I told you to stay over there. No one’s supposed to know I’m here.”

“This is boring as shit. How much longer I gotta wait?”

“Until I’m done.”

Like an angry stallion he tossed his head; a long black mane cascaded over his broad shoulder.

“Who the fuck is she?”

“Who the fuck are you?” I retorted.

Frankie sneered and said something to Rondelle in Lakota. I caught
wasicu
, the derogatory name for a white person. Great.

Her abrupt response to him included hand gestures.

Lip curled, he glared at me, destroying his previous beauty. Bald tires spun gravel as he sped away.

“Frankie Ducheneaux, I presume?”

“Yeah.” She watched his taillights disappear. “How’d you hear about him?”

“Donovan.” I settled back against the car door. “What’s the deal? You dating him?”

“I did for awhile, after we met at a meeting.”

With the way Rondelle had knocked back the vodka I’d bet my last fifty bucks it wasn’t a Sacred Buffalo Sobriety meeting. “A church social?” I joked.

“Sort of. Medicine Wheel Holy Society.”

“The group that opposes the casino? You’re a member?”

“Used to be. Frankie still is.” She closed her eyes. “Lately he’s worked at Trader Pete’s in the restaurant.”

Seemed strange Frankie wouldn’t have told her who she was working for.

“Know what’s pathetic? The only reason he hooked up with me was to get me to feed him information from Donovan about what was goin’ on at the building site. Then he could share it with the Medicine Wheel Society and act like a big man with the leaders. When I wouldn’t tell him nothin’ anymore, he dumped me.”

“Then why are you here with him now?”

“Not my choice. Harvey tracked him down and told him to bring me here. Frankie ain’t stupid enough to tell the Hombres
no
. Jerk knew where I’d been hidin’ out.”

“Do you trust him?”

She laughed. “No. I ain’t leavin’ with him, either.”

I counted to ten, patting myself on the back for my uncharacteristic patience. “You sure you should be telling me this, Rondelle?”

“No, but there’s some other stuff you oughta know. It’s about the Carluccis. Somethin’ I didn’t want them to hear.”

Withholding more information? Not a smart move. “Martinez is better equipped to deal with any problems you’re having with them.”

“No. You’ll understand because . . . ”

“I’m a woman?”

“Yeah.” She gnawed on her lip for a second, debating. “See, there’s a reason I didn’t tell them the guy’s name I was with when I overheard that stuff about the sabotage. I wasn’t s’posed to be in the private meeting room.”

I waited; alarm bells rang in my head. “Who brought you there?”

“Little Joe Carlucci,” she said softly.

“Oh shit.”

“Exactly.”

“How did you get mixed up with him?”

“He started buggin’ me the first week on the job. I was sorta flattered, I mean, he’s a good lookin’ guy, smooth, has money. And everyone called him ‘Junior’, not Little Joe. My boss, Robin, just told me to be nice to him.”

“So, how nice
were
you?”

“Guess.”

On her knees or naked on her back kind of nice.

I didn’t want to ask, but I had to know what she’d been dealing with. “Straight sex?”

“Mostly.”

“How long did this go on?”

“Too long. I got sick of it real fast. Didn’t need his bullshit with all the other junk goin’ on in my life, so I gave notice.”

Rondelle didn’t strike me as the type who’d give warning before she left a crappy job. “Why didn’t you just quit?”

“Would’ve put my boss, Robin, in a bind, tryin’ to fill my shifts. I trusted her to keep it quiet.”

Half a dozen Harleys roared in, making conversation impossible until they parked.

Finally, she said, “’Course, someone told him.”

My brows lifted.

“Not Robin. She was the only friend I had up there.”

“What happened?”

“On the day before my last shift, he called me upstairs. Stupid me, I went. He must’ve been on something, cause he dragged me outta his office by the hair into the next room and raped me.

First . . . then, the other, right after.” She shuddered so hard she rocked my car. “He was in such a hurry he forgot to—”

Rondelle’s eyes flicked to me, the stark fear in them made me sick.