Jude Devine Mystery Series (11 page)

“I don’t know. Sister Naoma says they sent her to Canada to another husband.”

“My mother’s gone?” The boys’ question was more like a strangled wail.

Even Summer turned around. “Yes,” she hissed. “So there’s no point you keeping on coming back. You’re in mighty big trouble, all for nothing.”

“Please, Summer, let us go,” Adeline begged. “ I’ll take him with me and we’ll never come back, I promise.”

Summer hesitated, rocking back and forth on her heels, one hand clutching the small of her back. In the deep shadows of the barn her face was hard to read, but Adeline could sense she was weakening. She reached for the bolt then wavered and fell back.

“I can’t,” she said. “The devil is speaking through you. I cannot be tempted.”

“No, it’s not the devil, it’s me!” Adeline fell onto her knees. “Please. It’s me. Your sister.”

But something hardened in Summer’s face, and Adeline knew in that moment that her big sister was lost to her.

When Jude got into work the next morning, Bobby Lee Parker was slouched against his fancy truck in the parking area. He wore black jeans, red shirt, and a black Santa Fe hat. This was angled down like he was sleeping standing up.

She pulled up alongside, wondering what could possibly have prompted this visit. Convicted felons did not usually pay social calls on law enforcement. She glanced past him into his lovingly waxed Silverado. The driver’s door was open and Bobby Lee had company. A small fair-haired figure sat hunched in the passenger seat. Twelve years old, maybe. He was asleep.

Jarred by the sight, Jude had to shake herself. Like all slight, fair-haired twelve-year-old boys, this one made her skip a breath or two. Refocusing, she gathered up her satchel and food supplies, climbed out of the Dakota, and locked the doors, aware all the while of Bobby Lee’s gaze sliding over her.

“Mornin’, ma’am.” He sidled around his truck and tipped his hat with ostentatious gallantry. “Allow me to help you with those.”

“There’s no need.” Jude tried not to move too sharply as she unhooked the station key ring from her belt. All she needed now was to drop the lot, proving herself a girl. “What can I do for you, Mr. Parker?”

“That’s a question I could answer a whole different way in different circumstances.” Bobby Lee grinned like this was a toothpaste commercial.

Jude said, “Get to the point.”

Only slightly crestfallen, he pointed to his passenger. “I knew you’d want to see this kid, Detective Devine.” He said it like
Dee-Vine
.
“Picked him up hitching out of Dove Creek. He’s got some information for you.”

“About?”

Bobby Lee extracted a folded sheet of paper from his shirt pocket. It was one of the Information Wanted posters the MCSO had plastered up everywhere, seeking leads in the Huntsberger case.

With patent satisfaction, Bobby Lee announced, “He had contact with the girl.”

“So did half of Cortez.”

“Yeah, but not recently.” He paused for effect. “The kid saw her a couple of months ago.”

Jude peered at him over her sunglasses.

“It’s the God’s honest truth. Least that’s what he says. Figured you’d want to talk to him.”

“I do.” Jude headed for the station. “Bring him in.”

She unlocked the front door and the internal security door, and dumped her stuff on her desk. Through the window she could see Bobby Lee trying to drag the kid toward the station. After a minute or so, she went back outdoors.

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Parker?”

“He’s real nervous of the police, ma’am. Minute he saw the sheriff badge on your sign, he made a run for it.”

“A feeling I am sure you can relate to,” Jude said dryly.

“If you’re referring to my past, that’s all over now.” Bobby Lee’s tone suggested he was hurt by the implication.

“Son, what’s your name?” Jude asked the boy.

Silence.

“He goes by Zach.” Bobby Lee shook the kid’s shoulder. “Hey. Wake up, pal. There’s a burger and fries when you’re done telling the detective what you told me.”

Jude could almost see the boy drool. He looked starved, bony arms and ankles protruding from filthy overalls a few sizes too small. The flies couldn’t get enough of him either. She could hardly wait to have him cooped up indoors exuding the stench of unwashed body and cat piss.

“Zach, nothing bad is going to happen to you,” she said. “And if you’re hungry, I can rustle up some breakfast in the station.”

Huge, limpid blue eyes stared up at her from a gaunt face. “Please don’t make me go back.”

“Back where?”

He lowered his head and mumbled something.

Bobby Lee removed his hat and swished it to disperse the flies. “He’s real afraid of being sent back to his hometown on account of people there who beat on him.”

Jude was cautious about making promises to a runaway. She would have to take this kid to child services once she’d interviewed him. If family back home were looking for him, he would be returned unless there was proof of abuse and neglect. And it would not be up to Colorado Social Services to make that decision. The first thing they would do is hand his case over to Utah.

“While you’re here with me, no one will hurt you,” she said. “Now come on indoors.”

The fight seemed to go out of him then, and he sagged against Bobby Lee, who uttered a startled yelp and recoiled in dismay, propping him at arm’s length. “Shit,” he told Jude, “he’s fucking unconscious.”

They carried him into the station and put him on the bunk bed in the holding cell. He weighed almost nothing. Maybe eighty pounds.

Jude got a glass of water and gently slapped the boy’s cheeks a couple of times. “Drink this,” she said as he came around.

“Oh, man. Disgusting.” Bobby Lee was sniffing his own hands. “That smell…it transferred itself.”

“You can go,” Jude told him. “Thanks for bringing him in.”

“At your service, ma’am.” The Romeo of Cortez produced a slip of paper from his jeans and handed it to her. “That’s my number if you need me for anything else.”

“Appreciate that.” Jude kept her attention on the task of reviving her smelly visitor. “How about you leave the door open on your way out. We could use some fresh air.”

“Your wish is my command.” The booted feet stayed where they were.

Jude looked up. She could swear he batted his eyelashes. “Was there something else, Mr. Parker?”

A shit-eating grin. “Anyone ever tell you, you have beautiful eyes, ma’am? I just wanted to look into them one more time.”

Jude gave him a long, hard stare. “Get out of here before I arrest you for that gas station heist.”

Bobby Lee held her gaze without flinching. “Don’t suppose you’d care to discuss that over a fine meal?”

“If you have something to say to me, we can talk about it after I’ve read you your rights,” she replied.

“Hard to get. I like that in a woman.” He looked her brazenly up and down. “Give me a call when you need some satisfaction. Doesn’t look like you’re getting a whole lot of that.”

Fresh out of smart replies, Jude could only stare in mild shock as her would-be date sauntered away. Men never hit on her, a state of affairs that made her thankful. There was enough shit to deal with on the job without colleagues trying to into her pants. She figured most guys she met were too intimidated to indulge themselves in fantasies about winning her over with their manly charms. It seemed as if they sensed she was not available, even if they couldn’t be sure why.

Hearing a groan, she returned her attention to the boy on the cot, and asked, “Feeling better?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He eyed the cell door, his expression hunted.

Sensing an imminent bolt, she took one of his clammy hands. “Let’s go sit in the other room and I’ll fix you some breakfast.”

He couldn’t get out of the cell fast enough. Jude sat him at Tulley’s desk, automatically checking the wall clock. The deputy wouldn’t be in for another half hour. She took a can of soda from the fridge, pulled the tab, and set it in front of the boy. A shot of glucose seemed like a good move.

He gulped some down and said, “Much obliged, ma’am.”

Jude pulled a couple of frozen entrees from the freezer, stuck the first of these in the microwave, and set up her tape recorder. “What’s your full name, Zach?”

He looked cagey, a film of perspiration shining on his upper lip and brow. After a beat, he seemed to conclude that neither life nor liberty were in immediate danger and replied, “Zachariah Nephi Carter.”

“And how old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

Jude froze. Eighty pounds. Barely five and half feet. The voice and development of a twelve-year-old. Eighteen could not be possible. She wondered if he was lying for fear of being returned to his family. Careful not to show any sign of disbelief, she asked, “What’s your address?”

He fidgeted. “I don’t have a place right now. Last few months I’ve been doing odd jobs in exchange for meals.”

Apparently not enough of them to put any flesh on his bones. The microwave bleeped and Jude hauled out the dinner and ripped off the plastic. She set it in front of him with some utensils. “We can talk while you eat.”

He hesitated. “You’re not giving me your own breakfast, are you, ma’am?”

“No, it’s going spare. And since you’ve troubled yourself to come help with our enquiries, it’s all yours.”

He fell on it like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, the fork quivering in his hands. With a mixture of anger and sorrow, Jude watched him devour the small serving. Zach Carter was plainly malnourished and he hadn’t got this way overnight. If he was a runaway, maybe he had good reason.

“Where are you from originally?” she asked him.

“Utah.”

Eddie House’s words repeated in her mind. He could tell Poppy was from Utah because she had been mistreated. “You’re not living with your family?”

“I was unworthy.”

Unworthy. It wasn’t just teen-speak. His face wore naked despair. She put the next meal in the microwave, figuring the first wouldn’t make a dent. Setting his unworthiness aside for a later discussion, she said, “So, Bobby Lee was telling me you knew Darlene.”

He paused between mouthfuls. “I didn’t know that was her name. She said it was Diantha.”

“What makes you think Diantha was Darlene?”

“I saw the picture. It’s her, for sure.”

“How did you come to know her?”

“She lived near my family.”

“Where is that?”

He hesitated. “Rapture.”

“You were friends with her?”

An incredulous stare. “No.”

“Then how did you know her?”

“She was kind to me after I was cast out. For a while, I hid in places. She found me and she didn’t tell anyone where I was.”

“Where was that?”

“In a barn on the Gathering for Zion Ranch. She was one of Mr. Epperson’s celestial wives.”

“Come again?”

He stared at her uncertainly. “A man must have three wives to enter the celestial kingdom, but because the government is league with Satan, he can only be legally married to one woman in this country. So the marriages are celestial.”