Ro looked at him. “JD came to the funeral?”
“Of course he came. His whole family came. The entire community showed up.” He wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “How can I explain this to you? I’m not really friends with those guys. But I know that if I needed something, I could go to JD or Salinez or Martinez or Weekly or any of the others and say, ‘Hey, I need your car or some money or to crash at your house for a couple of days.’ And they’d give me whatever I needed. And I’d do the same for them.”
“You’d do that for Weekly?”
“Of course. We’re not mortal enemies just because we punched each other. That’s just guys, Ro. When we were in grade school, we were always beating on each other. Mainly because school was so fucking boring. High school used to be a joke. Then a group of parents including my own started raising money to improve the school. It’s still boring but at least we’ve got some dedicated teachers and a few classes that don’t put me to sleep.”
Ro was cold. She turned up the heater in the car. They passed the San Felipe turnoff. Ben said, “Before I forget, could you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Go into my backpack and put the gun and ammo in the glove compartment. It’s not loaded.”
“Sure.” She retrieved the backpack, and took out the weapon and the box of bullets. “It feels really weird to hold it. My parents are so antigun. They’d freak if they knew you had one.”
“You didn’t mind it when we heard that bear.”
“They’d freak if they knew I went hiking in the vicinity of bears.”
“If you hike in the backcountry long enough, you’re going to come into contact with critters.”
“Ben, I grew up in Scarsdale, which is a wealthy suburb of New York. My parents are liberals through and through. They are politically correct, antigun, pro-choice, and most of all, staunchly against anything Republican.”
“Then it’s good you came to Santa Fe. It’s called the City Different for a reason. We’re a refuge city—not only for illegals, but also for old hippies, dropouts, and slackers. Which is fine. I’m socially liberal. But I am a law-and-order conservative.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“If I ever find the guy responsible for Ellen’s death, I’m going to push the needle into his veins myself.”
“Ugh!”
“Not ugh. Right on! If I could torture him before I killed him, I would.”
“No comment. Then again, my sister wasn’t killed, so I’m not going to judge.”
“Ellen wasn’t killed, Ro, she was murdered. Killed implies a car accident or falling from a roof. Murder means some bastard knowingly and willingly and probably with sexual pleasure snapped her neck. And when I find him, he is going to die!”
“I hear you.” She almost brought her thumbnail to her mouth but thought better of it. “What happens if a cop pulls you over and you have a gun in your car?”
“I tell him it’s in the glove compartment and my dad has permits. This is my dad’s car. It’s considered an extension of his house. If it was in your car, it would be illegal. That’s why I hid it.”
They passed the turnoff for Sandia.
Ben said, “It’s a few more miles of freeway, then we’ll have to travel the streets. We’ve got about another half hour.”
“Okay.” Ro was really nervous about meeting the Doogan family. “If I act like a jerk, just nudge me.”
“Why would you act like a jerk?”
“Sometimes I hide my anxiety with perkiness.”
“Why’d you come?” Ben asked her. “It’s not a trick question. I really want to know why you’re putting yourself through this.”
“Honestly, I came to be with you. I didn’t want you to endure this alone.”
Ben smiled. “No matter what happens in the future, Dorothy, I don’t think I’ve ever had a better friend.”
“Thank you.” A pause. “So maybe you’ll consider staying in school full-time next semester. It’s like five more months of high school. What’s the rush to become an adult?”
“I’ve already signed up for UNM. I’ve already signed the internship papers for Circuitchip. But I will miss seeing your beautiful face even from afar.”
“You think I’m beautiful?”
“Of course you’re beautiful. JD is right when he says you’re the hottest girl on the planet.”
“My charms aren’t working very well on you.” Ben said nothing. She said, “Come to the winter dance.”
“I can’t, Ro. I made plans.” A pause. “I’m only telling you this in case I die or something, so you’ll know the truth. I promised my mother I wouldn’t lie again, but I can’t tell her the truth. I don’t want either of my parents to know.”
“Now I am intrigued. What’s going on?”
“I told my parents that I was going to visit my friend—the one I told you about. Grant Statler. He’s at home with his family in L.A. for winter break—and I might go visit him. But my objective is to go to the Bay Area in California.”
She didn’t speak right away. “Does this have to do with Julia Rehnquist? Like I have to ask.”
“I’ve been in contact with the family for two months. They’ve agreed to talk to me. I’ve got this chance. I’m not going to blow it.”
“Vicks, I understand your obsession with Katie Doogan. You know the family. It happened on the heels of your sister. Julia Rehnquist was abducted over nine hundred miles from your sister.”
“Don’t waste your breath.”
“God, it’s like you go from one death to another to another.”
“And another and another until I find him! You said yourself that he’s going to repeat it. What should I do? Wait until he comes back here?”
“No, you should go to Shanks, not gallivant all over the country.”
“I’m going to Shanks. This week, like I promised. I also promised Ortiz. I’m giving them my stuff.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. Are you going to meet with the detective on the Rehnquist case?”
“Derek Whitecliffe. Maybe.” He paused. “I made plans to meet with the Rehnquists months ago, FYI.”
“Yeah, well, things change, Vicks, and so should you.” She held up her hand to stop him from answering her. “But that’s not going to happen. Instead I will wish you luck.”
“Thank you. Very nice to wish me luck instead of saying I’m an obsessive weirdo.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You thought it, right?”
“I can barely control my mouth. But my thoughts are my own, Vicks. And if that pisses you off, too damn bad.”
Chapter 22
There were barriers about a hundred yards from the trailhead. A black-uniformed police officer stopped them, pantomiming to them to turn around. Ben rolled down the window. “I’m with Detective Samuel Shanks from the River Remez PD. Can you check with him, please?”
“Can’t leave the post. You have to turn around.”
As if on cue, Shanks materialized. This time Ben pressed the electric button and the passenger glass disappeared. He yelled out, “Sam.”