He escorted the girls to his unit and put them both in the backseat together. They were quiet as he radioed in an update. He followed Courtney’s directions to their car, a dust-covered dark blue Audi.
He climbed out and opened the back door. “Here’s what’s going to happen now. Alisha, you will stay with me. Because this is a special circumstance, Courtney, I’m going to allow you to take that car back to the hotel where you are staying. If I see any driving violations, I will make sure you don’t drive again for at least a year. When we get there, you are going to introduce me to your father, explain what happened, and apologize to him for the trouble. That goes for both of you. Understand?”
“Got it,” Courtney said.
“Alisha?”
“I understand.”
He waited while Courtney started the Audi and followed as it bounced along in the moonlight toward the park exit, traveling below the speed limit. She wasn’t a bad driver.
He spoke to Alisha. “I noticed you rubbing your arm back there. Did you hurt it?”
“It’s OK.”
“What happened?”
“He—he—” And then her voice grew small and tearful. “Nothing. I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Dad, Jeff Isenberg, was a fortysomething man with a military haircut who seemed suitably shocked by the turn of events. After the girls apologized, Chee said, “I need to talk to your dad about this in private.”
“Go to your room,” Isenberg said. “I’ll deal with you after the officer leaves.”
Chee reminded him about the restrictions on Courtney’s license, gave him a mini lecture on responsible gun ownership. He sensed that Isenberg wanted to argue with him, but the man simply said, “Got it.”
“One more thing. I noticed Alisha rubbing her arm. She might have gotten hurt out there. I asked her about it, but she didn’t want to tell me. She seems a lot more upset than her sister.”
“She’s the sensitive one. I’ll make sure she’s OK. Nothing means more to me than my little girls.”
Back at the substation to type up the report, Chee found a message: “Go home. Meet with me and the detective assigned to the grave case at 7 a.m.”
He would have liked to go home, but instead he drove to Paul’s place. Paul was waiting up for him.
“How’s it going? How’s my couch-surfin’ crime fighter?”
“OK. Ready for sleep.”
“Well, here’s some good news for you. We’ve got a sunset tour tomorrow.”
“Great. But what about the People Mover?”
“All good, bro. Somebody knew somebody who found everything we need.”
“That’s great.” Chee knew what was coming next.
“Could you fix it?”
He hesitated long enough that Paul added, “Not now. Maybe in the morning? You know I stink at this stuff.”
“I’ve gotta be at work at seven.”
“No problem then. We can do it after you get off. That should be around five, right?”
One thing Chee liked about Paul was his optimism.
7
Bernie awoke as the sky changed from gray to a color closer to pale pink. For a split second, she wondered where she was. The house was quiet, Mama and Darleen still slept. She rose and dressed and went outside to watch the sunrise. She felt energized this morning, grateful that her mother was still with her, that she had married a good man, that she had work she enjoyed, and that Sister was safely home. She sang her morning prayers. It would be a good day.
By the time Mama shuffled toward the kitchen, Bernie had made the oatmeal, and the familiar aroma of fresh coffee was filling the room. Mama wrapped her gnarled hands around the mug Bernie had poured for her. “When I was a girl, we had that Arbuckles coffee. It was good, too. Do they still make that coffee?”
“Gosh, I don’t know. I never heard of it.”
“It came with a yellow-and-red label that had a woman with wings on it. I loved to look at that woman.” Mama spooned some sugar into her cup. “Did Youngest Daughter get home?”
“She came in late.”
Mama looked up, waiting for more details.
“She ate and went to bed. She said she would tell us what happened this morning.”
“I will be happy to have both my daughters here today.”
“I can’t stay. I talked to Captain Largo. He needs me at the station.”
Mama shrugged. Bernie felt disappointment circle the room and settle into the pit of her stomach. It was an old conflict, balancing her enjoyment of work with her duty of—and pleasure in—spending time with Mama. And Chee made life even more fun and more complicated.
When she’d finished her coffee, Bernie stood. “I’m going to wake Sister. I have to go soon.”
She rapped on Darleen’s bedroom door. “Time to get up. We have to leave in half an hour.”
“You go on without me.” Darleen’s voice sounded muffled, as though she were lying on her stomach or talking through a pillow.
“I don’t have a car, remember? You’re driving me to Shiprock.”
“Oh, right. Save me some coffee.”
Bernie had gently helped Mama into the front passenger seat, folded the walker into the trunk, and was fiddling with the wire clasp when Darleen walked out with a mug in one hand.
“I need my keys, Sister,” she said. “I’m your chauffeur today, you lucky girl.”
Bernie unzipped the front pocket of her backpack, felt the smooth metal of the keys and the heart-shaped ornament, and put them in her sister’s hand.
“There’s some junk in the backseat,” Darleen said. “Just move it so you can fit.”
The backseat looked like a cross between a flea market and a trash bin. Bernie shoved everything—Darleen’s sweat shirt, a plastic bag filled with who-knows-what, some books, and even what could have been old class assignments from high school—to the other side of the car and sat behind Mama. She made room for her feet among the empty water bottles, beer bottles, crumpled napkins, and discarded cigarette packs that cluttered the backseat floor.
On the seat next to her was a notebook, the page open to a pencil drawing. She picked it up. It showed two people in masks and a big creature, a jaguar or something, on a leash.
“This drawing is good. I like the animal.”
“It’s supposed to be a panther. It stinks, and you just proved it. It needs to look like it could bite somebody’s head off. Not, you know, like something dumb.”
“I said animal, but I thought it was a jaguar.”
“It’s terrible. I forgot it was back there. I should have burned it.”
Rather than argue, Bernie let the comment hang. Darleen had a knack for drawing, but she was always critical of her work. Bernie readjusted her feet and thought about the empty cigarette packages and the beer bottles. She hadn’t smelled smoke on Darleen or in the car, so it must be some of her friends who were smoking. Good. She’d talk to Sister about the beer again, about drinking in the car, and drinking in general. Sister wasn’t old enough to drink legally, and Bernie had lectured her about it until she couldn’t think of what else to say.
The breeze through the open front windows blew Bernie’s hair into her face. She found a band in her pack to use for a ponytail.