“I am ready to hear your story,” Mama said to Darleen.
“It was stupid. I was stupid. I went to a party with Stoop Man and his sister. Some of their friends live in a cool place in Farmington, along the river, and they had a barbeque. It was fun, and she and I drank beer and did some shooters.”
Darleen adjusted the rearview mirror. “Then he was driving us home, and this dog wandered into the road, just came out of nowhere. He turned and missed it, but then the car swerved. We went into a ditch. Nobody got hurt or anything, but it was scary. We tried to push it free, but we couldn’t get it unstuck because of the sand. So Stoop Boy started hitching, trying to get a ride so we could get towed. His sister and I just waited. Our phones didn’t work there, of course.
“He was gone forever, so she and I decided to finish the six-pack in the backseat because there was nothing to do out there and we were, like, bored to death. Anyway, this sheriff’s deputy came by and asked what was up. We thought that sounded dumb, so we started laughing. The cop asked if we’d been drinking, and she said not enough, and we both kept laughing. Well, then he asked how old I was, and I said eighteen. Then that guy wanted me to pour my beer out and I argued with him about that, you know, that it was wasteful and he should mellow out. But he wouldn’t listen. The cop acted like he knew everything.”
“Beer. Whiskey,” Mama said. “They get people in trouble.”
“It was all a big, dumb mistake. I just didn’t think I’d go to jail.”
Bernie said, “You were way out of line.”
“I wasn’t driving. Nobody got hurt.”
So much, Bernie thought, for her sister learning a lesson. “But you shouldn’t be drinking. You’re too young, and it gets you in trouble. You know that.”
“I didn’t mean for you and Mama to worry about me.”
As Darleen approached the convenience store at the 491 intersection, Mama said, “We saw a crazy dog here yesterday. You be careful.”
“I know all about those darn dogs. That’s what got me arrested.”
“No,” Bernie said. “You got yourself arrested. And now you’re driving too fast. I’ve seen pickups come through these intersections, and they don’t stop to look for traffic. You have to pay enough attention for you and the other guy.”
“Anything else, Ms. Backseat Driver?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact. That officer—”
Darleen’s phone rang, and Bernie interrupted herself. “Don’t answer it, it’s not safe—”
Darleen picked up the phone, glanced at the screen, then reached back to hand it to Bernie. “You get it.”
Bernie touched to answer. “Hello.”
She heard Chee’s familiar voice. “Well. Finally. How’s everything?”
“OK,” she said. “Sister is driving me back to our house so I can get to work. She was telling Mama and me what happened.”
“Our house? I thought you were with Mama for a few days. What did happen in Farmington? I got the overview, but not the details. Is she looking at a fine, community service?”
“I’m not sure yet.” A lot about Darleen’s abbreviated story didn’t quite make sense.
“I can see it now. Darleen at the wheel, talking away. Mama in the front seat. You in the backseat, surrounded by assorted junk.”
“You’ve got the picture.”
“And your sister’s driving is making you crazy.”
“Wish you were here?”
“Yeah. Sitting next to you, trying my best to distract you from worrying about your sister or your mother.”
Bernie laughed. “I miss you. What’s happening out there?”
Chee filled her in on Paul and Bahe’s request that he start the Monument Valley assignment early. He told her about finding Melissa, the trespassing teens, and the grave. He sounded good over the phone. Happy. Happier, she thought, to be working as a cop than he was as a cop on vacation.
“It’s great to hear your voice,” she said. “It seems like we’ve been apart forever. When will you be home?”
“Oh, a few more days. I figured you’d need to stay at Mama’s at least that long to get Darleen straightened out.”
“Actually, I’m going back to work. Remember that traffic stop, and the guy who tried to bribe me?” She told him about the problem with the camera. “The DEA is taking a look at the car today, and I want to be there for that. I’m curious about what was in there that was so important.”
“I was hoping you’d cruise on up here again once you got Mama situated.” She heard the disappointment in his voice.
“But you’re working, and you’re helping Paul, too.”
There was silence on the phone, and then he said, “I still wish you were here.”
After he hung up, she tried not to feel sorry for herself because she’d come in second to his cousin and a movie about zombies. Darleen and Mama were talking about school, but as soon as they finished, Bernie planned to redirect the conversation back to the arrest.
“They say that Diné College has good teachers,” Mama was saying. “And you know that girl from your class who went to San Juan College. Then some people like that UNM in Gallup.”
“After what just happened, I want to go somewhere away from here, Mama. Someplace where I wouldn’t run into people I know who like to party. Remember, the IA?”
Bernie chimed in. “Institute of American Indian Arts.” A good, tough school in Santa Fe, but too far from home for her little sister.
Darleen asked, “How come you know about it?”
“Our cousin’s wife’s nephew went there. Peewee.”
Darleen laughed. “That guy!”
“Some famous artists taught there—Fritz Scholder, Charles Loloma, Allan Houser.”
Darleen turned on the signal to pass. “I’ll find out what I need to do to get in.”
Right, Bernie thought. “I bet you have to have your GED first.”
Darleen pulled up in front of Bernie’s Shiprock trailer and parked. She left the motor running.
“You two want to come in?”
“No. I need to get over to the library to use the Internet for the IA. OK with you, Mama?”
Mama nodded. “You and Sister talk about that Eye school some more.”
Bernie walked to Darleen’s open window. “Call me tonight. Be careful driving home, and no drinking.”
“Anything else?”
“Watch out for those dogs.”
“Hey, thanks for buying gas.”
“Your tires were low, and I put in some air. Keep an eye on that.”
Bernie spoke to Mama. “Remember to drink plenty of water on these hot days.”
“That’s right,” Darleen said. “You drink more, and I’ll drink less.”