Broken Lullaby

“And you’re sure we’ll have TV?” Justin asked.

“I’m sure. Maybe not today, but by next week for sure.”

Justin sat up and peered out the windshield. “Is the dark-haired guy Uncle Eric? I don’t remember him. He’s not as big as Uncle Kenny.”

No, Eric wasn’t as big as Uncle Kenny. Both Mary and Eric looked more like their mother. They were tall, dark and sinewy. Their older brothers, Sardi, Tony and Kenny, looked like their father. They resembled tall, dark, walking refrigerators. Eric’s friend had good-looking down to an art, but he sure wasn’t dressed for the dirty work of unloading furniture and unpacking boxes.

Both men started walking toward the driver’s side window. The friend’s walk was sure, deliberate. He moved without a smile. There was something about him…“He’s a cop,” Mary muttered.

Alma ducked.

“What are we going to do, Mom?” Justin sat up, half excited, half worried. In the backseat, panic seemed to roll off the girl in waves.

Mary recognized the extreme fear. A lifetime of avoiding police detection came back too easily. “Justin, it’s more like what you are going to do. Jump out, run over, give your Uncle Eric a hug and turn them away from the car. Alma, you slip out when they’re not looking and go hide. You’ll need to hide for quite a while. They’ll be unloading the U-Haul. Take some food and water from the box on the floorboard.”

Justin obeyed, and Mary watched as he approached and the men turned to the side.

Glancing in the backseat and watching as Alma rolled trail mix, chips and bottles of water into her blanket, Mary knew Alma had no intention of coming back.

Being alone for two days must have damaged Mitch’s vocal chords. Yes, that was it. Two days without giving orders, conducting interrogations or heading up meetings had combined to render him speechless. Otherwise, he’d have to admit it was the gorgeous woman stepping out of the car who left him tongue-tied.

Speechlessness wasn’t a comfortable feeling for Mitch, especially over the likes of Mary Santellis-Graham. He could see that she wasn’t nearly as bowled over by him. She had already made him as a cop and he wasn’t surprised by her quick assessment. Mary was a Santellis who’d been on the run for the past three years. Cop and bogeyman were synonymous in her world.

Eric appeared oblivious to the tension between Mitch and his sister and asked, “How was the drive?”

That’s when Mary smiled and his tongue went from tied to gone completely. Mitch hoped he didn’t need to say anything because he couldn’t, even if he tried.

She flipped her long hair over a shoulder and confidently strode toward her brother. The resemblance was uncanny. And both had mastered the art of attitude.

“The drive was fine. Now, why did you bring a cop with you?” Mary spoke the words to Eric but shot the get-off-my-property look at Mitch.

“He’s not a cop, exactly,” Eric said easily. “Mitch Williams is with Internal Affairs, which means unless you’ve done something bad with a cop or because of a cop, you’re safe.”

“My mom doesn’t go near cops,” Justin stated. “Me, neither.”

It was the young boy who helped free Mitch’s tongue. He had the blue-black hair and attitude of the Santellis clan, but from Mitch’s recollection of his run-ins with Eddie, the boy had his father’s stockiness. “So who do you go to when you’re in trouble?” Mitch asked.

“I go to my mom.”

Mitch turned to Mary. “And who do you go to when you’re in trouble?”

She met his gaze head-on. “I distance myself from the problem.”

Mitch almost grinned. He was pretty sure she was thinking he was going to be a problem.

“Hey, hey,” Eric butted in. “What’s going on here? You two, stop it. Sis, Mitch is your nearest neighbor. He lives right up there.”

Mitch watched as Mary warily looked up Prospector’s Way to the only cabin in sight.

Eric didn’t appear to notice her discomfort. “Mary, I came out early because I wanted to scout out the area. I didn’t know Mitch was even at his place. I’ve been filling him in on a case Ruth is investigating, and he’s willing to help.”

“What kind of case?” Mary asked carefully. Her son edged a little closer, looking interested.

Eric continued, “A two-month-old baby boy was kidnapped Sunday in Gila City. We know the family. The local police have done everything they know how to do, but each hour that passes gives whoever took the baby a greater chance of getting away.”

Mary’s eyes softened and she reached out and put her hand on her son’s shoulder, as if checking to making sure he was really next to her, really safe. She was taking care of her own.

There was no one who felt that way about Mitch.

And it was his own fault.

“They already rule out family members?” she asked.

“Yes, pretty much.” Eric said. “The mother’s a sixteen-year-old girl, Angelina Santos. Her father, a police officer, died just a year ago. The father is a fifteen-year-old boy. His family’s taking a little bit more time to warm to the idea of being grandparents, but, hey, they had plans for their son.”

“Sixteen, huh?” Mary said, slowly. “And Hispanic?”

Eric nodded, and Mitch watched Mary’s face. Something was bothering her and it wasn’t just him. Finally, she continued, “And you’re sure neither family is suspect?”

“Absolutely sure,” Eric insisted. “The girl’s family attends our church and when little José was—”

Mary held up her hand for him to stop. “Is the mother way too thin?”

“Too thin? No,” Eric said, “What makes you ask?”

“Mom, don’t!” Justin suddenly jerked away from his mother’s hand and turned to face her. His whole face shouted, don’t trust the cop! Stop talking.

They learned so young, this distrust of the system—a system supposed to help not hurt.

“Mom, Angelina’s the wrong name. Our girl’s Alma. Don’t tell them anything!”

Mary shot her son a look that almost made Mitch want to back down. In the silence of the moment and because years of habit told him just what to do, he pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket and starting writing down names. “Tell me more about Alma, son,” he urged.

“Should I show—” Eric started to say.

“Not yet,” Mitch said. He wanted to see how the story went both before and after showing the drawing.

Mary glanced at Eric, then began to talk. “We stopped at the car lot on the way here. We were running early and I wanted to see my inheritance. Justin was exploring outside and I started inside. What a mess.”

“Some things did get taken when we were working on your husband’s case,” Mitch said. “We did a full investigation. We have the books and a few other personal items. I’ll see that they’re returned. Now, tell me more about this Alma.”

“I heard a moan and went in Eddie’s office. Even though it was over a hundred degrees, I found a young girl in there rolled up in an old blanket. I thought she was dead, but she moved.” Mary looked at Eric. “Made sense to me. When you moved to Broken Bones you found dead bodies, the same could happen to me. But, she moved. She opened her eyes and looked at me and when I threatened to call the police—”

“Mom would never call the police,” Justin interrupted.

“—she sat up. She was a teenager, Hispanic. She spoke pretty good English. She was also undernourished.”

“Is she still at the car lot?” Mitch asked, looking at Eric’s old truck and wishing he’d brought his own vehicle.

“No, I brought her here. Back at the car lot, she got somewhat hysterical after Justin stomped in.”

“I didn’t mean to scare her,” Justin defended himself.

“You didn’t scare her, honey. She fell apart when I told her you were my son.” Mary looked at Eric. “She looked pretty young, maybe sixteen. She told us her name was Alma. Could she be Angelina?”

“No,” Eric said. “There’s no reason for Angelina to be hiding at the car lot, and I saw her last night. She’s not malnourished.”

“Did this Alma have an infant with her?” Mitch started for the car.

Mary yelled after him. “She’s not in there. And, no, she didn’t have an infant with her. I had Justin divert you guys and she slipped away. I told her to hide until you left, but I’m pretty sure she’s not of a mind to come back.”

Mitch bypassed the car and disappeared behind the cabin.

“Alma?” Eric shook his head. “That name doesn’t ring a bell as one of our missing children or their mamas.” Then, he took off after Mitch. Justin followed behind.

“Missing children?” Mary said, although no one, not even Justin, stuck around to listen. “You mean, there’s more than one?”

THREE

What a homecoming. Standing behind the cabin, Mary watched Mitch as he studied the ground, moving right, then left, careful where he placed his feet. His crisp brown Dockers blended in well with the scenery. He was definitely a sharp-dressed man. A good-looking one, too, even if he was a cop. He glanced back—not at them but at the location of the sun—pulled his cell phone from his belt and motioned for Eric while holding a hand for Justin to stay put.

Eric slowly moved toward Mitch, careful to step where Mitch had stepped. Justin paced at the top of an embankment. Oh boy, her son wanted to go along on the hunt, find Alma, be involved. It was disconcerting to see another adult influence her son’s actions. She’d been handling Justin alone for so long.

And Mitch Williams wasn’t the type of man she wanted to influence her son.

Powerful men worried Mary. Maybe that was why she’d married Eddie. She hadn’t thought of him as powerful. If Mary ever got involved with a man again, she’d try to choose a nice, safe accountant or maybe a barber.

“He’ll be back in a moment.” Eric, already red and sweaty, joined her. “When Mitch gets an idea, sometimes it’s best to let him be.” He reached inside his back pocket. “Here, take a look at this.”

Mary took the police sketch and felt her knees go weak.

“Is that the girl that was at the lot?”

“Yes.”

“No doubt?”

“None. If you knew about Alma, why’d you let me think it was Angelina?”

“We didn’t have a name for this girl. Right now she’s a person of interest. We do know she was at the festival on Sunday, and we do know that for some reason she was fascinated with little José. Sis, you have no idea what a help you’ve been. Now, thanks to you, we have a place to start. I need to call Ruth. She can run the name, and she needs to know Mitch’s involvement in the case. Then I’m guessing she’ll call the Santos boys, see what they think.”

“The Santos boys?”

“Angelina’s brothers, José’s uncles, all cops.”

Mary shook her head. “I can’t imagine Alma has anything to do with the missing children. She’s nothing but a child herself. She acted scared of her own shadow.”

“Fear’s a powerful motivator. You know that.” Eric’s words, so softly spoken, almost put Mary in tears.

“You know,” she said, “you’re starting to sound like a cop.”

“No surprise since I’m married to one.”

Eric handed Mary a key to the cabin before walking to the edge of the driveway. Mary almost lost her breath when she stepped into the living room. It was like traveling back in time a whole decade. She and Eddie had lived in this cabin as newlyweds. She’d been ecstatically content for maybe the first two years of their marriage. Eddie had worked long hours at the used car lot, trying to prove to her father that he could handle it on his own. Occasionally, he’d take a day off and they’d hike or just veg in front of the television. A few times they’d taken day trips.

With Eddie, she’d almost had it all. For two years, two blessed, happy years, she’d loved her husband, loved her life and started to believe bliss was hers. She’d learned to cook, studied antiques, learned to craft and discovered a genuine love of the land. She’d been free to do what she wanted without her family dictating every move.

She still loved those things. Her feelings for her late husband had certainly changed, though. As Eddie got more involved in her family’s dealings and spent more time with her brother Tony, the husband she thought would keep her safe turned into her nightmare.

Tony was not a nice man, and it only took two years for Eddie to become just like Tony.

Mary had not been surprised when the private detective hired by Eric finally tracked her down just a week ago and told her Eddie had died in prison. Her two older brothers had both been executed the moment they walked out of prison.

Mary had been surprised by the private detective’s next words. Not only did Eric want her to come home, but he and Ruth wanted to help her get free of potential charges of child endangerment and assault. With regard to the assault charge, they thought she had nothing to worry about. Even Eddie said he deserved the black eye. And Eric knew and liked the caseworker assigned to Justin and Mary because of the child endangerment issue. He believed she would be receptive to Mary’s situation. Still, it chilled Mary’s heart. She knew the law. Once a report is made, be it by a doctor or police officer, concerning a minor exposed to illegal drugs, an investigation starts and a caseworker is assigned. That’s why Mary ran in the first place.

She walked across the wooden floor to the window and stared out at Justin. She’d show him that honor and respect were traits to believe in. She’d do it the legal way. Her son wandered down the embankment, clearly torn between what he wanted to do and what he thought his mother would allow. Mary knew that with every fiber of his being, her son wanted to be out there, looking for Alma with Mitch.

Not a chance.

“You okay?” Eric stood in the doorway, looking and acting more like a big brother than baby brother.

“I’m fine. So what happened to the baby who’s missing?”

Eric didn’t need much prompting. “It’s the craziest thing. There was some type of Hispanic celebration in town—”

“Gila City?”

“Yes. Angelina was there with her mom and one of her brothers plus his family. Her nephew needed to use the restroom, so Angelina took him. She had little José in a stroller. Manny, that’s the nephew, apparently got upset at being shut in the port-a-potty, so Angelina stepped in for just a moment. When she stepped out the stroller was gone. At first, she thought her older brother was pulling a prank on her.”

Mary’s eyes misted.

“He wasn’t,” Eric growled.

“Do you really think the girl we found might have some connection?”

“Yes, and it’s our first real lead.”

“Our? Man, you sound like a cop.”

“And it feels good. Look, Angelina’s from a great family. Her father was killed just a year ago. In a way, his murder was by the same crowd who killed Ruth’s first husband.”

“I’m so sorry.” The words didn’t seem enough. Mary hadn’t even met Ruth, or Megan, her new niece, yet. She only knew that Eric had met Ruth when the body of Ruth’s first husband had been found here on Eric’s property. Even through those tragic circumstances, her little brother and Ruth had been able to find love. Mary had only spoken with Ruth, who had already given her an “I’ve always wanted a sister” welcome and an invitation to stay with them in Gila City anytime.

She sounded too good to be true. Maybe she was. Ruth was a cop and Santellises didn’t date cops, let alone marry them. What’s more, cops didn’t date Santellises; they arrested them.

And speaking of cops, Mary wasn’t sure she wanted a good-looking, good-hearted cop living so close. “So your Mr. Williams is Internal Affairs. Why is he involved in this case? Do they think a cop has something to do with this missing baby?”

“No, Mitch just heard the story an hour ago when I showed up at his house. I showed him the drawing. It reminded him of a case he was working on.” Eric started to say more, but Mitch entered the room with Justin on his heels.

“She’s gone,” Mitch stated, taking a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket and mopping his forehead. “And it’s more than hot out there.”

“Ruth and three of the Santos boys are on their way.” Eric said. “I showed Mary the sketch. It’s the same girl. Man, I hope this is a lead. Ruth has three names, three Hispanic children taken over the last two years. Three.”

“Three’s a big number,” Mitch agreed.

“And Ruth thinks that number’s low. She thinks more went unreported.”

“Who wouldn’t report their child’s abduction?”

“It goes back to fear, Mary.” Eric’s voice once again went soft and took Mary back in time to the years when they hid in closets to avoid encountering their father on one of his rants.

“We’re talking about adults. Mothers, not children,” Mary argued.

“You called this Alma nothing more than a child. Remember?”

Unfortunately, she did. She remembered the child she’d encouraged to take her offering of trail mix and bottled water and head out into the blistering desert. Mary shook her head. What was she thinking? Sometimes dumb wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how she felt about her actions. “And you think Alma has something to do with all of this? That’s a stretch, isn’t it?”

“I think a Hispanic girl who speaks pretty good English and gets upset at the mention of a son is worth talking to. And, now, I think that a girl willing to hide alone in the Sonoran Desert in the heat of the day just to avoid the cops is worth finding.” Eric looked at Mitch. “What does your gut say?”

“My gut says your wife might have her first lead.”

“You’ll need to give permission to search the used car dealership, too,” Eric said to Mary.

“You have it. What else can I do to help?”

Eric shook his head. “Wait for orders from Ruth. One thing we don’t want to do is leave any stone unturned. The Santos boys have tempers.”

Twenty minutes later Mary’s new home hosted one sister-in-law officer and the baby’s three uncles. More agitated cops, just what Mary needed.

Ruth wasn’t what Mary expected. The female cops she’d encountered were rigid, stern women who seemed to have chips on their shoulders and a need to prove something. Not Ruth. First, Ruth was a good foot shorter than both Eric and Mary. Her red hair was in a braid, but not one so tight that it strained her features. And instead of walking and talking like she needed to assert herself, she took on the role of taskmaster in an even-tempered voice. Without missing a step, she assigned everyone, even Mary and Justin, a task.

Eric and the three Santos boys were assigned Alma. “We need to find her quickly,” Ruth said. “Not just for questioning but before she dies from exposure. It’s not even noon and the temperature’s over a hundred. She’s not in good shape. Mary says she looks malnourished. If we don’t find her soon, she might not be alive.”

Mary felt the familiar sinking feeling of I’ve-messed-up-again. “Maybe I should stay here, help look.”

“No.” Ruth shook her head. “I want you to travel back to Gila City with me, both to the used car lot and to the police station. We’ll retrace every step you made. Maybe we’ll find some clue as to who this girl is and where she’s heading.”

“I’ll be right back,” Mitch said. He’d been the silent observer during Ruth’s take-charge moments. The two obviously had a history of working together.

A grim mask closed over his face as a cell phone appeared in his hand, and he strode from the room without inviting company.

“Will Alma be all right, Mom?” Justin asked. “I can stay here, look for her. She trusts me. I won’t go far.”

“No, you don’t know the area.”

“But she talked to me,” Justin argued. “She likes me.”

“You know,” Eric said. “He’s got a point. If Justin’s with us, Alma might be a bit more inclined to show herself.”

“Justin isn’t acclimated to this heat,” Mary protested. “Plus, we don’t know what or who she’s hiding from. I’m not putting my son in danger!”

“You said she seemed like a runaway, just a child. Is there something you’re not telling us?” Mitch came back in the room. His clipped words settled like ice around her heart.

“I agree with Mary,” Ruth said. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with….”

“I want to look for Alma,” Justin said.

“I’ve told you everything,” Mary snapped at Mitch. Then, she turned to Justin and said, “You’re too young to get involved with this.”

“I’m already involved,” Justin argued.

“I’ll keep him with me,” Eric promised.

Everyone looked at Mary.

“Mom?”

“I—”

“Mom?” Justin spoke firmly, reminding Mary that while at eleven he wasn’t grown up, he wasn’t a baby anymore, either.

“You can start with the shed,” Eric advised. “There’s even a root cellar. Maybe she’s down there.”

“Looked there already,” Mitch said.

“Mom, I really want to do this!”

Returning to Arizona was definitely a mistake. She was already losing control of her son, her emotions, her life.

“You’re not to go out of sight of this cabin and you’re to check in with Uncle Eric every 20 minutes.” Mary glared at Eric. “If anything happens to my son, we don’t need to worry about changing the caseworker’s mind. Got it?”

“Got it.” Eric nodded.

“Yes!” Justin jogged from the room as if he knew right where to go and what to do. Mary walked to the cabin’s door and watched her son start circling the shed, mimicking the Santos brother who walked a few feet ahead of him.

“I’ll keep an eye on him, ma’am,” the brother called out to her.

Ma’am? A cop was calling her ma’am?

“That’s Rico, the youngest Santos brother. He’s a rookie.” Ruth sat on the couch and opened a backpack. She withdrew a blue notebook and started writing. After a page or two, she looked up and said, “Mary, in just a minute we’ll head back to town. Mitch, you want to tag along?”

He nodded and stepped back outside. Mary watched. At first, she thought he’d be reaching for his phone again. Instead he joined Justin and Rico at the shed. They opened the door, stepped inside and disappeared.

Mary looked at her brother, looked at the almost empty cabin and shook her head. “Everything’s changing, again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you sell the antiques?” It surprised her how much she wanted, how much she needed, to see them again. Her grandfather’s big, bulky furniture had overpowered the room, dwarfing her grandmother’s old treadle sewing machine and hat rack. Now everything was gone, even the amateurish paintings. Eric obviously hadn’t needed much. The furniture in the room now looked like motel castoffs.

“Antiques?” Eric looked at her. “When I moved in, the place was pretty much empty except for mice.”

Mary circled the room. “There was an armoire here. I remember Eddie got mad because it was so heavy, we couldn’t move it.” She turned to the next wall. “An antique gun cabinet hung there. Eddie loved it. Go figure. Upstairs there was a four-poster bed, scratched up but with plenty of charm. And,” suddenly her eyes darkened, “there was a dining room table here by the front window. I used to sit at it and piece together baby quilts while I was pregnant with Justin. I must have made twenty. I’d work in the evening and watch the sun set.”

“None of that was here when I arrived,” Eric said.

When they’d moved, Mary had only taken what was theirs. She’d carefully covered everything else. A quick tour of the rest of the house, upstairs and down, showed that the other rooms had also been stripped.

They returned to the main room and Mary asked, “What was here when you moved in?”

“Dirt and mice.”

Mary looked around. “Where’d this furniture come from?”

“We hit a few garage sales last week and found a few things.” He glanced over at his wife. “Ruth really doesn’t like spending time here.”

Mary felt a little more understanding. Ruth probably never would attend a family gathering at this cabin. Her first husband’s body had been discovered a year ago, in the shed, by Eric. Hard to shake a memory like that. To give her credit, this morning Ruth hadn’t even blinked at being here. The need to find the missing children had proved more important than personal discomfort.