He gave an exasperated sigh. “Listen, you said the thing with Suazo happened on Monday. We worked together that night. Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
So much had happened, I had to think back. “Monday night was when you checked on me at my base camp. As I recall, we didn’t talk much while you were there.” I looked across the cab at him, studying his profile, remembering the warmth of that kiss.
He turned and caught me staring at him and smiled. “No, I guess we didn’t.”
Mrs. Suazo was feeding two little kittens when we drove up. She looked a lot better than the last time we had seen her. Her hair was clean and loose around her face. She was wearing a navy dress with flowers on it, a cardigan sweater, and white cotton socks folded over the tops of some new-looking boots. The porch had been swept and the cat litter raked away. She looked up at us expectantly, and then, seeing the Forest Service truck, her look moved rapidly through disappointment and into an expression of hurried anxiety. She moved quickly to put the lid on the tin container of cat food, brushed her hands on her skirt, and then, catching herself, rubbed them back and forth on each other. She hurried off the porch and almost made it to the truck before we could open our doors. Something was missing… Right! Where were the dogs?
“I thought you might have been him,” she said, taking hold of the handle and yanking the passenger door back as if to hasten me out. “I ain’t seen him in two days. Something has happened to him.” Her brow was like a plowed field. “I can’t get the sheriff to listen to me.”
Kerry and I got out of the truck. I looked around the place, then spoke. “Well, Mrs. Suazo, when we talked to you before, you did say he is sometimes gone for days at a time.” I didn’t know how to put it any more kindly.
She stopped the frenzied pressure of her approach when I said this-it seemed to affect her like a red light does traffic. “Well, you’re right. I did say that. And he does do that. I reckon you’re right.” She twisted at the ends of her sweater. Then she looked into my face. The bruise under her right eye had turned yellow and was fading. “Would you just believe me when I tell you that this time it’s different?” Her tone was flat, but her look was pleading.
By this time, Kerry had come around the truck and was behind her. He moved to the side so she could see him when he spoke. “Mrs. Suazo, why don’t you tell us what you know, and we’ll see if there is anything we can do to help.”
She turned toward him. “He came home Monday in the middle of the day and said we needed to leave town.”
I glanced at Kerry. Our eyes met, but neither of us spoke.
“He promised to take me back home to Texas. He said he would take the dogs to his cousin and sell or give away whatever we didn’t want to take with us. We started right then going through stuff. I knew he really meant it, because that evening, he took the dogs and told me to keep packing things. He kept saying we were going to make a brand-new start, and we were going to be happy again. When he came back, three of his cousins followed him in their trucks and they went through our stuff and took a lot of it and gave us some money for some of the things, like the TV and such. Listen, I know the sheriff don’t believe me, but this time it’s different. Santiago never went through giving stuff away or selling it off like that before. And he wouldn’t never have gave those dogs up if he didn’t mean to do what he said.”
“What happened after his cousins came?” Kerry said.
“He said he wanted to get out of here the next day, if we could get our packing done. We worked right on up until late that night. The next morning we got up and started in packing again. By a little after noon, we were done. Santiago went to get gas in the truck, and we was going to load it up when he got back and then get on down the road. But he never come back.”
“He was just going to go get gas in the truck?” I asked.
“That and pick up the rest of the money he was owed for something. He said it was all set up and it wouldn’t take long.”
“Do you know who he was meeting for the money, or what it was for?” Kerry said.
“I don’t know nothing about that. Santiago never tells me nothing about his business. But he said it was all set, and he just needed to go get it. And then he was going to get some gas, like I said.”
“And that was Tuesday?” I asked.
“Yes. Two days ago. I know I told you he goes off for days sometimes, but he don’t never give away his dogs and sell the TV and tell me he’s taking me back to Texas. This time, it’s different.” She was quiet for a few seconds, as if she was thinking over the events of the past few days. Then she said, “I don’t know if it’s got anything to do with it, but I think I better show you what I found out here in the shed.”
Kerry and I pulled up to my vehicle. He looked at me. “I’m worried about you. Why not come to my place? I can roll out a bedroll on the floor. You can have the bed. Just until we know that you are safe again.”
“I can’t. But I need your help.”
“Just name it.”
“I left something here at the ranger station. It’s in the lockbox where I keep my tack. I put it there yesterday and it was still all right this morning, but it is very important that no one gets to it. I need you to make sure it stays safe.”
“It will be safe there. No one is going to mess with your tack box. The ranger station is staffed all day, and we’ll be back tonight for the next operational period. I’m more concerned about you. Nothing is more important than that.”
“I will be all right. I have a full day, I’ll hardly have a moment alone. I really need you to help me with this. I need what’s in the lockbox to be safe.”
“You put your own lock on it, right? No one else has a key?”
“I locked it, and I put the key in an envelope and put it in your message box. I don’t want you to use the key unless you have to, though. I need you to make sure no one gets in that lockbox.”
“Why? What’s in there?”
“I can’t tell you.”
He slumped. “You don’t trust me.”
“No, I do. That’s why I gave you the key. I do trust you. And I will tell you, when I can. Just-please, can you do what I’m asking? Don’t open the lockbox. And don’t let anyone else open it either.”
“Okay. I’ll stay here today. I’ll guard it with my life. But what about you?”
“No, you can’t be obvious about it. I don’t want anyone to even think there’s anything in there worth guarding. Just watch out for… I don’t know, just check on it every once in a while. Maybe you could take some apples to Redhead late this afternoon, you know, and check on it. Try to watch when things quiet down, when there aren’t so many people around. If anyone knows that it’s there, that’s when they would try to steal it.”
“Well, it’s busy up here all day, but I’ll stay here, too. I can even sleep in the stables right there by the tack boxes. But what about tonight? We have a big night ahead of us.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. They close some of the Forest Service roads, post checkpoints on Holy Thursday, don’t they? Because of the Penitentes?”
He nodded.
“Well, it might be all right then.”
“So you’re not worried that someone from the Forest Service would steal this… this… whatever it is. You’re thinking it would be someone else.”
“Yes, if that someone figures out that it’s there. I would have bet money that person would have been Santiago Suazo. But after what his wife told us, I don’t know. It could be someone he was in cahoots with. It could be anyone.”
“So I’m starting to put a few things together now.”
“I wish I could tell you more, I really do. Now, I’ve got to go. There’s a meeting I have to go to at the BLM. I’m not going to get much sleep before tonight. And tonight, I’ll stay in short range of my base camp if I can. Come get me if anything happens, okay?”