No one left, p.13
No One Left, page 13
“Thanks for checkin’ in on her. You know I appreciate that.”
“I told her she can always stay here if she doesn’t like being alone.”
“You seen that girl eat?” James asked.
Barbara smiled to herself. “Have you seen me cook?”
“Y’all are just made for one another. Hey, I’ve got a question for you, Barb. Do you happen to know a judge on the reservation named Tallsalt?”
“Tallsalt,” Barbara repeated, thinking.
“Retired, he says. A couple years. Wouldn’t talk to me much, though. Hung up real quick.”
“Hmmm. Don’t know if I know a Tallsalt.”
“I found his contact in Judge Winters’s Rolodex.”
“His home phone number?” Barbara asked.
“Office and home.”
“Hmmm, personal relationship, then.”
“Mr. Tallsalt said he used to handle adoptions of Navajo children to outside parents,” James said.
A vague memory of a tired, somewhat wrinkled face came to Barbara, then.
“Wait,” she said. “Tallsalt. He was part of the ICWA talks.”
“What’d you think of him?”
“Very helpful. Very supportive of having ICWA passed.”
“Huh,” James said. The line was quiet for a moment. “You happen to know who does that now? Who puts that stamp on those adoption papers?”
“That’s a good question. I’m not sure. I haven’t been as involved since ICWA passed.”
“You think you could find out?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks, Barb.” There was another pause. Barbara could hear the coffee machine in the background dripping. “How about Tallsalt? You think he’d talk to you? Since y’all know each other?”
“It’s been a few years, but I could try him.”
Barbara wrote down the number.
“You hear from Wayne recently?” James asked.
“Earlier today.”
“He still trailin’ George’s brother?”
“He sure is,” Barbara said.
“I’ve got to call him.”
“Actually,” Barbara said, drawing a small flower next to the phone number. “He’ll know.”
“He’ll know what?”
“The judge who handles the adoptions. Well, he should.”
“Really?”
“Sometimes the families ask him to speak to the judge on their behalf. I can’t remember the last time that happened, but I imagine it was within the last year.”
“Perfect. I’ll ask him. Thanks again, Barb.”
After she hung up, she looked at Tallsalt’s number, trying to remember more about the man. He wasn’t from Shiprock. He was only at the larger meetings. But she couldn’t remember which district he was from. Supportive, yes. But also quiet. She scribbled herself a note. Then, she plopped down on the couch and ate her burger.
37
WAYNE
They did not find any blood in George’s truck, but they did find hair. It was bagged and logged and sent to the lab in Albuquerque for further analysis.
Now, both Wayne and Kay were on a coffee break at the station, and Wayne was growing increasingly anxious about how much time they had been away from their posts. Part of Wayne, the part he was most familiar with, was reluctant to leave Kay to her own devices. Even though she hadn’t done anything drastic yet, he still knew she was a liability.
Another part of Wayne, a part he didn’t quite recognize, wondered if Kay’s way was more effective. This was a kid they were looking for. A kid Wayne knew and loved. He had never worked a case so intimate, had never felt this sense of urgency tugging at his insides, screaming at him to do more, to do anything, damned the consequences. They didn’t have time. The red tape that Wayne thought he had learned to live with felt like a noose around his neck. He stood and threw away his cup.
“Back to babysitting, then?” Kay asked, still seated.
“They could lead us to him,” Wayne said. “Either one.” He could hear the weariness in his own voice and assumed Kay could, too. But she didn’t argue. She stood up.
They were almost out the door when the young man working the front desk called out, “Lieutenant Tully!”
Wayne turned around. The man held up the phone. “Phone call.”
Wayne went back and took the call.
“Glad I caught ya, Wayne,” James said on the other line. “I’ve got a question for you.”
“What’s up?”
“Do you know the name of the judge on the reservation who handles adoptions? Specifically for kids going to families outside of the Nation?”
“Sure,” Wayne said. “There’s more than one. The judge I work with is Robert John. But there are a couple. Why?”
“Guess I didn’t realize that was part of the process until I found a Mr. Tallsalt in Judge Winters’s Rolodex. Your wife vaguely remembers him. He used to approve or deny those adoptions. Retired now.”
“The Navajo Nation requires all outside adoptions to be approved officially. Wasn’t always that way. We had to fight for it. But . . .” Wayne paused and looked out the window at Kay. She was leaning on her borrowed pickup, apparently deep in thought. “It isn’t foolproof. These judges are busy. Some are assholes. Like John. Too politically motivated to spend much time on each family. Not something that’s going to get them reelected.”
“That John, then? Politically motivated?”
“Oh yeah,” Wayne said. “He’s on Jackson’s new Supreme Judicial Council.”
“What’s that?”
“A court created to make sure the other courts—the real Navajo courts—don’t make any decisions Jackson disapproves of. If they do, the council can overturn it.”
James whistled softly. “I don’t think it’s supposed to work like that.”
“You said it, not me.”
“Thanks, Wayne.”
Wayne opened his mouth to say adios, when James interrupted him.
“Oh yeah. News for you. Remember Janice Stone, who works for the adoption agency and knows George?”
“Sure do.”
“Well, Willa Yazzie recognized her from a sketch Molly did. Apparently, Willa was pregnant. Told Linda, and a few weeks later, Janice Stone was on her doorstep trying to get her to put that baby up for adoption.”
“So, Linda told George and George called up Janice Stone? Why? He want to adopt the baby?”
“If he did, that message did not get relayed to Miss Stone. According to Willa, Miss Stone specifically mentioned a nice Christian family off the reservation.”
“Can we trust Willa?”
James didn’t say anything at first. Wayne knew Willa was a good person, but she was also a drug addict.
“She’s lied to us before,” James finally said. “But she also gave us Assman. Molly seems to think her memory on this is lucid.”
“Interesting.”
“Tell Kay to call me the next time her hardass boss lets her take a break.”
“No can do. She’s busy. No lovey-dovey distractions.”
James snorted. “Keep up the good work, LT.”
38
TONY
After a couple of days debating how to approach this “Charlie,” Tony decided on the dumbest option: He’d pick a fight.
Of course, he made sure the cop was following him first. He might get arrested, but he knew what this cop wanted, and as cocky as it sounded, he also knew he was smarter than the cop. Tony had a plan and that plan involved talking shit and throwing down.
Charlie’s motel was shitty but still not the shittiest option in the area, and Tony lucked out as far as front desk workers went. A teenage girl. With the perfect mix of charm and intimidation and a story about a friend he was meeting, Tony got the room number. He didn’t need a key. Didn’t want one, either.
He could’ve just walked to the other side of the motel, but instead, he got in his car and drove so he could be sure the cop would follow him. Room 226. Perfect height to throw rocks at. A gravel walkway from one side of the motel to the other, with—who could’ve guessed—plenty of rocks. Everything was going to plan.
Tony picked up some pebbles and started throwing them at the window of 226. “Hey!” he yelled. “Charlie!”
The cop’s stare was hot on the back of his neck. He threw a few more stones. Come out, come out, he begged inside his head. “Hey!” he yelled again. The pebbles left indentations in his palms.
Tony was about to go up and bang on the door when this pasty dude in a track jacket and jeans opened the door, squinting into the sunlight.
“The fuck?” the guy asked, barely loud enough for Tony to hear.
“Charlie, right?” Tony yelled to him.
“Who’s askin’?”
“I’m asking, obviously. You’ve been talking shit about my brother.”
“Man, I don’t know you or your brother or anyone else in this fuckin’ town.”
“George Morris,” Tony yelled back, louder than necessary to make sure the cop heard.
The Charlie guy still stared at him.
“You want to come down here and fucking say it to my face?” Tony shouted.
“I’m just lookin’ for him, man. I’ve got somethin’ to tell him.”
“Come tell me, then. I’ll pass along the message.” Tony chuckled a little. He willed the man to hurry up and get his ass down there. He didn’t know how patient the cop would be.
Charlie muttered under his breath and then said, “Hold on a second.” He disappeared into the room before reemerging with sneakers and a striped ski hat topped with a red pompom.
Tony listened as Charlie shuffled down the stairs. He ought to provoke him more, hope Charlie started shoving. But he didn’t know how much the cop would tolerate.
He started to laugh as Charlie approached. “You’ve got balls going around my town talking shit about my brother.”
“Look, I don’t know what someone told you—”
“No one’s gotta tell me nothing. I can see for myself you’re a little bitch.”
“What’s your deal, man? I’m just tryin’ to have a conversation with your little bro.”
“And I’m trying to tell you to fuck off.”
Finally, the pasty man smiled and not in a friendly way. He smiled in the way a fellow prisoner might in the prison yard. The forthcoming pleasure of fucking someone up creeping onto his face.
Tony smiled back. “Go ahead,” he goaded.
Charlie stepped closer. “Fine. Why don’t you tell little Georgey that he’s got somethin’ she needs? Something that’s hers. He knows what I’m talkin’ about. He’ll bring it back if he cares about his boy.”
There it was. A threat toward the boy. Tony’s fists were shaking now. He had no idea how he managed to keep them by his side.
“What did you say about his boy?” he asked. It was almost a whisper.
Charlie stepped closer. “You heard me.”
“What are you going to do with the little boy? You going to diddle him? You into that?”
Fire flashed in Charlie’s eyes. He pushed Tony’s chest. “You fuckin’ sick?”
Tony hoped the cop saw that, because he wasn’t waiting another second. Tony punched him so hard and so fast that the only thing he could see in Charlie’s eyes as he fell back—arms reaching forward, grabbing nothing—was surprise.
But Charlie recovered quick, scrambling to his feet just as Tony heard the cop close his car door behind them. He had to let Charlie get a good one in now, so he put his hands up and beckoned him closer with his fingers. “Come on,” he growled. Charlie hit him. A right hook across the jaw. It landed perfectly, and in that moment, a part of Tony missed all of this. He missed this feeling that anything might happen. That this man’s life was in his hands. He missed getting hit that hard.
Tony turned and hit Charlie again, this time landing his punch right in Charlie’s stomach. He backed up. What the hell was that cop waiting for? Charlie spat and groaned.
Tony laughed. “That all you got?”
Charlie stood up straight, breathed deeply, and then ran at Tony, full speed, knocking him onto his back. Tony gasped for air, but Charlie was on top of him now. He punched Tony’s face again, and for a second, everything went black. Finally, Tony heard a voice.
“All right, all right. Knock it off. Police.”
About fucking time.
“Fuck,” Charlie muttered. He got up to run away but kicked Tony between the legs first.
“Shit,” Tony groaned, curling onto his side. He could taste the pavement now. Could feel the blood dripping from his nose. He heard the cop getting closer. Then, his shadow was blocking the sun, and Tony looked up at him.
“What in the hell was that about?” the cop asked.
“Go,” Tony tried to yell, but it came out more like a squeak. The cop knelt down, his face close to Tony’s, looking annoyed.
“Go after him,” Tony managed to get out. “He knows.” He had to stop for a breath before finishing. “He knows about George.”
The cop was clearly irritated, but he stood up anyway and ran to his car. Tony closed his eyes. The cop must have had one of those little portable lights for the top of his unmarked car, because Tony could hear the siren as he lay on the pavement in the fetal position, bleeding.
39
ADRIEL
Mr. Tallsalt and George were out front talking with Uncle Tony, and Adriel wanted to hear what they were saying. But he was still so angry at his dad and Mr. Tallsalt. He had been angry for days. He wouldn’t do what they asked. Adriel had always been a good kid, but he had also never felt lied to like this before. Even after Mr. Tallsalt tried to explain.
He had told Adriel that he and George were trying to protect him. They were doing what was best for him. That his father loved him very much and that Mr. Tallsalt had the power to help Adriel. He signed this to Adriel as he spoke.
Adriel signed back as best he could, asking why James couldn’t help them, too.
“We don’t know him. We can’t trust him. We can’t make any mistakes,” Mr. Tallsalt said.
“What about Aunt Kay?” Adriel signed, again trying his best with what he had learned so far.
“Your dad is a little . . . afraid of your aunt Kay.”
Adriel knew his aunt Kay could get angry and be a little scary. But he also knew how much she loved him. She would forgive his dad for anything if it meant helping Adriel. He knew it.
When he tried to ask more, Mr. Tallsalt said, “Please, Adriel. You have to trust us. You have to be patient.”
But Adriel did not want to be patient. He wanted to go home. He kept being mad, and now, whenever the phone rang, he would watch the two grown-ups. Sometimes they just let it ring and ring. Sometimes they picked up, listened for a moment, said nothing, and then hung up again.
Adriel let his anger win that night and stayed away from the men. He decided he didn’t care what they were saying. He didn’t care about them at all. And he didn’t think he was safe anymore. Maybe he would run away. But as soon as the idea came into his head, he knew it wouldn’t work. He could see all around him and there was nothing. He couldn’t even see a road from Mr. Tallsalt’s house. He imagined finding one anyway. Making a sign that read Shonto and hitchhiking.
He sat on the couch next to the phone. He stared at it, wishing it would ring. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t talk to whoever would be on the other line.
And then, he noticed a blinking light on the answering machine. A new message. Had he been outside when it came? He looked toward the front door. Would someone hear if he played it? He decided to take the chance. His heart thumped against the inside of his chest as he pushed the play button.
“Hello there, Mr. Tallsalt. I’m not sure if you remember me. My name is Barbara Tully.”
Adriel breathed in quick, still staring at the front door. Nobody opened it.
“We worked together on the ICWA bill,” Barbara said in the message. “We realized you had worked with my father, David.”
The warmth Adriel felt hearing Barbara’s voice made him smile without realizing it.
“I believe you received a phone call from a James Pinter recently. He’s investigating the murder of a Judge Winters. I’m sure you’ve heard about the case, but I think you could help. We’re not so sure the police have got this right.”
Adriel’s mind raced. Winters. It was there again, that name.
“I would love to talk sometime about the judge. He was a supporter and defender of ICWA. Such a shame he was taken away so violently. I can’t say it’s all that surprising, though, that he was targeted. Anyway, please do give me a call when you have a chance. My number is . . .”
Adriel fumbled around, searching desperately for something to write with. He repeated the numbers back in his head over and over again. He couldn’t find anything to write them on, so instead, he picked up the phone and dialed them.
The phone rang and rang, three times, maybe four, before he heard Barbara’s voice. “Hello, this is Barbara,” she said. “I’m not here right now to take your message, but please leave your name and number after the tone and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.”
Adriel didn’t know why he was doing it. He listened to the beep. He stayed on the line. There was silence. He wanted so badly to be able to talk right then. To say, “Please help me!” or, “I miss you.” Or even, “I’m safe. I think.” But he couldn’t. So, he did the only thing he could. He cried.
40
JAMES
A thick envelope arrived that afternoon at the trailer. No return address. James ripped it open and found a cassette tape inside, along with a note that read, I was working for her. –G. He popped the tape into his own answering machine and listened for a little while before realizing it was time to pick up Molly from school. He hadn’t come across anything suspicious yet—anything that might explain the note.
