No one left, p.14
No One Left, page 14
He leaned against a fence post near the school, far enough away that the other students wouldn’t notice him. He took a deep breath and let the cool air fill his lungs. A moment later, the bell rang, and teenagers tumbled out the front doors, their laughs and groans and shouts piercing the quiet, peaceful afternoon.
James squinted, trying to find Molly in the crowd. Cars in the parking lot fired to life—some sounding like they were coming back from the dead. A boy jumped on the hood of one car as it slowly drove away. The car accelerated quickly and then stopped. The boy laughed, grabbing on to keep from falling off. James wondered if that boy—any of these boys—had caught Molly’s eye. He wondered how he would know when it happened. If she would tell him. He wondered what it would feel like to try to take any of these kids seriously, because he would. For Molly, he would.
A line of bikes sped toward him. The first three kids were older than Molly. Two girls and a boy. None of them smiled as they passed. In fact, they wouldn’t even meet his eye. Molly always said he carried himself like a cop, which was why, when he picked her up from school, he hung back. He wasn’t there to scare the kids. Then, in the distance he saw her. Right behind Paula.
As they got closer, he could see their grins. Paula let go of the handlebars to give him a little salute.
“Hey, Mr. P,” she said, making a wide circle around him. “What’s the news? Busy day cracking cases?”
“Gosh, Paula. These criminals had no idea what was comin’ for them when the Pinters came to town.”
Paula snapped her gum. “Poor bastards.”
“Not the B-word, Paula.”
“Sorry, Sergeant.”
“Hey, Dad,” Molly said, coming up on his right in a slow zigzag. “Paula’s feeling feisty today.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Molly went on. “Julie Whitethorne spoke to us, and she’s been having a fit ever since.”
“Oh my God,” Paula groaned. “I do not care about your girlfriend.”
James grinned. “Jealous?”
“I know. Right, Dad?” Molly said, pedaling faster to keep up with Paula.
“I’m not jealous, Mr. P,” Paula called behind her. “It’s just that Molly is a traitor!”
“Hey!” Molly yelled, and then Paula took off with Molly on her heels. James watched them chase each other down the road and wondered what Paula had against who he assumed was Harold Whitethorne’s kid. He had seemed like a decent enough fellow, the one time they had met.
The girls stopped at the next road, the way to Paula’s house. He couldn’t hear them, but he watched Molly cock her head to the side. Paula smiled. They hugged each other. And then James and Molly both watched Paula ride off down the road.
“Is Paula mad?” James asked when he caught up to Molly.
“Not really. She just has to act like it.”
Molly swung her leg back over her bike and started to pedal slow enough that James could keep up.
“Why does she have to act like it?” he asked.
Molly shrugged. “Because she doesn’t like Julie.”
“Why not?”
“Jealous, I guess, like you said. Julie is beautiful and popular, and she has two nice parents and a cute little sister.”
“How about you? Are you jealous of Julie?”
Molly shook her head. “It would be nice to be popular. But she never gets to do anything embarrassing, you know? Everyone is always, I don’t know, looking at her. It’s probably annoying.”
“What did Julie say to you?” James was still trying to understand all this girl stuff. The rules. The moods.
“She said hi. I saw her at the church the night I was asking around about Janice Stone. Her mom was bringing fry bread. She used to be an addict, too. Her mom, I mean. I was surprised Julie told me that.”
“She sounds like a nice girl.”
“I think she is.”
A few cars drove past, blowing dust onto their legs.
“What’d you do today?” Molly asked.
“Left messages. For Kay and Wayne, for our lawyer friend, Bobby Tate. Turns out everyone was busy today except me.”
“Do you think they’ll call back?”
“Kay and Wayne better!”
“I wish I could be there with them,” Molly said, quietly.
“I know you do,” James said. “They’re doin’ good work.”
“How about Isaiah?” Molly asked, straightening up a bit. “Have you heard from him since you went to the judge’s office together?”
“I called him yesterday, actually. He’s a nervous wreck every time I talk to him.”
“Maybe he did it.”
“Doesn’t seem likely. He’s got an alibi. A shaky one, though. Work. Grocery store.”
“And you know he went to the grocery store?”
“Told him the police would need a witness or a receipt once we cracked this thing open. He says he’s got both, but I haven’t seen or looked into either. Don’t want to scare him off. He is the client. But I might have to start diggin’ around.”
They turned off the main road. They could see the trailer now and, next to it, a scraggly stray dog that had started coming around. James had known after it showed up a few times, wagging its tail, licking Molly’s hands, that they were probably stuck with it.
Molly hopped off her bike and held her hand out to the dog. It came over, its whole body wagging. Molly leaned over.
“Hey, cutest boy,” she cooed. She scratched his ears and whispered more things in a silly voice. The dog licked James’s hand as he passed, too.
“Good afternoon,” he said to the dog.
It dutifully followed him up the steps and sat at attention next to the door, seemingly awaiting instructions.
“At ease, Private,” James said. “We’ll scrub you down another day.”
“Dad!” Molly pleaded. “Can’t we bring him inside?”
“You got flea shampoo?”
“Well, no.”
“Sorry, kiddo. The dog stays outside tonight.”
She gave the dog an apologetic look. “I’ll find you a blanket,” she said. The dog wagged its tail. Swish, swish. “And I’ll bring you dinner.”
The dog lay down and put his head on his paws. Molly gave the top of his head one last scratch. “Good boy,” she said. “Private,” she muttered as she went inside. “Like a soldier. Like our little guard. Like a private eye! Private . . . Private . . .”
“Private Fleabag,” James finished for her.
“No! That’s mean,” Molly said, dropping her bookbag down on the couch.
“Private Slobber,” he tried again.
Molly rolled her eyes, and then, the phone rang.
James picked it up. “Pinter P.I. This is James.”
“James!” It was Kay, and she seemed a little worked up.
“Hey, muffin mix, what’s the news?”
“We found a guy,” Kay said. “Someone who’s been looking for George, too. Wayne was following the brother, Tony, when he gets to this seedy motel. Tony starts yelling at this guy about George and then the two start fighting. Wayne goes to break it up, and the other guy runs off. Tony tells Wayne to go after the guy because the guy knows about George, so Wayne does. They arrest him, and he immediately starts talking. He says he’s here to find George Morris, because George has something that’s hers. Something that she needs. That George knows what it is . . .”
“But he didn’t tell you what it is?” James asked.
“He doesn’t know, apparently.”
“Who is ‘she’?”
“He doesn’t know that, either. Or he won’t say.”
“Interesting. You and Wayne have any theories?”
“Maybe Janice Stone? I mean, she’s the only woman we know George was in contact with.”
“That’d be my guess, too.”
“So that would mean Janice doesn’t know where George is, either,” Kay said.
“Sounds like that’s the case.”
“Oh, here. Wayne wants to talk to you.” There was a pause. The muffled noises of a phone being handed off. Then Wayne’s voice, but still distant. Like he was holding the phone away from his ear. “Can you go grab . . .” and then his voice trailed off, drowned out by what James assumed was his palm over the receiver. A moment later, Wayne spoke clearly into the phone.
“James. The man threatened Adriel. I didn’t want Kay to hear that part. But when he was talking to Tony, he said that George would give Janice back what was hers if he didn’t want Adriel harmed.”
“The man is in custody now, though, correct?” James asked.
“Yeah. We’re going to keep him for as long as we can.”
“Good.” James could take a real good guess at what George had that Janice thought was hers. But he couldn’t assume. That’d be foolish and possibly devastating for Adriel. He looked down at his answering machine with George’s cassette tape inside. If he could only get Wayne alone for longer than a minute or two to bend his ear about George’s phone calls. But Kay was always right by Wayne’s side.
“I’ll call you both soon,” he told Wayne. “Keep up the good work.”
After he hung up, he tucked George’s note away and called Molly over. It was fair to ask her to keep some secrets. But not from the people she loved.
“I’ve got this tape to listen to,” he told her. “Sent to me today anonymously. It’s George’s answering machine messages.”
Her eyes grew wide and excited.
“I haven’t found anything interesting yet. But I’ve still got a few minutes left. Pull up a chair and a pad of paper,” James said. He went and grabbed her some Oreo cookies and milk to munch on while they listened. He knew how hungry she always was after school. He poured himself another coffee while he was at it.
“You ready?” he asked once they were all set up. She nodded, and he hit play. There was silence for a moment as the machine picked up the next message. Then it played.
“George, it’s Janice. We might need to pause for a bit. Just hold off. That judge I was telling you about—Judge Winters. He’s becoming quite a problem for us. We’re trying to figure out what to do. If you can think of anything, any solutions, call me back. Otherwise, we’re going to need to wait. I’ll be in touch again soon. All right, George. Goodbye.”
41
BARBARA
Barbara could not understand why in the hell no one was answering her calls. A kid had called her office phone, crying. Possibly a woman, but Barbara felt sure it was a child. She could hear the difference. Feel it in her bones. And what other child would leave a message without saying anything? Maybe, wherever he was, Adriel had access to a phone book. She couldn’t imagine how else he would have known her office number.
She’d called Wayne twice. Once at the hotel, where the receptionist said there was no answer in his room, and then again at the Kayenta station, where the officer who answered thought at first that Wayne was there, but then said, no, in fact, he wasn’t.
“Please make sure he understands this is an emergency. He needs to call me back right away!”
Then, she tried James, who didn’t answer, either. It was right when Molly got off school and maybe they had plans.
She ought to go over there, she thought now. James could help her get a warrant. But then, as she went to grab her serape, she paused. What she needed was the Shiprock Chapter’s phone bill. Maybe she didn’t need a warrant to get that. Maybe she just needed Helen—the office secretary—to make a phone call. The phone company ought to be able to tell them what number the call had come from. Even though Barbara didn’t even know what time Adriel had called. Sometime after she had left the office yesterday.
Barbara strode down the hall, and when she saw Helen at the front desk, concentrating on something in a three-ring binder, she rushed forward.
“Helen!” she called.
The young woman jumped a bit. Her bushy eyebrows furrowed right above her thick glasses.
“Everything okay, ma’am?”
“I need you to do something for me. Do you usually deal with the phone bill?”
“Sure. Yeah, I call them every month and pay on the phone. And then they probably put that call on our next phone bill.” She smiled sideways at Barbara.
“I need to find out who called my office last night. Can you call them and see if they’ll tell you?”
Helen picked up the phone and dialed, looking out the window while she waited. Barbara kept staring at her.
“Hello, this is Helen calling from the Navajo Nation. I’m looking for someone who can tell me the phone number of a call that came into one of our offices.”
“Probably yesterday,” Barbara interrupted.
“Probably yesterday,” Helen repeated. She did not look back at Barbara. She nodded a few times before saying, “Mmmhmm,” and a moment later, “I see. So you would need a court order, you’re saying?”
She finally looked at Barbara and mouthed, “Court order.” Barbara nodded, mouthed back, “Thank you,” and left.
The last time Barbara remembered crying was the day she’d taken her last pregnancy test. She and Wayne had tried to get pregnant for years, and finally, when Barbara turned thirty-seven and got yet another negative, the doctor told her it was time to stop trying. Stop tracking and stressing and buying vitamins and taking the traditional medicine. It was probably too late. But in the car, on the way to James’s house, Barbara felt like crying.
A dog greeted her when she arrived. The same one she had seen hanging around here a few days ago. The dog whined as she went to the door but must have recognized her because he wasn’t aggressive.
Barbara banged on the door. “James!” she yelled. The dog’s ears perked up. He stood and cocked his head to the side.
Molly swung open the door, a duffel bag in her hand.
“Are you coming or going?” Barbara asked.
“Both,” Molly said. “We just got home from school a little while ago, but Dad wants to go to Albuquerque now.”
“Then I’m glad I caught you. I got a call last night,” Barbara said before Molly could elaborate. “From Adriel.”
Molly gasped. “Are you sure?”
“No,” Barbara said. “Of course not. I can’t be. But someone called and left me a message. I’m certain it was a child. They were crying, but they said nothing. I think it was him.”
Molly brought her hand to her mouth. Her eyes started to water. She sniffed and swallowed and then called, “Dad!”
James came around the corner, shrugging his shoulders into a jacket.
“Barbara got a call from Adriel,” Molly said.
“Awww, hell,” James said. “Well, come in, Barb.”
They sat around James’s desk as Barbara told him about the call and the phone company’s insistence on a warrant.
“All right,” James said. “All right. We’ll get that warrant. Molly and I were on our way to Albuquerque, but we’ll go to the station first. I’ll make sure one of the officers takes it to the judge this evening.”
Barbara breathed deeply. She rubbed her temples. “Tell me why you’re going to Albuquerque,” she said.
James glanced at Molly before speaking. “We’ve got quite a bit of evidence now that George was working with Janice Stone, who is the head of Forever Families Adoption Agency. With what Willa told Molly, we’re guessing that George might have been doin’ exactly what he did in Willa’s case. Finding potential children on the reservation to put up for adoption through Donald Andrews’s adoption agency. You see, Donald Andrews hasn’t been going through child services at all. He’s nearly cut them out of the equation entirely. The kids go from their home to the children’s home, which Andrews runs, to a new family.”
Barbara clenched her jaw. She thought of all the ICWA meetings. All the cases she had reviewed. The families she’d spoken to. The elders and her peers forced to slowly and in great detail relive the pain of the boarding schools, all so that Barbara and her committee and the wider organization of Indians from tribes across the country could help draft ICWA. All the times Barbara had had to swallow her own tears while listening to accounts of loved, wanted children torn from their families and their tribes.
“Go on,” Barbara said to James. Her voice was low and steady but only because she was trying her best to control it. To not lose her mind over this news.
“Molly and I were thinkin’ that we ought to pay a visit to Donald Andrews’s group home for children. We don’t have any reason to believe that Adriel is there, but if George had a relationship with Janice, it’s possible he left Adriel with her. We feel like we ought to check, just in case.”
“Damn it, George,” Barbara hissed through clenched teeth. She was on the edge of her seat now. “What the hell is wrong with him? Doesn’t he get it? Doesn’t he understand what these people really want?”
James leaned back in his chair, interlocked his fingers in his lap. Barbara understood he was letting her speak, say what she needed to. But for some reason, that only made her angrier.
“Ask me, James!” She was standing now. Her arms thrown up. “Ask me what they want!”
“They want your kids, Barbara,” James said. “It’s fucked up. But they want to take your kids from you.”
Barbara shook her head, and a crazy kind of laugh escaped her lips. “If only it were that simple! They want us gone. Every last one of us. They don’t want Indian reservations anymore. They don’t want Indians at all! We’re an outdated obligation to these people. If they take our kids away, we’ll have nothing. We’ll turn to dust. To wind. And that is exactly what they want.”
Barbara put her hands on her hips. Threw her head back and glared at the ceiling. Tried to calm herself but couldn’t. “George isn’t the only one,” she said. “He can’t be.” She looked forward again, at James. “How many more are there? How many of us have they convinced to do this? How stupid could I have been to think we won when ICWA was passed?”
“Not stupid, Barb. You know how important laws are. ICWA is damn important, and it’ll be crucial if we need to fight to get Adriel back.”
