Still holding Ryan in her arms, Estelle turned away from the bed.
“I just got so flustered,” Barbara Parker said. She reached out for Ryan, then looked puzzled as Estelle made no move to release the child.
“Mrs. Parker, do you understand what’s going on?”
“Why…I don’t…what do you mean?”
“Do you understand that you have legal custody of these children?” She glanced across the hall toward the small bedroom where Mindi slept peacefully.
“I…yes, I do.”
Estelle moved a step closer, so close she could smell the cigarette smoke on Barbara Parker’s breath. “Do you understand what that means, Mrs. Parker?”
The woman bristled a bit as some of her backbone returned. “Now, I’m not stupid, Sheriff.”
“Mrs. Parker, we argued Richard out of taking the children earlier. Just now, you allowed Perry Kenderman to walk into your house and apparently it was just fine with you that he take your grandson. I don’t understand you.”
“I…” The woman looked around the room as if the answer was hiding from her.
“You didn’t even call nine one one, Mrs. Parker. Perry had no car. What were you going to do, let him take yours? Or maybe just walk off into the night, the two of them?”
“No, I didn’t know he didn’t have a car. I let him in, and he seemed so…I don’t know, so…frantic about the children. I tried to explain to him, but he just went right to the bedroom. Went right in to fetch Ryan. I tried to talk him out of it.”
Ryan’s weight seemed to solidify against her chest and arm, and Estelle bent at the knees until his feet found the floor. “Good boy,” she whispered in his ear. He didn’t release her hand.
“Mrs. Parker, Perry Kenderman has been formally charged in the death of your daughter. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about him. Richard Kenderman understands that he’s not to be on your property, or not to attempt to contact the children until the court says otherwise.” She saw the tears in the woman’s eyes. “I know it’s hard,” she added, and her voice softened. “They’re remarkable children for so many people to want them. I think you must be very proud of your daughter.”
Mrs. Parker nodded. “I am, you know. I really am.”
“Keep them safe,” Estelle said. She ushered Ryan toward his grandmother, and at the same time smiled at the woman. “And next time don’t take so long to call us. Three little numbers. Nine, one, one. That’s your responsibility.” Heavy footsteps pounded on the rug, and Deputy Thomas Pasquale appeared in the hallway.
“You all right, ma’am?” His eyes took in Estelle, Barbara Parker, and the small blanket-wrapped boy.
“We’re fine,” Estelle said.
“Kenderman’s in the car,” Pasquale said. “And the sheriff wants to talk to you when you’re done.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Estelle said, and turned to Mrs. Parker.
“I’ll be in touch, all right?”
The woman nodded. “Thank you so much. I was stupid, I know.”
“It’s hard sometimes,” Estelle said. “It’s hard to know just what to do.”
She reached over and ruffled Ryan’s hair and earned a small smile. “You take care of Mindi, now,” she said.
“She’s asleep,” Ryan said.
“That’s good. You should be, too.”
She turned and made her way down the hall. Pasquale held the front door for her, and she puffed her cheeks and looked heavenward as she stepped past him.
“Nice night, huh,” he said.
“Wonderful, Tomas. ”
Out at the curb, Robert Torrez leaned against Pasquale’s Expedition, one leg crossed over the other, hands in his pockets. Bill Gastner leaned on the hood and appeared to be drawing pictures in the dust while Chief Eddie Mitchell looked on. The three of them looked like ranchers discussing the possibility of rain. She took a deep breath to stop her stomach from churning and walked across the yard toward them. The neighbor’s dog had taken up his position by one of the elms, watching.
“You know, the reason I was coming over to your house in the first place,” Torrez said as she approached, “was just to tell you that Tom Mears found some interesting prints on the revolver. But we kinda got sidetracked for a bit.”
“Just for a bit,” Estelle said. She reached out a hand and touched Gastner on the left arm and nodded at Mitchell. “Thanks.”
“Hell, no one ever dives out the back door,” Gastner said. “I had the easy part.”
Estelle glanced in the back of the unit. Perry Kenderman’s head was back against the top of the seat, his eyes closed, and his mouth open. “Is he all right?”
“Just stoned,” Torrez said.
“So what about the gun?”
“A couple of prints that belonged to George Enriquez on the fired cartridge.”
“Well, that’s expected, I guess. You weren’t driving over to my house just to tell me that.”
Torrez shrugged and pushed himself away from the truck as Deputy Pasquale approached. He hitched up his belt. “But none on the gun. None. Zero. Nada. ”
Estelle regarded the sheriff silently.
“Somebody made a dumb mistake,” the sheriff said. “Maybe the shooter made some others, too.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s late. First thing in the morning, let’s take a look. That’ll give Mears time to finish processing everything anyway. And Alan might have something for us.”
Estelle nodded.
“I’ll give you a lift back home.”
Estelle took a deep breath. “Actually, Bobby, I’d like to walk.”
“Walk?” Torrez sounded as if the idea were preposterous.
She nodded. “A little stroll would suit my nerves just fine.” She turned to Gastner. “Are you up for that, sir?”
“Oh, certainly,” the older man said without hesitation. “I’m a great hiker. We all know that.”
A few minutes later, as they watched Pasquale’s unit pull away followed by the village car, Estelle breathed a loud sigh of relief. “You just never know,” she said. Torrez had vanished in the darkness, finding his way through the backyard to his truck. She fished the small cell phone out of her pocket, and as they passed under the next streetlight, she dialed. Francis Guzman answered on the first ring.
Chapter Twenty
For the first block or so, they walked in companionable silence. Estelle linked her arm through Gastner’s and slowed her pace to match his amble. His head bobbed as he worked to keep the shadow of the sidewalk in focus through his bifocals. As they moved out of the aura of each streetlight, his steps became more deliberate, as if he were sinking his feet through murky water, trying to find the bottom of the river crossing.
Their route through the neighborhoods north of Bustos Avenue paralleled that main drag. Each house was marked with the glow of a television, and occasionally Estelle heard indistinct voices through an open window. The symphony of dogs moved with them, a new one taking up the barking as they walked out of range of the last.
“You did a good job with Kenderman,” Gastner said as they stepped off the Fifth Street curb.
“I don’t remember what I said,” Estelle replied. “All I remember is that I was furious when he came to my house and I was still furious with him when I saw him standing in the corner of that bedroom, holding Ryan.”
“Hmm,” Gastner murmured, sounding amused. “You met the other brother, too, I understand.”
“I don’t think I like him too much. He’s a young man who’s really full of himself, as my mother would say.”
“I would imagine there are several folks in Posadas who are pleased that Richard decided to move to Las Cruces,” Gastner said.
“He needs to stay there, too.”
Gastner chuckled. “All kinds,” he said. “All kinds.” He sighed heavily. “I knew George Enriquez pretty well,” he said, “speaking of all kinds. He never seemed like the suicidal type, whatever type that is.”