Sandi Ault - Wild Penance

“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?”

“Sure. I’ll check in on you anyway.”

“Okay, I better go now.” I started to open the door of the truck.

Kerry took hold of my arm. “Wait. I meant to ask you: did you ever look at that photo memory card to see what was on it?”

I felt in my coat pocket. The device Kerry had given me was still there. “No, I forgot about it. I’ll try to take a look at it when I’m at the BLM today. I gotta go.”

His eyes beckoned me. I hesitated. He leaned over and touched his lips to mine. “Please be careful, Jamaica.”

I stopped by the library in Taos and asked the reference librarian to help me out with some information. I handed her the business card on which I had written the name I had copied from my book. She was able to get me what I needed in a matter of minutes. After that, I reported in for the meeting at the BLM.

“We’re going to work closely with the sheriff’s office and the Forest Service these next few days,” Roy said, “to try to manage the influx of people wanting to see the Penitente processions. There will be folks trying to camp and drive where they shouldn’t up in the areas around the High Road and out in Arroyo Seco. We’re going to put extra night details in both areas.” The Boss used a laser pointer and a map to flesh out the assignments for everyone. “Jamaica, I’m going to have to put Art out in Seco. You’ll have Reed working with you up in your area, though, so I want you to stay in close range of him, and vice versa. The weather forecast says we’ve got a big system coming in that could produce a lot of snow. And you all know how these early spring snows in high country can be-they’re usually the heaviest ones we get. Everyone gear up for that, and that means chains for your rigs, parkas, whatever you need to survive in case you get stranded.”

After the meeting, I headed for my cubicle to use the phone. As I listened to the ring on the other end of the line, I took the memory card that I had found a week ago in the illegal camp where Redhead had thrown me and inserted it into the reader device. I plugged the reader into the port on the computer.

“Deputy Padilla.” He fired it off fast.

“Jerry. This is Jamaica Wild.”

“Well, hello there. No more car chases, I hope. How you doing? You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Hey, I have a favor I want to ask of you.”

“You do? Well, now, tell me this: am I going to want to do it?”

I was opening the images from the file on the memory card reader drive. The pictures had been taken at night, and several of them were almost completely black.

Padilla continued, “What I mean is: is this something I need to brace myself for? Seems like whenever you’re involved, things gets pretty complicated.”

“What? Oh, no. No, I-sorry-I was looking at something else and lost concentration. No, I need you to do something for me, Jerry. It’s not complicated. And I’m going to give you a little information in return.”

“Well, that sounds a little better. What do you need?”

“I want you to try to find Santiago Suazo.”

“Hah!” he snorted. “You and half of all Taoseños! What’s he done to you?”

“Nothing, really. At least I don’t think so. It’s his wife. She believes some harm has come to him. I guess she tried calling your office to file a missing persons report, and then she phoned here to the BLM and asked to see me.”

“Yeah, I saw that she had called in, but, see, we have to play by the rules. We can’t file an MEP until someone has been missing three days, unless it’s a child or someone in need of medical attention or infirm in some way. Besides, you know it’s only a matter of time before something bad is gonna happen to that little bastard, anyway. You can bet he’s got a bull’s-eye on his butt no matter what he’s wearing.”

“Yeah, I know. I know. But Mrs. Suazo told me some interesting things. I think he might have gotten in way over his head this time.”

“Well, let’s see,” he said, “what sort of things would that be? Maybe I might get concerned about all this if I knew what we were even talking about, Jamaica. But I don’t know why we’re even talking about Santiago Suazo. Instead, I’m more concerned about you. Did you find someplace else to stay?”

“Suazo told his wife he was going to take her home to her people in east Texas. He found homes for their dogs and gave them away, sold or gave away everything they could, and helped her pack up the rest of their things. He had been flashing around a lot of money lately, like maybe he had just scored at something major, Jerry. Mrs. Suazo said she saw two big rolls of bills. Anyway, he left Tuesday at midday to run into town to get gas in the truck so they would be ready to leave-and to meet someone to pick up some money he was still owed. And he never came back.”

“Way I hear it, Jamaica, that guy disappears for days like that a lot.”

“I guess this time it sounds like it’s different, Jerry. It did to Mrs. Suazo, and it did to me, too. She thinks someone has done him in.”

“Well, see, there’s just about a five-mile-long line of people who’d be suspects for that. You hear what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, Jerry, I hear you. But there’s more. Suazo was involved in the theft of those Penitente icons. That had to be where he was getting all the money from. His wife showed me a shed on their property. It’s full of bultos and retablos.”