Jill Sorenson - Set The Dark On Fire

Shay’s stomach rumbled.

Angel opened the screen door leading to the backyard, gesturing for them to go on without her.

Fernando was tossing feed to a group of chickens in a small coop. He was a strong man, wiry and compact, with a face that showed plenty of wear and tear. Over the past three years, since Maria left, he’d aged a decade.

When he saw them he straightened too quickly, then grimaced and placed a hand on his lower back, a telling gesture. Despite his weariness, and the lines around his eyes, he was handsome. Hard and handsome and, like a lot of Tenaja’s men, old before his time.

She’d known him for most of her life, but Fernando greeted Luke first, showing deference to his rank. After introductions were exchanged, Fernando invited them both to sit in a couple of green plastic chairs around a matching table on the back patio.

Luke took out his notebook and pen. “Tell me what you remember about this morning,” he requested, “beginning with the time you woke up and ending with the phone call you made to emergency services.”

Fernando paused, collecting his thoughts. Although his kids spoke English without a trace of an accent, Fernando struggled with the language. “I woke well before sunrise,” he said. “It was dark. I clean my rifle and go out to hunt.”

Luke’s brows rose. “What’s in season?”

“Rabbit is always…” He made a gesture with his hands, like a bunny hop, then turned them palms-up, empty. “But not today.”

She waited for Luke to ask Fernando if he had a license, or if he knew hunting any kind of game was illegal on county property, but he didn’t.

“I went to Graveyard, as kids say. I look for bottles and cans to recycle.”

“Did you find any?”

He frowned. “I did not notice. When I drive close, see…

“What?”

“Her. Yesenia. On the ground.”

“You recognized her.”

He considered his response. “Not at first. I just thought she was a girl in trouble. Maybe drink too much. Or go with boys…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Then I get close, see her face. Torn clothes. Marks on neck.” He rubbed the back of his own neck with a wince. “I went home to call right away.”

“How close did you get?”

Fernando gave an approximate indication, widening his arms.

“You didn’t touch her?”

“No. Nothing to do. She was already dead.”

“How did you know?”

He thought about it. “Her chest was not moving. Head… turned funny.”

Luke was silent for a moment. “Did you see anyone else this morning? Driving on the road, or in the area?”

“I passed a few cars on the main drag. No one near the Graveyard. No one for miles.”

Luke slanted a glance at Shay. “Anything you want to ask?”

“Fernando, you’re a hunter,” she said, leaning forward. “Did you notice anything unusual at the Graveyard?”

“Si,” he said. “No tracks. No blood.”

“What do you think killed her?”

“Un león,” he replied immediately.

“Did you see one?”

“No. I have never seen one.”

Shay sighed. The locals would be whispering about vampires and chupacabras . She turned to Luke, not sure what else to ask.

“You said you recognized Yesenia,” Luke continued. “How well do you know her?”

Fernando shifted in his chair, uncomfortable for the first time since the interview began.

“La conóces… o la sábes?” Luke asked.

Shay felt heat rise to her face, and not just because Luke was asking Fernando if he knew Yesenia in the biblical sense. By posing the question in Spanish, he was cutting her out of the conversation, dismissing her as if she weren’t there, and insulting her by assuming she wouldn’t understand. He was wrong. Not only did she catch his meaning, she discovered something new about him: he was not a native speaker of Spanish.

His pronunciation was a little too… hard. Spanish speakers tended to soften some consonants and drop others altogether.

“I didn’t know her very well,” Fernando replied in the same language, choosing to ignore Luke’s insinuation. “But where are my manners?” he said with a smile. “Would either of you like something to drink? There is cold cerveza inside.”

Shay shuddered and Luke declined, standing and thanking Fernando for his time. When they passed through the kitchen once again, she inhaled deeply, wishing such a feast would be waiting at her house.

Instead she’d be met by a sink full of dirty dishes and an empty fridge.

She said good-bye to Angel with a conflicted heart, hoping Dylan wasn’t serious about her. Angel seemed like a nice girl, but she represented the kind of complication her brother didn’t need. Dylan was rebellious, abrasive, and smart as a whip. Shay wanted him to go to college more than she’d ever wanted anything for herself. As much as she loved Tenaja and respected its blue collar men, she wanted better for her brother than a lifetime of backbreaking manual labor under the hot desert sun.

As they walked toward Luke’s pickup, Shay shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her sweatshirt, feeling the heaviness of damp denim against her legs and the weight of the world on her shoulders.

She settled into the passenger side, not bothering with her seat belt, and studied Luke with open interest. He could be of European heritage, she supposed, but with his dark coloring, and a name like Meza, she’d figured differently.

“What?” he asked, surprising her. She’d have sworn he could pull off stone-faced silence for any length of time.

“You speak Spanish like a white man.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. It was a stupid thing to say, impulsive and presumptuous, but what the hell. She was curious, and he didn’t like her anyway. “I’m Luiseño,” he said, turning his attention back to the road.

“Really?” Her interest was piqued further. The Luiseño tribe, named by the founding fathers of the San Luis Rey Mission, was one of the twenty-six registered tribes in the area. San Diego had a more diverse Indian population than any other place in the United States. “Where were you born?”

“Pala.”

Shay was stunned. Pala Reservation was only thirty miles from Tenaja, and one of the poorest communities in the county. Luke Meza wasn’t a well-to-do city boy from the lights of Las Vegas. He was local. Not only local, but Native.

He’d probably grown up with less than she had. Now he thought he was too good for her, and that rankled her hard.

“Who’s Dylan?” he asked, rolling to a stop in front of her house. “You mentioned that name to Fernando’s daughter.”

“He’s my younger brother,” she said, glancing toward the door.

“He lives with you?”

“Yes.”

He followed her gaze, assessing the single car in the driveway, rusted basketball hoop above the garage door, and sadly neglected front lawn. “Where’re your folks?”

The question shouldn’t have caught her off guard, but no one in Tenaja Falls ever asked about her parents. They already knew. “Gone,” she said shortly.

He nodded, looking down the road instead of at her face.

She supposed that was his way of saying good-bye, and it left a lot to be desired. “I can’t say it’s been a pleasure,” she muttered, getting out of his truck.

“I can’t, either,” he replied, his eyes licking down her body once more before he slammed the truck into gear and drove away.

Eager to put some distance between them, Luke was driving too fast along the bumpy dirt road, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

He knew he’d done the right thing, but he cursed himself for having the presence of mind to say no when she’d been soft and pliant underneath him, granting him free use of that sweet-looking mouth and luscious body.