J Jance - Queen of the Night

“I’m glad,” Lani said.

“He loves video games,” Delia said.

Lani knew that, too. In many ways, Gabe Ortiz was an ordinary little kid. In other ways, he was extraordinary.

“You gave him to me,” Delia said after a pause.

“I wrapped him up in a towel and handed him to you,” Lani said with a smile. “You’re the one who had to do all the hard work.”

“What would have happened to us if you hadn’t been there that night to help?”

Lani shrugged. “Probably nothing,” she said. “It was a normal delivery. Faster than expected, but normal. You were both healthy. Anyone could have helped you.”

“But you’re the one who did,” Delia said. “I don’t think I ever said thank you.”

“You made me Gabe’s godmother,” Lani said. “That’s thanks enough.”

“Maybe,” Delia said.

Lani was puzzled. So far there was nothing about this oblique conversation that couldn’t have been said in Gabe’s presence, especially if he was engrossed in watching cartoons. But rushing the process wouldn’t have been polite, so she sat back and waited.

“Now maybe I can return the favor,” Delia said.

Lani blinked at that, but she said nothing.

“Angelina Enos is still in the hospital?” Delia asked.

Lani nodded. “Yes. As soon as her family arrives, she’ll be released to them.”

“They won’t come,” Delia said flatly. “Nobody is coming for her. I spoke to her mother’s parents last night and to her father’s parents earlier this morning. Joaquin Enos is in jail in Phoenix. His parents are already taking care of two other grandchildren. They can’t take another.”

“What about Delphina’s parents?” Lani asked.

“They’re from Nolic,” Delia said.

Lani blinked again. Nolic was where she was from, where she had been from, years ago before she became wogsha, an adopted Indian child, and before she went to live in Tucson with Brandon Walker and Diana Ladd.

“Delphina’s parents are Carmen and Louis Escalante,” Delia continued. “Delphina was your cousin. Carmen and Louis are your aunt and uncle.”

Lani sucked in her breath. “Some of the same people who didn’t want me,” she said.

“Yes,” Delia agreed. “Since you were an ant-bit child, they believed you were a dangerous object. Now they think the same thing about Angie-that she’s dangerous. Louis called her Kok’oi Chehia.”

“Ghost Girl?” Lani asked.

Delia nodded. “Louis called her that because she wasn’t killed when everyone else was. He’s also convinced that she’ll grow up to be a bad person like her father.” Delia shrugged and added, “Maybe she will be bad someday, but maybe she’ll grow up to be like her mother. My brother is like my father; I’m like my mother. It can go either way.”

“But Angie needs to have a chance,” Lani said.

“Yes,” Delia said, “that’s true, and it’s why I’m hoping you’ll take her.”

Lani’s jaw dropped. “Me?” she echoed.

“Yes, you,” Delia said determinedly. “You’re Angie’s cousin, after all. If a blood relative steps in to take her, I believe we can keep CPS from getting involved. Since Angie is an eyewitness in the death of her mother, Detective Fellows thinks it’s important to involve the state in the process as little as possible.”

For several long moments neither of them spoke.

“I’m too young to be a mother,” Lani said at last. “I don’t have a husband and I don’t know enough.”

“Delphina had just turned twenty, and she didn’t have a husband, either,” Delia pointed out. “All she had was her GED, but she was making her way and doing a good job of raising her daughter. You’re what-thirty?”

Lani nodded.

“That makes you plenty old enough to be a mother,” Delia continued. “You’re also a trained doctor. You’ll make a good mother.”

“What makes you think so?”

Delia shrugged. “When Fat Crack came to Washington and told me I’d be a good tribal attorney, he didn’t ask to see my school transcripts or ask for references. He already knew I was right for the job. You’re right for this one.”

With that, Delia stood up. “I know this is a shock,” she said. “I know you need to think about this before you answer. Take as much time as you need. We both know Angie is safe as long as she stays in the hospital. Call me later. Let me know what you decide. If you’re going to take her, I’ll handle everything else.”

Delia left then. She let herself out while Lani, too stunned to move, sat where she was. What was it her mother had said to her yesterday? It had been something about wanting another grandchild. Lani doubted this was what her mother had in mind.

Sometimes you have to watch out what you ask for, Lani thought. You may just get it.

Tucson, Arizona

Sunday, June 7, 2009, 6:30 a.m.

71º Fahrenheit

Armed with the licensing information, it didn’t take long for Records to come up with Jonathan Southard’s silver Dodge Grand Caravan minivan and an address in Thousand Oaks, California. Mildred Harrison had called it gray, but the DMV said silver.

“Can you get me a phone number on that?” Brian asked.

That took a little longer. While Brian waited, he considered his options.

Under most circumstances, he would have called the other jurisdiction and involved them in the process. But for right then, the easiest thing to do was to call the house directly and find out if the guy was at home. If he was, that would mean someone else was driving Southard’s car, which, at this point, had not been reported stolen. If he wasn’t home or if his wife had no idea where he was, then that would be the time to call for reinforcements.

The Records clerk came back on the line and gave Brian a number in Thousand Oaks. He wondered briefly if it was too early to call, but then he realized this was summer. That meant California and Arizona were on the same time zone. The phone rang four times. Just when Brian was convinced the call was going to go to voice mail, someone-a woman-picked up.

“Hello,” Brian said. “Is Jonathan Southard there?”

“Who’s calling, please?” the woman asked.

Brian didn’t want to go into all that if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, but the woman wasn’t leaving him a lot of wiggle room.

“Just tell me,” Brian said irritably. “Is he there or not?”

“This is Detective Alexandra Mumford with the Thousand Oaks Police Department,” she said frostily. “Maybe you’d like to tell me what your business is with Mr. Southard.”

Brian was taken aback. “It turns out I’m a detective, too,” he said. “Detective Brian Fellows with the Pima County Sheriff’s Department in Arizona. I’m investigating a quadruple homicide that occurred in our jurisdiction some time last evening. Four people were gunned down. A vehicle matching the description of Mr. Southard’s had been spotted in the vicinity of one of the victims’ homes-”

“What victims?” Detective Mumford interjected.

“One of them, Abby Tennant, is apparently Mr. Southard’s mother.”

“Crap!”

“What does that mean?” Brian asked.

“I’ve spent most of the night in Mr. Southard’s home in Thousand Oaks,” Alex Mumford told him. “We had a call from his wife’s sister down in San Diego last night. She was concerned that she hadn’t heard from her sister, Esther, in several days. A couple of uniforms were dispatched to the Southards’ residence to do a welfare check. They’re the ones who found the bodies.”

“Bodies?” Brian repeated. “What bodies? How many?”

“Three in all. One adult female and two children, a boy and a girl. Oh, and also the family dog. The dead woman’s sister drove up from San Diego and gave us a positive identification on the mother.”