Kylie Brant - The Last Warrior

The irony wasn’t lost on her.

Joe was finishing the report, compiling the conversations he’d had with Quintero’s acquaintances that day. Balefully, he glared at the computer monitor as another phrase was underlined by the software program, indicating a problem with his spelling, sentence structure, or both. He was a cop, not a novelist. Arnie and he had a system. He could usually coax the other man into writing the reports, if he also let him drive when they were in the Jeep. It was tough to sit in the passenger seat day after day, especially given Arnie’s driving ability, but it was far worse to type the endless reports at day’s end.

He was still pecking away at the computer when he heard Vicki Smith, the office specialist, behind him. “Visitor for you, Joe.”

Turning, he saw a slight, bespectacled man with fading blond hair and blue eyes. Bruce Glenn, his former father-in-law.

Warily he stood, shot a glance at Vicki, who merely raised her eyebrows and moved away. “Bruce.”

“Joe. I hate to bother you at work. The thing is, I’ve called your house a few times and can’t seem to find you at home. I thought I’d take a chance on catching you here.”

“Is something wrong? With Heather? Jonny?” A parent’s dread reared quickly. He’d just spoken to his son last night, and he’d seemed his usual exuberant self.

“No, no. Nothing like that.”

Relief filtered through Joe and he noticed for the first time Garcia at her desk, diligently appearing as though she weren’t listening. Several other officers were in the vicinity, as well. “Follow me.” He led Bruce to the staff room, and stared at the lone occupant who was hovering hopefully over the coffee maker. After several seconds the man glanced up, looked from Joe to Bruce and excused himself.

When he’d left, Joe let the door shut behind him and faced Glenn. “What’s on your mind, Bruce?” He’d always gotten along well enough with the man during his marriage to Heather. When they’d been dating, Bruce had made no bones about the fact that he didn’t think Joe was good enough for his daughter, but then, no one would have lived up to his expectations for the girl he’d raised alone and, in Joe’s estimation, spoiled beyond belief. She’d had an indulged childhood, with summers spent accompanying her father on ruin restoration projects in the Yucatán and winter breaks skiing in Aspen. After the wedding, though, the man had been cordial, and he’d doted on Jonny since the boy’s birth.

“Well, it’s Heather, of course.” Bruce took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt, a familiar absentminded gesture of his. “I don’t mind saying, it’s tough for me, not having her and Jonny nearby. Especially in the summer, when I have more time on my hands.” He’d taught history at Tuba City High for nearly thirty years now. “It can’t be easy for you, either. Occasional weekends with the boy, when you were used to seeing him nearly every day.”

As if the words had barbs, they arrowed deep into his chest. Twisted. Joe’s jaw tightened. “No. It’s not easy.”

“Maybe you could do something to get her to return here.” Bruce settled the glasses back on his nose and swallowed hard. “This situation…it’s not good for any of us. It’s got to be hard for Jonny to understand all the changes in his life recently. He needs his family around him at a time like this. All of his family.”

It was hard to disagree. Jonny’s home was here. His family was here, his grandfather and great-grandfather. His friends. Even the T-ball team he’d hoped to play on this summer. Heather had disrupted all that when she’d insisted on moving to Window Rock. She’d said she needed to find work. Joe remained unconvinced. She’d never worked a day in her life, and he was certain Bruce would have been glad to resume supporting her.

So that meant she’d done it solely to punish him. Maybe because he’d never been able to figure out how to make her happy. Probably because he’d finally gotten tired of trying.

“I don’t know what I can do. The custody hearing date is set for three weeks from now. Until then we both have to wait.”

“C’mon.” Bruce shuffled his feet, tried for a smile. “You’re a cop. You’ve got friends all over the reservation who are cops. You can make things…difficult for her, can’t you? You could make her see it’s better all around if she just comes home.”

Joe eyed him narrowly. “I’m not quite sure what you’re suggesting.”

“What I’m suggesting is that you prove you love your son, even if you no longer love my daughter.” His voice had risen with the statement, and Joe glanced at the closed door, wondering how many officers outside it were listening. “What I’m suggesting is that you use any means necessary to do what’s best for Jonny. Or don’t you care that your son is living among strangers? That you have to content yourself with every other weekend visits when you used to be a real part of his life?”

“Yes, I care.” Joe kept his voice low, his anger held in check. “But I’m not going to pull some stupid stunt that will jeopardize my case when it gets to court. I don’t like this situation any better than you do, but we both have to give this some time. It will sort itself out in the end.” He had to believe that. Had to believe his lawyer’s prediction of his chances in court. Because some days it was the only thing that kept him going.

Curious now, he looked more closely at the man. Bruce seemed thinner, a little stooped in the shoulders, and it was obvious that the situation was wearing on him, as well. “You’ve always had a close relationship with Heather. I can’t believe she wouldn’t listen to you if you tried to talk to her.”

The man puffed out a breath. “Heather hasn’t been listening to much I have to say for the last several months. I don’t know where her head is, I really don’t.” He sighed, straightened. “Just…promise you’ll think about what I said, Joe. Custody cases are never a sure thing. You may need to use other means to bring your son home.”

Bruce reached for the doorknob and Joe stood aside, let him leave. It was probably the first time in Bruce’s life that he hadn’t gotten his daughter to do exactly as he wanted. Well, the second time, given that she’d married Joe. But clearly Bruce was desperate if he’d come here, begging Joe to…do what? Arrange some sort of private harassment for his ex? Kidnap his son?

Joe shook his head. Would his desperation reach Bruce’s level if things didn’t go his way in court? He didn’t want to think about the complications that would arise should he be forced to transfer to be closer to his son. Charley was over eighty, and although he’d made it through the bypass surgery, he was at the age where he needed his family around him.

Deliberately, Joe closed the door on the staff room, trying to leave those thoughts behind, as well.

Captain Tapahe was waiting impatiently by his desk. “You’ve got a call, Joe.” As his stride quickened, the man lowered his voice. “You can take it in my office. It’s President Taos.”

Joe strode into the other man’s office, picked up the receiver. “This is Youngblood.”

“Frank Taos, here, Joe. We’ve never met, but your captain has been singing your praises.”

Warily, Joe looked up as the captain joined him in the office, closing the door behind him. “That’s good to hear.”

“I’m just checking on how you’re coming on that incident involving Delaney Carson. I don’t think I have to tell you just how delicate the matter is.”

“I checked it out. The place was deserted, but it’s clear there had been some sort of illegal activity there. Whoever fired those shots did it to scare her away from the operation.”