Percival Everett - Assumption

“This is some of the best food in these parts,” Ogden said. “The real deal.”

A teenage girl brought out a plastic basket of sopaipillas and some salsa. “I heard you were at the county clerk’s office.” Ogden hadn’t meant to wait so long to mention it, but he had forgotten about his chat with Leon. Now he worried that his question made him sound suspicious.

“I went to look at a detailed map. I had to do something.”

Ogden nodded. “See anything helpful?”

“No.”

“Maybe today we’ll find out something,” he said.

“What do you recommend?” Caitlin looked up at the menu on the wall above the counter.

“I like the caldillo, that’s a green chile stew. The enchiladas here are really good. You can’t go wrong.”

“I’ll try the stew.”

Ogden nodded.

The girl came back and stood by their table.

“Caldillo for both of us,” Ogden said. “Have you seen this woman?” Ogden handed the girl the photograph of Fiona.

The girl nodded. “She used to come in here.”

“She did?” Ogden said. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“She came in a few times. Always had the hamburger. Almost nobody has the hamburger. She drove an old blue Bug. I remember because I liked her car.”

“The last time you saw her?”

The girl looked out the window at the gravel parking lot. “She didn’t come in. She drove up, parked for a while, then backed up and drove off. There was a man with her.”

“Did you ever see the man before?”

The girl shook her head.

“Can you describe the man?” Ogden asked.

“He didn’t get out,” she said. “I couldn’t really see him. He had a beard, I saw that.”

“Did anybody else who works here see her?”

“It’s just me and José and he never comes out of the kitchen.”

“Okay, thanks. What’s your name?”

“Olivia Mendez.”

“I’m Deputy Walker.” Ogden shook her hand. “Thanks again.”

“I’ll go put your order in.”

“One more thing,” Ogden said. “Did you notice which way she came from and which way she went when she left?”

“Yeah, she went up the dirt road toward the lake.”

“Thanks again,” Ogden said. He watched the girl walk away. “Well, what do you know about that?”

“This is great,” Caitlin said.

“There are only a few cabins between here and the lake.” Ogden looked out the window and observed the patches of fog floating in. The fog would be thicker up the mountain. “I hope we can see well enough to find them.”

After their meal, they drove up the muddy track that ran parallel to a swollen creek.

“Must have rained real hard last night,” Ogden said.

“And it’s starting up again,” Caitlin said, pointing at drops hitting the windshield.

“Shit. This road is bad enough right now.”

The rain fell harder as they slipped and slid their way up. It was difficult enough to see the road, much less anything set off into the woods like a cabin. Caitlin asked if they were wasting their time.

“Possibly,” Ogden said.

Ogden drove slowly, so they could see better and so he could keep his rig on the road. He hit the brake and fishtailed to a stop.

“What is it?” Caitlin asked.

“Look,” Ogden said. He nodded to the west side of the road. “In that thicket.”

Caitlin looked.

“A blue Volkswagen,” Ogden said.

The rain fell harder as they climbed out and walked toward the car. There was a cabin beyond it. The chimney was smokeless and the front door was ajar. When they stood under the overhang, at the door Ogden had a bad feeling. The rain pounded loudly on the metal roof. He knocked as hard as he could. Then he called out. “Hello, the house,” he said. He knocked while he pushed open the door.

Ogden saw the feet first, a woman’s sneakers. He pushed quickly into the room. The woman was lying near the cold wood stove, facedown, her left arm twisted behind her back so that the back of her hand was on her butt. There was blood under her middle, spreading across the floor and into the bricks under the stove.

“Oh my god,” Caitlin said.

Ogden fell to his knees beside the woman and turned her over. He put his fingers to her neck.

“That’s not Fiona,” Caitlin said.

“What?”

“That’s not Fiona.”

“She’s alive,” Ogden said. “She’s been shot.”

“Oh god.”

“I’ve got to go call for help.” Ogden looked at the injured woman. By the time the medics made it up that muddy road the woman might be dead. No helicopter was going to fly in this weather, even if there was a place to land, which there wasn’t. He stood there, trying to make a quick decision. Should he move her and meet the ambulance at the road? He looked at the wound to her side. She’d lost a lot of blood. “We’re taking her,” he said. “Get the door.”

Ogden picked up the woman and carried her cradled in his arms through the rain to his rig, where he laid her across the backseat. Caitlin sat in the back with her, holding the woman’s head in her lap.

Ogden called in. “Felton, get me an ambulance to the Questa Lake road. I’ve got a woman who’s been shot.”

“Who’s been shot?” Felton asked.

“The ambulance, Felton.”

“On it.”

Ogden tried to get down the mountain as fast as he could, without letting his adrenaline push him to drive and slide into trouble. The rain let up a bit, but the track was truly a mess. He drove with his tires on the center ridge to avoid getting sucked into the mud of the ruts.

“She’s still breathing?” Ogden asked.

“I think so.”

“Do you recognize her?”

“No.” Caitlin was shaking. “Is she going to die?”

“Felton,” Ogden spoke into the radio, again. “Felton, where’s that ambulance?”

“They’re on the way,” Felton said. “Where are you?”

“Still on my way down the mountain. Another ten minutes, I think.”

“Copy that. I’ll let them know,” Felton said.

“Keep pressure on her wound,” Ogden said.

“She won’t stop bleeding.”

Ogden didn’t say anything, but attended to his driving. The rain was letting up even more and though the fog was thicker, it was in patches so he could see well enough. He thought about the volume of blood and the way the wound looked. The woman could not have been shot too long ago, yet they’d passed no vehicles on the way up. Was the shooter on the way up the mountain? Or still near the cabin?

There was an anxious moment as Ogden rounded the last bend and saw the gravel yard of the little restaurant but no ambulance, but then the paramedics rolled in, red light flashing in the fog.

They had the woman out of the rig and in the back of the ambulance in a matter of minutes. Bucky pulled into the yard just after the medics. One of the medics asked Ogden if he knew the woman’s name or anything about her and Ogden said he did not. Then they rolled away, siren screaming. They had wanted the helicopter, but there would be no flying today.

Bucky walked to Caitlin under the overhang of the restaurant boardwalk. “You okay?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“What about you?” Bucky asked Ogden.

“I think so. How’d you get here so fast?”

“I was down in San Cristobal.”

“We found her in a cabin almost to the lake. I’ll be driving back up there now,” Ogden said.

“Wait for Warren. He’s on his way.” Bucky turned to Caitlin. “Young lady, I’ll take you back to town. You can give me your statement and we’ll get you dry and warmed up.”

Caitlin looked at Ogden. She didn’t want to ride back with the sheriff. Ogden understood. People often wanted to remain with the person with whom they’d experienced something profound or frightening. He nodded to her, letting her know it was okay. He looked to the highway for Warren Fragua’s rig.