Bitter Rain (Kate Fox Book 3) Page 16

  Even though both of the courthouse dragons were long past their first cup race, I crept into the commissioner’s room as quietly as possible for Ethel’s muddy roast. I wasn’t quick enough.

  Betty swirled from the hallway and startled me into sloshing coffee onto the carpet. “Did you try to slip the budget under the office door last night? You weren’t here when I left, and I didn’t want to leave my door unlocked.”

  An adult person, especially an elected county official, should not feel like a kid without her homework. I carried a gun, for the love of brown gravy. “I wanted to check it over today before I turn it in. Make sure it’s perfect for you.”

  Betty handed me the powdered creamer. “That’s nice, but if you could get it to me—”

  My cell rang and I shot Betty an apologetic look, set the creamer down, and thumbed the phone on while carrying my coffee out of the room.

  Kyle’s voice sounded tight. “I can be in Hodgekiss by noon. That’ll get us up to Sand Gap to talk to the Chapter police chief and over to the school when it gets out. We can talk to Shelly’s friends.”

  I motioned Poupon to vacate my chair, and he ignored me. “The rez is so far out of my jurisdiction I can’t justify snooping around.”

  He sighed. “Humor me, okay? As a friend. We could go up there this morning, but I’m vaccinating heifers for Rocking L.” The part-time deputy gig didn’t pay his bills.

  I set my coffee on my desk and surveyed the budget papers. “Why do you need me to go with you?”

  He hesitated. “In case we find something. Do you think the legal system in western Nebraska will favor a case investigated by an Indian?”

  Even if he knew it was coming, Poupon waited for me to tug his collar before he climbed out of my chair. “If you find something illegal, sure they will. We wouldn’t hire you for deputy if we didn’t think so.”

  He scoffed. “I fill in for you guys. Patrol, keep the peace. Not lead investigations.”

  He had a point. If he didn’t get here until noon, I’d have a few hours to work on the budget. How long could it take?

  “I have to get out to the corral. See you at noon?”

  Guess my yard and garden could wait. “Sure.”

  But Mom’s neighbor, Beverly, called me because her lights went out. Not my job, but I went over to replace a fuse and share the musty chamomile tea she’d already steeped. Jim Bingham locked his keys in his car, again, and I spent another hour breaking into his car and chatting with him about the meat-packing companies taking over the world.

  Brittany Ostrander cornered me in the bathroom at the courthouse to commiserate with me about the awful state of being single in Grand County and how all she wanted was to share a home with a man. That led me to thinking about setting the table, serving pie, and doing dishes for the pleasure of sharing a few laughs. And I hadn’t even cooked all afternoon for the privilege.

  When Kyle showed up at twelve thirty, I hadn’t so much as shuffled the budget papers. Good thing Betty always ate lunch at the Long Branch, so she didn’t waylay me on my way out.

  Poupon settled into the back seat without comment. Kyle and I didn’t have much more to say than the pooch. The clouds hung heavy, making me worry they’d spring a leak and the whole sky would crash down on us again. Kyle and I studied the hills surrounding the Olson place.

  Eventually, we pulled into Dry Creek. We both focused on a group of half a dozen young people gathered under the awning of an abandoned craft store. Mixed boys and girls, I pegged them as late teens, early twenties. With an unemployment rate of 80 percent on the rez, a roaming group like this didn’t seem unusual.

  When we reached Sand Gap, Kyle gave me directions to the tribal police station. A brick building on the outskirts of town, with the entryway tucked back between jutting walls and very few windows breaking up the surface. The grass in front looked challenged, despite the rain. Two Oglala Sioux Antelope Ridge cop cars were parked in front.

  We entered a cramped lobby and approached a uniformed woman behind a glass panel. Kyle stepped to the glass. “Can we see John Yellow Bird?”

  The woman didn’t greet him or smile. She shook her head. “Naw. He is busy.”

  Kyle looked behind her as if trying to see into the narrow hallway leading toward the back of the building. “Is he here?”

  She took her time answering. “Naw. He jus’ left.”

  Frustration wrinkled his forehead when he spun from the window and shot outside into the gray day, with me on his heels. Without warning, Kyle took off, running down the wide sidewalk toward the parking lot.

  A compact man, with nearly gray hair, hurried from the side of the station toward one of the cars.

  Kyle shouted, “Captain! Wait. I need to talk to you.”

  The man spun around, clearly surprised.

  I trotted to them as Kyle finished introducing us. I shook Captain Yellow Bird’s hand.

  Dark circles draped under his eyes as if sleep were foreign to him. His belly drooped over his belt, and he had the irritated expression of a busy man. He put a hand on his cruiser door. “I really don’t have time—”

  Kyle launched into it. “What do you know about young girls going missing?”

  Captain Yellow Bird sagged. “Yeah. Girls go. Boys, too. Kids are kids.”

  Kyle lowered his eyebrows. “Ginny Two Guns? Missy Iron Cloud?”

  The older man jerked on the car latch and opened his door a few inches. “I don’t know those names. Far as I know, no one reported them missing.”

  I jumped in. “Is this common? Minors disappear and no one investigates or cares?”

  Fire ignited in his eyes. “This ain’t Disneyland, okay? By the time they hit fifteen or sixteen, there’s not much holding them down. Some find things they like to do better than go to school. Drink, drugs, sex.” He let go of his door and advanced on me. “Do you know six months ago a thirteen-year-old girl was shot on the street in Sand Gap?”

  Kyle closed his eyes and inhaled, then started again. “I’m looking for my sister, Shelly Red Owl.”

  Captain Yellow Bird sagged again. “Hey, man, that’s tough. I’m sorry. But these girls, you don’t know what they’re thinking. They’re selling hummers behind Frankie’s for a forty. They take a few days and go with their boyfriends to Rapid City.” He shrugged.

  “What about sex trafficking? Or kidnapping?” I asked.

  He spoke to Kyle as if I didn’t exist. “I got a force of thirty-two officers to take care of three million acres. Eighty percent of our calls are alcohol and domestic abuse. I can’t go looking for rebellious girls. Are they taking off on their own? Getting stolen and sold? I don’t know, man. I’m running as fast as I can, trying to keep the people as safe as I can.”

  Kyle didn’t stop him when he reached for the car door, hefted himself inside, and started the engine. We watched him drive away, the cool, heavy wind boxing our ears.

  Kyle stomped to the car, and I hurried to join him.

  The muscles in his jaw flexed. “I don’t believe Shelly would run away this close to graduation. Not when she is supposed to give the valedictory speech. Not with Alex acting up like this.”

  The logic evaded me, too. “If other girls are missing, no one is looking for them.”

  He flinched. “That makes the rez a perfect place to get girls.” He tapped the dash. “Let’s go to the school. Talk to Shelly’s friends.”

  With more grunts and pointing than words, Kyle guided me to Sand Gap School. We parked in angle parking on the street in front of a sprawling one-story brick building with the tall block of a gym on the western end. A wide band of yellow, red, black, and white geometric designs wound around the whole structure. It looked to have been built about sixty years ago, with little upkeep in the interim.

  Kids of all ages, from six or seven years to high school seniors, headed down the sidewalk-less streets, milled in small knots, or roughhoused on the sparse front lawn. Typical after-school gathering.

  Most of th
e chatter faded when we got out, and their eyes tracked us. I kept up as Kyle marched the length of the school toward the west end, dodging mud puddles and trash. The squeak of tennis shoes on a wood floor and bouncing of basketballs filtered from the open gym doors.

  Gym smell of sweaty kids, hints of cafeteria meals and concession popcorn drifted on the air. A half-dozen boys and girls played half-court ball, yelling and throwing elbows, their laughter and exertion a happy contrast to all the sadness on the rez.

  A tall, thin girl with tangled long hair held the ball to her chest and searched the court for someone to toss it to. She caught sight of us, her arms dropped, and her face registered surprise. The other kids spun around to see us.

  Kyle raised his hand. “Hi, Amanda. Got a minute?”

  The girl shifted her attention to the group of kids around her, and acting as put-out as only a teenager can, she tossed the ball to the nearest kid. The guy caught it. “I’ll be right back.”

  Everyone watched us as we slipped out the door and around the back of the school.

  Amanda stood with her hip thrust out. “What?”

  Kyle fired back. “Where’s Shelly?”

  More teen attitude. “Do I look like her secretary? Call her yourself.”

  Kyle’s two-second stare started to unravel her, and his words finished it. “I haven’t forgotten that night. Have you?”

  Called to the carpet with his words, she colored and dropped her eyes. After all the episodes where I’d helped out a brother or sister and their friends, I figured Kyle had enough blackmail fodder to last a good long time. “I don’t know where she went after she left here. She was looking for Alex.”

  I jumped in. “Today?”

  She glared at me, and I wished I’d stayed quiet.

  Kyle’s voice faltered. “Is she okay?”

  A defiant fire lit Amanda’s eyes. “Like always. Mad ’cause Alex isn’t doin’ exactly like she thinks. Even though she, like, skipped school all week, she was askin’ us why we wasn’t at the sweat on Saturday.” She folded her arms and notched down. “Kind of weird she wasn’t there.”

  “Was she planning to be?” Kyle asked.

  Amanda nodded and sniffed indignantly. “Kind of a hypocrite. Like, you know, she’s always complaining about us being crabs.”

  Kyle looked confused. “Crabs?”

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “She says Lakota are like crabs in a bucket. Everyone tryin’ to get out, but when one climbs to the rim, the others pull him back down. She says we gotta learn to help each other. So, like, she does all this stuff to try to help kids out.”

  I waited, and Kyle asked for me. “What kind of stuff?”

  Amanda twisted her neck, checking on the kids in the gym. They’d gone back to their game. “She goes to Dry Creek sometimes when she knows there’s gonna be a party. She takes rubbers and hands them out to the girls behind Frankie’s. You know, the ones that get into trouble.”

  My stomach flipped. These girls Captain Yellow Bird and Amanda talked about would be Ruthie’s age. Selling sex for beer.

  Kyle didn’t breathe for several seconds. “But she’s around town today? Looking for Alex?”

  Amanda’s eyes cast a belligerent gleam when she looked at me, and I wondered if she’d made that last comment to shock me. “You know her. She’s always tryin’ to do the right thing. Gettin’ good grades and playin’ sports. She said we need to set an example.”

  Kyle’s tone pinned Amanda like a gigged frog. “What’s going on with her?”

  Amanda glared at the ponderous clouds, then at Kyle. All blistery and tough, she swung her gaze to the kids in the gym, then seemed to give in. “Somethin’. I don’t know. In the las’ coupla months she changed. Like inside her head all the time.”

  Now that he’d broken in, Kyle tried again. “How was she today?”

  Amanda focused on his face. “She acted scared. Kept lookin’ around and really wanted to find Alex.”

  I bulled in. “She wrecked her car. How was she getting around?”

  Amanda didn’t rebuff me this time. “We was in the gym. I didn’t see.”

  Kyle sounded frustrated. “She didn’t say where she was staying or what she’s doing?”

  Amanda studied him with intelligent eyes. “Does this have to do with Sheriff Buttface?”

  “Who?”

  She exhaled. “Barnett Buttface.”

  Intensity radiated off Kyle like heat from a revved engine. “Why?”

  “’Cause Shelly was askin’ if he’d been here and stuff.”

  Kyle shot back, “What stuff?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Buttface is creepy. Always watchin’ us girls. A real perv.”

  “Does he ever hurt you?” Kyle asked.

  Amanda looked up at the clouds again with impatience. “No. Just kinda there all the time. What’s goin’ on? Is Shelly in trouble?”

  Kyle sighed. “I’m trying to find out. She hasn’t been home, wrecked her car, and won’t talk to me.”

  The kids in the gym shouted, and their shoes squeaked. Amanda kept eye contact with Kyle. “That’s not good. Shelly loves you. Always talks about how great you are.”

  Kyle switched to small talk about classes, friends, and sports. Amanda had nothing more to help.

  I peeled off and wandered into the gym. In the corner next to the opened door, a collage of photos hung behind a protective plexiglass sheet. I studied the action shots of dark-haired kids, alive in their determination. Jump shots, drives, passes, posed championship portraits, candids. Looked like a collection of decades, with the shorts lengths going up and down, baggy and tight.

  “Can I help you?”

  The man’s voice startled me, and I flinched. The white guy, maybe in his mid-forties, wore pocketed sweatpants, a whistle around his neck, and a collared white T-shirt. He took in my uniform with questioning hazel eyes. “Coach Henderson. Is there a problem?”

  “Kate Fox, Grand County sheriff.” I shook his hand. “Wondering if you know anything about a couple of missing girls?”

  The smile fell from his face. “Who?”

  Shelly wasn’t really missing, since she’d been here within a few hours. I had to think a minute. “Ginny Two Guns and Missy Iron Cloud. Heard anything?”

  His bushy eyebrows dove over his eyes. “They’re back. If they ever went farther than Dry Creek. I had to chase them off school grounds this morning. Both drunk. Before eight o’clock.”

  My attention focused a moment on the kids playing ball at the far court. I needed to see happy, healthy students, laughing, running, doing normal things. Amanda loped from the open door and joined them.

  Coach Henderson’s face lit up as he saw Kyle approaching us. “Here he is!”

  Kyle grinned. “Coach. Good to see you.”

  Coach seemed to put it together when he saw Kyle’s uniform. “Right. I heard you’d taken a deputy job.” He addressed me. “Kyle was one of my stars.”

  Kyle frowned and rolled his eyes.

  Coach tapped my arm. “Look.” He pointed at the collage. “Here he is, ’05 state champs.”

  I leaned close to see Kyle, the lightest-skinned player in a group of grinning boys, his compact energy coming through. “Aren’t you cute?”

  He squinted at the pictures and tapped the plexiglass. “This is Shelly.”

  She stood at the free throw line. If determination could make that shot, it was a swish. She looked lankier than Kyle, long legs, straight black hair in a ponytail down her back. “She’s a beauty.”

  Coach sounded nearly as proud as Kyle usually did when talking about Shelly. “She is a force on the court. I got a bunch of marginal athletes on the girls’ team this year, and Shelly had a way of making them all better. She led the team onto the court every game with the Lakota shawl dance. Made the other teams take notice. We weren’t ever going to win a championship this year, but we ended with a pretty good season.”

  Kyle’s eyes shone. “Like I told you, she’s not a
quitter.”

  Coach indicated another player. There was a clear similarity to Shelly and Alex, with the tall, skinny build.

  “Darrel?” I asked.

  Coach nodded. “Not as good as Kyle, who had more talent, despite him being short. Didn’t have the heart of Shelly, but all the Red Owls can play basketball. Just wish I could get Alex on the court.”

  Kyle and Coach slapped backs and promised to get together, and we slipped out the open door. With heavy footsteps, we retreated to the cruiser, still under the watchful eyes of the few kids left on the school grounds.

  We drove down a series of potholes with a few feet of blacktop scattered about that passed for a road. Before we turned on Main Street on our way to The Stop, we passed a faded car that had probably started out as a champagne-colored Taurus about the time Susan spit peas in my face the first time.

  Kyle threw himself toward the dash, then hollered, “There! Follow him.”

  I checked the houses lining the road on either side, made sure the road in front of and behind me was empty, and squealed a U-turn in the middle of the street. I accelerated after the dumpy car.

  I gave up dodging potholes, and we gained on the car. “Who is it?”

  The driver must have realized I followed because he suddenly got a jump on us. Kyle ground his jaw. “Alex.”

  I flipped on my lights. Now that I knew we were in full pursuit, I didn’t spare the speed. We quickly closed the gap.

  Alex took us back toward the school. With students milling around, my heart climbed to my throat and I backed off. Only a couple of teens sat on a low brick fence in front of the school, and the yard was empty.

  Alex turned at the east end of the school, zooming behind the building. I jerked the wheel to the left to follow him. A thud and yelp sounded from the back seat, and I guessed I’d disrupted Poupon’s nap.

  A parking lot stretched behind the school, with as much attention to maintenance as the street in front. Alex must have realized he’d boxed himself in. He squealed to a stop before a low cable barrier to the open prairie. Maybe he thought he could run, but Kyle blasted from the cruiser and I tried to do the same.