Welcome Back to Pie Town Read online

  “I heard the same thing,” Father George responded. He slid his fingers through his hair. “He used to be active at church when he was a little boy too. Sang in the children’s choir, was an acolyte. He was even quite popular in high school, from what his teachers say.” He shook his head. “From all the stories the church folks tell me, Raymond doesn’t even seem like the same person.”

  Trina turned away. “I’m worried about him. I’m worried about both of them out there together.”

  “Do you want me to go try and find them?” Father George asked. He dropped his hands in his lap and considered the idea. He had no clue where to start searching. He didn’t know where Frank had gone looking for his son, and even though he had been in Catron County for more than a couple of years, there were still areas around Pie Town that he had never visited.

  Trina shook her head. “No, I don’t think you need to be running around the county trying to find Frank and Raymond. They both know this land like the back of their hands, so they could be anywhere.” She reached for her water bottle and took a swallow.

  “How’s Alexandria?” George asked, deciding to change the subject. He realized that he hadn’t heard how Trina’s baby was doing since the accident. The child had seemed unaffected by what had happened between her mother and Raymond after the night of the storm, but George was not sure since he had not seen the little girl in a couple of days. He knew that the caregiver had kept her for the first night after the incident.

  “Fine,” Trina answered. “I picked her up yesterday from Frieda’s. She seems fine. I mean, she misses Raymond, keeps looking around for him at the house, but she doesn’t seem to know anything’s wrong.”

  George nodded. “You okay taking care of her?” he asked. He wasn’t sure how the wounds on her back and legs might have hindered her from the work she had to do as a mother.

  “Yeah. I really only have one place that got burned bad. It’s on my butt, and it’s healing pretty good. Malene said that I should wear the bandages just to make sure the burns don’t get infected, but they’re really a lot better now.” She stood up and turned around. “You want to see?” she asked.

  George blushed. “No, no . . . ,” he stammered. “I trust you.”

  Trina turned around and saw his red face. “You’re so easy to embarrass,” she said.

  George cleared his throat and didn’t respond. He thought about the young woman and how much he had come to care for her. They had first met when Trina hitched a ride with him just as he was starting his new job in Catron County, and it had seemed to him during his first few months that she was nothing but trouble for him. He recalled the fire at Holy Family: after the church burned down, he had not stood up for her by telling the townspeople she had been with him that night. He had let her take the blame for arson even though he knew she had not been responsible.

  He was still ashamed of his actions toward Trina, and it meant a great deal to him that the young woman had never held his silent betrayal against him. She had, in fact, taught him more about kindness and generosity of spirit than anyone he had ever met.

  He just watched as she gingerly sat back down at the desk and returned to her work on the computer. Even with her teasing, it was easy to see that she was upset about Raymond, and now Frank, but he also knew she was a person who did not let anything keep her down. He remembered her pregnancy and the last few weeks when she had to stay on bed rest. She never seemed anxious or afraid. Trina was young, but strong.

  The phone rang, and Trina answered. “Frank’s Garage,” she said. And there was a pause. “Hello? Hello?” She waited a few seconds and then hung up. She shrugged at George. “Wrong number I guess, or maybe it’s somebody trying to see if Frank answers.” She stared at the phone.

  “Maybe it’s your old boyfriend.” George was trying to tease her.

  “Is that meant to be a joke?” she asked. “Is the priest trying to make a joke?”

  He blushed again.

  There was a pause.

  “I’m going to tell Roger what happened. I’m going to call him when I get home this afternoon and tell him.” She shrugged again. “I feel like he should know the truth.”

  Father George nodded and then noticed the dark sedan as it slowly drove past the garage. He knew that the FBI agents had been in town every day since the incident at the bar in Datil. As the car passed, George noted the two men inside the car staring into the garage bays and into the office where he and Trina were sitting.

  “What would you do?” she asked George.

  The priest faced away from the window and looked over at Trina. “What do you mean?” he asked. He folded his hands in his lap. “Would I tell Roger?” he asked, thinking about what she had just said.

  Trina shook her head. “No. I mean, would you try to talk your son into coming home and possibly spending time in jail, or would you help him run?” Trina had a pencil in her hand and was lightly tapping the desk with it.

  George sat back and started biting his bottom lip, a nervous habit he had developed. “I guess I would try and talk him into turning himself in,” he finally replied. “To come and face the charges, clear his name.”

  Trina nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I think Frank will do too,” she said.

  “What about Raymond?” he asked.

  She waited for more. She wasn’t following him.

  “Will Raymond choose to come home and deal with the situation, or will he run?” George knew that Trina knew Frank’s son probably better than anyone else in town.

  “He’d come home,” she answered right away. “If he’s, you know. . . .” She paused. “If he’s right in his mind.” She shook her head. “But I don’t know. He’s so different than who he used to be.”

  She placed the pencil in the cup on the edge of the desk. “You know, when he first got to Pie Town, after the hospital stay, I thought he’d be okay. But now he just seems so angry, so not like himself.” She glanced down. “I’m worried about Alexandria being around him. I’m worried that he might hurt her. . . .” She snapped up her face, realizing what she had said. “Oh, but not intentionally,” she noted, hoping George wouldn’t think worse of her boyfriend. “I don’t think he meant or means to harm anyone intentionally. I just think he’s not . . . I just don’t know what he’d do now.”

  “I know,” Father George responded.

  “And it worries me that the FBI might be the ones who find him, because I’m not sure how he’ll react to them and I’m worried that they might hurt him. I’m worried that this thing could really blow up.”

  George glanced away.

  “I wish Roger would find him first and bring him in. That would make things a lot better, don’t you think?” Trina asked.

  “I do,” George replied.

  There was a pause in the conversation.

  “Well, we just have to hope for the best, and we also have to remember that we don’t know the whole story,” Father George noted. “All we’re hearing is bits and pieces, and some of it isn’t even true.”

  He recalled hearing one of the church members explaining to someone else that Raymond had robbed the bar at gunpoint, stealing from Gilbert while holding the customers hostage. Somebody else talked about hearing that Raymond had been dealing drugs with a soldier he met in Afghanistan, that he was involved with some military drug ring out of Albuquerque. There were already lots of versions of what happened at the Silver Spur and a lot of versions of what had happened to Raymond, and he knew most of them weren’t based on fact.

  “He may not have been the one to steal the money. We don’t know if what Gilbert is telling Roger is the real truth.” Father George took a breath. “We can’t know what really happened until we hear Raymond’s side of the story.”

  “Hear Raymond’s side of what story?”

  Father George and Trina had been so involved in their conversation that neither one of them had even heard the truck pull into the rear of the garage. They didn’t know Frank had walked into the offic
e until he asked the question.

  TWENTY-TWO

  I’m only saying that you should have told me the truth to start with.” Roger sounded angry.

  “It wasn’t my truth to tell,” Malene responded.

  She had been sitting on the front porch when he drove up. Roger was just returning from Trina’s after she had called the sheriff from work explaining that she wanted to talk. He had just discovered the real reason she had needed medical attention, the real reason Father George had called Malene to come to the church. She had finally come clean to him about the last time she had seen Raymond Twinhorse and what had happened between them. She had also informed him that Frank was home, and after he talked to Malene, confronted her about what he now knew, Roger planned to head over to the garage and talk to him.

  “What does that mean?” he asked. “If it’s the truth, then everybody ought to tell it.”

  “That’s not the way I see it,” she said. She folded the newspaper she had been reading when Roger pulled up and placed it in her lap.

  He leaned against the porch railing in front of her. “Why is it not the way you see it?” He glanced up, trying to decide if he was going to sit beside her or just remain standing there on the steps. “The truth is the truth no matter who tells it.”

  Malene leaned over and cleaned off the rocking chair next to hers, making a space for her husband to sit. “I don’t think it was my place to tell what Trina asked me not to.” She threw the magazines and blanket down beside her.

  Roger waited. “It was domestic abuse,” he said.

  Malene looked up at him. “She said it was an accident, and I believe her.”

  “An accident?” Roger sounded surprised as he remained standing on the steps. “Malene, you saw those wounds. He pushed her into a stove. She has blisters on her back from the pot of water.” He shook his head. “You’re a medical professional. You’re supposed to report those kinds of injuries.”

  Malene faced her husband. “I have known Raymond Twinhorse since he was a baby.” She patted the seat of the chair next to hers, inviting him to sit down. When he did, she continued. “And so have you, Roger Benavidez. He was Angel’s best friend when they were children. He was like a son to us both. And you know as well as I that Raymond couldn’t hurt a fly.” She took a breath and started rocking.

  “He’s a good boy, Roger. Something bad happened to him over there in that war, and Trina and Frank are committed to getting him help. They’re going to make sure he goes for counseling. That’s what they both told me and Father George, and that’s what I believe to be the truth.” She stopped rocking and peered at her husband.

  Roger didn’t move in his chair. He studied his wife. She was right, he realized. Raymond was like a son to him. He had helped Frank raise the boy. And he wasn’t a violent person. At least he wasn’t before he joined the military. But still, he thought, Malene should have told him about Trina’s injuries.

  “This incident is important to the other case, to the robbery in Datil,” he explained. “It gives us information that Raymond was in a disturbed state of mind when he got thrown out of the bar. It’s helpful information.”

  “Helpful to whom?” Malene asked.

  Roger turned away.

  “Helpful to the prosecution, right?” She folded her arms across her chest and kept rocking. “Helpful for you to gain evidence to arrest him so you can close your case? Helpful to try and calm Gilbert down?”

  “It could also be helpful to a defense. If it’s determined that he was mentally incapacitated, had a kind of psychotic break, a good lawyer could prove that Raymond wasn’t in his right mind when he got upset at the bar and also when he returned the next morning to steal from Gilbert. Somebody with any sense would say he suffers from PTSD and needs help.” He thought his argument sounded convincing.

  “It was not my truth to tell,” Malene repeated. “Besides, you don’t know what happened at the Silver Spur. You need to talk to Raymond before you start making up your mind about that boy. What’s happened to you? You never used to jump to conclusions like you’ve jumped to this one. You always used to wait before you decided who committed the crime. Don’t you need to at least hear from Raymond before you make up your mind? He doesn’t steal. He’s not a petty thief or a vengeful person. You know that. These accusations are crazy. And if you ask me, Gilbert is making this all up to cause trouble.”

  Roger put his arms behind his head, interlocking his fingers. “I would love to talk to Raymond, but it seems that he is making it hard for me to locate him at the present time.”

  “Have you heard from Frank?” Malene asked.

  Roger rocked, starting to relax. “Trina said he was back, that he showed up at the garage just before she left. She said that he’s sticking to a story that he went to visit family in Ramah.”

  “Maybe he did,” Malene responded. “Maybe he went to see his mother. Maybe he thought he needed to tell his family what was happening with his son, ask for their help.”

  “We both know there’s more to Frank’s story than him just taking a couple of days, closing the garage, and driving up to visit his family. He was searching for Raymond, and I think he found him.” Roger stretched up his arms and then brought them down to rest on the sides of the chair.

  Malene closed her eyes. “I thought the FBI took the investigation away from you anyway.”

  Roger didn’t respond.

  Malene glanced over at her husband, waiting for him to reply.

  “I informed Agent Williams that I intend to complete my work, and when I am finished I am happy to give them a copy of my report.”

  “Is that why you’re in such a hurry to name Raymond the thief, to finish the investigation before the FBI can take credit for an arrest?” She immediately could see that Roger was hurt by the accusation. She reached over and touched him on the arm.

  “I’m sorry. I know that’s not true. I know you’re not competing with the FBI to close the case. I know you’d rather be the one to speak to Raymond before they do. I know that’s why you want to find him.” She studied Roger, hoping for forgiveness. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

  He nodded without making a response.

  “What I don’t understand is why the FBI is so concerned about this case anyway,” Malene said. “Why is the robbery of a bar of any interest to them?”

  Roger shook his head. “I can’t figure that one out, but I suppose it may have something to do with the bust they bungled in Alamo. Gilbert’s running his mouth all over the county, telling anybody who will listen that Raymond had a gun and that he acted like he was on drugs. Maybe the feds think he’s the guy they’re after.” He reached over and took his wife’s hand still resting by his arm. “But of course, as usual, I don’t know any of this for sure because nobody’s telling me anything.”

  Malene had heard about the FBI from Oris. He had been at the diner when the two agents came in. One of them gave Fred his business card and asked him to call if he saw Frank or Raymond Twinhorse. It had been the agent Roger had spoken of before, Agent Lewis Williams. She knew he was the same man her husband had worked with previously. She knew Roger didn’t like the man from Albuquerque.

  “Do you think they’re searching for Raymond?” she asked.

  Roger sighed. “I think they’d love to find him, and I think they’re convinced that Raymond is somehow connected in this drug business.”

  “Well, that’s just crazy,” Malene responded. “Raymond’s not selling drugs.”

  “You know that, and I know that. But the federal agents don’t know that. They’ve probably already made up their minds that Raymond is a dealer, and the longer he stays away the worse it gets for him.” He glanced up just as a truck passed the house. It was one of the ranchers who lived up the street. Roger threw up his hand.

  “That’s why having the news about what happened to Trina might have helped,” he explained. “If I had known that Raymond had already made a violent attack on his girlfriend, wha
t happened at the Silver Spur would have appeared less like the premeditated action of some drug dealer and more like a guy who was just messed up.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Maybe if I had known this in the beginning, I could have told Agent Williams and he would have left the case alone.”

  Malene turned, watching her husband. “You don’t really believe that, do you?” she asked. “You’re just angry because you didn’t know the truth, and you’re angry because I did and didn’t tell you.”

  Roger glanced away. “Yes,” he replied. He faced Malene, pulling away his hand. “I’m angry that no one trusted me enough to tell me the truth. I’m angry that you and Trina would decide that you couldn’t confide in me. That the priest, my best friend, my wife, and a young woman whose child is my goddaughter would take matters into their own hands, choose not to report a case of domestic abuse, and then lie to me about what really happened.” He exhaled. “Yes, Malene, I am angry.”

  Malene reached over and took her husband’s hand again. She looked at him. “I didn’t know what else to do,” she confessed. “None of us knew the right thing to do,” she added. “Trina asked us not to tell, convinced us that she would get Raymond some help and that she would not be alone again with him until he did.” She blew out a breath. “After I heard about the robbery at Silver Spur, I didn’t know what to think, and Trina promised that she would tell you.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.”

  Roger softened. He knew she had been put in a very unsettling position and that she had acted as she had only because she had thought it was the right thing to do. She loved Trina and Raymond and didn’t want to do anything to harm either of them. He knew that if he had been called, if he had been told what she had been told, he would probably have done the same thing. He really couldn’t blame his wife and his friends for not reporting the event. And he knew he was mostly angry and upset because, with the feds involved, Raymond Twinhorse was going to be in a lot more trouble than if Roger had been able to just handle the situation himself.