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  “I don’t think now is the time to talk about buying your car,” Frank said, hoping the rancher would leave so that he could get on with the business at hand, the business of trying to find his son. “Raymond isn’t really fit to be driving yet, and I think he might want a smaller car anyway.”

  Bernie nodded. He hadn’t thought about Raymond preferring another car, probably a newer model. He remembered that, as a boy, Frank’s son had not been all that interested in cars. He had not acquired his father’s passion for engines and automobiles. He recalled that Raymond had seen the Cadillac in the barn every summer he worked there and had only made a few comments about it to Bernie. He wasn’t as taken with Mattie as Frank had been.

  Suddenly, Bernie began to consider that this wasn’t as great a gift as he had first imagined when he and Francine discussed it. “You’re probably right,” he finally said. His voice had softened. “I guess I got to thinking about our conversation last summer and just thought Mattie might be a good thing for Raymond to have now. But I suppose kids today don’t care about old cars. They want sleek bodies, fast engines, and big speakers.”

  Frank tried to smile. He really wanted Bernie to leave. He really needed to find his son.

  There was an awkward pause between the two men.

  “Well, I guess I’ll be going,” Bernie said. It was easy for him to see that Frank was in a hurry. He got up from his seat.

  “If you change your mind, just let me know,” he said, sounding a bit disappointed. “Francine and I thought it would be a nice thing to let Raymond have the Cadillac. We thought he might like something special for him and his girl to drive around town.” He headed toward the door, grabbed the handle, and then turned again to Frank. The garage owner was only a step behind him, reaching around to make sure the door was locked.

  Bernie was startled at how quickly his friend had moved from the desk to the door. “Oh . . . ,” he said, pausing and studying Frank. He was about to ask again if he was okay, but then decided to let it pass. Frank wouldn’t tell him anyway—Bernie knew that.

  “I just remembered: in case Raymond misses me at the ranch and he walks here, tell him I rolled his bike into the barn. He can get some gas from the tank out back.” Bernie opened the door to leave.

  “Wait,” Frank stopped him. “What?” he asked.

  “Raymond rode his bike out to the ranch this morning. I saw him walking up toward Adams Diggings. I figure he was heading up Techado to do some hunting, although I didn’t see him carrying a rifle.” Bernie hesitated, trying to recall if Raymond was carrying anything when he saw him.

  “This morning?” Frank asked.

  “Yeah, about six. His bike must have run out of gas, and he left it at the fence at the far north border. Kept walking in that direction.” Bernie noticed Frank’s piqued interest. “North,” he added. “I suspect when he’s done he’ll go to the house and look for his bike. He knows his way around there pretty good. I just thought I’d put it in the barn for safekeeping. That’s where he used to keep it when he worked there.” Bernie studied his friend. “That’s all right, isn’t it?” he asked.

  Frank thought about his son driving way out to Bernie King’s ranch sometime before dawn. He wondered where the boy had been all night, what he was doing, where he was going, and what he was planning. He peered up at the clock above the door and started to think about where he would find his son at that time, more than six or seven hours after he was seen at the bottom of the trail.

  From Bernie’s place, Raymond could have headed west and gone up Techado or over to Veteado Mountain, or he could have taken the path to the east and walked over to the North Plains. He could already be back down and picking up his bike from the ranch. Still, the good news was that Bernie had spotted Raymond and he was okay. Frank was sure his son was somewhere north of town, a familiar area to them both. He was safe, Frank thought, just walking the land he had hiked and hunted since he was a child.

  “Frank?” Bernie didn’t know what to do. “Is Raymond all right?” he asked. “Should I go take the bike to the fence, over where he left it?”

  Frank shook his head, turning to Bernie. “No, you were right. He’d know you had taken the bike to the barn. He knows you would have found it and taken it back for him. I’ll, um . . . ,” he searched for the words. “I’ll let him know if I see him.”

  Frank paused. “Or maybe I’ll drive up there and look for him, give him a ride home, or down to your place. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll drive up 603 out past your place to Techado and give him a ride back.” He nodded, having made up his mind. “If that’s okay to go on your property?” he asked.

  “Of course it’s okay,” Bernie answered and then just watched Frank for a minute. He could tell something was wrong, but it was clear that it wasn’t his place to ask questions. He turned and opened the door. “All right, that’s fine.” And he walked out of the office and got into his truck. He started the engine and watched as Frank locked the door and moved quickly toward the rear of the garage.

  Frank hurried out of the office and jumped in his truck. He wouldn’t have to drive around the county after all, just maybe walk a few miles out to his favorite hunting spot. He wasn’t exactly sure where to find his son, but at least he knew now where Raymond had gone.

  NINETEEN

  Malene met Frank as he turned onto the road leading to the church and wondered if he was returning to check on Trina or if he had found Raymond in town and was driving over to let the girl know he was okay. She lifted her hand to wave at him, but it was as if he didn’t even see her. She stopped her car and watched as he kept moving in the opposite direction, the dust swirling behind his truck. She figured that whatever he was doing heading back up the road to the church, he was doing it in a hurry.

  She pulled out onto the highway and drove toward Pie Town, returning to work at Carebridge. She had been gone for almost the entire morning, and even though she had told everyone where she was going, she knew her supervisor would be likely to expect a more detailed explanation.

  Carebridge Nursing Center had recently hired a new executive director, a woman from Gallup who had worked in rehabilitation centers and retirement facilities for many years. Malene liked Dorothy Griegos, who understood the population they cared for and knew how to run a business. She was also a former nurse, and Malene had always preferred the nurses who served as executive director more than the MBA types. She guessed that in the thirty years she had worked at Carebridge there had been at least twelve directors, and each one was different.

  She drove into the lot next to the facility, parked, and walked in through the rear door, stopping to punch in her time card. Dorothy was rounding the corner when she looked up.

  “Malene,” she said with a smile, checking the clock on the wall above the door. “You help the priest?” she asked.

  Malene had gotten the director’s approval before leaving. She had received permission from her shift supervisor, but she knew it was always best to let everybody in charge know what she was doing.

  “Yes, ma’am,” she answered, being respectful even though Dorothy was actually a few years younger than herself. “It was a woman who had been. . . .” She hesitated. She wasn’t sure how much she should say. “A woman in trouble,” she continued. “Father George thought she’d rather talk to another woman than to him,” she said, smiling, pleased with her explanation.

  “He’s wise to think that,” the director responded. “Most priests think they can handle anything.” She winked with a knowing look.

  Malene wasn’t sure what the wink meant. She hadn’t talked religion with her boss. She didn’t know Dorothy’s history or preferences.

  Dorothy explained: “I’ve been a Catholic a long time. In fact, I was a nun for twenty years.”

  Malene didn’t respond.

  “You didn’t know that, did you?” Dorothy asked.

  Malene shook her head.

  “Finally thought I’d rather try things on my own. I g
ot tired of having to achieve consensus among a group of thirty women, then having to get the permission of a priest for every decision we finally made, whether it was buying new measuring cups for the kitchen or changing the color of the paint in the chapel.” She sighed.

  Malene didn’t know what to say, so she just smiled.

  “Anyway,” the director continued, “you didn’t miss much this morning, and since you worked overtime yesterday, you can just clock out when the shift is over.” Her phone buzzed, and she reached for it in her pocket. “No worries,” she added, glancing down at her phone and walking away.

  Malene, breathing a sigh of relief, was glad her boss was so understanding. Then she began to wonder about Dorothy’s past as a nun. She wondered which order she had joined and the real reason she had left. Malene didn’t think about Dorothy’s life as a nun for too long, however, because she realized that she had many more pressing things to consider. She shook the thoughts from her mind and headed toward her station. She was relieved that Dorothy had not been upset and that she hadn’t asked too many questions. She was pleased that Dorothy was an executive director who made her feel at ease in her job. Walking to her work area, Malene recalled that it hadn’t always been that way.

  When she first started at the nursing home, the executive director at that time, Mr. Lee, would dock the pay of anybody who left their job early and fire a person for taking more than the allotted sick days. There had been years of emotional distress, and she was constantly afraid of losing her position. She was glad things were better at Carebridge and hoped the ex-nun would stay longer than the other directors she had liked in the past.

  Malene rounded the corner to the wing where she had been assigned, knowing she had a lot to do to catch up. Mornings were always the busiest shifts. There were medicines to dispense, orders from doctors to fill, baths to give, beds to change. It was very fast-paced. She hoped that everything was fine with her patients and that there had been no emergencies. Emergencies slowed everything down for nursing assistants.

  “Where you been?” It was Christine. “I saw your car at the church. You helping Father George with that woman all this time?” she asked.

  Malene moved into the station and began picking up charts. “Did everybody get their morning meds?” she asked, glancing over the reports. “I left before finishing,” she explained.

  “I took care of it,” Christine replied. “I just didn’t give baths,” she added.

  Malene turned to her.

  “I mean, I love you and all, but still. . . .” Christine grinned. “I have my own baths to do.” She walked over to stand across the counter from Malene.

  “Father George seemed rattled,” she said, hoping to have a conversation with her friend. “Everybody’s eating lunch, so it’s okay.” She knew Malene was going to try to make up for every minute she had been gone. “Did you get lunch?” she asked. “Angela made tortilla soup. It’s in the break room. Danny and I went to the diner since the appointment at church was canceled.”

  Malene studied the charts. Christine had given the meds and was thorough enough to have written it in the patients’ charts. She was glad her coworker was so meticulous.

  “So?” Christine asked. “What about this woman?”

  Malene didn’t answer. She was confused. “What woman?” she asked.

  “The woman at the church?” She leaned across the counter, getting very close to Malene. “Was she beat up?”

  Malene shook her head. “I can’t go into it, Christine,” she replied. “He asked me to talk to her because he thought she could relate better to another woman than to him.” She decided that since the explanation had worked with her boss, it ought to work with her coworker too.

  Christine thought about it. “What about Trina?” she asked.

  Malene seemed surprised by the question. She studied her colleague. “What about Trina?” she repeated.

  Christine shrugged. “Why did he need two women?”

  Malene cleared her throat, thinking how to proceed. She noticed the nurse supervisor coming down the hall. She knew she needed to get busy. “Trina was going to run some errands for him, buy some things for the woman.” She recalled what George had told the couple earlier and thought this was a good answer. She watched as the supervisor stopped in a room down the hall.

  “How many sessions do you have left?” she asked Christine, referring to the premarital counseling she and Danny were doing with Father George and hoping to change the subject. “And how is Danny’s temper?”

  Christine blew out a long, exaggerated breath. She held out her hand and studied her engagement ring. “He seems better. But I don’t know. He won’t talk much about it. He hasn’t been really mad for a while, so I guess that’s good, right?”

  Malene nodded.

  Christine continued. “And as far as the sessions, we’re on number six. I think there’s ten.” She rolled her eyes. “Father George said he would like us to go on a retreat with some other young couples in Albuquerque. I guess he knows some counselor there or something.” She dropped her hand. “But I don’t know. I’m sort of tired of talking about me and Danny to somebody else,” she explained. “I just want to be sure that Danny isn’t crazy or anything. What do you think?”

  Malene thought about the question. “I think you’re right to slow things down. If it’s meant to be, it won’t matter putting off the wedding for a while. And a man with a temper. . . .” She stopped. She was thinking about Raymond and his violent outburst. “A man with a temper can be dangerous.”

  “You thinking about that woman at the church?” Christine asked.

  Malene nodded without offering any further explanation. She changed the subject. “Did we get a new patient in room 322?” She wondered why the nursing supervisor was visiting someone on their hall. Malene knew the supervisor usually only dealt with patients after they had first arrived or if there was trouble of some kind.

  Christine glanced behind her. She had not seen the supervisor. She shrugged and turned back. “Not today,” she answered. “Far as I know, Mrs. Baca and Janie are still there.”

  Malene made a kind of humming noise, wondering if something had happened to one of the patients on her hall.

  “Janie thinks somebody’s stealing her candy,” Christine noted. “I wrote it up for her.”

  Malene nodded. The nursing supervisor’s visit suddenly made sense: she was following up on the report. There was a strong commitment to safety at Carebridge, and that included property as well as personal safety. Theft was taken very seriously at the nursing center, even though there were a lot of patients who were known to pick up things from other rooms that weren’t theirs. And there were a lot of patients who reported missing property that had never been there in the first place. It was just a part of life at a nursing home.

  “Well, Linda just went in the room,” Malene announced, knowing Christine would want to know her boss was only a few feet away.

  The young nursing assistant had been reprimanded a number of times because she was often found talking to coworkers or playing computer games instead of doing her job. Usually, it was Linda Lujan, the first-shift nursing supervisor, who gave the reprimands, wrote up the personnel reports, and placed them in her file. Malene knew that Christine did not get along with Linda Lujan.

  The young woman was glad for the heads-up from Malene. Turning to go down the hall to pick up meal trays and get out of her supervisor’s line of sight, she quickly turned back again. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe I forgot to mention it, although maybe you already know.” She paused.

  Malene had a few charts in her hands and was getting ready to leave the station and check on her patients as well. “Already know what?” she asked.

  “About the robbery,” Christine answered. Her eyes were wide with excitement. She suddenly seemed to forget about her supervisor down the hall.

  “What robbery?” Malene asked, thinking Christine was still talking about an incident at the nursing home.
She returned one of the charts to the shelves, remembering that Mr. Ortez had been taken to the hospital for an X-ray. He was leaving by ambulance just as Malene had arrived for work. He wouldn’t need a bath or a meal tray.

  “At the Silver Spur last night,” Christine continued.

  Malene stopped, realizing that Christine wasn’t talking about something stolen at the nursing home. She shook her head. She hadn’t talked to Roger since he left early that morning, but that must have been the call that woke them both up. She guessed that he would phone her soon and tell her the news, although he wasn’t one to talk about his cases. Danny, on the other hand, seemed to love sharing information about his work.

  “Gilbert said there was about two hundred dollars missing,” Christine explained. “He left the money in the cash register last night and planned on picking it up this morning,” she added. “Danny was the first officer on the scene.” She smiled proudly. “But . . . ,” she said, peering around, though Malene wasn’t sure if she was just being dramatic or checking for Linda’s whereabouts, “what’s really jacked up is who Gilbert said was in the bar last night causing all kinds of trouble, making threats, and waving around a gun.”

  Malene waited. She wasn’t really concerned about the incident, but now Christine had piqued her interest.

  Christine glanced around again. She whispered, “It was Raymond Twinhorse, and Gilbert thinks he stole the money and may have done even more than that.”

  Malene suddenly felt the breath catch in her chest and the blood drain from her face. She didn’t even realize it when the charts slipped through her fingers and Christine called out her name.

  Papers were falling out and drifting all across the nurses’ station when the young nursing assistant quickly departed the area and the supervisor left the room down the hall, briskly walking in Malene’s direction.

  PART THREE