Looking Through Darkness (29 page)

Mrs. Ortega took a deep breath. “This is still a touchy subject around here. The fact is, Ronald Jonas was a registered pedophile. When the courts allowed him to move in with his parents, a few of the men from our neighborhood association got together and paid the Jonas family a visit. Carl and Hazel insisted that their son was innocent and had been wrongly convicted, but no one was buying that. Ronnie was told plainly that if any neighborhood kids turned up missing or were harmed in any way, people would go looking for him first.”

“Did Ronnie stay out of trouble after that?” Leigh Ann asked. Her sympathy for the man's death had never been great, but now it was even less so.

The woman shook her head. “About six months afterwards, some of the kids reported a guy hanging around the elementary school a few blocks down. Ronnie had pulled up beside two girls walking home and asked them if they needed a ride. My stepdaughter was one of those girls, and once her dad realized who Leta was talking about, he and some other men paid Ronald a visit.”

“What happened?” Leigh Ann asked.

“Ronald claimed that he'd only offered to give Leta a ride home because he knew she lived almost next door, but I was told that not even his parents bought that excuse. The men told Ronald that someone would be watching him, and if anything like that happened again, he'd face neighborhood justice.”

“What about your stepdaughter?” Melvin asked.

“Leta's in high school now, living with her mother, and doing just fine. I heard of a second incident involving Ronald sometime later, but it wasn't in our neighborhood.”

“What happened?” Leigh Ann asked.

“Ronald got drunk on Halloween and tried to get a ten-year-old into his car. Her mother was following the trick-or-treaters and managed to stop her daughter in time. The girl's father and two of his friends beat the hell out of Ronald a few days later. Ronald never reported it to the police and hid out in his parents' house for weeks. Next I heard he was planning to move out. Then he got into that accident with you,” she said, looking at Melvin.

“Did any other kids go missing around that time?” Melvin asked.

“No. That's the first thing our neighborhood watch team looked into. I'm sure the police, who knew Ronald's background, double checked everything, too.”

“Maybe so,” Melvin answered, sounding unconvinced.

“We really appreciate your help,” Leigh Ann said, standing. Melvin also got to his feet.

“No problem. I just didn't want you to go up and down the street trying to push for answers. There's still a lot of ill will about Ronald around here. People resent the fact that the Jonas couple didn't keep Ronald on a shorter leash from day one.”

“Odd that the parents didn't move out afterwards,” Leigh Ann said. “You'd think they'd want to get away from the memories, the accusations, and all.”

“After Mrs. Jonas's stroke, they just kept to themselves,” Mrs. Ortega said, showing them out.

As they walked back to Leigh Ann's Jeep, she reluctantly brought up the question now on her mind. “Is it at all possible that you hallucinated? Maybe you saw an angel?”

“That's your Christian upbringing. I'm not of your faith so I very much doubt I'd see an angel. I also have no reason to believe I was hallucinating, but I just don't know,” he said. “What I remember of that night are mostly flashes of images.”

“There's one more thing we can do. Sam knows all kinds of ways to search on the Internet. I mean well, but half the time I just get lost or don't use the right key words. Let's ask her to look into it and let us know if she finds any mention of a missing girl in the Four Corners area on or around that date.”

“Good idea. I'll be happy to pay her for her time,” Melvin said with a nod as he climbed into the Jeep. “For now, what do you say we go home and I get some more work done on that sculpture? Or do you want to talk about your strange reaction when we met Mr. Jonas? I heard you gasp, like you were startled by something. I felt you shaking.”

“It was such an emotional situation, being there. I'm fine now,” she lied, climbing behind the wheel. She'd eventually have to talk to Melvin about what she'd discovered from that photo, but that could change everything. Right now, she'd rather have his company, no matter what the price might be later on.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked as she started the engine. “Your voice sounds … strained.”

“No, I'm okay. I'm just anxious for you to finish your project,” she said, pulling out into the street. A distraction like this was certainly the best way right now to clear her head until she could reevaluate her situation. “So tell me, is the figure coming out the way you want?”

“Yeah, it's almost done. The work has been intense, though, and that kind of focus comes at a price. By giving it everything, I've lost my objectivity—it's now personal. Although my goal was for each person to see a part of themselves in the sculpture, there's no guarantee that'll happen,” he said. “I took a risk. Eventually I'll find out if I've succeeded or failed.”

“Do you regret having done it?”

“Not at all. I've stayed in my comfort zone for too long. It was time for
Darkness Girl
to be born.”

“
Darkness Girl
…,” she said slowly, savoring it. “I like the name you gave her. What made you choose something like that?”

“She's one of the intermediaries
hataaliis
include in our sacred sand paintings from time to time, and she fits in with the duality of this sculpture. The clay is two-toned, light and dark. In many ways she symbolizes the sighted world and mine, though the sighted will be the ones to judge it.

“I have to wait and see if my vision has the power to touch them, or if they'll just see this piece as an okay attempt at human form by an animal sculptor.” His voice turned bitter for a moment. “Human beings like pigeonholing everything and that's how people see me as an artist. I want to prove that I'm capable of much more, but a closed mind is one of the hardest obstacles to overcome.”

“If you think it's good, that's all that should really matter. You shouldn't measure its worth based on another person's opinion,” she said.

“As true as that may be, it doesn't work that way in the arts. We need the world's reaction to be favorable if we hope to survive. God protect us from the critics.”

“The more you care—about anything—the more vulnerable you become. Rejection, no matter what form it takes, cuts deeply.”

“Is that part of the reason you work so hard and put in such long hours at the trading post? Are you afraid it'll somehow be taken from you?”

“Partly, yes, but it's more than that,” she answered. “I want to do a fabulous job and show Jo that her faith in me is justified. She gave me my chance, and all things considered, I get far more out of my job there than anyone realizes. The way everyone cares about each other fills an empty spot inside me. I don't make a fortune, but I'm valued.”

“So it's perfect for you?”

“I'd like more responsibility, and maybe the chance to become a full-time buyer, but I'm exactly where I need to be, particularly right now.”

“Because you'll have friends around you while you settle your past?”

She nodded. “Detective McGraw is finally looking in the right direction, but I plan to go to Total Supply tomorrow during my lunch hour and talk to Wayne. Maybe I can prod him into saying or doing something that'll give me some more answers. He's the weakest link.”

“You shouldn't go alone,” Melvin said.

“I'll be okay. It'll be broad daylight and during business hours.”
And I'll have the .38 in my purse,
she thought.

“Will you call me after you leave there?”

“Sure.” A special warmth spread through her. It was nice to know that Melvin really cared, that the attraction between them wasn't just hormones and wishes. She could count on one hand the number of people who'd ever worried about her. The thought of losing him over something she'd done five years ago suddenly chilled her heart, and she had to calm herself a moment before she could speak again. “As soon as I'm done, I'll get in touch and let you know what happened.”

 

— EIGHTEEN —

The next morning Leigh Ann arrived at the trading post early, passing new signs that announced the caf
é
. As she was climbing out of her Jeep, she saw Jo walking over from the house in the adjoining lot. The somber expression on Jo's face told her there'd been no news about Ben. Leigh Ann's heart fell but she managed a smile. “Good morning. How are the plans for the coffee bar going?”

“The hookup and coffee bar installation took barely two hours, and while that was going on the staff and I were able to get everything else relocated and set up. Larry, the plumber, said we didn't need a county inspection and that our electrical hookups were already up to code.”

“So the signs I saw outside are for real?”

“Yeah, we're good to go. Sam was also able to straighten out the Internet issues and test it out. We should be fully operational today. We actually reopened from five to six last night to serve some of our regular customers who'd stopped by. We even learned how to use the espresso machine. I've got to say, I liked the reactions we got from those we served.”

“What did you have to brew?” Leigh Ann asked, surprised. “Last I heard Esther was still researching various blends.”

“We had some espresso, which was okay, but it was Sam who made our day. She mixed a little bit of milk, coffee, and caramel flavoring and topped it with a huge serving of whipped cream. She called it The Outpost Blast. One customer liked it so much she brought extras to take to her evening shift coworkers.”

“What kind of coffee did Sam use? Our break-room brew?”

“No, it was one that Esther had on her short list—that Santa Fe blend with pi
ñ
on. It was too strong just for black coffee, but once you blended in the milk and cream, it was perfect.”

“That's great! And you said the Wi-Fi works?” Leigh Ann asked as they climbed the steps leading up to the back door.

Jo smiled. “Perfectly. You can access the Internet from every spot inside the trading post—even the front porch and loading dock. Sam stayed late, playing with it, and even did some research for you and Melvin off the books. How's that going for you, anyway?”

Leigh Ann followed Jo inside to the office area and updated her on their search for the mysterious young girl from Melvin's accident.

“How sure are you that the girl was real if nobody else saw her?”

“Melvin's convinced of it,” Leigh Ann replied.

Once inside the main room, Leigh Ann looked around and whistled low. “Wow, adding the bar and tables and repositioning some of the merchandise changes the entire feel of the place,” she said. “I love that touch, too,” she said, pointing to the chalkboard listing the coffees available.

“I honestly wasn't sure how our regulars would react,” Jo said, “but from the tiny sample last night, so far, so good. I think we might get more passing tourists dropping by, too, though only time will tell. There were several who came in yesterday during our brief reopening and two were really captivated by Melvin's display. One wants to commission a horse sculpture, the other a mountain lion.”

“That's great. Do you think they'll be in the area long enough to come back and cut a deal?” Leigh Ann asked, knowing Melvin would be pleased.

“Yes, they left their cell phone numbers so they could call and confirm sometime today. They're willing to meet his terms, half up front and the other half upon delivery. I quoted them Melvin's highest figure, the price he thought we'd never get. They never even blinked! Both men are sales reps on vacation, but they work this area. They'll be coming back in another four weeks and could pick up the sculptures if Melvin agrees and the pieces are ready. I've already got their credit card numbers and will run them through once Melvin gives me the okay.”

“I'll talk to him. He told us before that he was willing to work on more than one thing at a time if the projects weren't overly large or complex.”

“Let me know,” Jo said.

Leigh Ann returned to the break room, planning to make a fresh pot of coffee—their usual blend. After all, the new drinks weren't free for staff, so she expected her coworkers would favor the familiar coffee.

As she plugged in the pot and pushed the brew button, Sam came in.

Leigh Ann smiled. “You're here early.”

“I had second thoughts and decided to set up a separate router for the coffee bar Wi-Fi. That'll make our regular network more secure. Jo doesn't pay me by the hour, I'm a contract worker, like you, so she doesn't mind if I switch my time around.”

“I heard you fixed some mean coffee yesterday.”

Sam smiled. “It's a recipe I came up with for myself months ago. I couldn't afford to buy the four-dollar brews at the fancy coffee shop, so I created something I thought was even better.”

“Jo said that you did some research for Melvin and me last night,” Leigh Ann mentioned. “Did you find out if any girls the right age were reported missing around the time of Melvin's accident?”

“I used several search engines, but there were no Amber Alerts issued or reports of runaways that coincided or were close to the date of Melvin's accident,” Sam said. She hesitantly added, “I did find one thing.…”

“What?” Leigh Ann asked. Seeing the worried look on Sam's face, she added, “You can tell me anything. Don't feel you have to hold back.”

“It's a detail about Melvin's first accident. I'd gone back quite a ways before I stumbled on it, and you probably already know about this, but…”