'I have two hundred dollars now. Is that enough to hire a private eye?'
'For about forty-five minutes,' Payne said.
'But who else would help me?'
Sharon had an idea, but before she could work it over, the phone rang. Detective Rigney. He was at Sunset and La Cienega. He'd be up the hill in ten minutes.
'Atticus, I have a deal for you,' Sharon said.
'What?' Payne was wary.
'I'll let you go if you promise to help Tino find his mother.'
'Okay!' Tino shouted.
But Jimmy was shaking his head. 'I know what you're doing, Sharon.'
'No time for your bullshit. Yes or no?'
'No. If you bust me, you figure I'll make bail and skip to Mexico. But you know I won't break a promise to you. If I say I'll help this kid, I'll do it. Bottom line, you're just trying to keep me from going after Garcia.'
'Not everything's about you, Jimmy. Tino needs help. Your law practice is shot. You have no plans, except to commit mayhem. Why not do something positive?'
'I wouldn't know where to start.'
'Find the stash house in Calexico.'
'How? You think they advertise on cable?'
'We can do it, Himmy,' the boy said. 'We can find Mami.'
'Don't bet on it, kid. In fact, don't bet on me.'
'You know what I think, Atticus?' Sharon said. 'I think you're scared to do something for someone else.'
'I'm not scared. It's just less of a burden to screw up my own life.'
'Your call. What'll it be? A late-night drive through the desert? Or a cement bunk at the jail?'
'What about Rigney?'
'I'll tell him you escaped again.'
'You could get in a real jam, Sharon.'
'I've been in a jam since the day I met you. Now get out of here.'
'I gotta pee first,' Tino said.
Sharon gave the boy directions down the hall to the guest bath, then hurriedly started emptying the refrigerator. Juice. Peaches. Apples. A box of pretzels from under the cupboard. She put everything in brown grocery bags. 'Take this for Tino. You know how hungry boys get.'
'He's not going to summer camp.' Sounding grumpy.
'Can I count on you to take care of him?' Those maternal instincts again.
'He'll probably steal my car when I stop for gas. That kid is a ton of trouble in a hundred-pound body.'
'He likes you. I can tell.'
'When I can't find his mother, how's he gonna feel?'
'Where's that old confidence? Where's the fearless J. Atticus Payne?'
'You know damn well where. On a hillside at Forest Lawn.'
That kept her quiet a moment.
They heard a car pull into the driveway.
'Shit,' Sharon said. 'Where'd you park?'
'A driveway up the hill, behind some jacaranda trees.'
'Go out the back door. I'll get Tino.'
'I'm here,' the boy said, popping back into the kitchen.
Jimmy still hadn't moved.
'Go!' She brush-kissed him on the lips.
'What about me, chica?'
She kissed the boy on the cheek, then smacked his butt.
The doorbell rang. 'Good luck, guys,' Sharon said, shooing them out the back door.
As they crossed the yard at double time, hunched over like commandos, Tino whispered to Jimmy, 'You play your cards right, Himmy, that chica caliente will be in your bed soon.'
'Too late for that, kid. Sharon's moved on.'
'Donde fuego hubo, ascuas quedan.'
'Where there was fire… ' Jimmy couldn't translate the rest. 'Embers remain,' Tino helped out.
'I don't know, kid.'
'I do, Himmy. I could feel the heat.'
TWENTY-EIGHT
Rattlesnake bites.
Dehydration, exposure, and thirst.
Robbery, rape, and murder.
So many ways to die crossing the border.
Just before dawn, Payne was at the wheel of the Lexus, pondering what could have happened to Tino's mother. He figured she didn't meet a wealthy gringo, fall in love, and elope to Las Vegas.
The desert was littered with bones of unknown men, women, and children who traveled with one bag of clothing and one jug of water, envisioning the promised land. An achingly sad Freddy Fender song came to Payne. The one about a place with streets of gold, always just across the borderline.
'You could lose more than you'll ever hope to find.'
Payne shot a look over his shoulder. The boy was curled up in the backseat. He had fallen asleep before they reached San Bernardino. He awakened when they stopped for gas near Indio, a desert town where a drunken Sinatra and Ava Gardner once shot out street-lamps from the front seat of Frank's Caddy convertible.
By the time the Lexus exited the 10 and headed due south on old State Route 86, Tino was sacked out again. Listening to the tires sing on the pavement, Payne fought to stay awake. He didn't want to be here, hated the responsibility he had taken on. Sharon had convinced him to do something for someone else. As if that would heal him.
Doesn't she see I've got nothing left to give?
There were aid agencies for undocumented migrants. Churches. Nonprofits. Do-gooders all. Payne could find a place, drop the kid off in the morning, and head to Mexico after Manuel Garcia.
No I can't. I just made a promise to Sharon.
Damn, what is this hold she has on me?
Payne's thoughts turned to Marisol Perez, the dark-haired beauty in the photo the boy kept next to his heart. The woman had placed her life into the hands of a coyote and simply vanished into the night.
What if Payne learned she was dead? How could he tell the boy? Not that the experience would be entirely new to him. He once told a mother her boy was dead. His boy, too.
Even if Marisol was safe somewhere, how could he find her? All the kid knew was that the coyote named El Tigre was supposed to take them to a stash house near Calexico. But that could be a farmhouse in a remote canyon. All those dirt trails leading into the desert. All those ravines halfway to nowhere. The enormity of their task seemed overwhelming.
Sure, he would do his best to find Marisol Perez. His good deed. Then he would go to Mexico and find Manuel Garcia. His murderous deed.
He turned on the radio to keep himself awake. Green Day was singing 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams.'
'I walk a lonely road.'
Tell me about it, Payne thought.
They had driven all night. Payne was sleepy and his patched right leg was beginning to stiffen. Every hour, it seemed, another reminder of Adam. Or more precisely, the last moments of Adam's life.
