“We drove,” she said. “We drove in this piece of shit orange Opel he bought down on Red River. We escaped from Tulsa and my family. It was very romantic and dramatic. We were going to L.A. But the alternator went out between Tucson and Phoenix, and there we were.”
“No money?”
“I took some savings, but I didn’t want Daddy’s money. Not then, anyway.”
“So you were just going to get married, have babies, live a conventional life?” I asked.
“You don’t think when you’re seventeen,” she said. “Hell, sometimes you don’t think when you’re thirty-nine. I knew I was using Leo to get the hell out of Tulsa, and having this kind of gritty, working-class adventure. Sometimes I was very romantic and dreamy. I took a job at a mall. He had this dream of opening a coffeehouse where he could play jazz. Can you believe that, in 1978?” She gave an unhappy laugh. “He was ahead of his time.”
“You make him sound pretty nice,” I said. “Yet he’s been in prison for almost twenty years. We have child murderers who get out sooner than that.”
“That’s your so-called system of justice, Mapstone. Don’t ask me. The families of the dead deputies opposed his parole every year. I’m sure the corrupt cops didn’t want to take a chance of him getting out and talking to the media.”
“But Leo killed a man in prison,” I said. “He couldn’t have been that gentle.”
She was silent for a long time, and when I looked over, her face was red and turbulent.
“Beth, you’re going to have to talk about these things. That’s the only way to help me stop these people who are trying to kill you.” Yes, me the grandiose hero with panic attacks. I added, “It’s the only way to help Leo.”
“This is hard, OK?” she said. “I have a lot of guilt, OK? I guess Leo killed a man. I tried not to think about it. We tried to correspond for a couple of years, but it just got too hard.” She stared over at me. “Do you understand, he was small and young, and they just threw him in with the worst criminals?”
I asked quietly, “He was attacked?”
She nodded. “I’m sure things were even worse than he told me in his letters.”
The Navajo Reservation enfolded us. We skimmed noiselessly through Monument Valley, the mesas and buttes seen in a hundred movies and TV commercials so much more stunning in reality. Patches of snow congregated on the ledges of the big rocks. The sky was a heavy, endless blue. The miles passed quickly at 85.
Beth said, “So you saw pictures of me at Camelback Falls?”
I nodded.
“I was a cute kid, huh?”
“Yeah, Beth. No question.”
“Did the pictures make you hot, Mapstone?”
I didn’t respond or look at her. The road vibrated up through the Chevy’s suspension.
Beth said, “Do you want me to suck your cock?”
The words hung in the air between us. I unconsciously glanced in the rearview mirror. Lindsey was asleep, zipped up in her jacket, sprawled out in the backseat.
Beth said, “Your little friend back there doesn’t have to know. It would be hotter to do it with her asleep just a few inches away”
“No,” I said.
“Oh, come on Mapstone,” her voice trilled. “What were you doing in the seventies when I was partying at Camelback Falls? I bet you wish you were there.” She reached her hand across the bench, brushed her fingers against my crotch. I swatted them away.
“You’re just a coward,” she said.
“You wouldn’t even understand,” I said. Suddenly, my dreamy recollection of last night came into focus, clean, whole. And I felt an anger surging through all my aches and pains.
Beth licked her lips and said, “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Chapter Thirty-one
I swerved the big truck off the highway and we landed loudly onto the gravel of the shoulder. I slammed the gearshift into park.
“What’s your problem?” Beth demanded.
“You,” I said, jerking open the driver’s door. A cold blast flooded the cab. “Get out.” I reached across and grabbed her arm. I pulled her roughly across the console and out my door. She was light and surprised, otherwise I might not have been able to get her. Every muscle in my body screamed in pain. I slammed the door shut and pushed her against the side of the Suburban.
“You’re nuts!” she shrieked, trying to back away from me. I hemmed her in with both my arms.
“You’ve been lying to me since the first time I saw you,” I shouted above the wind.
“No!” she shouted back, trying to duck under my arms. I slammed my fist into the side of the truck, just beside her head. It got her attention.
“You lied about not talking to Leo. You lied about Camelback Falls. You lied about that night in Guadalupe.”
“I lied to save my life!”
“Dave…” It was Lindsey. She came around the back of the truck, having climbed out the other side.
Beth glanced at Lindsey. “He’s just putting on a show for you because I offered to suck his cock,” she said. Then, back to me: “Calm down, big fella.”
“No more bullshit, Beth,” I said, leaning in to her face. She turned away.
I said, “You told us you watched a deputy take cocaine out of a patrol car.”
“I did,” she yelled. The wind pushed her hair straight back from her forehead. I could see intricate canals of worry wrinkles running horizontally in her pale skin.
“The car that was driven by Matson and Bullock.”
“Yes!”
“Where were you sitting?” I demanded.
“In the squad car! They put me there.”
“Where was the car?”
She hesitated. Two patches of dark crescents emerged under her eyes. Finally, “It was parked right there, where I could see…”
“That’s bullshit, Beth! You were in Nixon’s patrol car, and that was parked out on the street, not in the alley where you could see Matson and Bullock’s car. You didn’t see Peralta take the coke.”
Beth shouted, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m telling the truth. I saw it. I was there.”
“I was there, too, Beth.”
She stared at me, a wild look on her face. The wind was so cold, my eyes felt like they were drying out. An ancient car full of Indians slowed to see if we needed help. Lindsey waved them on.
“No!” Beth shouted.
“Yes. I was a young deputy. Before I left to teach. I’m the one who handcuffed you. I stuck you in a patrol car where you couldn’t have seen anything.”
She thumped me hard on the chest, and crumpled backward onto the side of the truck. “You bastard,” she sobbed. “You tricked me, you son of a bitch.”
“You didn’t see any of that, did you, Beth.” I persisted. I grabbed her and shook her. She felt like a rag doll in my arms. “Tell me the damned truth!”
I pushed her away. She bent over, hands on her knees, breathing heavily and sobbing. I signaled to Lindsey, and opened the driver’s door.
“What are you doing?” Beth screamed.
“Leaving you,” I said. “You’re no good to me as a witness. I’ll tell the tribal police you need a ride.”
