Once in his own vehicle, Jonathan drove back out to the road, where he was relieved to see no oncoming traffic visible in either direction. He had been holding his breath as he approached the highway. Now he let it go. When he breathed back in, even he couldn’t ignore the rank stench in the minivan. He had practically lived it in for days, waking and sleeping. The floorboards were covered with the empty wrappers and boxes and cups of the fast food that had sustained him during this long hunting excursion. Now that it was over, however, he needed to find a room, get himself cleaned up, and then make his getaway. He rolled down the window and let in some of the chill night air.

There was still nothing from Thousand Oaks. The story he had spun about taking his family on vacation must have worked. Must still be working.

Once Jonathan managed to get across the border, he figured he’d be home free.

Sells, Tohono O’odham Nation, Arizona

Sunday, June 7, 2009, 1:30 a.m.

67º Fahrenheit

By the time Dan saw Angie again, she had been changed into a hospital gown and settled in a bed. The bedside tray had been stocked with food-cheese and crackers, tapioca pudding, and a dish full of cubes of red Jell-O-the kind Dan had always tried to stick to the ceiling in the school cafeteria. Bozo might have been the current family clown, but he certainly wasn’t the only one.

As Dan watched Angie mow her way through the food, he realized that he had skipped his ham sandwich. As a consequence, so had Bozo.

“Is that any good?” he asked.

Angie looked at him, smiled, nodded, and popped another Jell-O cube into her mouth. “Where’s my mommy?” she asked.

Dan had lied to her before and let her believe the less hurtful fiction that her mother was still sleeping. It seemed to Dan that someone else should be the one to give Angie Enos the bad news-the definitive, once-and-for-all answer about what had happened to her mother. Dan was a complete stranger-an innocent passerby. It wasn’t fair for that difficult job to be left up to him. Where were Angie’s grandparents? Shouldn’t they be the ones to do this? Or what about some beloved aunt or uncle? Shouldn’t someone with more of a claim on Angie and her future perform this difficult task?

But right then, at that precise moment in Angie’s hospital room, Daniel Pardee was the only person available.

He didn’t answer for several moments. How can I explain something like that? he wondered. What words can I use and how much will she be able to understand?

Dan had seen the information listed on Angie’s tribal enrollment card. Her birthday was in November. That made her four and a half years old. As far as he knew, the movie version of Bambi wasn’t shown in theaters anymore, but maybe Delphina had rented the video.

Finally he decided that the best thing to do was to tell the truth. That was how Gramps had always dealt with tough things-by saying straight out whatever was going on rather than by beating around the bush or trying to fudge what needed to be said.

“Angie,” Dan said gently, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this. Your mommy is dead.”

Angie’s enormous eyes welled with tears. “I thought she was asleep.”

Dan shook his head. “I know,” he said. “But she wasn’t.”

For a long time, Angie sat there quietly, staring at him through her tears.

“My dog died,” she said finally. “He ran out into the road and got run over by a truck. Mommy said that dying meant he wouldn’t be back. Does that mean my mommy won’t be back?”

“That’s correct,” Dan said. “She won’t be.”

“Not ever?”

“Not ever.”

“Is she in heaven? Mommy says that when people die, they go to heaven.”

“I’m sure that’s where she is,” Dan said with a conviction he didn’t necessarily feel. For his own part, Dan Pardee had stopped believing in heaven and hell a long time ago.

Angie put down her spoon and pushed the food tray away. “I’m not hungry,” she said.

Dan carried the tray across the room and put it on a dresser. “Of course you’re not.”

“Who’ll take care of me, then?” Angie asked. “Donald?”

Which meant Dan had to deliver the next blow as well. “Angie, Donald’s dead, too. Just like your mommy.”

“Who, then?” Angie asked.

Dan shrugged. “Do you have a grandpa and grandma? Maybe they’ll look after you.”

“Grandpa’s sick,” Angie said.

“What about your father?” Dan asked. The name Joaquin Enos was also listed on Angie’s enrollment card. “You have a father, don’t you?”

Angie simply looked at him and didn’t reply. That in itself was answer enough. The father had never been a factor in the Angelina Enos equation, and he wouldn’t be one now.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dan said. “I know how hard it is not to worry, but someone will look after you, Angie. Right now, you should probably lie down and try to get some sleep. We’ll sort all this out tomorrow morning.”

She reached out and grabbed hold of Dan’s hand. “Will you stay here with me?”

“I will,” he said. “But first I need to go out and feed Bozo and give him some water.” Dan also needed to call in and let Dispatch know that no one was out on patrol in his sector right now. Given the obvious police presence at Komelik, it didn’t seem likely that a major number of illegal entrants would be attempting to use that route tonight. As far as Dan was concerned, his presence at Angie Enos’s bedside was far more pressing.

“You’ll come right back?” Angie asked. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Telling the lady at the desk that he was just stepping outside for a moment, he hurried over to his Expedition. There he let Bozo out of the SUV long enough for the dog to relieve himself. Then Dan poured a couple of bottles of water into the metal bowl he kept in the back of the luggage compartment. While Bozo lapped up the water, Dan unwrapped the two sandwiches and gave them to the dog. All he reserved for himself were the bags of chips. Then he called Dispatch.

All that took time. When Dan finally made it back to Angie’s room, he expected her to be sleeping. She wasn’t, primarily because by then a night nurse was in the room, taking her vitals.

“I knew you’d come back,” Angie said.

Dan nodded. “I told my boss that you needed Bozo and me to stay here for right now.”

“Bozo is his dog,” Angie explained to the nurse.

Unimpressed by this tidbit of information, the nurse rolled her eyes.

When she left the room, Dan eased his long frame into a chair that didn’t necessarily fit his body, or any human body for that matter. It looked like a chair, but it was the least comfortable specimen of chairness Dan Pardee had ever had the misfortune of encountering. As soon as he settled into it, however, Angie reached out again, took his hand, and fell fast asleep.

Dan sat in almost that same position for the next three hours. He stirred only when his feet went numb or his hand did. And while he sat there, a file drawer he usually kept closed and safely locked away from conscious thought popped open-the file drawer marked “Adam Pardee.”

Safford, Arizona

1979

E ven from prison Adam Pardee had refused to sign over his parental rights. As a consequence, Micah and Maxine Duarte had been forced to go to court to gain custody of their grandson. Fortunately Micah’s boss, a prosperous Safford area dairy farmer, was able to help them find an Anglo attorney who made it possible for the Indian couple to navigate the Anglo legal jungle.

When it was time to enroll Dan in kindergarten, the guardianship issue had been settled to the satisfaction of the courts, perhaps. In the court of public opinion, and more important at Fort Thomas Elementary School, Dan Pardee’s status was still very much in doubt.