Assumption, page 16
“Willy.”
“Willy Hempel?”
“No. My name is Willy Yates.”
“And you live in Eagle Nest.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Is there anyone at your house?” Ogden asked. “Are either your mother or father at home?”
“I got no mother.”
“What about your father?”
“I don’t know,” the boy said.
Ogden considered the prospect of driving all the way to Eagle Nest and finding either that the boy had no idea where he lived or his father was not there and nowhere to be found.
“You sure you want to run him in?” Ogden said. “Can’t you just cite him and get this over with?”
“What he said,” the man in cuffs said.
“I wish I could, but you know about the initiative to cut down poaching,” Terry said.
Ogden regarded the boy for a second. “Do you know your phone number?”
The boy shook his head.
Ogden looked at the uncle. “Do you know his father’s phone number? His address?”
“No and no.”
“Then where’d you pick up the boy?” Ogden asked.
“I know where the boy’s house is. That don’t mean I know the address.”
Ogden looked at the boy again. He seemed sort of small for eleven, but he had a big and somewhat annoying attitude. Ogden was pretty sure he disliked that. He was absolutely sure he didn’t like the fact that he was now responsible for Willy Yates.
Ogden took down Hempel’s information from his driver’s license. “Is this your current address?” The man said yes. “You live way down near Embudo?”
“That’s where my house is at.”
“And you picked up this boy in Eagle Nest when?”
“This morning.”
“Why?”
“Because his daddy had something to do.”
“What relationship is the boy’s father to you?”
“None.”
Ogden looked at Terry.
“Then how is it that you’re the boy’s uncle??”
“Because my sister is his mama.”
“Then the father is your brother-in-law,” Terry said. “Why didn’t you just say that?”
“He ain’t married to my sister.”
“Oh.”
“Where’s the boy’s mother?” Ogden asked.
“She moved to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, with some religious biker dude.”
“What’s the father’s name?” Ogden asked.
“Derrick Yates.”
“How did he call you to pick up the boy?”
“He didn’t call me. I just stopped by and he said for me to watch Billy.”
“Willy,” the boy corrected him.
“Whatever,” Hempel said.
“Terry, this is a mess,” Ogden said. Ogden looked at the pair. Was this man the boy’s uncle? Did the boy’s father live in Eagle Nest? Was there a father?
“What are you saying?” Terry asked.
“Okay.” Ogden caved. “I’ll take the boy,” he said. “I’ll find out where his father is.”
Ogden put the boy in his rig and drove south. He was headed back to the station in Plata even though he had asked Felton to try to track down a Derrick Yates in the Eagle Nest area. He stole glances at Willy, wondered what his story was, and tried not to care too much. “What does your father do?” Ogden asked.
Willy looked at him.
“What’s his job?”
“I don’t know. He does things. He’s got a truck. He’s got a ladder on his truck.”
“Does he have tools?”
“I guess.”
“Hammers and saws? Those kinds of tools?”
“I don’t know.”
“What kind of truck does he drive?” Ogden asked.
“Why do you wanna know all this?” the boy asked. “It’s a blue truck, okay?”
Felton radioed. “I got four Yates in the area. Two with the initial D. I called them both, no answer.”
“What roads do they live on?”
“One on Iron Queen, one on B4G.”
“Iron Queen or B4G?” Ogden asked the boy.
Willy just looked out the passenger-side window.
“Thanks. Out.” He looked at his speedometer and saw that he was driving too fast, pulled back. “You really don’t know the name of the street you live on?”
“Don’t live on a street. Live down a road.”
“Okay, kid.”
They walked into the station and Ogden told Willy to have a seat beside his desk. Felton told him there was nothing else to know about a Yates in Eagle Nest.
“Bucky in there?” Ogden asked.
Felton nodded.
Ogden walked into the sheriff’s office.
“So, what’s going on out there?” Bucky asked. The fat man was sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen. “I hate these damn machines. God, I’m sick of hearing myself say that.”
“I got stuck with a kid. Terry from Fish and Game arrested this guy for poaching trout and he left me with his so-called nephew.”
“So take him home.”
“That’s the problem. Seems the lad doesn’t know his address, not even his street name. Oh, I’m sorry, he doesn’t live on a street, he lives down a road.”
“We should be able to figure something out,” Bucky said. “Bring him in here. I’ve got some cookies in my desk.”
Ogden stepped to the door and looked over at his desk. He scanned the entire room, but didn’t see the boy. “Willy?” he called out. “Felton, where’d that kid go?”
“What kid?”
“What do you mean, what kid?” Ogden said. “The boy I walked in here with. The Yates kid.”
“I didn’t see him. There’s not much I can add to that.”
Bucky stepped out. “What’s wrong?”
“The boy’s not here.” Ogden walked quickly to the door and out onto the street. He saw no kid. He saw no one on the street. Back inside, he said to Bucky, “I didn’t see him.”
“There was no boy,” Felton said.
Ogden glared at the man.
“He’ll find his way home,” Bucky said.
“He’s eleven.”
Bucky looked out the window across the room and sighed. “Well, get out there and find him. You, too, Felton.”
“Jesus,” Felton complained. “I don’t even know who I’m looking for. What’s this phantom boy look like, Ogden?”
“Like an eleven-year-old. Four feet five. Blond hair.”
“And invisible.”
“On and off,” Ogden said.
Ogden walked west and Felton east. Ogden imagined that the kid would have walked to the highway and tried to hitch a ride to Eagle Nest. If he’d been successful, of course, there would be no way for Ogden to know. He met Felton back at the station.
“No sign of a kid,” Felton said.
“Nothing,” Ogden said. “There was a boy.”
“Don’t get your skivvies in a knot. I believe you. It’s just that I didn’t see him, that’s all.”
“Now I have to find his father so I’ll know if he got home. Give me those addresses and I’ll drive over there later.”
Ogden thought it pointless to drive all the way to Eagle Nest before the boy had a chance to get home. He drove through the plaza several times and across the streets around it, eyeing every kid on foot or on a bike. He drove the length of the main drag through town twice. He finally stopped at his mother’s before heading east.
“The weather’s going to turn,” she said as he approached her. She was on her knees in her garden. “These roses will be the end of me. If it’s not black spot, it’s rust. If it’s not rust, it’s aphids.”
Ogden said nothing to this, just watched her popping off the dead heads.
“What’s wrong?” she asked without looking up at him.
“Trying to find a kid.”
“A child is lost?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Whose child?” she asked.
“His name is Willy Yates. I brought him to the station and he slipped out when I wasn’t looking. Right out the front door. It’s my fault he’s lost.”
“If he’s lost. You said that.”
“If he’s lost,” Ogden repeated. “I’m going to drive over to Eagle Nest and check out a few addresses. That’s the thing, we don’t have an address for him. All we have is a maybe-uncle.”
“Are you hungry? You can take a sandwich with you.”
“No thanks.”
Ogden got back into his rig and just sat there in his mother’s driveway. He had a thought that he should talk to Terry about the man he’d taken in earlier or talk to the man himself. Talk to Terry. The warden had taken the man to Santa Fe. For what good reason, Ogden didn’t really know. He’d drive to Eagle Nest, check out the addresses, then he’d contact Terry if it was necessary.
The community of Eagle Nest was very small. The lake was formed behind a dam built around 1920. It had been a site for illegal gambling and hookers around the turn of the century. The police killed all that and left the lake by itself, with a few slot machines and gaming tables at the bottom of it. A plateau at eight thousand feet, there were few trees and so, lake notwithstanding, the landscape looked as barren as the moon. The population was about three hundred and nearly all of them were white. It was on the eastern circumference of the so-called Enchanted Circle, but it seemed apart, certainly less than enchanted.
It took Ogden about an hour to get there and another twenty minutes to find the first address among the few streets and houses. An elderly, overweight man came to the first door and seemed amused, if not pleased, to have a visitor, even if he was a cop.
“What can I do you for?” he asked.
Ogden looked at the man’s overalls, brand spanking new, actually creased down the legs. “I’m looking for the family of a boy named Willy Yates.”
“We’re the Yateses, but ain’t no Willy here.”
“I might have the name wrong,” Ogden said. “An eleven-, maybe twelve-year-old boy. Do you have a grandson or a nephew?”
“So, you think I’m too goddamn old to have a son that age?”
“No, sir, I don’t,” Ogden said.
“Relax, son, I’m just funning you. Course I’m too old. I’m older than the dirt I sleep in.”
“Do you know of a boy around here named Yates?”
“There are two Yates households in this little community. Everybody knows everybody and I’m telling you as sure as pigs got curly tails there ain’t no Yates boy around here.”
Ogden thought better of asking the man if he was certain and so simply thanked him. He thought about not going to the second address, but realized he couldn’t get sloppy or lazy. He drove the thirty seconds across town and found an elderly, overweight woman named Yates. Though not dressed in overalls, the effect was the same. The expanse of yellow shift fell to just above her wrinkled knees.
Her story was the same as well. “No Yates boy here.”
“Do you have any relatives in the state?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know any other Yateses besides the man I just talked to?”
“Nope.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Are you married?” she asked. She raked her dirty blond hair from her face and settled her eyes on him.
“No, ma’am.”
“Would you like to be married?”
“Pardon me?”
“I have a daughter.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but I’m not looking for a wife.”
“Shame.”
Ogden sat in his rig with the door open. The wind was picking up and, just as his mother had predicted, he felt a change in the air. Dusk was coming on. There would be no snow, but his trailer would feel like an icebox in the morning. Right now, though, he had to face the fact that he’d lost the boy. A lot of bad information from the kid and the so-called uncle had left him with nothing to go on. He called in.
“Sheriff wants to talk to you,” Felton said.
“All right.”
“Ogden?”
“Just what time did you say you saw Terry Lowell up at the hatchery?”
“I left him there at about one, I guess.”
“And he was okay, in control of the situation?”
“He had the guy cuffed. Why?”
“He didn’t report in. Fishery guy found his truck in the lower lot. There was blood on the seats, front and back.”
“Everything seemed okay when I left.”
“Well, come on back.”
“On my way.”
When Ogden walked into the station he felt as if the room was spinning. He wasn’t quite dizzy, but he really could not find the floor with his feet. Felton was at his usual place at the desk and Bucky Paz was standing behind him in the middle of the room with another man. Ogden recognized him as from Game and Fish, but didn’t remember his name. There was also a uniformed state policeman there.
“Have you found Terry?” Ogden asked.
“No,” the state cop said to Ogden. “Have you heard anything from him?”
“No.” Ogden found the man’s question off-putting, especially given that he had just inquired about the man.
“You want to tell us what happened this morning?” the same man asked.
Now Ogden was certain he didn’t like the man’s tone, recognizing it as accusatory. He looked at the crew cut and he thought about the sergeants he’d never liked in the army and then felt the weight of his present uniform, felt suddenly uncomfortable and so unhappy. “Like I told Bucky, Terry decided to arrest a man for poaching. The man’s name was Conrad Hempel. He was with a boy he claimed was his nephew. The boy told me his name was Willy Yates. Neither Hempel nor the boy knew the boy’s father’s address. Terry told me I had to take the boy. So, I brought him down here.”
“And where is the boy now?” the Fish and Game man said.
“He slipped out,” Ogden said.”
“Did you talk to the boy?” the state cop asked Bucky.
“I was in my office,” Bucky said.
The state cop looked at Felton. “I didn’t see him.”
“Were you out of the office?”
“I was sitting right here.”
“But you saw Deputy Walker.”
“Yeah, I seen Walker.”
“But no boy.”
“Could have been a boy,” Felton said.
“But you didn’t see him.”
Felton looked at Ogden, almost apologetically. “No.”
“What’s going on?” Ogden asked.
“They found Terry,” Bucky said. “He’s dead. They found him a hundred yards downstream of the hatchery.”
Ogden felt a wave of nausea that faded quickly.
“He was shot,” the state cop said. “Two times in the chest. May I see your weapon, please?”
Ogden removed his pistol from his holster and handed it grip first to the man.
“A Sig P226. Nice weapon.”
Ogden nodded.
The cop pulled back the slide and sniffed the ejection port. He looked at Bucky and at the Fish and Game man. “When was the last time you discharged this pistol?”
“A couple of weeks ago on the range,” Ogden said.
“You cleaned it?”
“I always clean it after I use it.”
“It’s dirty right now.”
“What do you mean it’s dirty?” Ogden asked.
“It’s been fired, Deputy.”
“That’s not possible.”
“It’s been fired.”
Ogden found a chair and sat down.
“Tell us about this boy,” Bucky said.
“Willy Yates, eleven years old. Looked eleven. Light brown, maybe blond hair, blue eyes. He was wearing a striped T-shirt and jeans, sneakers.”
“What about this Hempel?”
“Average. Maybe six feet. He had a tattoo on his, um, right arm, I think. I don’t remember of what. Receding hairline. Light-colored hair as well.” Ogden stared at the floor. “Terry.”
“What about him?” the cop asked.
“Nothing,” Ogden said. “I can’t believe it.” He looked up to see the state cop putting his pistol into a plastic evidence bag. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“Does it look like I’m joking, Deputy Walker?”
“Why would I shoot Terry?”
“You tell me.”
Ogden looked at Bucky. The fat man looked scared, helpless. “Am I under arrest?”
The cop looked at the sheriff. “Will he run?”
Bucky shook his head.
The cop looked back at Ogden. “You better not run. You’re not under arrest, but I’ll have the ballistics back tomorrow morning and then things might be just a little different.”
The Fish and Game man and the state cop walked out without another word or glance at Ogden or Bucky. Ogden looked at Felton and then at the sheriff. “What the fuck just happened?”
Bucky shrugged.
“I’m going to go grab some coffee,” Felton said. He wouldn’t look at Ogden’s eyes.
“You didn’t see the boy?” Ogden asked him.
“I’m sorry, Ogden.” Felton left.
“Bucky, what am I supposed to do?”
“You need to find that boy or Hempel or both.”
“Okay. That’s what I’ll do.”
“And you’re not going to run,” Bucky said, but it was more of a question.
Ogden looked at him. He was a little disappointed, but he understood. “I’ll find them.”
Bucky turned and walked back into his office, closed his door. Ogden sat at his desk and turned on his computer. He was clumsy with the thing, but what he had to do was simple. Check the DMV and the phone book. There were three Hempels in New Mexico with a license to operate a motor vehicle. All women. Two of them over sixty, one was thirty-one, all three living down in Albuquerque. Ogden called all three and described Conrad and all three claimed to know nothing and he, unfortunately, believed them. There were two more in the phone book, one man in Raton and the other man down in Pilar. He called the man in Raton and it turned out he had died six months earlier. The last man was listed as Cyril Hempel. Ogden called and there was no answer. Pilar was even smaller than Eagle Nest, wedged in the Rio Grande Gorge, a place where you had to look up to look out. It was also close to Embudo and so it was his first choice of a place to look anyway.
