Another Man's Moccasins

There was a sudden look of realization, and he sighed a quick laugh. “It is difficult to forget, once you have been properly trained.”

“Yep.”

After a moment, he spoke again. “Do you think about the war a great deal, Sheriff?”

I touched the brim of my hat with a forefinger in an attempt to straighten it and was relieved that someone else was asking the question. “A lot more, lately, it seems.”

“Because of my granddaughter? ”

I looked up at him. “Yep, I believe so.”

He stood and put the untouched cup of coffee on the corner of my desk, and I thought about offering him tea next time. “Would it be possible for me to see my granddaughter’s things? ”

It was the third time he’d asked and DCI had returned some of the items, so I nodded and motioned for him to follow me to the basement to our personal belongings cabinets.

Once there, I opened the large drawer and placed the small collection of items on the counter—the purse, the change, the French novel, the scarf, and the keys. The photograph of Mai Kim and me was being held, along with her clothes and herself. “What would you like to do about the car?”

He looked at the small group of objects. “Excuse me?”

“The car she was driving; I was wondering what you’d like to have done with it? ”

“I may want to look at it.”

I wondered why. “I can make arrangements for it to be shipped back up here from Cheyenne, if you want.”

“Yes, thank you.” I waited as he looked at the items on the counter. “And the computer?”

“Excuse me?”

He cleared his throat. “Ho Thi had a computer of mine. It was not with her?”

“No.” I studied him, as he continued to look at her things. “Is there something wrong? ”

He took a deep breath. “It doesn’t seem like a great deal . . . for a lifetime, does it?”

I pushed open the door and walked out to the war council. “How’s it going?”

Eli sat on the far side of the bench, his elbows on his knees, and looked as though he was memorizing the cracks in the sidewalk. Brandon stood with his thumbs hitched in the back pockets of his jeans, and Henry watched the side of Eli’s face. The Cheyenne Nation turned and looked up at me. “This may take a while.”

I beat a slow retreat back to my office. Ruby was holding her phone up to me. “Saizarbitoria.”

I came inside and sat on her desk, took the receiver, and reached down to pet Dog. “What’s up, Sancho? ”

“Jim Craft wants to know if you have any idea how many credit cards the Flying J truck stop processes in a twenty-four-hour period.”

I ruffled Dog’s ear, and he mouthed my hand with his big teeth. “Tell him I’ll buy him lunch next time I’m through Casper. ” I wiped the slobber off on my jeans. “What’ve you got?”

“The manager says that there was a card left at the counter and that they contacted the company, who in turn contacted Tuyen.”

“Well, it was worth a try.”

“Boss, there’s something else....”

His tone froze me. “What?”

“The manager says that he remembered the incident because he was running an inventory that night and got a glimpse of the car as it pulled away.”

“Yep? ”

“He said the card came back declined and reported stolen, so the woman working the register called it in and they told her to confiscate it. She did and got the manager as the girl ran out of the store with two bottles of water and a large bag of chips. The manager said he saw the suspect jump in and back into a concrete spacer before hitting the accelerator and tearing out onto I-25 headed north.”

It was silent on the line, and I noticed I wasn’t breathing.

"Walt...he said there were two girls in the car.”

11

Henry rode with me as we headed south to Powder Junction in an attempt to overtake Tuyen’s Land Rover, but we hadn’t seen it so far. He looked at a nondescript section of the frontage road, just off I-25. “Who died there?”

Most people didn’t like riding with me, and most of my friends and family had learned to not ask when my eyes unfocused on some lonely stretch of prairie or on a desolate part of the road. “Those three kids that turned over that Camaro on the way back up from the Powder Junction Rodeo back in ’98.”

“Have I ever told you how depressing it is to ride in this county with you?”

I switched on the emergency lights and coaxed the Bullet up past eighty-five. “Well, you never look at the place the same way.”

He nodded. “Where is Vic? ”

I made a face. “What’s that got to do with anything? ” He didn’t answer, and I glanced at the clock on the radio of my truck. “With Cady and Michael, eating lunch.”

He adjusted his signature Fort Smith Big Lip Carp Tournament ball cap and carefully placed his thick ponytail through the adjustable strap. “At the risk of getting my head bitten off, I will ask again. How is that going? ”

I watched the road, then readjusted in my seat and propped an elbow on the armrest. “I don’t know.” I was the picture of annoyance and uncertainty.

The Bear laughed. “You do not know? ”

I sighed. “We . . . When we . . . When we were back in Philadelphia? ”

“Yes.”

“We got really close.”

“Yes.”