Alamo County, NM
Late November
Cold, so damn cold. Isaiah “Ike” Hernandez stumped along the side of the winding, two-lane highway, half blinded by the stinging mixture of windblown snow and sand that slashed at him. He’d long passed teeth chattering and shivering. Now he was just numb. He only knew when each foot hit the ground by the jolt that ran up his leg. The thin shoes they had given him provided little protection and no bounce.
With a near-frozen hand, he pressed the flimsy jacket closer to his chest and supported the dog curled against his body, the one spot almost warm. He’d found the half-starved mutt two days ago, on the third day of his journey northwest from a horrible prison in south Texas where he’d spent the past several years. Leaving the pen, his one thought had been to get home—even though it would not be the home he’d left.
While he’d been away, the town had been razed to make room for a new open-pit mine that now was nearly closed due to the economic problems and environmental issues. The town of Esperanza was no more, but where else could he go? He had to see for himself that it no longer existed before he could go anywhere else.
At first, he wasn’t sure if the pup’s matted hair covered a male or female. Now he knew the red scrap of canine was male, and he’d decided it was a mix of dachshund and Chihuahua—but with a shaggy ancestor somewhere in the past as well. He’d kicked himself for picking it up. He could hardly feed himself, much less a dog, but he couldn’t leave it crouched by a highway, whimpering, hungry, and cold.
Several hundred miles later, hitching, walking, and hoping, he was sure he’d made it back into New Mexico. Even so, his goal still seemed impossibly far away. This storm had swept in, an early but a vicious one. In prison, all he’d had was time. Now that he was free at last, it looked like time had run out.
Even his thoughts seemed gelid, ill formed and jumbled, mixing in his mind. Memory told him the ground was hard and cold. Despite that, it looked soft, comforting. He wanted to lie down, let the snow and dust drift over him while he went to sleep. He’d die. And probably the little red dog would, too. Ever dogged himself, he could not let that happen. At least he would not roll over and play dead until he really was. He put a foot forward one more time.
* * * *
Perry Parker gripped the wheel of the Alamo County Sheriff’s Department SUV and squinted into the swirling maelstrom of snow and dust that all but obscured the two-lane highway he followed. The vehicle bucked, fighting the wind. Wheels slipped as he took one of the sharper curves. He eased off the gas and let momentum carry the car for a few yards.
If those fucking meth dealers are out in this, they’re crazier than I am. At least I’m getting paid. Not much, not enough, but it’s a living. Well, maybe they will be, too, if I can’t catch them. But hell, why on a night like this? I can’t even see them unless they’re standing in the road.
As one of the too-few deputies patrolling the remote county not far from the Mexican border, he had plenty of experience with drug dealers. Now, damn the luck, even local kids were caught up in cooking meth, suddenly considered cool because that damn TV show was so popular. What were they thinking, making a meth dealer a hero, for God’s sake? That meant border crashers or locals could be out tonight peddling their product, risking death in a wreck in addition to the normal hazards of their illegal business.
Beside him in the passenger seat, Badger gave one plaintive whine. Although the county did not have canine officers, Badger had been his partner for several months. He’d adopted the funny-looking critter from the county shelter when the animal control man said he was going to have to put her down soon. Perry figured the dog was pit bull and blue heeler.
Although most folks would say she was the ugliest dog they’d ever seen, Perry noticed the intelligence and some other special nameless quality in her mismatched eyes, one blue and one nearly black. He’d had to save her. Because she was both brave and tenacious, Badger seemed like the right name.
With her riding shotgun, he wasn’t quite alone. She’d picked up a few commands and become protective very fast. She even seemed to have a nose for drugs. Out on the long, dark nights alone, she was the best partner he could ask for.
“Okay, gal. We’ll be back in town in about thirty minutes and get us some coffee, maybe some chow, and a treat for you. It ain’t pretty out, but I’ll get us there. I know this road like our backyard.”
As he straightened the wheel and eased down on the gas again, something loomed ahead, right on the edge of his lane. What the fuck? A man, walking? He hadn’t seen a car or any sign of life for the past twenty miles or more. Who would be out in this weather? Probably some poor sap who’d been sneaked across the border and dumped to fend for himself. Perry despised the coyoteros as much as he hated the drug dealers. Both abused the people they doubly victimized. Knowing that, he could not pass a fellow human, one for whom death could come almost any moment out here on a night like this.
Feathering the brakes, he slowed, stopped, and then shifted the SUV into reverse. He’d gone maybe twenty yards past the walker. The person had stopped, raised his—or her—head and waited, as if numb and dumb. Perry put the car in park and got out.
“Hey, man, do you need a lift? Where you heading?” He spoke first in Spanish and then, when the other person did not respond, repeated it in English.
The reply came muffled, slurred, and hoarse. “Yeah, I s’pose I do. I was going home—to Esperanza—but I think I took the wrong shortcut. Things look different now.”
The man staggered, as if disoriented or exhausted. Maybe both. Perry grabbed his arm. Through thin, worn garments, he could feel bone with very little flesh over it. The guy was not in good shape. He stumbled as Perry tugged.
“Come on, I’ll get you to town—that’s Riata, about twenty miles down this highway. Esperanza doesn’t exist anymore. Didn’t you know? You stay out in this much longer, and they’ll find your carcass after the storm blows out. No hope out here for now.”
The stranger nodded. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right, but I’m not leaving my dog.”
Looking around, Perry did not see an animal. He was about to ask when he noticed the lumpy shape under the front of the man’s jacket. “You can bring it. Come on, get in. We’re both just getting colder.”
Badger gave the stranger a sniff, but then with only a faint grumble, heaved herself across into the back seat. There should have been a barrier, but it was being repaired. Tonight that made things more convenient.
Perry noted his dog’s reaction. No bristle, no suspicion. That was good. He trusted her judgment. Not that the chilled man posed much of a threat. Oh, he could have a knife or a gun, but somehow Perry didn’t think he did. He’d seen newly released prisoners before. He knew the cheap, flimsy clothes, the haunted, near-broken look. He’d bet the guy was recently out. Not all cons were dangerous. Many were in for things they had not done, or had done in desperation. Alert but not anxious, Perry turned the heater up to the max and headed on down the highway.
“You’re a cop,” the man said suddenly, as if he’d just awakened. “I didn’t notice at first. Eyes were half-frozen shut.”
“Yeah, deputy sheriff. That’s okay. We’re out here to protect, to support, not just to bust bad guys.”
“Something you need to know, though. I’m a con. Been out—a week? About that. The days have kinda run together, but it was November 13. Down in Texas, way down. I won’t try and hide it. No use in that.”
“I guessed.” Perry slid a quick glance toward the other man, only to return almost at once to watching the road. It posed a hell of a lot bigger threat than this poor abused piece of humanity. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man’s jacket give a violent wiggle. With a large-knuckled hand, the guy loosened the buttons and took out a furry little mite. It looked around with shoe-button eyes and then settled on the man’s thin thighs with a soft sigh.
Perry made it to Riata without any further delays. He pulled up in his usual spot outside Dot’s Diner, the only twenty-four hour café in town. It crouched at the junction of two state highways. There wasn’t much traffic or business, but for some reason, Dot stayed and, with a couple of assistants, kept the place open twenty-four/seven. He knew his rider needed some food and a chance to warm up, even better than he had in the SUV.
“Come on.” He pulled the key from the ignition and stepped out. It wasn’t quite as windy here, but still cold and spitting a mixture of snow and sleet. Badger hesitated, until Perry nodded. “You, too, Badger.”
The dog bounded over the back of the seat and hit the ground before he could even begin to close the door. The strange man and his tiny pooch took more time, but the guy managed to stand unaided, clutching the dog, and followed Perry to the door.
Dot was on duty herself tonight, a big blousy blonde with too much makeup but kindness in her faded blue eyes. “Yo, Perry, tough night to be out. Come on in. Coffee’s hot, and I’ve got some green chile stew.”
The former convict stopped just inside the door. “Dogs can come in?”
“Hell yes,” Dot said. “Most of ‘em have better manners than some of the tourists and trash that comes in here. Badger’s always welcome, and that little mutt you’re toting is, too. If you’re with Perry, I’ll welcome you both. You look pretty cold and hungry.”
Perry glanced back to see the man crack a faint smile. “I’ve been warmer and better fed, for sure. Thank you, ma’am.”
She snorted. “Don’t ma’am me. Name’s Dot, like a spot.”
Perry went directly to his usual seat, a booth near the back with a view toward the door. The other man followed him and slid into the opposite bench. “Ought to introduce myself if we’re eating together. I can’t afford much, but I know me and little Rojo have gotta eat.”
“This one’s on me,” Perry said. “If you want to share a name over some green chile stew, that’s fine. Mine’s Perry, Deputy Perry Parker when it’s official. Otherwise, just Perry.”
The other man extended a cold, bony hand, with cracked skin on the knuckles. “Ike Hernandez. Not just a number anymore, thank the saints.”
Dot brought a carafe and two big mugs, went back to the kitchen, and returned with two massive bowls of pork and green chile stew and a big bag of tortilla chips tucked under her elbow. She poured the coffee and then stepped back. “Eat up,” she said. “That’s what food’s for. Drink, too.” Her expressive gaze slid to Ike’s sharp-featured face, clearly noting his unnatural pallor and the way his skin stretched tight over the bones, giving an almost skeletal appearance. “You need to tuck in as much as you can. You from around here? Something kinda familiar in the look of you.”
“Folks lived up at Esperanza, when it was a town. Been away a long time.”
Dot nodded. “You picked a hell of a time to come home, but welcome back.”
Perry noted her quiet approval of the former convict, sensing she recognized the same signs he did and offered no judgment or hostility.
Badger, who’d curled at his feet, gave a soft grumble as she heard his spoon clink in the bowl.
“Aw, hell, I forgot Badger’s meal. Be right back.” Dot scuttled off while Perry and Ike addressed their steaming bowls with enthusiasm. She was back soon with two more bowls. She put one on the floor at the side of Perry’s seat and the smaller of the two at Ike’s left elbow. “Here, this is for your little mutt there. Bet it’s hungry, too.”
From experience, Perry knew Badger’s dish held some kibble with a generous dollop of chile stew over the top. He’d wager the other dog received the same. Within seconds, the little red critter reared up and put both front paws on the edge of the table. It took a sniff of the dish, then lowered its head and began to lap the juicy part.
“Is your dog a puppy or just little?”
Ike shrugged. “Not sure how old he is, but he seems to be able to eat reg’lar food. I figure maybe six months or so, but he may just be little. I think he may be Chihuahua and doxie. Found him the second day I was walking north. I couldn’t leave the little guy crying on the edge of the highway, could I?”
Perry chuckled. “We both seem to have a weakness for offbeat canines. My girl here was set to be put down, so ugly nobody wanted her, but she’s a damn good dog. Named her Badger; she’s that tough and brave. Saved my biscuits several times since she’s been riding shotgun with me. When she wasn’t worried about you, I decided I didn’t need to be either. Badger’s a good judge of character.”
When they finished the meal, Perry picked up the ticket and added a generous tip to the amount he set on the counter for Dot. Turning to Ike, he hesitated only a minute. “I’ve still got over three hours of shift left. I’m going to drop you off at my place. You can take the spare room, and we’ll talk about things tomorrow. You don’t need to ride around with me the rest of the night. It really isn’t kosher anyway.”
Ike looked surprised. “You sure you want to do that, Officer Parker? I mean you don’t know me from Adam except that I was behind bars until just a few days ago. You trust me in your home?”
Pinned by the other man’s keen, black gaze, Perry shrugged. “Yeah, I trust you. What are you going to do in this kind of weather? I haven’t got much worth stealing, and I have a hunch you’d rather die than end up behind bars again.”
“That’s a fact.” Ike gave a slight nod. “Okay, I appreciate it, I really do. A belly full of warm food and a real bed. Gawd, I think I died and went to heaven, much as I don’t deserve it.”
Perry’s rented house was just a couple of blocks away. There wasn’t that much to Riata anyway, for all that it was the county seat. He left the car running, Badger on guard, while he escorted Ike into the old adobe. As soon as he got some lights on and showed the other man the spare room and the bath, he went back out to resume his shift. He might come home to a rifled house—not that Ike would find much to sell or take away—but he didn’t think so. He recognized relief and gratitude in the former convict’s face and had a gut feeling both were authentic.
What would the sheriff say? Knowing Ben Hunter, probably not much. Ben was an old-fashioned lawman, one who believed a man was innocent until proven guilty and trustworthy until that was violated. Even former convicts who had served their time deserved to be treated like humans. Perry wasn’t sure what would happen next, but for now, he felt that giving Ike a place to stay was the right thing to do.
The old site of Esperanza was twenty miles up the mountain. Even if it still existed as a town, there was no way the weary man could get there tonight. Perry suspected there was no more than a dollar or two in the pockets of those cheesecloth-thin khaki pants. Ike could not afford a room, a meal—much of anything. Karma had a way of coming back around. You did right, and you got right back. Perry put the SUV in gear and slid out into the stormy night. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with Ike’s future.