A rtie didn’t feel up to talking on the ride toward the open desert. To Artie’s relief, Sheriff Wright didn’t make him try. They would have to walk after a point, but Sheriff Wright insisted that the automobile would be faster over the first part of the trip.
Artie had spent his night with little sleep. His stepmother had wailed and sobbed for an hour after he gave her the news. She had demanded that they go back into the Superstitions, alone if need be, to continue the search. She decried the lack of effort and sobbed that she had known all along that he was gone.
Artie tried to calm her, but silence only followed once her apparent exhaustion sent her to sleep. Theo, for a wonder, had kept Hazel in the yard until Artie went in search of them. Hazel had begged Artie to sing her to sleep, a plea that he couldn’t bring himself to deny. She fell asleep in time for her mother to wake up sobbing again.
Artie closed his eyes, trying not to think any more about the night before. He found himself thankful for something to do when the two men at last got out to walk. Beyond the occasional grunt, Sheriff Wright continued in silence, and Artie mirrored it.
Dorothy opened the door to the shack at their knock. Her dark blue eyes widened when she saw Sheriff Wright.
“Can we come inside for a moment, Miss Hodges?”
She nodded, looking toward Artie, then stepped aside. Sheriff Wright glanced at the ceiling, doffing his hat.
Dorothy had a dozen questions in her eyes, but Joseph Hodges barely acknowledged the men. Sheriff Wright introduced himself, but the woodcarver only gave the barest of returns.
Dorothy offered them a seat—four chairs seemed to be all that the room contained—but her nervousness at their presence remained apparent when she sat down, holding her hands in fists on her lap.
“I need to ask you a few more questions regarding Charles Sinclair, Miss Dorothy.” Sheriff Wright dropped his hat on the floor between his boots.
The girl’s face twitched. “Yes, sir.”
“Now,” Sheriff Wright pulled out his notebook, “you told me before that you had an argument with Mr. Sinclair regarding where you got the means to pay a debt owed to him.”
“Y-yes, sir.” She seemed to stiffen.
“With what means did you pay Charles Sinclair, Miss Hodges?”
Dorothy sent a glance in Artie’s direction again. “With gold, sir.”
Sheriff Wright looked at her over the top of his glasses. “That can be confirmed by whom?”
“B-by Mr. Artie Sinclair, sir. I-I gave the gold to him.”
Artie nearly spoke but changed his mind.
Sheriff Wright nodded. “So, Mr. Sinclair tells me.” He paused for several seconds. “Where did you get the gold, Miss Hodges?”
Artie saw her pale. “I-I couldn’t possibly say, sir.”
“I could ask your father, Miss Hodges.”
“He…” She swallowed hard enough to be visible. “He doesn’t know either, sir.”
Sheriff Wright studied her for a long moment.
Dorothy gripped her fists harder. “P-please, sheriff, I will answer any questions that I can, but I really couldn’t tell you where I got that gold. I couldn’t tell anyone.”
Artie took the opportunity to see what the woodcarver thought of this appeal, but the man didn’t react. He just kept carving.
“Miss Hodges,” the sheriff used a much firmer tone, “you do realize that a man is missing and that you are a suspect in his possible murder.”
Dorothy’s voice grew faint, but she couldn’t have grown paler. “Yes, sir. I realize that. I still could not tell you.”
The man studied her again, before pushing up his glasses with a nod. “Very well. What then, is your opinion of Charles Sinclair.”
Dorothy jumped before looking toward Artie in alarm. Artie knew her honest reply might be less than pleasant.
“I can step outside, if you would prefer, Miss Dorothy. Though, you are free to speak in front of me.”
I’ll have to hear it at some point.
Dorothy seemed to wince. “Y-you don’t have to leave.” She shook her head slightly, turning back to the sheriff. “I-I find him a frightening and overbearing individual, sir.”
Artie couldn’t say that he had expected anything better, but the words still stung. That is not the father that I thought I knew. Why do I believe her then?
Sheriff Wright continued. “Why were you afraid of Mr. Sinclair, Miss Hodges?”
Dorothy hesitated. Twice, she began to speak, twice she paused again.
She doesn’t think he’ll believe her.
The girl took a deep breath. “M-Mr. Sinclair used to threaten…Threaten to take our home. Threaten me if-if meetings were not attended. He…The way he looks at me makes me ill. I…” She swallowed, her voice lowering. “I’m always afraid that he’ll hurt me if he gets me alone.”
Artie remembered his father standing over the girl with her knife. Why do I know my father as a very different man? The answer that followed struck him as unwelcome. Because he wanted me to know him that way.
The sheriff paused for a few moments. Whether he believed Dorothy or not, Artie couldn’t have told. At last, he took up his questioning again, his voice a mite more gentle. “Do you go into the Superstition Mountains often, Miss Hodges?”
Dorothy, who had dropped her eyes to her lap again, looked up. “It depends on the season. In the cooler months, I do. The mountains are one of my favorite places to read in or explore.”
Sheriff Wright nodded. “Did Mr. Sinclair find you there?”
Any color that had returned to the girl’s face fled at the question.
“Perhaps he frightened you—threatened you with the knife that he had taken from you before? You struggled with him. The knife got twisted in the fight…”
“No, sir.” Despite her pallor, the strength had returned to Dorothy’s voice.
“It would be understandable.” Sheriff Wright pushed up his glasses again. “Someone who you feared so much, cornering you alone in the mountains. He wanted answers that you couldn’t give him. He came after you. You struggled in fear for your life. The knife struck him. Afraid of no one believing you, you told no one. It would be understandable.”
“I don’t know if it would be understandable or not.” Dorothy took a deep breath, pulling back her shoulders. She still looked pale, but her voice rang with a strong clarity. “I tell you though, sheriff, before God Almighty, I had nothing to do with the disappearance or murder of Charles Sinclair, accidental or intentional. The last time I saw him was near Apache Junction the Saturday before his disappearance; he was with his son and very much alive.”
Sheriff Wright seemed to study her while she spoke through his rounded spectacles. Artie couldn’t judge the man’s thoughts by his face. He wondered if Dorothy could. At last, the lawman rose.
“Thank you, Miss Hodges. I appreciate your time.”
Dorothy rose as well.
“I may have a few more questions for you.” The sheriff picked up his hat off the floor, tucking his notebook into his pocket. “Could I trouble you to come out to Apache Junction on Saturday? No need to come any farther, and if I have questions I’ll know where to find you.”
A flash of fear leapt to Dorothy’s eyes. Artie recognized her attempt at smothering it.
“Y-yes, sir. I-I can do that.” She put her hands together, then put them behind her back instead.
“Thank you, Miss Hodges.” Sheriff Wright nodded. “I’ll be seeing you.” He spoke in the direction of the girl’s father, but Joseph Hodges paid him no mind.
Dorothy followed the men to the doorway, the shadow on her face deepening. Artie held back as Sheriff Wright walked on.
“Is he still around?”
It seemed to take Dorothy a moment to comprehend who Artie referred to.
“Yes. He’s still out there.”
Artie swept his gaze across the desert behind him. He couldn’t really understand where anyone could hide, not in the broad daylight. Still, the forest of cacti and stumped trees might prove a cover if one knew how to use it.
“He might not be out there now.” Dorothy wrapped both arms around her own waist when he looked down at her. “Not if he had any fear that either you or the sheriff might see him.”
He looked at her face more closely. “Have you seen him, Dorothy?”
She hesitated before nodding. “Not his face. Just…Just a glimpse.”
Artie glanced around again in a futile attempt to discover anything. “Have you told your father yet?”
Pain filled her face. “I told him.”
“You should tell Sheriff Wright.”
Dorothy shuddered. “It hardly seems likely that he would believe me. He would think I am trying to garner sympathy as a suspect, I reckon.”
“I doubt that.” Artie looked down at his hat. “Do you need anything?”
She shook her head, her arms still wrapped around herself. “No, thank you, Mr. Sinclair. I can think of nothing.”
Sheriff Wright called him in the distance and Artie bit back a sigh. Reluctantly, he took a step back. “Stay safe, Miss Dorothy.” He took another step back. “I’ll be praying for you.”
He turned, hurrying to catch up with the sheriff, still on the lookout for anyone else he might spot in the desert. He saw no one.
I don’t like leaving her, yet what can I do? She hardly trusts me, either. I doubt if I could ever find anyone by searching the desert myself. I don’t know what else I can do.