Читать книгу Lakota Baby - Elle James - Страница 11

Maggie unlocked the door and entered, automatically reaching in to switch on the lights of the large gymnasium. Her snow boots made echoing clopping sounds as she crossed the painted concrete court to her office on the opposite side.

As she pushed the glass door open, a lump lodged in her throat. A colorful playpen stood in one corner as if waiting for her to place Dakota in it with his toys.

How many times had she brought Dakota to work with her? Had she set herself and her child up for this disaster? Had one of the teens who’d visited the center on multiple occasions seen Dakota and figured he’d be a good trade for something?

“Damn.” Maggie slapped her hand to the doorframe and closed her eyes against the sting of tears. She could imagine Dakota crying for his mommy, holding out his hands for her to pick him up and make him safe. The tears squeezed through one at a time until she gave up and let them flow, hunching her shoulders in despair.

So caught up was she in her misery, Maggie barely heard the sound of the outside door opening. When the sound of rubber boots stopped in front of her, she looked up into Winona Little Elk’s dark face.

“Come, thiblo.” Daughter. Heavy, warm arms curled around her shoulders and drew her into a maternal embrace.

“Oh, Winona, where is he? Where’s my baby?” Maggie wailed into the older woman’s wool jacket.

“I don’t know. I miss him, too.” Her shoulders shook with her own silent sobs and the two women stood holding each other until the storm passed.

After several minutes, Maggie pulled back and gave Winona a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry. I should be strong.”

“Look at me,” she snorted. “I’m just as bad.” Winona’s brown eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and she rubbed at the moisture clinging to the sunkissed, leathery skin of her cheekbones. “I love my hoksika.” Little boy. Her words were a mix of English and the sometimes harsh, yet beautiful native Lakota language she’d grown up speaking with her parents and grandparents.

Maggie paced in front of the government-issued metal desk littered with files and work she’d thought so important only yesterday. Now nothing was as important as finding Dakota. She stopped and faced her son’s caregiver. The woman who was more a grandmother, more than a babysitter to her child. “Why, Winona? Why would someone take my son?”

“Joe will find him and ciks agli.” And bring your son home. Her voice rang with conviction as she stood with her back ramrod-straight and her ample shoulders pushed back. Winona’s waist-length hair hung in long braids over her shoulders, the gray ropes a stark contrast to the black wool of her winter jacket. The woman was Lakota and her proud lineage shone through in her high cheekbones and deep-brown eyes. Then her shoulders slumped forward. “Do you think one of the tribe took hoksika?”

“I don’t know anyone but the teenagers and people of the tribe. Who else would take him?” She hesitated for a moment and made a decision. “Winona, I had a call this morning from the kidnapper.”

Winona’s eyes widened and she reached for Maggie’s hands. “What did they say? What did they want?”

Maggie’s brows furrowed. “That’s the problem. They want to use Dakota as a trade.”

“A trade for what?”

“I don’t know.” She threw her hands in the air and turned away, searching her office for the answer and coming up blank. She sighed and faced Winona. “The man said something about trading Dakota for what was stolen.”

“What do you mean, ‘what was stolen’?”

“I wish I knew. I’d give it to them. Hell, I’d give them everything I own to get Dakota back.”

Winona’s eyes narrowed into a ferocious scowl and she tapped her finger to her chin. “What would someone want so badly they’d take our hoksika?”

“I’ve tried and tried to come up with something. But frankly, I don’t have anything of value. And I certainly haven’t stolen anything.”

“You think the kidnapper is Lakota?”

“I think so. The meeting place is on the reservation at Coyote Butte.” Maggie stepped behind her desk and sank into her battered office chair. “I don’t even know where that is, much less what I supposedly stole.”

The older woman shook her head. “I don’t understand the ways of the young people of my tribe. Have they no shame? Drug use and alcoholism is a disgrace, child abuse unforgivable and that casino should never have been built.”

“I thought the tribe was happy about the money the casino brings to the community.”

Winona’s lips thinned. “Money is not everything.”

“Your husband, Tom, works there, doesn’t he?” Having worked on the reservation for almost as long as the casino had been open, Maggie knew the benefits the tribe received from the profits. New roads, a new clinic and next year the new school would be complete. “What’s wrong with the casino, other than the usual habitual gamblers?”

“Tom isn’t sure, but he has the feeling there are illegal activities going on there. He just can’t put his finger on it.”

Maggie leaned forward. “What makes him think that?”

“He’s a janitor, and as a janitor, he’s somewhat invisible. He sees things.” She shrugged. “That’s all he will say.”

“Do you think someone from the casino took Dakota?” Maggie pushed away from the desk and stood.

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve never been there, even when Paul was alive.”

“Did Paul tell you anything about his work or the people there?” Winona asked.

“No.” Maggie sat down again and buried her face in her hands. “I’ve made such a mess of my life. And poor Paul is dead.”

“Does Joe know Dakota is his son?”

For a full five seconds, Maggie’s heart stopped beating. When it started up again, it pounded against her rib cage, threatening to burst out with the force of her lie. Slowly, she lifted her head from her hands and stared at Winona. “How did you know?”

“Dakota may have your red hair, but he has the skin and eyes of his father’s people.”

Maggie jumped to her feet, and grabbed Winona’s hands. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Pudgy brown fingers patted hers. “I won’t tell what is not mine to tell. But why?”

“Joe didn’t want me because I wasn’t Lakota.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Winona waved her hand around the room filled with pictures of the teens Maggie worked with on a daily basis. “You care about our children more than most of the people on the reservation.”

“He said I didn’t fit in his way of life. I didn’t belong.” She dropped Winona’s hand and turned to the window overlooking the indoor basketball court.

“Men can say stupid things when they’re going off to war. They aren’t in their right minds.” Winona’s lips twisted. “If he’d known about the baby—”

“No!” The old hurt and fear surfaced and Maggie frowned. “I was scared. Afraid that if I told him about the baby, he’d take him away from me and raise him within the tribe. I’d lost Joe, I couldn’t lose my baby as well.” And if he’d decided to marry her, he’d have been doing it out of obligation, not love. She couldn’t stand to be an obligation. She’d thought she’d be better off marrying someone else than being in love with a man who’d never love her in return.

“So you married Paul?”

“Yes.” Maggie’s chin tilted up. “I thought if I married Paul, everyone would think Dakota was his. I made him promise not to tell.”

“What was in it for Paul?”

Paul. Dear, sweet Paul. Regret burned in Maggie’s gut. In her attempt to protect herself and her son, she’d put Paul in the situation she most wanted to avoid. Paul had stepped in when she was desperate, but despite his love for her all she felt for him was platonic affection. She’d tried to sleep with him but couldn’t, not with the knowledge she still loved her baby’s father. He’d given up his chance to choose a woman who’d love him to help Maggie. And he’d died before she could make things right. “Paul loved me.”

“You should tell Joe about Dakota. He has the right to know. Especially, since it’s his son who’s missing.”

“I know.” Maggie clasped her hands together, twisting the simple gold band around her ring finger. She’d insisted she didn’t want a diamond engagement ring. A band was all that was necessary to keep her secret.

She slipped the ring from her finger and shoved it into her pocket. “You’re right, Winona. I should tell him. But I want to be the one who tells him. Please don’t mention it. The news should come from me.”

“Yes. It should.” Winona touched a hand to Maggie’s cheek. “I promised Tom I’d fix lunch for him. Will you be all right alone? I could tell him to fix his own lunch.”

“No. I’ll be fine.” Winona’s offer to stay with her touched her. She’d made a few lasting friendships over the two years she’d worked at the reservation. Maggie trusted the older woman with her life and that of her son. She was the family Maggie didn’t have.

“Call me if you need anything. Even if only for a shoulder to cry on, thiblo.”

“Pilamaya.” Maggie responded with one of the few Lakota words she knew. Then she pulled the older woman into her arms and hugged her tightly, struggling to be strong when all she wanted to do was curl into a fetal position and cry. “I miss my baby.”

“I know, I know.” Winona patted her back once more and then held her at arm’s length and said, “Trust him.” After a long hard look, the old Lakota woman left.

The empty gym echoed with the sound of the outside door closing behind her. A blast of icy wind filtered across the concrete floors to send a chill across Maggie’s skin. She wrapped her arms around her middle, shivering, and wondered if Dakota was warm enough.

The door screeched open and Maggie looked up, half hoping Joe would walk through. Her hopes died when Leotie Jones slipped through and advanced across the concrete with her high-heeled boots grating against the silence. “Oh, good, you’re here,” was her only greeting. No How are you? or Hello.

Maggie squeezed her eyelids shut for a moment and willed Leotie to go away. I don’t need this. Not now. Then she opened her eyes and forced herself to be pleasant, something that wasn’t easy around the self-centered woman. “Leotie,” she said, dipping her head in acknowledgement.

“I just stopped by to tell you how sorry I was about your baby.” She cinched the belt circling the waistline of her long, black leather jacket.

“Thanks.” She couldn’t help it that the one word implied anything but gratitude. Leotie had had it in for her from the first day Maggie had set foot on the reservation. Or should she say from the first day she’d run into Joe Lonewolf and instant attraction had practically ignited the dry prairie grass all around the youth center? Leotie considered Joe her territory and saw Maggie as an encroaching outsider. She’d done everything in her power to get between Maggie and Joe and spoil any chance of a blossoming relationship.

“I was hoping we could forget about the past and, you know, let bygones be bygones, and all that.” Leotie stared around Maggie into her office. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Although her words sounded cheerful, the slight curl of her lip indicated she wasn’t impressed with the sparse furnishings or the two hard plastic chairs positioned in front of Maggie’s desk.

“Normally, I would. But there’s nothing normal about the way I feel today.” She stared hard at Leotie, hoping she’d get the message and leave. “Leotie, I’d rather be alone.”

“I see.” Leotie’s forced smile turned into a sneer and she crossed her arms over her ample chest, flipping her red-streaked black hair over her shoulder. “Joe’s working the case, isn’t he?”

This was more Leotie’s style—cut to the chase. Maggie braced herself for the attack. “Yes, Joe’s working the case.”

“You know he’ll never marry you, don’t you?”

“I didn’t ask him.”

“Well, don’t.” Her eyes narrowed. “He won’t ever marry you. He has too much of his father in him to care about a white woman.”

“I said, I didn’t ask him.” If Leotie didn’t get the hell out soon, Maggie was afraid she’d say or do something she’d regret. She had to remind herself not to rise to Leotie’s bait, to take the high road. But her emotions were raw and she wasn’t in the mood.

Mentally, she counted to ten.

One.

“If he marries, he’ll choose a Lakota woman.”

Two.

“Like me.”

Three.

“Do we understand each other?”

Four-five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten! “Leave, Leotie.” Maggie pointed to the door, her lips set in a firm tight line, afraid if she opened them again, she’d spew forth venom.

“Fine.” Leotie tugged at the belt of her already tight coat and flipped her hair back again. “Just remember—”

Maggie’s control snapped. “Out!”

Leotie snorted and spun on her heel, marching to the door. But she couldn’t leave without a parting shot. “Just because he’s helping you doesn’t mean anything.”

With her tongue pinched between her teeth, Maggie only pointed to the door.

Leotie flung the heavy metal door open and it crashed against the building, bouncing back to smack into her shoulder. She swore and shot a glance backward as if to see if Maggie had seen her fit of temper backfire.

Served her right. The bitch didn’t know what love was. Joe deserved someone who really cared for him and the people of his tribe. Not a venomous witch like Leotie, who only cared about herself. He needed someone kind, caring and devoted to his people.

Someone like you? A niggling voice asked the question in Maggie’s head.

No. Not a red-headed white woman.

Best stick to worrying about Dakota. Joe was out of reach.

She walked into her office and closed the door.

AS SOON AS Joe entered the station he asked, “Any leads from the Amber Alert?”

“A couple of sightings of women carrying babies into stores in Rapid City.” Del shrugged. “The babies were theirs.”

“Do you have anything on the graffiti on Mag—Mrs. Brandt’s house?” Her married name burned an acid path down his throat and gave him the worst case of heartburn he’d known since returning from Iraq.

Del slid a sideways glance at him, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “Bother you that she married Paul after you left?”

“No,” Joe lied. Hell yes, it bothered him. The tarmac hadn’t even cooled from the plane taking off before she’d married Paul.

What galled him most was who she had married.

His stepbrother.

Paul had been nothing but a thorn in his side since his mother had married Kevin Brandt. The six-year-old boy had followed him around like a lost puppy, mimicking his every move.

Now that Paul was gone, Joe realized how much he missed his stepbrother and had to admit he’d enjoyed the hero-worship when they were younger.

“What makes a woman go out with one man and marry another the next day?” Del asked, and then winced. “Sorry, that’s pretty personal.”

“She had the right.”

“I thought you two would make a go of it before you left.”

“Well, we didn’t.” Joe moved through the crowded office to his desk in the corner and stared down at the neat top, as yet uncluttered with a full workload. He’d been easing back into his old job as chief of tribal police. Until today. The kidnapping had thrown him full-force back into work. “Did you find out who left the graffiti on her house?”

“Not yet. I bet it’s one of the druggies that hangs out with the Sukas Gang. My inside source says one of them has a gripe against your Maggie for the death of his girlfriend, Kiya Driskall.”

The Sukas Gang had been growing before Joe had left for his tour of duty, but he’d thought their numbers manageable and somewhat contained. And from the police report, Kiya’s death had been attributed to drug overdose. “Kiya’s death wasn’t Maggie’s fault.”

“We know that, but for some reason Randy Biko hasn’t figured that out.”

“Randy? I thought he’d turned around and straightened up his act?”

Del shrugged. “A lot changes in a year.”

“Apparently.” Not for the first time that day, Joe regretted the timing of his call to service with his South Dakota National Guard unit. He wondered if things would have been different if he hadn’t gone. Would he have turned his back on Maggie? Would Kiya Driskall still be alive? Would the gangs have expanded whether or not he’d been here? He’d never know.

One thing was certain, he didn’t regret his time in Iraq. The people of that country needed someone to defend their right to life and the men in his unit had needed him. Courting death in Iraq taught him a lot about himself. And if he could he’d take back what he’d said to Maggie before he left.

Del strode to the wall where a white board hung, littered with notes from previous cases. He wiped it clean and wrote in black erasable marker the date and time of the missing person report and the call. “We know it’s a kidnapping and we’ve been given the ultimatum. We need to find what it is they think was stolen,” Del said.

“What we need to do is find the baby before they hurt him.” Joe pushed his chair back and stood. His heart pinched in his chest at how devastated Maggie would be if Dakota was hurt or killed. “Call in the entire force, we’re going house-to-house across the reservation until we find that kid. Do the necessary calling. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Where you going?”

“I’m going to get Maggie. She’ll want to be there for the search.”

“Yes, sir!”

Joe left the office, his long stride eating up the distance between the door and his vehicle. He hated himself for the way his pulse quickened at the thought of seeing Maggie again. He shouldn’t be feeling that way for a newly widowed woman. Hell, she’d only lost her husband less than two weeks ago.

FOUR HOURS LATER, the sky was dark except for the yellow glow of porch lights on Red Feather Street. Disappointment gnawed at Joe’s gut. They were no closer to finding Dakota. Joe pulled the SUV to a stop in Maggie’s drive.

She sat for a moment staring at her house. What was she thinking?

Joe couldn’t imagine the worry going through her mind. “We’ll find him, Maggie. We still have the scattered homes farther out to check.”

She turned to him and placed a hand on his arm. “You’ll call me if you find anything? It doesn’t matter what time of day or night. Please call me.”

Her eyes beseeched him in the light from his dashboard, the pale purple smudges beneath them a testimony to the long day and the little sleep she’d had the night before. Joe couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out to cup her chin. “I’ll call you, Maggie. You know I will. I want Dakota back, too. He’s part of my family.”

Maggie’s eyes widened before her lids dropped down to cover the shock in their smoky-green depths. She jerked her chin from his grasp and fumbled with the door handle. “I should go inside. Maybe the kidnappers left another message on my answering machine.”

Had he imagined that look of fear when he’d mentioned Dakota was family? Did she hate him so much that she didn’t want him to be a part of her son’s life? “Dakota’s my nephew, Maggie. Does it bother you that I care about him?”

“No, not at all.” She gathered her purse and pushed open the door.

She wasn’t telling him something, and Joe wondered if what she held back was important to the case. He’d opened his mouth to ask her, when he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. His attention swung to the blinds in one of the windows. They hung at an odd angle. “Did you leave those blinds like that?” He pointed toward her house.

“Huh?” Maggie’s gaze followed the direction he indicated. “No. That’s the master bedroom. I never touch the blinds.” She jumped out of the SUV.

“Wait, Maggie.” Joe was out and beside her before she reached the front door. He set her to the side of the entryway and checked the handle. The door was locked securely. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and ran around to the back door.

The door stood wide open, the frame splintered from a harsh blow. “Someone kicked this door in,” Joe said, his voice a low rumble in the dark.

“You think they’re still inside?” Maggie whispered.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” Joe held her by the shoulders and stared down into her eyes, barely discernible in the light from the stars. “Stay here.”