Sure enough, the pager on John’s belt buzzed. He pulled it out and looked at it. He didn’t even glance at his son as he went to retrieve his cell phone from the pocket of his shepherd’s coat. He punched in a number.
“Ruiz,” he said.
“It’s Alice. Autopsy’s in an hour. You coming?”
“I’ll be right there.”
He hung up and swung on his coat. “I have to go back to the city. I’ll be late. Finish your supper, do your homework and get to bed early. Adele will make sure you do.”
“Okay.”
John swung on his coat, grabbed his keys from the holder beside the front door and went out to climb into the black SUV he drove to work.
Tonio sat at the table all alone, thinking about how miserable his life had become. His father hardly noticed him, except when he was acting out. He had only one friend in the world, and now Jake was involved in soccer at his school in Jacobsville, as well as being an active member of the school’s agriculture club, and he hardly ever had time for Tonio after school or on weekends.
That left David. His father didn’t know who David really was. He didn’t realize that Tonio’s new friend was actually the same boy who’d helped him run away from home last year. David was a member of Los Diablos Lobitos. He and his brother, Harry, had lived with their grown sister, Tina, who was a call girl. The older brother had been killed three years earlier. There were rumors that Rado Sanchez had done it.
Tonio was afraid of Rado. But Tina always looked so nice, and she smelled sweet. She’d been kind to Tonio the two days he’d lived with them. She’d teased him and picked at him and ruffled his hair. He liked her a lot. He knew what she did for a living. David said she hated it, but Rado made her. He said Rado was always around. Tina got along with him. Probably because she did what he told her to. She loved her little brother. David never talked about the brother who’d died. Not ever.
Tonio’s father almost never talked to him. He hardly ever touched him. He was never here. Tonio was growing up all alone. He had no brothers or sisters and he didn’t want a substitute mother. That was the problem. Ever since he’d objected so violently to his father’s woman friend, there had been a wall between them.
John said that life went on, that you lost people but you couldn’t climb into the grave with them. John had loved little Maria, his wife. But it had never been the sort of passionate love they showed in movies. It had been more a relationship between good friends.
Tonio had loved his mother, so much. She’d been his anchor. She was always making things for him, hugging him, telling him how much she loved him, making him feel part of her life. She’d worked in the emergency room of one of the other hospitals in San Antonio, not the one where Rosa was a clerk. Maria had once told Tonio that she felt she did a worthwhile job, a noble thing, helping to save lives. It made her feel good inside. His cousin Rosa, his mother’s first cousin, worked at the Hal Marshall Memorial Children’s Hospital as a clerk. He liked Rosa, but she was in her late twenties, unmarried, and she didn’t know a lot about kids. She worked in the office, not as a nurse. She’d been a policewoman before she changed jobs. She liked Tonio. But it wasn’t the same as when his mother had been alive. Rosa was tough. Well, people in law enforcement usually were. His dad was a prime example.
He poked at the potato dish that went with the chicken, but he barely tasted it. There was a cake on the table, in a plastic carrier. He never touched sweets. His father liked them occasionally, but neither of them cared much for dessert. Just as well. This cake was one Adele had baked for the family of a person who’d just died. She was always doing things for other people. Like Tonio’s mother had.
He got up from the table and went into the living room. There was a painting of his mother on the wall, one his father had commissioned when Tonio was just a year old. His mother had been lovely. She had long, thick black hair and a sweet, pretty face with big black eyes and thick eyelashes and a light olive complexion. Her hands, in the painting, were as they’d been in life, long-fingered and elegant, with pink nails. She was smiling, the way she always smiled in life. In her lap was a small boy with touseled brown hair and big brown eyes, looking toward the artist. The subjects were so realistic that they could have walked out of the painting.
It had cost a lot of money. His father never spoke of finances, but there were checks now and then from Argentina. There were letters from someone who lived there. And once, Tonio had seen a website that his father visited in Argentina, which showed a ranch with thoroughbred horses, many at stud or for sale.
Tonio had asked why his father was looking at a ranch that specialized in racehorses. John had just shrugged and said he chanced upon it during a search and was curious about the name of the horse ranch, because it was Ruiz, like his own name. Not that he was interested in buying any fancy horses, he’d added. The quarter horses they had on the ranch were quite good enough for him.
The answer had satisfied Tonio, who never could keep his mind on anything for very long. That psychologist he went to see said he had attention deficit disorder. Tonio had drifted off into daydreams while the man droned on, explaining the problem to him. He imagined that his father had also drifted off, listening to the long-winded explanation, because they’d never discussed it again. Tonio wondered if his father had been affronted because the problem might be inherited from him. His dad was touchy about such things.
His dad’s profession had caused him some issues in Jacobsville. The older kids had made fun of Tonio because his dad was a Texas Ranger. A few sharp words from one of the teachers had stopped some of it, but teachers couldn’t be everywhere. The student he’d gotten in the fight with had said that all cops were crooked and since Tonio’s dad was a Latino, he was probably even more crooked than the rest. Tonio’s blood had boiled. He wasn’t ashamed of his blood, and he didn’t like hate speech, so he’d plowed into the other student.
He’d tried to explain the insult to his father, but there had been a phone call, another crime scene that his dad had to go to. It seemed that any time he tried to tell his father anything important, to talk to him, that cell phone was always in the way. He couldn’t even have one uninterrupted meal with his only remaining parent.
Adele came back. He said the food was good, when she groaned at the lack of empty plates, but his dad had to leave and he’d eaten too much at lunch. He went back into his room and picked up the game controller. As an afterthought, he called David back on Skype.
“Hey, man, watch your language when you hear my dad come in, okay?” Tonio asked. “He’s a Texas Ranger.”
“Yeah. I know,” came the sarcastic reply. “You poor kid. But, okay, I’ll watch my mouth when the heat’s around. Now, where were we?”
David liked Tonio. But there were other, older members of Los Diablos Lobitos who didn’t. One of them was Rado Sanchez. Nobody knew what the nickname meant or where it came from, but he was cold, dangerous, and he’d taken over leadership of the gang several years ago when its former leader went to prison for murder. Rado was the sort who wouldn’t balk at murder. He sent initiates out to do some pretty bad things. One of them had just been sent to jail for the rape and murder of an old lady. That had shocked and frightened Tonio. He wasn’t in the gang and he wasn’t trying to be in it anymore. But that didn’t stop Rado from trying to pressure him into joining it.
Rado was tall and thin, with a face like a rat and a smoking cigarette in his hand constantly. He stopped Tonio just off the grounds of the children’s hospital where his cousin worked, late one afternoon.
“You coming into the gang or what?” Rado asked.