Seemed you only needed to get shot to get the rest of the day off. Cassidy’s boss sent her to the hospital. But she didn’t go. Instead, she went home to her daughter. The drive from Tucson to Phoenix took three hours, but it didn’t matter. She made it in time for supper.
She arrived with pizza and found Diane waiting with the table set. Amanda bounded off the couch and accepted a kiss and then the boxes, which she carried to the kitchen dinette.
Gerard’s mother retrieved the milk from the refrigerator for Amanda and then took her seat. Diane had many good qualities. Cooking was not one of them. But she was the only other family Amanda had. Cassidy gritted her teeth at the lie. The only family that Cassidy wanted her to have. Was that selfish?
“Finally,” said Diane. “I’m starving.”
Diane was sixty-three, black and didn’t look a day over fifty. She had taken an early retirement from UPS five years ago when her only son had been killed in action. Her skin was a lighter brown than her son’s had been and she chose to straighten her hair, instead of leaving it natural, as Gerard had.
When Cassidy had transferred from California to Arizona, Diane had joined them. Her decision to help raise Amanda had allowed Cassidy to take Amanda out of the school keeper’s programs and allowed Cassidy to move into fieldwork, which she truly loved.
Cassidy excused herself to change. Using a mirror, she checked the sight of the impact and noted the purplish bruise that spread across her back. She took four ibuprofens and slipped into a button-up blouse because it hurt too much to lift her arms over her head. Then she rejoined her mother-in-law and daughter.
After dinner it was past nine on a school night. Amanda headed off to bed. Cassidy joined her, sitting on the foot of the twin bed, trying not to look at the photo of her husband on his second deployment that rested on Amanda’s nightstand.
“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” said Amanda.
Cassidy stroked her daughter’s glossy black hair away from her face. Clyne’s hair had been just this color. Gabe and Kino kept their hair so short it was hard to compare and she had yet to meet Clay, the middle brother.
“Yes, doodlebug. I have to pack tonight. I’ll be gone before you get up.”
“We have another game on Wednesday.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Where?” Her daughter knew that her mother couldn’t say much about her assignments. But this time, somehow, it seemed important that she know.
“Black Mountain.”
“On the reservation?” Her daughter’s voice now rose with excitement. “Oh, Mom. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because she tried to keep her daughter away from the people who were attempting to take Amanda away from her.
“Can I come?”
“Of course you can’t come.”
Her daughter continued on and Cassidy wished she had not mentioned the location of her assignment.
“Are you going to Pinyon Fort? Will you see the museum? There are two hotels on Black Mountain, the ski resort and the casino. Where will you stay?”
It was like watching a train pick up speed and having no way to slow it down.
Ever since Cassidy had told her daughter that she was not really Sioux, as they had been told, but Apache, Amanda had been Googling the Black Mountain tribe’s website and studying Apache history.
“I’m not sure yet.” Cassidy pressed a hand to her forehead.
“You have to tell me everything, what it’s like. They had snow there today. I checked. I haven’t seen snow since we left South Dakota. I wish I could come, too.”
Cassidy stroked her daughter’s head and forced a smile.
“Maybe next time.”
“Will you see them?”
“Yes.”
Amanda’s eyes widened. “Oh, I want to go!”
“I know.”
“What if the judge says I have to go with them? Wouldn’t it be better if I had at least met them?”
Cassidy’s heart ached at the possibility of losing her daughter.
“They can’t take you for long. Even if the judge overturns my custody, you remember what I told you?”
“I’m twelve.”
Cassidy nodded.
Amanda recited by memory. “Twelve-year-olds can request to be adopted away from their tribe.”
“That’s right.”
Amanda frowned. Ever since they’d discovered who she really was and that she had another family out there, Amanda had been increasingly unhappy. Of course the opening of her adoption and the challenge for custody upset her. Why wouldn’t it?
“They can’t win,” said Cassidy. “Because you are old enough to choose.”
Amanda moved her legs restlessly under the covers and seemed to want to say something.
Cassidy waited.
“Can you at least take a picture of them?”
“What? Why?”
“So I can see if they look like me?”
How she wished she could go back to the time when they both thought she had no one but her mom and dad and Grandma Diane. When there was no one else.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Cassidy.
“Please?” asked Amanda.
Cassidy tucked the covers back in place. “I have to go pack and you have to go to sleep. Good night, sweetheart.”
Amanda kissed her mother and then flopped to her side. She said nothing more as Cassidy walked to the bedroom door and waited.
She was about to give up when Amanda flopped back to face her.
“Be careful up there, Mom.”
“I will. I love you.”
“You, too.”
Cassidy closed the door and headed to her bedroom to pack. She was good at packing. A tour of duty with the US Army had taught her that. And also how to fly helicopters. She’d put in for a transfer from her first assignment with the FBI after Gerard died because she couldn’t stand to live in the home they had chosen together. They’d ended up in Southern California.
After she had finished in her room, she carried her suitcase, briefcase and duffel down to the hallway. She told Diane all she could about where she was going. But she didn’t tell her that after this assignment she would finally get her transfer. Would Diane come with them or would it be just the two of them again?
She didn’t know. What she did know was she needed the custody decision so that Amanda could tell the judge she wanted to be adopted again by her mother. Then she needed to get away from this part of the country. As far as possible from the Apache tribe. Until then, she was keeping her daughter away from the Cosen brothers.
* * *
“SO YOU WON’T change your mind?” Clyne asked Gabe.
“Do you know how many officers I have?”
Clyne did, of course. Twelve officers for twenty-six hundred square miles. Only it was eleven since he’d lost a man in January.
“I need help, Clyne. Not just on processing evidence in the Arizona crime labs. I need investigators. Because if you think this is over with you are mistaken. All we