“What more could we possibly need?” I jump up, the ladderback chair topples, and he catches it before it hits the floor.
Jack sets the chair back in place. “Some physical evidence would help.”
“How about a blood-soaked towel?” Alma runs up the stairs.
“Wait? My sister’s?” In my mind’s eye, I replay my dreams while things thump on the second floor.
In a moment, she’s back, out of breath, and holds forth a clear plastic bag, a brown cloth within. “David had a few of us clean up the kitchen after the wedding. He said raw beef had leaked onto the floor but I never believed it. I had nothing else to substantiate my suspicions but still, I kept the rag.”
We reminisce for a while longer and while eager to go, I promise to stay in touch. Then, Jack and I walk to where Suds and Lucky wait in the Ford.
“Do you think it’s enough,” I search Jack’s unreadable face, hoping to see what, I’m not sure.
“I don’t know. Patten probably has enough clout to get someone to take yours and her statement. We can give the Feds what we know so far and ask them to check the towel for DNA. Maybe, if that pans out, they’ll get a warrant for more.”
“Then what?” Finally, I feel like we have some traction.
“Nothing. We let the police do their jobs.” He lifts his sunglasses so I can see his resolve.
I don’t like his answer so my mind swirls with other possibilities. “What if we force him to do something that proves he’s guilty?”
I’ve waited too long and got too close to leave Faith’s justice in the hands of others.
Jack looks at me like I’ve lost a few marbles but once he thinks about it, I’m sure he’ll agree. Mine is the best course of action. I argue all the way to the reservation but even Lucky and Suds don’t see it my way. Finally, I go outside and call the documentary team who’re thrilled to get another chance at the story. This one is sure to win them air time.
Before Jack has a chance to overhear, I call David Young. “Hello, David. Don’t hang up. I know about Faith. I saw it happen.”
I hold my breath to a minute of dead silence until his voice hisses. “You godless whore. Let me talk to your husband. Does he know you stole his phone?”
Shaking, I continue with my blatant lies. “I took her dress before you moved the freezer. Did you know death by firing squad is still legal in Utah?”
What if he opened the freezer at some point after her death? He’ll know I’m lying.
There’s more silence but his voice is dry and hoarse when he speaks again. “I’m hanging up. Calling your husband.”
The phone goes dead but he’s worried.
About five minutes later Jack explodes inside the house. “Fuck it all, Blake!”
I jump a mile and turn to the furious face of an ex-military man who looks as if he wants to strangle me.
“Don’t sneak up on me!”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Do you think he’ll take the bait?”
“Tell me. Exactly what did you say? Verbatim.”
I repeat the conversation I had with David and he shakes his head. “You got a death wish, you know that?”
“We need to get back to the compound. Wait for him. Follow him.”
He grabs the cell phone out of my hand and checks the history. “You called those documentary idiots, too?”
“Please, Jack. We need to get this recorded. You said yourself we needed solid evidence.”
“No. I said let the police handle it.” He scrubs a worried palm over his cheeks. “Fuck.”
