Dance of the Bones

“You said there were shots fired?” Brandon asked. “I never heard any.”


Just then an oversized van with SWAT stenciled on the outside pulled up beside Dan’s vehicle, and a team of battle--ready cops spilled out.

Officer Lopez turned to the woman. “Excuse me, ma’am, is there anyone else in the residence? This Mr. Rojas, I believe the name was. Is he still inside?”

“I don’t have to talk to you,” she said. “I want my lawyer, and I need a doctor.”

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Dobson,” she said. “Jane Dobson.”

“The wrist doesn’t look all that bad,” Lopez said. “In fact, it’s already stopped bleeding, but do we have permission to search your premises?”

“You most certainly do not!” Jane Dobson said. “You need a warrant.”

Unperturbed, Lopez turned to Brandon. “Is it your understanding, Mr. Walker, that Mr. Rojas might still be inside the house and could possibly be in danger?”

When it came to needing a search warrant, the belief that someone might still be in danger was an automatic get--out--of--jail--free card.

Brandon nodded. “We know Rojas drove Lani here, but we haven’t seen any sign of him.”

Someone Brandon assumed to be the shift supervisor rolled up in an unmarked vehicle, and a uniformed officer named Sergeant van Dyke stepped out. He and Lopez huddled for a moment. At the end of their discussion, Lopez cuffed Jane Dobson and led her toward his patrol car while Van Dyke ordered everyone else away from the area.

“But what about my daughter?” Brandon demanded. “She needs medical attention.”

“I’m sorry,” Van Dyke said. “She stays where she is until we clear the residence.”

Much as he didn’t like it, Brandon knew that was the right call—-the only reasonable call. Moments later, the SWAT officers entered the house with weapons drawn. The team leader was back out in less than a minute. “House is clear, but we need the M.E.”

“You’ve got a body?”

“Yup.”

Van Dyke turned back to the nearest EMT. “You’re good to go,” he said.

Brandon followed the medics back into the garage and watched while they carefully removed Lani from the trunk and placed her on a gurney.

“Any idea what they gave her?” one of them asked.

Brandon pointed. “There are some vials over there and a -couple of used needles.”

“Okay,” the medic said. “We’ll get them. And don’t worry. Her vitals are good. I don’t think she’s in any real danger.”

Brandon had been fine the whole time, but that’s when he lost it. He leaned against the interior wall of the garage and let his body slide down until he was sitting on the floor.

Now the medic was concerned about him. “Sir,” he barked. “Are you okay?”

“Look after Lani,” Brandon muttered. “I’m just a little weak in the knees.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Bozo evidently shared the medic’s concern. Whining, he walked over to Brandon and nosed him on the shoulder. Grabbing the dog’s sturdy body with both arms and burying his face in his long fur, Brandon Walker did something he hadn’t done in a very long time—-he wept.

DELIA AND LEO ORTIZ WERE camped out in the hospital waiting room. Lorraine José was still too ill to come look in on Tim, so Delia was spending time in his room while Leo went in and out of Gabe’s.

Right now, with both boys asleep and resting, they sat side by side. “Did you know Lorraine has cancer?” Delia asked.

Leo shook his head. “I thought it was just the car accident.”

“She told me tonight that it’s liver cancer,” Delia said. “Fourth stage. They found the tumor when they were treating her other injuries.”

“I didn’t know,” Leo said.

“She’s worried about Tim,” Delia continued, “worried about what will happen to him once she’s gone.”

“Maybe Lorraine’s sister will take him.”