Jemez Spring Read Free Page B

He put on a pair of freshly pressed jeans and a blue cowboy shirt, still thinking of revenge.
    Don Eliseo appeared, as he often did when Sonny’s thoughts stampeded.
    Won’t do you any good, the old man said.
    You keep saying that, Sonny replied. Why?
    When your thoughts are confused Raven has the upper hand.
    I can take care of Raven! Sonny retorted. I know what he wants. The Zia medallion. I’ll tempt him. Hold it out to him, then shoot him—
    Damn it, Sonny! the old man shouted. There you go! You’re not thinking straight. You can’t kill him with a bullet!
    â€œI’ll find a way,” Sonny said aloud, pulling on his well-worn boots.
    No time to shine them, he thought, slipping the Zia medallion around his neck, the gold medal engraved with the Sun symbol, an amulet as magical as the precious stone once suspended from Abraham’s neck. Mojo power.
    The medallion was Sonny’s now. There had been no contact with Raven the past three months.
    He walked into the kitchen, started the morning coffee, fed Chica, and was pouring himself his first cup when his cell phone rang. Something told him it was no good; still, he answered it.
    â€œSonny Baca?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œAugie. Augie Martínez, state police.”
    Augie, Augememnon Martínez, son of an influential Santa Fe politico who on a cruise of the Greek isles fell in love with a dazzling Greek beauty, brought her home, and took her as his wife. He retired from politics, raised goats in Nambe, sold goat cheese, and years later died, leaving behind his wife and a bunch of kids, restless creatures who fled home as soon as they realized there were oceans to cross.
    The mother, too, grew restless, the people of Nambe said, because she missed the sound of the surf, the sun setting on the sea. She took to wandering the hills around Nambe, a gypsy with green eyes, always pushing the herd of goats just over the next hill, until one day she didn’t return.
    Only Augie remained on the wind-scarred hills of the Española valley. He finished school and joined the state cops, seeking some stability in the corps, or perhaps seeking his mother, who began to appear in the oral tradition of la gente of the Nambe valley as La Llorona, the crying woman. Did she cry for her children or for the sound of the sea?
    â€œI’ve got a homicide on my hands—”
    Sonny filled his cup of coffee and waited. In his dream a body was floating in dark, swirling water.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe governor—”
    â€œDead?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œJemez Springs. Someone drowned him in a tub at the Bath House.”
    â€œWhy call me?”
    â€œWe found black feathers …”
    The hair on Sonny’s neck prickled. A shiver passed through his body. Don Eliseo was right! He had been too confused to figure it out. Equinox! Raven was back!
    â€œRaven,” he whispered.
    â€œThat’s what we figure. You haven’t heard the news?”
    â€œNo,” Sonny answered, turning on the small TV set on the table. The picture slowly solidified into the blurry image of Dick Knipfing reporting from the Jemez Springs plaza.
    â€œWe have a big mess on our hands,” Augie continued. “The governor’s dead and somebody planted a bomb up on the mountain. It’s a weird contraption but the lab boys from Los Alamos say it’s radioactive. The shit has hit the fan, Sonny.”
    A bomb, and the feds knew Raven was in possession of a plutonium pit. But he had lain low during the past three months. Now he was out of hiding.
    â€œI can’t discuss it on the phone. Fucking news media is everywhere. The chief wants you. You know Raven better than anyone else—”
    â€œWhere are you now?” Sonny asked.
    â€œI’m in Jemez Springs, interrogating people. The chief wants you to take a look at the bomb.”
    Why? Sonny thought. That didn’t make sense. Anytime Raven