Winter Counts(35)

But where was Mikey?

I pulled the entire mess of blankets off the bed, assuming that the child was curled up in there, asleep.

No dice. I looked on the floor next to the bed, under the pile of clothes, and in the small closet.

No child.

I yelled out, “Mikey!”

No response.

I went back to the living room, then the bathroom. I opened up cabinets, looked in trash piles, and behind furniture. I remembered from Nathan’s early years that two-year-olds could get into spaces you wouldn’t expect, so I tore that trailer up.

No luck.

Then I went back to the bedroom and shook the mother. Hard. I grabbed her shoulders and shouted at her. “Rose, where’s Mikey? Did you take him somewhere? Where is he!”

She opened her eyes for a moment. They were going in different directions, so I knew it was pointless to try and wake her up. And then I had a scary thought. Could the boy have wandered outside? I remembered that the front door had been unlocked.

There was no back door, so I ran outside the front and looked around the yard. It was still snowing, but I was able to see. There were no footprints, but that didn’t mean anything, given the snowfall we’d had.

“Mikey!” I shouted as I ran around the back and scanned for any snowdrifts. “Mikey!”

It was freezing cold outside, but I didn’t notice the temperature. Could he be under the trailer in the crawl space below? I crawled down to the base of the trailer and started digging out snow. It was dark under there, but I didn’t see anything. I stood up and looked outside the cheap fence they’d put up, right by their car.

Their car.

The Ford Taurus.

I hadn’t looked in there, but it was pointless, right? There was no way the kid could be in there, not in this weather.

I walked over to the vehicle. It was an older model, one of the boxy ones. The windows were iced up, and I couldn’t see inside. The driver’s side door wouldn’t open—it was frozen shut, so I tried the passenger door. With some effort, I was able to pry it open.

I looked inside.

There was a child’s car safety seat in the back. Graco model, dark gray with black straps. My sister, Sybil, had bought one of those car seats for Nathan after obsessively researching the safety records of the different brands. She’d worked so hard to keep baby Nathan safe, I remembered the babyproofing all over the house, the outlet plugs, the padding on sharp corners, all of this work to protect children from their slips and falls, when it was the grown-ups who needed to be muzzled and padded from their own misdeeds and transgressions.

Little Mikey was strapped inside the seat, not moving, stiff. His eyes were open, staring straight ahead into nothingness, not blinking, frozen solid. It was quiet, so quiet, in that car. The falling snowflakes looked like tiny blades in the dying light, and I saw a rabbit skitter across the snow, hurrying for some shelter.

For a second I wondered if I could go back in time somehow, just rewind the last several days, suspend the laws of physics. Maybe there was something on the internet, or perhaps some famous scientist could visit the rez, showing how it was possible to go back and change events, like a movie running in reverse. Anything so that I wouldn’t have to look at this beautiful little boy again, in this car, in this storm.

The last I’d heard, the mother of the child had been charged with felony child abuse and negligent homicide for getting drunk and leaving the child in the car overnight. After I gave my statement to the police, I didn’t follow the case. I wanted to forget. But no matter how hard I tried, I hadn’t been able to shake the image of that little boy. Sometimes I’d remember his face when I saw little kids playing in the park, sometimes I’d see him when I was driving out in the country. Now he was here again. His sweet face.

I pushed back the full beer and the shot of whiskey, untouched, and walked out of the Hangar Bar.





15


Hey, where were you?” Marie said when I returned from my journey along Colfax Avenue. The door to her room was open; she was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching television. I could hear the local news broadcasters with their cheerful voices.

“Out for a walk. You get a chance to eat?”

“No, you want to get something? I think there’s a pizza place across the street.”

“Sure, let me get my coat.” I went to my room and got my jacket and cell phone, which I’d left in the hotel while I was out on my stroll. I turned it on and noticed that there were seven missed calls, all from Tommy.

I hit the call button. He picked up right away.

“Homeboy, where you been?” he said. “Trying to reach you all day.”

His tone was weird; he wasn’t his usual boisterous self. “Just out and about, nothing exciting. What’s—”

“You better get back here. Nathan’s been arrested. For drugs. They found some stuff in his locker at school.”

MARIE AND I PACKED up our things as quickly as we could and hit the road back to the rez. Although we’d gotten some information about him, Rick Crow would have to wait. While we drove, I told Marie what I’d learned from Tommy, which wasn’t much. Tommy had gone to check on Nathan at Audrey’s house and learned about the arrest once he got there. Apparently the school authorities had gotten an anonymous tip and searched the students’ lockers. They’d found drugs in Nathan’s space, but there was no word yet on what type or how much was found. He’d been arrested at his auntie’s house, and they told Audrey they were taking him to the tribal juvenile jail. Audrey didn’t have any phone service, so she’d had no way of reaching me.