His feet thumped on the damp pavement like the rhythm of a healthy heartbeat. The Colorado air, moist from overnight rain, the sun warming this early June morning. The third trip around the four loops of the state campground invigorated Donnie Steel. Sweat soaked his running clothes. His breathing steady, blood pulsating through his heart and veins, hips rocking out at a steady tempo. With all the exercise he’d been doing, his forty-six-year-old frame was holding up well. Many pounds he had shed to regain his strength and endurance. Training he had been neglecting since his retirement nearly a year ago. Motivation being an issue at first. His routine had been broken. The idea of starting a new regimen, difficult at first to forge in his mind. A new purpose he’d found thanks to people reaching out to him via his blog. Encouragement to fight on and make a difference baked into their words.
By his side, running step for step was the four-year-old Belgian Malinois, Kogel, which was Dutch for bullet. His mouth open, tongue hanging out and dripping saliva, eyes fully focused on the trail ahead. The black and mahogany former K-9 continually challenged Donnie physically with his effortless pace. Though he liked to think he pushed the beautiful animal and companion as well. The goal of a third run around Pinon Campground had been attained together, as they slowly walked back to their RV site. Donnie and his canine partner primed to face the day ahead. Donnie’s thoughts focused on what brought him to Southern Colorado.
It had been over four months since he had posted his first blog. More for himself than for others. A monologue of his life, both good, bad, euphoric, and tragic. Once he’d typed out the first posting, he felt good. Another following a couple weeks later. Spreading out his thoughts every few weeks. His prose and syntax were not the most sublime. Grammar and proper punctuation, not important to him. Much like the police reports he’d submitted when working law enforcement.
The purpose was to release his tense thoughts so they wouldn’t haunt him. It was intended for Donnie, his daughter August, family members, and others he had worked with through the years to read. But not necessarily anyone else. Within a couple of months, he learned others had found his blog. Those readers would write suggestions in the Comments field. He blocked the occasional nasty verbiage, though most had been pragmatic. Positive posts vented about incidents in their lives. Others implied they wished he could help. His passion and determination were traits they admired. One such painful post spoke out to him.
Would you be willing to help us with the death of our son? He was killed, and the local police never found those accountable. The pain we feel at the loss is one we’ll never get over. Yet we need some type of closure in finding the person or people responsible. Our efforts have been thwarted by the authorities at every turn. We’ve even been threatened by sources we’ve not been able to positively identify. And the police are unwilling to assist. From reading your posts, we believe you have the passion necessary to get results and bring justice for our forgotten son. We don’t have much money to pay you, but we hope you’ll read this with an open mind and consider rendering assistance. If you’re unwilling, since you’ve already been through so much as outlined in your blog, we understand. All the best and may God bless you!!
Donnie poured over the post several times, wondering if he could help. He had learned the killing took place in the southern part of the state. A reply or two with a few follow-up questions on his part, which led him to the Colorado State campground where he was staying. The drive south on I-25 to Walsenburg and then west on US Highway 160 to Lathrop State Park. A beautiful location and close enough to make it worthwhile to talk with the parents. Today a meeting planned with the Riveras to learn more. He wasn’t certain he would be the savior they were praying for. But he was willing to listen to what they had to say and see if he could lend his expert hand.
They reached the motorhome and went inside, the dog leading the way. Kogel found the water bowl and lapped until the container was nearly empty. Donnie put down a bowl of dog food then refilled the water. Kogel, without hesitation, heartily devoured the brown kibble, followed by another long drink. Once Kogel finished, Donnie washed out the bowl, then showered off the sweat and stink on his body from his morning run.
Before his guests arrived, with a damp towel wrapped around his waist, he quickly finished a bowl of whole-grained, honey-flavored cereal, which claimed to keep his cholesterol low, though his clean lifestyle was likely the reason for the healthy numbers on his yearly checkups. No smoking or drugs, with only an occasional drink limited to beer and wine. Fresh fruits and vegetables, fresh beef, chicken, and fish. Limiting processed foods as much as a motorhome traveler could. Vigorous exercise, and to date, a lot of good fortune, which had allowed him to live a healthy life.
Once he was done eating, he changed into clean clothes. Beyond his brown sport coat, black slacks, and a red polo were the extent of his formal attire. In preparation for his guests, he put away any clutter, including a couple of dog toys and bones Kogel had gnawed to the edge of death. The inside was tidy and ready for his guests. Car tires crunched on the gravel and he commanded Kogel to lie down. The expertly trained dog was always eager to follow his instructions spoken in Dutch.
There was a knock on the door and outside stood a man and a woman. Donnie waved for them to enter. “It’s a steep climb. Use the handrail if you need assistance.”
Once inside the man shook Donnie’s hand. “This is my wife, Mariana. I’m Alvaro.”
“Great to meet you both. I’m Donnie.”
Alvaro nodded. “Yes, we recognize you from the picture on your blog.”
“And this must be Kogel.” Mariana smiled. “May I pet him?”
Donnie motioned for Kogel to rise, then commanded him to zit, which was Dutch for sit. “He was trained as a tracker, so let him sniff you first.”
Mariana knelt on the floor and extended her hand. Kogel took in the flowery fragrance of her perfume.
“You can pet him now. He is quite friendly.”
Mariana petted the dog on the top of his head, Kogel loving the attention. “He is a magnificent animal. You mentioned in your post his breed was Belgium Mal…something?”
“A Belgium Malinois. Many police departments around the country use them for their K-9 units.”
“It sounded like your command was in another language.” Alvaro patted the dog.
“He was trained using Dutch commands, which I continue to use. It helps prevent a culprit who is being hunted down from overriding the trainer’s directions.”
Mariana rose. “I’m sure he is quite loyal and a wonderful companion.”
“He is. Please have a seat.” He pointed to the captain’s chairs in the front which had been swiveled to face the living area of the RV. “We have much to discuss.”
Alvaro let his wife sit first. The Hispanic woman was on the short side with long, dark, wavy hair. She wore tight-fitting blue slacks over her thick hips and short legs. A beige button-down blouse covered her upper body. She carried a gray purse large enough for a small dog, if she had one. She sat upright in the seat and folded her hands over her lap.
Alvaro sat in the other captain’s chair. He was under six foot, with a pudgy frame. Short, curly black hair, with a little bit of fuzz on his brown chin. He wore blue slacks and a long-sleeved yellow shirt. He leaned back into the captain’s chair and crossed his legs.
“This is a spacious and luxurious RV,” Mariana said.
“With the two slide-outs on both sides of the living area and the one in the bedroom, it is quite comfy.”
“How do you like living in the RV as compared to owning a house?” Alvaro asked.
“When my wife passed on, keeping up a home was too difficult. There were also too many reminders of our life together.” Donnie pointed to a framed picture of his deceased wife mounted on the wall behind him. “We had plans to travel the country together when I retired. Now her memory travels with me.”
Mariana stood and looked at the picture, then returned to her seat. “She was quite beautiful.”
“Yes, she was. I miss her every day.”
“I must say when we started reading your blog, we felt a connection to you,” Alvaro said. “It is nice to find someone who has experienced loss, like we have.”
“It’s a pain that never dies,” Donnie replied. “It only lessens over time.”
“We wish this were true of our pain.” Mariana’s body shook. “We’ve had a hard time letting go.”
“I’m sure it’s because you haven’t been given a reason for your son’s death.”
“They gave us a false and unrealistic cause, and it’s one we can’t accept!” Alvaro pounded the armrest in frustration with his fist.
“Tell me more about what happened to…I’m sorry, I’m blanking on your son’s name.”
“Enzo.” Mariana wiped away a tear. “He was our baby. Our one and only.”
Kogel laid down at her feet. Had he sensed her sadness?
Donnie’s heart broke at the notion. “I know if we had lost our daughter we would have been crushed. You aren’t supposed to outlive your children. How old was he?”
“He would have turned twenty-two a week after his death,” Alvaro said.
Mariana pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “We had a wonderful party planned for him. One replaced with a funeral.”
Wendi’s funeral had been planned as a celebration of her life, which it was, since her death was inevitable. Even in celebration many tears were shed. In the Rivera family’s case, their son’s death had been unexpected and shocking. In the blink of an eye, the joy of celebrating his birth had been flipped to mourn his death.
“I’m so sorry about your son. Your comments on my blog spoke to me. Asking for my help, while understanding, if I was unwilling to assist. I’m not sure if I can solve his murder, but I’m inclined to nose around and see what I can uncover. Can you give me particulars about Enzo and what happened to him? As much detail as possible, so I know where to start.”
Alvaro took his wife’s hand in his. “We’ll tell you all we can. But part of our frustration is what we don’t know, or at least no one will tell us.”
Mariana crumbled the tissue into her free hand. “We have some information to give you.” She reached into her over-sized bag, pulled out a folder, and handed it to Donnie. “There are a few details about our son, covering some of what you asked for. It’s not much, but there is information in there about a lawyer we hired. He can fill in the blanks. We contacted him and gave him permission to share everything with you.”
Donnie opened the folder. Inside was a picture of Enzo holding a skateboard. He was a younger version of his father. Brown skin, short, black, curly hair, with a thick beard and mustache.
“He was a handsome young man. Looks like his father.”
Mariana nodded. “Except for the extra hair on his face, yes, he does.”
Alvaro patted his stomach. “Fortunately, he didn’t have my gut.”
Mariana squeezed Alvaro’s hand. “Neither did you when you were his age.”
“He is holding a skateboard in the picture.”
Alvaro puffed out his chest, obviously proud of his son. “He was quite good and did numerous stunts.”
“He scared the hell out of us many times when he was younger,” Mariana added. “Broke his left arm once after a fall. It’s amazing he didn’t break more bones.”
“Then he was still active with his skateboarding?”
“Yes. There is a skateboard park in Walsenburg he went to with his friends. Their names are on the list, including his roommate, Diego.”
Besides the picture, there was one page of information. It showed the address where Enzo lived, the name and address of the company he worked for, a few friends’ names including Diego, and the name and address of the lawyer.
“I see Preston Rush is the name of the lawyer you hired.”
Alvaro nodded. “He helped us as much as he could. Even worked for a reduced rate since we didn’t have much money to pay him.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t get far?”
Alvaro released his wife’s hand. “He ran into resistance. He can explain the details to you.”
“Looks like he lives in Walsenburg. I’ll call him and schedule a time.” Donnie held up the paper. “Not much in here.”
“It is frustrating and difficult for us to talk about.” Mariana’s hands trembled on her lap. “He can give you more. Much of the information we had in hard copy was lost in our house fire.”
“That’s devastating. When did this happen?”
“Six months after Enzo’s murder,” Alvaro said.
Donnie frowned. “Sounds like more than a coincidence.”
“It was ruled accidental. Caused by faulty wiring or so they said.” Mariana grimaced. “We know otherwise.”
“Some masked men threatened us to stop looking into Enzo’s death.” Alvaro’s hands balled into fists. “A couple weeks later we woke up to smoke and barely got out in time. It was a small house and was completely consumed in flames in a manner of minutes. We lost everything.”
“Is this why you now live in Santa Fe, New Mexico?”
“Yes. We have relatives on Mariana’s side of the family who gave us a place to live. We had to start over and decided it was best we didn’t return.”
“Yet, you still want me to look into your son’s murder.”
Mariana took a deep breath. “Even though these thugs threatened and scared the hell out of us, we can’t let this go.”
Donnie was concerned about the well-being of the Riveras. “What if they threaten you again?”
“We know it’s a lot to ask,” Alvaro said. “But we hoped you could dig around without revealing we hired you.”
This was a big thing to ask. If these people threatened the Rivera family to the point of burning down their house, the same threats could come his way once he started poking the hornet’s nest. He leaned back in the comfy theater seat, studied Enzo’s photo, and made his decision.
“I will talk with the lawyer and get more information. I can’t guarantee how far I’ll dig, but I’ll poke around and see what I learn. For now, that is all I can promise.”
“We knew it was a long shot.” Alvaro stood and pulled out his wallet. “We’ll understand, after all you’ve been through, if you decide it’s too much and back out.” He pulled out a check and handed it to Donnie. “It’s not much, but it should help pay for the gas for driving down here.”
Donnie looked at the check, got to his feet, and handed it back. “I was coming down here to fish anyway. Keep your money for now. If I do learn anything and decide to dig deeper, then we can talk further about payment.”
Alvaro smiled, tucked the check back into his wallet, and shook Donnie’s hand. “Thank you.”
Mariana got to her feet, the big bag over her shoulder. “You have a precious soul. It’s wonderful to have met you.” She gave Donnie a hug. “May God bless and watch over you in your pursuit.”
With Kogel standing next to him, the Rivera family left the RV, got into their sedan, and drove away. He wanted to help the delightful couple. The young man’s murder, now a cold mystery, he hoped to unravel. At the adventure and foreboding danger he could encounter, a tingling sensation ran down his spine.