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188 Wednesday, 2:00 p.m. “Good catch,” Monique yelled to Robbie after he had run to grab a wide toss of the orange Frisbee. The family had walked to the local park before meeting Roscoe and Renell for an early dinner. “Throw it back to Dad. Keep your elbow up. Okay, nice.” The day was cold but still. Runners made their way up and down the street while dogs and their owners played in the park. “Hey, Mom,” Robbie said as he jogged over to her. “We haven’t come to the park in a long time.” “I’ve been pretty tied up with that case, baby.” Baby. She wondered how much longer she would be able to call the gangly person in front of her that name. In the past year her son had grown three inches and was beginning to look and sound like a young man. She almost cried. “We need to come over here more often.” “So the case is over?” “Yep. All clear.” Marge Rogers had told the police everything after her husband choked away her motivation to remain silent. The boxes of burial goods collected by Tony and the boxes confiscated from Rogers’ home were now being stored at the Museum of the Plains Indian while NAGPRA officials addressed the complicated issue of ownership and reburial. “You had to deal with more bad people.” He did not look at his mother as he traced the lettering on the Frisbee with his finger. “Yes, honey.” “There’re bad people out here.” He looked around the park at the other Moose City residents who also had some to enjoy the day. Monique gave him a hug. The last thing she wanted was for Robbie to become paranoid. She looked at Steve, who shrugged. Her husband had a hard time explaining human behavior to their son. So he left it up to Monique to talk about the tough things. “There always has been and there always will be. That’s the way the world works.” “And you’re gonna take care of the bad ones?” Monique stroked her son’s hair. “That’s my job, Honey. All I can do is try. But you know what? The world is also full of good people.” Monique 189 did not want her son to become suspicious of everyone he met. On the other hand, she knew what could happen to those who were too trusting. “What you do is dangerous, Mom. Something could happen to you. I hear you and Dad arguing about that.” “I know, Robbie. I deal with tough situations and I see a lot of bad things and bad people. But I’m careful. You don’t have to worry.” “Dad does.” Monique sighed. “What if something happens to you?” Good question, she thought. And one she always hoped he wouldn’t ask her. “I’m very careful. And my job is to find out how people were killed or hurt. I’m not usually in the line of fire.” “How do you know the difference between someone who is good and someone who pretends to be?” Monique sighed. “Sometimes you can’t until they do something that surprises you.” “Why do people kill? I don’t get it.” “Don’t think about that, Robbie. All you can do is be kind to others, try and be helpful and give people some benefit of the doubt. But not completely . That’s the tricky part.” Robbie twirled the Frisbee on his index finger. “But you know what? It isn’t up to me to take care of the bad guys all of the time. Sometimes I don’t have to do much at all. Good usually wins out.” Robbie continued to twirl. “Does it?” Be honest, she thought. “Well, not always. But I think that most of the time it does.” “Most of the time?” “Yes. Yes, I do.” Thursday, 3:00 a.m. “What’s the matter?” Steve asked Monique. His wife was awake and thrashing . She kicked him in the thigh and made him jump. “Just thinking,” she answered. “The funeral. It was on purpose.” ...


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MARC Record
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