“Me? It’s a surprise to see you here,” Luna replied as they kissed on each cheek. “Why are you in Valencia? Why are you out here on my mountain?”
“I didn’t realise you owned the entire thing.”
“Well, you know, baby steps.”
“World domination in your plans? Or at least Valencian domination?”
Luna grabbed her phone from the front seat of the car and slammed the door shut. “I’m more a believer in belonging to a place, rather than owning it.”
“Says the woman on the opposite side of the world from which she started.”
“It took me a long time to figure out where I belong,” Luna shrugged.
“Listen,” Miguel said and paused. They stood in silence; total silence. The mountain didn’t have a single breath of wind, not a chirp of a bird, nothing. A stunning, intense silence.
“It’s amazing,” Luna almost whispered. “I have never been somewhere that feels so isolated and peaceful.”
“I have been out here for about an hour, but I feel a loneliness that is so heightened. I get the sense of an evil which passed through here. How did Alejandro Beltrán ever live out here alone?”
“He once said something eerie to me. He said that the dead could speak, and he could hear them. I guess he meant that he could hear his conscience talking.”
“He could hear the words of Cayetano Ortega, speaking to him from his shallow grave.”
“Or perhaps his dead wife Sofía, telling him to go in search of the their son Paco, who he abandoned.”
Miguel glanced at Luna. “Escondrijo is terrifying.”
“I’m creeping myself out now!” Luna said with a raised voice and shivered. “Okay, no more crazy talk. The dead can’t speak.”
“We’re in Spain, of course the dead can speak.”
“Why are you here?”
“The atmosphere at Rebelión has been tense for a few days, and I thought I would take a break.”
“Did José tell you to come and spy on me?”
Miguel turned and looked down at Luna. “Why would he?”
“Because José is downright mad at me for wanting to dig up bodies out here. No matter how fiery the man is, he is too old to come chasing me out here.”
“No, José didn’t send me.”
Luna didn’t believe him. “I know the grave I have out here needs to be dealt with now. I can’t just leave those people there.”
“They could have been there for 100 years in peace, and you’re destroying that.”
“If Jorge does a test on a bone, and that is the result, then I will let these people rest. But if they are civil war era, and they must be…”
“Why?”
“Because Alejandro Beltrán was put in the concentration camp at Porta Coeli monastery at the end of the war until 1956. People were murdered there in the forties as they emptied the camp by murder disguised as a tuberculosis outbreak. If José has a problem with me finding out the truth, so be it.”
“And what about Caya? You argued with him about digging.”
“I have spoken to Caya every day since I left Rebelión. Things may be awkward, but it’s not a relationship deal-breaker.”
“Not yet it isn’t.”
Luna sighed. “I can’t catch a break today.”
“Who upset you before you arrived here, Luna?”
“Of course, the psychic ability knows that I have been threatened already today,” Luna said with a roll of her eyes.
“No, it’s obvious you’re in a foul mood, and I don’t need to be psychic to see that. Who threatened you?”
“Oh, never mind.” Luna closed her ice-blue eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She imagined Darren turning up to hurt her. Surely not. “It doesn’t matter where I turn, someone is mad at me. If my body is found in a ditch, there will be a list of suspects.”
“You should stop fighting everyone.”
“Other people shouldn’t fuck things up, and I wouldn’t have to fight them. I didn’t ask my Darren to be a drug user. He made that choice.”
“Your Darren?”
“My friend Darren,” Luna corrected herself.
“That expression shows how much you care for him.”
“Slip of the tongue.”
“Was it?”
“Yes!” Luna cried, her expression full of frustration, and she growled. Anything she ever felt for Darren faded away at high speed.
“Sorry,” Miguel conceded. “I can understand that you’re still upset over all that drug-cheating done by your husband.”
“I’m not as upset as I should be, and that’s the problem. I’m so angry, but my mind still conjures up excuses for Fabrizio. He’s not a cyclist or a drug cheat to me. To me, he is the man I have loved my whole adult life. But I have to accept that he is a cheat and so is my best friend. Some things can’t be fixed. Grief is infinite.”
“With everything going on, why not leave this grave business alone?’”
“Ha, nice try.” Luna felt dizzy. She swallowed and realised how awful she felt. Tired, overwhelmed, and the strange metallic taste in her mouth didn’t help.
“Is your fight to have these bodies identified born out of hate or justice?”
“Justice, I suppose. People don’t deserve to die and be dumped out here.”
“What if they deserved it? What if they are murderers themselves, who got what they deserved?”
“It’s impossible to know anything this early in the process. I have to give them the benefit of the doubt.”
“I don’t think you’re doing that. I think you assume these people are innocents who have been wronged, just like your grandfather was, but nothing is that simple.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that you may dig up an uncomfortable truth.”
“The situation is uncomfortable enough already.”
Miguel folded his arms over his broad chest, but he didn’t intimidate Luna. “No matter how much Cayetano tries to hide your political alliances, Luna, we all know where you stand. You are one of these people who wish to dig up the past - play the innocent, the victim, the defender of the Republic, and others who don’t agree are evil.”
“To be honest, I have never met anyone like the Morales family. People can be left or right in their political beliefs, and it has no real bearing on day-to-day life. But your family, you are extreme in everything you do. You all look at me and my family as filth because of my grandparents’ roles in a war fought all before our time. It’s you stuck on the past, not me.”
“Politics, like religion, bubbles away just below the surface of everything.”
“The only thing beneath the surface that I’m interested in is the bodies buried on this mountain.” Luna paused as her phone vibrated in her pocket. A message from Cayetano.
‘Are you at home today?’
‘No, I’m at Escondrijo’
‘I will meet you there’
‘No, I will meet you at the apartment’
Luna tucked the phone in the back of pocket of her jeans and Miguel looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Does Caya know it’s digging day today?”
“Don’t read my messages.”
“I didn’t have to; your body language gives you away. You glow whenever he’s mentioned.”
“In that case, my searing desire for your cousin should keep my individual ideas quashed, and I will act to the Morales family’s satisfaction.”
Miguel chuckled, and Luna smiled. “Okay, I will be honest, Luna. José did send me out here. But when he needed someone to come and spy on you, I volunteered for the job. But it wasn’t because I agree with his disapproval of Escondrijo.”
“Why not just get Caya to spy on me?”
“Because Caya won’t betray you.”
“I’m not doing anything wrong or illegal.”
“I know that, we all do. But Papí José, he is upset. Fuck knows why it bothers him, but it does. The thought of someone digging up bodies out here in Va
lencia upsets him. I don’t see why it should affect him at all.”
“Then why agree to come and see me?”
“Because I like you, Luna. A lot. Besides, I may lose my job at Rebelión soon but you could let me live here for free.” He smiled a wide grin full of hope.
“Here? It wouldn’t be an easy life.”
“You want the land looked after and the house restored. It would be easier with me living here, looking after the place. It has water, ¿no?”
“The place has a tank, but I’m not sure how much water is stored. There isn’t power.”
“I can deal with that. You will be busy after you get married, being a maruja in Madrid.”
“A gossiping housewife? That’s what Sofía said, too. I don’t think so!”
Miguel chuckled again. “No, I don’t see that either.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Dios mio, you’re alive,” he muttered.
Luna snorted. “Well spotted, genius.”
Miguel took his hand from her shoulder and shook it. “No, I mean very alive. You’re so warm you almost burned my palm. Are you pregnant?”
“No!” Luna scoffed. “Those psychic abilities need work.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m more sure about my womb than you are.”
“The fire that burns inside you is more than enough to be harbouring a new life.”
Luna pursed her lips, in an effort not to insult Miguel, but he sounded ridiculous. “Why don’t we just say I’m spirited enough to have a little extra fire left over, in case of emergencies.”
The penetrating silence of Escondrijo broke; at first with a small amount of noise, which increased with each passing moment. Luna watched a car emerge from between the white pines on the limestone-smattered pathway to the house, and felt relieved. Jorge had made it to Escondrijo.
“Last chance to change your mind,” Miguel muttered as they watched the tall slender man jump out of his large heavy vehicle.
“No chance,” Luna said and headed in Jorge’s direction.
“I made it,” Jorge triumphed as he shook Luna’s outstretched hand and kissed her cheeks.
“Welcome to Escondrijo.”
Jorge paused and looked out over the amazing view over the plains to Valencia city and out over the glistening Mediterranean. “What an incredible little hideaway,” he remarked.
“I’m sure you’re good at finding out-of-the-way places.”
“Yes, the dig site I visited yesterday is just outside the town of Huete, but whoever dumped those sixteen bodies made sure they were well hidden. Fortunately, a relative of one of the dead men knew about the site, otherwise we wouldn’t ever have found the bodies.”
“Where is Huete?” Miguel asked as he strode over to the pair.
“It’s not far from Cuenca. My grandmother was a nurse in Huete during the war,” Luna said as she felt Miguel stop right behind her.
Miguel put his hand out to Jorge, who took it with a polite smile. “Miguel Morales Campos.”
“Jorge Arias Solana.” Jorge looked the tall man up and down. “Morales. I assume a member of the bullfighting family?”
“Miguel is one of Cayetano’s cousins,” Luna explained.
“How marvellous to have family support,” Jorge said as he turned and opened the back door of his vehicle. “Will Cayetano be joining us?”
“He needed to be in Madrid.”
Jorge pulled a clear box from the back seat and shut the door. “Never mind, we are only doing a site check for today. Lead the way.”
The trio set off away from the masía in the direction Luna knew quite well. She and Alejandro had never walked through this particular innocuous section of white pines, perched on the incline of the mountain behind the house. In less than ten minutes, they came to the site, which Luna had covered with a white waterproof cover.
“How long has the site been exposed?” Jorge asked as he peeled the cover back to reveal the dry dirt.
“We found two skulls and a few bones in January after heavy rain brought them to the surface. We tucked them back into the dirt, but I only covered them up a few weeks ago.”
“That’s okay, though, dry earth can be just as damaging as muddy conditions,” Jorge commented as he set his box down on the dirt.
“How long have you been digging up the past?” Miguel asked.
Jorge shot a look at Luna and then back to Miguel. “I have been with the historical memory association for a decade. We have uncovered thousands of people, many reunited with their families. Sometimes there are no relatives for bodies but we rebury them with dignity in cemeteries alongside their fallen comrades, or store them for later identification.”
“Does it seem odd, to dig up war casualties so long after their deaths?”
“I’m sorry, Jorge,” Luna interrupted. “I’m afraid Miguel has misgivings about the whole situation.”
“That’s no problem. At one site a few months ago, I had an old guy grab one of the shovels and try to whack me in the face. Opposition is something I can understand.” Jorge bent down and opened the clear plastic box and grabbed a pair of disposable gloves. “The first grave I ever opened was in 2000 and contained the bodies of thirteen women. They weren’t soldiers, and not ‘collateral damage’ in a battle.” He paused as he pulled on his gloves. “These women died for a variety of reasons, old grievances, petty jealousies… one died because of her choice of newspaper. Society broke down in 1936 and politics and religion took a number of turns which resulted in these women being dragged from their homes in the night and murdered. Their families knew their outcomes, and the locations of the bodies. One woman had been pregnant; I found her skull smashed in, but no sign of the baby. I can’t imagine what went on, but I have dug up bodies that had babies sliced from the wombs of their mothers so they could die together, as dirty reds who were on the losing side of a vicious battle. So every time I open a burial pit to find stolen lives, I feel happy that these people are remembered, loved and honoured.”
Luna watched Miguel shift uncomfortably on the rocky soil. “You’re a brave man, Jorge,” she remarked.
“No, the families of those uncovered, they are brave.” Jorge pulled out a camera and took a few shots of the area while Luna waited with patience. “Now, I know you have the body of your grandfather and Cayetano’s grandmother by the house, is that right?”
“Yes, you won’t make me move them will you?”
Jorge sighed and put his camera away. “In the time since they died in 1939, laws have changed numerous times. In theory, you could leave them there without any consequence.”
“But if we dig up these people? What I do need to do within the law?”
“Depends on the date of the bones.” Jorge pulled out a small shovel and Luna pointed out where to start digging. “We should take a sample, test it, and then see what we need to do, and the legalities of the process. I will warn you; this could be a large expensive process.”
“I’m ready for that.” Luna watched Jorge sit on his knees. He had already found a bone in the dry earth. She watched Jorge dust off the grey sliver of former life with a delicate touch.
“This is a finger,” he said, his voice gentle. “A woman’s finger perhaps, judging by the size. It belonged to someone small.”
“A child?” Luna mused as she folded her arms. Her dizziness had returned.
“I suppose it’s possible, it’s far too soon to tell.”
Luna watched Jorge carefully wrap the finger and place it in a bag inside his box of gear. “How long will it take to test the finger?”
“Depends on the workload of the lab in Madrid. Perhaps it could be done by the end of next week, or not. You know how anything bureaucratic can be. We have experts who can tell the sex and approximate age of the person, and how long ago they died.”
“Amazing,” Miguel mumbled.
“We have great forensic scientists who work with us,” Jorge said. “It’s a cause worth believing in, trust me. Luna, any idea ho
w extensive this fosa is, or how many bodies?”
“No idea,” she shrugged. We found only two skulls, but we weren’t digging, that was all by accident.”
“Good, it makes for an untainted site.” Jorge drew a large square with his finger in the air. “You can see how the earth has been dug.”
“You can see it, but not me.”
“This doesn’t seem to be a big area. It may be just a few bodies. They haven’t been placed here with great planning, given the approximate outline of the pit. In mass body dumping, the grave site is a haphazard shape. We will go over with metal detectors and ultrasound the outlining area before we dig. No need for a digger, this grave is shallow enough for us to get in by hand.”
“It could be an old gravesite for the masía here,” Miguel commented.
“Unlikely, the bone doesn’t look that old. Civil war area perhaps, or even later.”
“Murder?” he asked.
“No idea. But whatever happened, we will find out.”
Luna walked with Jorge back to this car, leaving Miguel by the house. The moment a human bone emerged from the dirt, Miguel silenced all his unconvinced notions. If Cayetano had been here, he too could have understood the situation better. But, with Miguel present, José would get a report that Luna wouldn’t stop her quest of digging up the grave.
As Jorge’s car retreated from Escondrijo, Luna turned to see Miguel loitering around the front door of the house. His gaze indicated his mind was miles away.
“Are you all right?” Luna asked as she approached him again. The only other sound around them was the sound of the crunching limestone under her boots. The air filled with hope from the spring sun, but the mood seemed to have fallen in the opposite direction.
Miguel shook his head but said nothing.
“The reality of the situation a little harder than you expected?”
“The feeling I got, when we were at the grave…”
“Oh yes, the psychic ability.”
“Something evil happened here. There is a connection between the bodies and us.”
“Us?”
“Not you, but somehow a connection with me.”
“How could that be? This place belongs to the Beltrán family and before that, the Ortega’s. These are my people.”
Secrets of Spain Trilogy Page 65