“Thank you, Juan.” The slight waitress limped toward him. She held a small black bag in her hand. “Your friend may need this when you find her. I heard the man say it contains medicine for the little one.”
Angel snatched the bag and rifled through it. When he pulled out a medicine bottle, his face paled. “Depakote? Maria has seizures?” He grabbed Solana’s shoulders. “Do you know where they went?”
The beefy Mexican grabbed Angel’s wrist in a vise until he released Solana. “Do not touch her,” he spat in Spanish.
“Siento.” Angel stepped back, his hands held up. He glanced at Danny. “We must find them, now.”
“Depakote is used for illnesses other than seizures.” Danny slid his phone from his pocket. “But now maybe you’ll think calling Bailey is a good idea?”
Angel gave him a sour nod, and Danny found the number she’d put in his phone. It rang twice, then went to a message that the number did not work. Oh great. She’d given him a false number.
“I took them to the store around the corner.”
They both turned to stare at Juan.
“They could not stay here. La Calatrava will return when they don’t find her. But she didn’t stay there. I saw her leave. Just the two of them.”
Danny raked his hands through his hair. Bailey and the child could be anywhere. The cartel might even have her by now. “Wait. I should have thought of this earlier. Bailey and Maria were flying to the States today. Maybe she’ll try to make it to the airport.”
“Do you know which flight?”
“No, but I know someone who can find out. I’ll call her on the way to the airport.”
4
Stay here until I know the Calatrava are gone, and then I’ll be back for you,” Juan had said as he led them into a small grocery. “And whatever you do, stay away from the police!”
Then he’d been out the door, leaving Bailey and Maria on their own. She had at least discovered the names of their protectors once they were out of the cellar. Juan and Solana. And that their pursuers belonged to the Calatrava gang, a small-time Chihuahua drug cartel that had grown in power over the last year.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she glanced around the store filled with noonday shoppers. “Do you want something to drink?” she asked Maria.
The child shook her head. “My tummy hurts.”
Bailey knew how she felt. Her stomach ached just from thinking about Joel. If it was the Calatrava, they probably had already killed him, and she and Maria might as well be dead if they stayed in Mexico. And Danny. What if he had been caught in the gunfire? Her mouth was so dry, she couldn’t swallow.
Her mouth got even dryer when the door opened and a stocky Mexican entered, glancing first one way then another. She ducked behind a display of canned peaches and searched for an exit.
“Miss Bailey—”
“Shh.” She placed her finger to Maria’s lips.
When the man walked in the opposite direction, she pulled Maria toward a side door. Once on the sidewalk, she scooped Maria up in her arms and hurried away from the store.
Bailey’s mind reeled as they walked the sidewalk. As a gringa with a Mexican child, she stood out. And she didn’t know this part of town that well. Where could she go if she couldn’t trust the police?
Her familiarity with Chihuahua was limited to the areas around the school and Joel’s house. The cartel might even know she was a teacher and where. The problems swept over her like a tsunami.
She had to find somewhere to think. A children’s clothing store caught her eye, and she pulled Maria into the small shop. Mindlessly she sorted through the racks of girls’ dresses.
Stop it. She fought for control of her jumbled thoughts. Breathe. Relax. Formulate a plan. She could go back to Elena’s village. But what if the man she saw in the poppy field was behind this, and those men were after her and not Maria? But that would mean Elena had told them where to find her, and she wouldn’t do that.
She took out her new smartphone and emailed the pastor at the small church in Valle Rojo, asking if Elena was okay and if anyone had been looking for her. Then she stared at her phone. Had only an hour passed since they’d escaped from the restaurant? It seemed like a year. They still had three hours to make the flight.
Miguel. Maybe the driver who took her to Elena’s village would come get them and take them to the airport. She scrolled to his number. After the sixth ring, it went to voicemail, and she left Miguel a message to call her, then dropped the phone into her purse.
At least she still had her cell . . . and the plane tickets. If they could get to the airport, they would be safe. She startled when Maria tugged on her arm.
“Miss Bailey, I’m tired. I want to find my uncle and go home.”
“I know, honey, but I’m afraid we can’t do that.” She rubbed her temples. They had to get to the airport, and if Miguel didn’t return her call, she had no idea what she would do. She feared going to the police. She’d heard too many stories of the Calatrava infiltrating their ranks. And many of those who weren’t part of the gang were on the take. Numbness fogged her brain so she couldn’t think.
“Can we call Mr. Danny?”
Bailey stared at Maria. Danny? He could get them to the States in his plane. Why hadn’t she already thought of him? Maybe because she didn’t want to ask him for anything after the way she’d dumped him.
Seriously? Here I am, running from a drug cartel with a small child, and I don’t want to ask the only person in Mexico I trust for help?
Her cell phone rang, and she fished it out again. The caller ID read Miguel, and she almost dropped the phone in relief. Now she wouldn’t have to call Danny. “Miguel, thank goodness you called me back. Where are you?”
“What’s the matter, mi pequeña?”
Tears burned her eyes. Miguel always called her his little girl. “I’m in trouble. Can you come get me and take me to the airport here in Chihuahua?”
“Oh, mi pequeña, I am so sorry. I am at my sister’s near Monterrey.”
Bailey’s shoulders drooped, then she turned her head as she realized someone was speaking to her. The salesclerk.
“May I help you find something? Perhaps a pair of shorts for your daughter?”
She frowned, then forced a smile to her lips as she spoke to Miguel. “Hang on a second.”
She grabbed a white organdy A-line dress with embroidered roses on it. “I think we’ll see if this dress will fit. Where are the dressing rooms?”
Maria pulled against her. “But I don’t like that.”
The clerk crossed her arms. “Señora, I’m not sure—”
“I’m sure she’ll like it just fine once she tries it on.”
“Then you might want to get a smaller size. Like this.”
Bailey groaned. She’d picked a dress two sizes too large. “Thank you. Now, the dressing room?”
Once inside the tiny room, she sank to the bench and pressed her finger to her lips. Maria stared at her, her eyes rimmed with tears ready to spill. If Bailey looked in the mirror, she’d see the same thing. “Un momento, niña. I need to talk on the phone. Okay?”
Maria barely nodded, and Bailey spoke to Miguel again. “Are you still there?”
“Sí. I’ve been thinking. My cousin Clemente lives in Chihuahua. I will call him, and he will come and take you.”
The band around her chest loosened even as sirens wailed somewhere in the city. “Oh, Miguel. Gracias. Muchas gracias.”
“I will call him and call you right back. But first this trouble. What is it?”
“It’s nothing that leaving Chihuahua won’t fix.”
“Bueno.”
After hanging up, Bailey leaned against the wall. Now for just a moment to collect herself.
“How did the dress fit the little one?” The clerk’s voice penetrated the door.
She glanced at the dress still on the hanger. Maria made a face. Bailey stood and grabbed the dress as she opened the door. “I don’t th
ink it’s for her. Is there a place to get a cup of coffee around here?”
The clerk wore a just-as-I-expected expression. “Down the street. It is on the left.”
“Thank you.” This time Bailey found a real smile deep inside her. “Thank you. You have been very kind,” she said in Spanish.
As they exited the store, Maria twisted to look back inside the shop. “That lady is looking at us funny.”
“I just hope she doesn’t call the police,” Bailey muttered. But it wasn’t only the police she feared. She scanned the street, not sure what she expected to see. She hadn’t seen the men after them, but surely they would look suspicious. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she led Maria to the small outdoor cafe and chose a table behind a potted plant.
“What’s that smell?” Maria wrinkled her nose.
Bailey sniffed the air. An acrid scent burned her nose. Something was on fire, but she couldn’t tell which direction the smell came from. When the waitress came, Bailey ordered herself a coffee and Maria chocolate milk, then asked about the odor.
The waitress shrugged. “Someone said a business caught on fire.”
Bailey placed her phone on the table. Why didn’t Miguel call?
Maria fingered the locket Joel had given her. “Miss Bailey, why don’t we call Mr. Danny?” Her tiny voice cracked. “He would help us, I know he would.”
She glanced at the small girl. She was right, and Bailey was being silly. Danny would help, and if he knew the cartel had taken Joel, he would be frantic when he couldn’t find them. He’d probably already called the false number she programmed into his phone.
She hesitated with her finger on the keyboard. Did she really want to hear him say “I told you so”? Yes. She didn’t care what he said. She wanted him to come and get her and take care of everything. Her hand shook as she scrolled to his number and called. It went immediately to voicemail. No! Tears scalded her eyes. “C-call me.”
Another call beeped in, and she answered. Miguel. He had his cousin on hold. After she told him where she was, he checked with the cousin and told her Clemente would pick her up in ten minutes in a maroon van. She waited until it was almost time, then picked up Maria and carried her on her hip to the sidewalk, watching for Clemente’s van.
What if Miguel is part of the cartel? Or Clemente? What if they were in cahoots with Father Horatio? She tried to shake the thought off as a lime green Volkswagen Beetle whipped around the corner. It had a taxi symbol on the side.
On impulse she flagged the car down. “Can you take us to the airport?”
“Sí.” The wiry Mexican old enough to be Bailey’s father hopped out and opened the back door. His grin widened. “For the beautiful señorita,” he said in broken English. His smile dimmed at Maria’s head drooped on Bailey’s shoulder. “And the little one, she is tired.”
“Sí. And gracias for taking us.” She put Maria in the backseat and looked for a seat belt. There wasn’t one, so she slid in and cradled Maria in her arms. A photo ID hanging from the mirror identified the driver as Tito Alaniz.
“What terminal?” he asked over his shoulder as he put the car in gear.
“US Airways.”
Maria blinked her eyes open. “My head hurts.”
Bailey’s heart stilled. She’d left the black bag with Maria’s medicine and prescription at the restaurant. The Depakote was the only thing that would ward off one of Maria’s migraines. She leaned forward in the car. “Can we go to . . .” What was the name of the restaurant? She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Something about bread . . . they only served breakfast.”
“La Casa del Pan?”
“Yes. That was it. I think we only walked a few blocks.”
“Not to worry. I know this place.”
The car lurched forward, sending Bailey against the back of the seat. After several turns, they rounded a corner, and a policeman stopped them a block from the restaurant.
“What’s wrong?” She peered through the windshield. Fire trucks blocked the street ahead, and smoke billowed into the air.
Tito pulled beside the policeman. “What happened?” he asked in Spanish.
“A fire at the restaurant. Maybe from a faulty gas valve. The restaurant is destroyed.”
Bailey didn’t believe it was an accident for one second. The Calatrava thugs must have come back, looking for her and Maria. “Ask if anyone was hurt.”
The police heard her and answered. “One body has been found.”
Chills swept over her. Solana or Juan? They had helped her escape, and now one of them was dead. She swallowed the nausea that rose up in her throat. These people didn’t care who they killed.
But why did they want Maria so badly?
5
Bailey slumped against the backseat of the VW. Solana or Juan dead. Maria’s medicine and prescriptions gone. They had no clothes—their bags were in Joel’s car.
Joel’s car. They had parked in a lot and walked a couple of blocks. It had to still be there—Joel had placed some of the Depakote in Maria’s bag. She leaned forward. “Tito, our bags are in a car, and I need to get them. It’s in a lot somewhere near the restaurant.”
“Señora, I think we should go straight to the airport.”
“But I need medicine that’s in one of them.”
Tito turned at the next corner and inched down the street.
“There!” She pointed to a parking lot across from them. “And there’s the car.” He hung a left and pulled into the lot. “Someone’s been here already.”
The car had been stripped, and the trunk popped open. She’d heard that thieves could strip a car in fifteen minutes in broad daylight.
“We need to not be here!” The cab shot forward. “What time is your flight?”
She checked her watch. “Two hours.”
He nodded. “I will get you and the little one to the airport. Eh?”
“Gracias.” Joel had chosen this restaurant because it was less than five miles from the airport. Once they were inside the airport, they would be safe. Even a drug cartel would think twice about attacking them with Mexican TSA agents hanging about. At least she hoped that was true.
Surely the Lord is my salvation. I will trust and not be afraid.
She repeated the verses over and over as Tito wound through the streets to the airport, yet she felt no peace. He kept looking in his rearview mirror and turning down side streets. “Is anyone following us?” she asked.
“One never knows. You seem to be in trouble, so I’m taking the long way to the airport, just in case. We will arrive in un momento.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to put you in danger.”
“I face robbers every night, so this is nothing.”
If Tito intended to make her feel better, he fell short. But if she and Maria could get inside the airport, she wouldn’t have to put anyone else in danger. Like Danny. Especially Danny.
Why hadn’t he called back? Had he seen her number and hadn’t wanted to be bothered? But he had no way to know it was her—she’d given him the wrong number. Maybe it was just as well. She’d managed so far, and she really didn’t need to be indebted to him.
When he’d appeared at the restaurant earlier today, she realized she was nowhere near over him. Even now, the ache to feel his arms around her threatened to overthrow her good judgment. No. Nothing had changed. She read that in his swagger and teasing tone. Danny Maxwell believed he could do as he pleased and apologize if he was caught, like an apology would smooth everything over.
She stared out the window at the people on the sidewalk. Her eyes widened. A woman with raven hair and a pronounced limp. In black pants and a white waitress shirt. “Pull over!”
“What?”
She pointed toward Solana. “I need to talk to her.” When the VW rolled to a stop, she hopped out of the car. “Solana!”
The woman turned, and her eyes grew round. “No! Go away!”
Bailey hurried to he
r. “Come with us. You’ll be safe at the airport.”
Solana hesitated. “Juan is dead.”
“I know.”
“They came back after you left. I hid in a closet, but they beat Juan, trying to find out where you two were . . .” She faltered.
“Come with me, and I’ll buy you a ticket to the States. You can stay there. Oh, wait. You would need your passport and visa, but maybe we can get around that.”
She’d read somewhere about a Mexican cameraman who outed a drug cartel and received asylum in the United States.
“I have them both with me, but why would you do that for me?”
“It’s the least I can do. You saved our lives.” She pulled Solana toward the Volkswagen. When Bailey had time, she’d ask Solana why she carried her papers with her. “We have another passenger, Tito,” Bailey said as she opened the front passenger door.
As soon as Solana was in, Bailey hopped in the backseat, and Tito gunned the VW away from the curb. She pulled Maria toward her and smoothed her hair back. “You must stay close to me when we get to the airport. Okay?”
“Will you carry me?”
Since she had only her purse with their tickets and identification, carrying the child would be no problem. “Sure, honey.”
Tito pulled the VW into the long line of cars dropping off passengers at the US Airways terminal. An airport guard motioned them over to the curb a hundred feet from the sliding doors, but Tito ignored him and inched closer. He parked, and she paid him. “Thank you.”
Sweat ran down her face as she opened the door and climbed out with Maria, scanning the drop-off lane to see if anyone was following them. As soon as they were out of the car, Tito pulled away from the curb, and she hurried toward the sliding glass doors with Solana on her heels.
Tires screeched behind them. Bailey turned as men scrambled from a nearby car. She gasped. One of them looked like the man in the grocery store they’d hidden in earlier.
Danny checked his watch as he paced outside the US Airways departure terminal. He’d been so sure Bailey would be at the airport, but he and Angel had been hanging around where passengers unloaded for forty minutes with no sign of either her or Maria. A phone call to the receptionist at Maxwell Industries had gotten him Bailey’s flight number. Boarding started in ninety minutes.
Silence in the Dark Page 4