The Sometime Sister

by Katherine Nichols

  So, the answer was no. I didn’t care whether it was justice or revenge.

  I had no sense of how much time had passed before the limo slowed to a stop. Marco came round to my side and opened the door. Unlike Javi’s indifference, his demeanor suggested he cared about me, didn’t want to terrify me. When he offered his hand, I took it.

  The glare from the sunlight stabbed at my eyes. Marco had parked on the edge of a construction site. Developers had bulldozed the land, creating an artificial clearing for the foundation. Several car lengths in front of our limo, a black sedan sat beside a small trailer.

  “Señor Balsuto is waiting,” Marco said.

  “You’re not coming?”

  “No, Señorita. My instructions are to wait here.”

  I squared my shoulders and stepped up to the makeshift cement block stairs. An air conditioning unit jutted from a side window. It wheezed and dripped water onto the ground, forming a puddle in the rutted earth. After inhaling and exhaling, I tapped on the aluminum door.

  I almost didn’t recognize the man in front of me. He’d shaved his thick beard, leaving a heavy five o’clock shadow in its place. Beneath it, his skin had a grayish tint, suggestive of someone suffering from a long-term illness. Deep lines creased the corners of his bloodshot eyes. But his smile was as seductive as before, and his hands were still warm and strong.

  “I am so glad you came, Grace.” He ushered me in and closed the door.

  Despite the sputtering contraption in the window, the air was damp and clammy. It was so dark I had to stop, unable to get my bearings. He flipped a switch, but the dim light did little to illuminate the room. Then he led me farther into the trailer. It wasn’t just the poor lighting that made the room seem more like a cave than a civilized dwelling. The paneled walls were a dull brown, providing little contrast with the worn carpet. The only furnishings were a broken-down desk, a plaid recliner with stuffing sticking out of the seat, and a rickety kitchen chair.

  “I apologize for the conditions of our meeting place, but privacy was more important than appearance as you will soon understand. But first, what may I bring you? Water or soda? Something stronger if you prefer?”

  “Water’s good, thank you.” I watched as he dragged a cooler from beneath the desk and removed two bottles.

  “I appreciate your coming. It cannot be easy for you to put yourself in the hands of someone you do not know so well. But from the moment I saw you, it was as if we had known each other for quite some time. Like my beloved Stella, you are a very old soul. Perhaps you and I were close in some earlier life.”

  He stopped to stare into my eyes, then shook his head and continued.

  “I felt the same about your sister, only much stronger. It was as if she filled some part of me I never knew was empty. I won’t lie to you, Grace. I have wanted many women. Once I possessed them, my desire faded. But Stella was different. She was an irresistible combination of passion and sorrow. Just when I thought I had seen all of her, I found another level to her soul. The more I made love to her, the more I had to have her. Each time we were together, I traveled deeper into undiscovered territory, both in her body and her spirit. I know she wronged you, and I understand your anger.”

  Adelmo slid closer and reached for my hands again. I let them rest in his.

  “Stella also understood. She told me she had vowed to change, to become a better person, one deserving of your forgiveness. Unlike others who make such promises, I watched as she kept hers. And I fell deeper in love with the woman she became.”

  His voice thickened as he brought my hands to his lips, the same way he’d done in the museum garden. He seemed confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure who I was, and for the first time since I’d entered the little trailer, a sense of dread overcame me.

  “Your sister was a woman with many secrets. Some we shared and some I only sensed. Just as I promised I would find the truth about what happened to her, I made promises to her as well.” He let go of my hands and sighed. “But we will save that for another day. Today, I keep my promise to you.” He motioned for me to join him as he stepped toward the back of the trailer.

  Had I made a mistake putting my faith in a man of such drastic extremes? His love for my sister bordered on obsession. And while he never exhibited violent behavior in my presence, both his intensity and reputation hinted he was capable of bursting into uncontrolled rages. But were these actual contradictions? Weren’t they more like points of continuum on the line of human emotions? The problem was I couldn’t be sure where his feelings for me might fall on this scale.

  We walked into what had once served as a bedroom. The acrid scent of urine assaulted me. I gagged before covering my nose and mouth. Here, it was even darker. Although he was only a few feet from me, I could only make out his outline. Faint light trickled in from windows, covered with heavy fabric. No trace of wet air conditioning made it to this room where the heat was almost tangible. I could hear him walking farther from me. Once again, I had to give my eyes time to adjust. When they did, I couldn’t comprehend what I saw.

  In the middle of the room a man in a solitary chair slumped forward, head down, body tied in place with bloody ropes.

  Adelmo charged, drew back his thick-booted foot, and kicked hard enough to flip him over backward. Pathetic whimpers drifted up from the twisted lump. Adlemo righted the chair but not before administering another violent attack, this time to the man’s stomach. Moans became screams of agony as he struggled to lift his head. Blood, both fresh and dried, lined his forehead like savage war paint. One eye was swollen shut; the other, marked by a wide gash just above the cheekbone.

  “What did I tell you about making all that noise?” Adelmo hissed and backhanded his prisoner, who jerked in response to the blow and fell back into his original position: head down, face obscured. But not before I recognized the bloody, beaten ruin that was now Ben Wilcott.

  Chapter 32

  I stared at the horror that had once been the man I loved, then turned to Adelmo and gasped, “What have you done?”

  “I have uncovered the truth, my sweet Grace.” The naked bulb cast shadows across his face. “And here it is.”

  He yanked Ben’s head back and poured water over him. Ben sputtered and fell forward again. Adelmo jerked him upright by the hair.

  “I have brought someone to see you,” he said with what could have been mistaken for a benign smile. “You will tell her the story you told me, and then, maybe, if you get everything right, you might make it out of this alive.”

  I wondered if it was as clear to Ben as it was to me that he had no chance of going home in one piece. But he turned to his captor and murmured something. Adelmo shrugged and whispered in his mangled ear. Whatever he said gave Ben the motivation to speak.

  “I’m so sorry, Grace,” he began, but Adelmo dug his fingers into Ben’s shoulder, causing him to shriek.

  “Just explain what happened. Tell her how you killed Stella.”

  He started his story with a description of the couple’s fights: how they had begun as shouting and shoving matches and had escalated into open-handed slaps before culminating with him pushing her down the stairs. At that point Adelmo thumped Ben on the side of his head and grasped him by the neck.

  “Please, Adelmo. Let him finish.” I wish I could say I’d spoken to spare my ex more pain, but I only wanted him to tell the story without interruption, to get it over with so I could escape the festering air of that miserable trailer.

  He continued his account of how he suspected Stella was having an affair and had confronted her. Things had gotten violent, and she locked herself in the bathroom. He admitted to being so drunk he passed out. The next morning, she disappeared, and he didn’t see her for
over four months. He hired people to look for her, but they found nothing.

  After a month, she sent word she wanted a divorce and planned to return to the States. By then, he had given up on the relationship and resigned himself to letting her go. It wasn’t as if they’d been making each other happy anyway. But then everything fell apart.

  He stopped at this point and requested more water. Adelmo poured the rest of the bottle into the broken man’s mouth and nudged him hard.

  “I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen, Grace.” He gasped for breath. “There was no reason for her to come back. I didn’t even know she was there.” He made a gurgling sound that might have been a sob. Then he faced Adelmo. “It wasn’t my idea. None of it. You have to believe me. It was all Prez’s fault.”

  Adelmo twisted his mouth into the semblance of a smile and nodded.

  “Prez was at the house. He got involved with some Colombians and wanted to set up a deal with them cutting Adelmo out of the picture.” He winced and faced his captor. “I swear, I would never have double-crossed you, but he threatened me.” His voice had taken on a high-pitched whining quality. I fought the urge to kick his chair over myself.

  “We didn’t know she was there. I guess we made a lot of noise, and she hid. When Prez left, she came out. Said she just needed to get something from the bedroom and no, she had no idea what we’d been talking about. But I was scared. What if she was lying and planned to go to the cops or found another way to use it against me? I didn’t know what to do, so I called Prez. He hadn’t gotten far.” Ben groaned. “Oh, God, oh, God! What did I do?”

  Adelmo gave him a disgusted look, then tapped him on the shoulder, his composure more terrifying than his fury had been.

  “Prez promised he was just going to talk to her, find out for sure what she knew. He said I should disappear for an hour, that he would text me when it was safe to come back. I shouldn’t have gone.” He choked down a sob.

  “Go on, please,” I encouraged. “Explain how you never thought Prez would put his hands around her neck and choke the life out of her. Tell me all about how you left my sister alone with a sick, sociopathic fuck, never imagining he’d kill her and throw her into the ocean.”

  “Please, Grace,” Ben begged. “I never meant for anything bad to happen to her. God help me, I still loved her. You’ve got to believe me. If only she’d just stayed away.”

  “Right. It was Stella’s fault for getting killed. I guess you didn’t mean for me to get hurt either when you and Prez took me to that house. What were you going to do, Ben? Screw me and then leave me so Prez and I could talk? Would that have been on me, too?”

  He moaned.

  “Did you help dump her body, Ben?”

  “How could you even think that? It was all Prez. I didn’t know the boat was missing until the cops started asking questions. I confronted him, and he admitted he had taken her body and staged the accident. I found out later he bribed the authorities to cover up the crime.”

  His lips twisted in a grotesque imitation of his old smile. Even in his wretched state, he held onto the hope I could be charmed into believing him.

  “And that night at the Point, I had no intention of hurting you. I was just supposed to find out what you knew. I tried to stop Prez, but he flipped out. The son of a bitch fired on me. That’s why I got the hell out of there. I swear I’m telling you the truth. I never meant for any of it to happen. Ask Prez if you don’t believe me. Adelmo has him, too. He knows the truth.”

  Adelmo gave Ben another eerie smile. “I think you have misunderstood me. Prez will not be answering any questions. It seems the poor man was a bit, how would you say, accident- prone? My men found him unconscious at the foot of the balcony stairs, tangled up with a pool cue stuck in his thigh. Sadly, when he regained consciousness, he resisted their attempts to help him. There was a struggle, and somehow his neck was broken.”

  Ben’s eyes rolled back, and blood gurgled from his mouth.

  So, I hadn’t been the one who killed Prez. Adelmo’s men had done it and made his death look like an accident, the way Prez had done with Stella, Adelmo’s idea of a little joke.

  I guess I should have experienced guilt or at least remorse for my role in Prez’s demise, but I was removed from it and from the desperate man in front of me. I wanted to go to the villa and shower under the stingy stream of water. Then I would pack up and leave Montañita forever.

  “And now my question to you is what would you like to do with this pedazo de mierda? He may not have been the one who killed our Stella, but he is just as much to blame. Is he not?”

  Yes, Ben was equally guilty of murdering my sister.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered.

  “I think you do.” He pulled a gun from his waistband.

  I recoiled. “What about the police? Now that we know what happened, they can find enough evidence to prosecute him.”

  Adelmo dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand, the one holding the weapon. “Accidental deaths are far more favorable to government reports than murders. And I imagine this man would use his wealth to cut a deal. Or perhaps he would trade information about me for his freedom. Isn’t that right, old friend?”

  “I would never sell you out, Adelmo. That was all Prez.” His whine became a low buzz, like an electric saw losing power.

  “Of course, of course,” Adelmo patted him on the back, then turned to me. “Even if the police investigated and a judge found him guilty, Ecuador abolished the death penalty long ago.”

  His tone suggested the matter was settled.

  “Adelmo, please.” I looked at what remained of the man I’d once loved. “Prez is already dead. Maybe that’s enough.”

  “Are you sorry the man who strangled your sister is no longer alive?” he asked.

  When I thought I had been the one who killed Prez, was I sorry? I had been horrified at first. But later? Later I felt nothing at all.

  “That’s not the point. The point is shooting Ben like this would be straight-up murder. And I don’t want to be a part of it.”

  “That’s right, babe.” Ben reentered the conversation. “You’re not a killer. Stella wouldn’t want you to become one either. She—”

  Adelmo backhanded him again. “Do not speak her name!” He shouted and raised his hand to strike him again. I held his arm.

  “Enough!” I shouted, startling both Adelmo and myself. “I hate saying this, but he’s right. Stella wouldn’t want me to become the kind of person who could condone putting a bullet in an unarmed man, no matter how disgusting he might be. I want to take our chances with the police. Didn’t you say it was for me to decide?”

  That wasn’t exactly what Adelmo had said, but I hoped he didn’t remember.

  “You are a good person, Grace. Stella told me you were, but I had trouble understanding how such a good person could not be more forgiving. Now I do. There are some things we cannot forgive.”

  “But I was wrong not to forgive Stella, and I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. Please, don’t make me live with this.” I pointed to Ben.

  Adelmo sighed and put the gun back in his waistband. “I understand.” He guided me into the front room. Outside the narrow window, the sky had grown dark, and I wondered how long I’d been a guest at Adelmo’s little house of horrors. The clock on the dusty microwave read five ten. That was the moment the first rumble of thunder sounded.

  Adelmo opened the door and surveyed the clouds. “I believe we are in for a very bad storm. If you and Marco leave now, you might make it down the mountain before the rain comes full force.”

  “But aren’t you and Ben coming?”

  “Ah, my sweet
Grace. You should know your sister never doubted you would forgive her. She said you were the only one she ever cared about letting down, and she vowed to become the kind of woman you could love again and respect for the first time.”

  I wiped my eyes and looked away in the distance where an arrow of light burst through the dark clouds. A rumble of thunder followed. The storm was getting closer.

  “I am not such a good person. Your sister understood this and loved me despite it. But it was family Stella valued more than anything. She had to return home to show you how much she had grown. I wanted her to stay, but circumstances changed, and it wasn’t safe for her to remain here with me, so I agreed to let her go.”

  Marco watched us from a distance, and Adelmo called out to him in Spanish. He got into the car and started the engine.

  “And now you must go. I will remain here with my guest a little longer. Then I will leave the country for a short time. Perhaps I may someday visit you in your lovely country and see where my beautiful Stella was once so happy.”

  A shaft of lightning split the air, and I screamed as the accompanying thunderbolt sounded. Marco stepped from the car, leaving the engine running. The man who loved my sister more than life kissed me on the cheek and walked toward the trailer. I tried to run after him, but Marco wrapped an arm around my waist and held me.

  “Please, Señorita,” he said. “We must go. It is not safe to stay here out in the open.”

  As if on cue, rain pelted the ground, creating instant puddles. Three bolts of lightning shot across the sky in brief terrifying intervals, and thunder blasted. I slipped out of Marco’s grip and stumbled onto the ground. He reached down to help me, and a blinding flash of light illuminated the air, bringing with it a scorching heat that rippled through the hair on my arms and neck. It hovered overhead. I could smell bitter smoke almost at the same time resounding thunder deafened me. Then there was darkness.