“Yes,” Nolla chimed in. “As you have seen.”
“But if it is of any consolation,” Aquino went on, “Don Rafael has told us everything.”
“Everything?” Corinne said in concert with Nolla.
“I only wish I had called the authorities earlier,” Don Rafael confessed. “Please accept my apologies.”
Corinne was incredulous. “You had something to do with this?” she asked, jabbing her finger at the hacienda ruins. The memory of Rafael’s irritation over the necklace Diego had given her flashed through her mind. Bits of the past came together with Mark’s suspicions to paint a shocking picture. “And Diego?” she asked.
Don Rafael answered with a vehement shake of his head. “No, my son knows nothing of the caracoles.”
“And thanks to Don Rafael, those who do know are now in custody,” Vincente Aquino told her.
“In custody for what?” Diego Quintana asked as he walked toward the cluster of officials with Dr. Flynn in tow. “Papá?” Diego said, his inquiring gaze landing on Don Rafael. “What is going on?”
He handed the doctor the bag of supplies.
Corinne felt a fleeting warmth. Her cousin grew dearer by the moment.
“Let’s take a look at what you’ve done to yourself,” the doctor said, approaching Toto and kneeling at his side.
Corinne soothed the wary pig, listening to Don Rafael’s story of how the Pozas brothers showed Dr. Herman Krump the caracol fossils, initiating a series of sinister events that included murder committed by Lorenzo Pozas. It never occurred to her that the congenial little German could be behind such a travesty of murder and intrigue, yet it made sense. If anyone would know what the fossils were worth, it would be a geologist.
“He was furious when he learned that the orphanage had purchased the land out from under him.”
“Indeed he was,” Carlos Aquino recollected. “Señor Madison and Father Menasco had just signed the contract on behalf of the church when he called to make an offer.”
And that was when the revival of the legend of Doña Lucinda Ortiz’s ghost came into play … except that Mark and Corinne hadn’t been scared off. So Lorenzo resorted to his mother-in-law’s witchcraft, scattering spore-rich dirt from a local cave in Mark’s room so that he’d get sick.
“And you allowed this?” Diego asked of his father.
“I did it for you, Diego, so that you would be the first artisan to use the local gemstones,” Don Rafael answered. “But I did not know, when Krump invited me to help him cover the knowledge of the discovery, that it involved murder.”
A mix of pain and disbelief tore at Diego’s handsome features. “But why, Papá? Have you so little faith in my work?”
“It was only to help you, son.”
“Because you did not think that I could help myself.” Resentment vied with disappointment in Diego’s voice. “And if you suspected Lorenzo of murder, why did you not call the police then? Why wait until a child’s death followed?”
“I did not know if his brother and sister-in-law’s deaths were murder or an accident,” Rafael replied. “God forgive me, I would have spoken, had I known for certain.”
“Even so, it would be hard to prove,” Vincente Aquino told them. “Gas leaks are common in such villages where the Indios sometimes change their own tanks. And Pozas is denying everything.”
Pozas. The image of the man’s hostile glare across the small coffin at his nephew’s grave site sent a shiver up Corinne’s back. She easily could believe him capable of murder. She glanced up from wiping Toto down with some of the wet wipes from the market bag. “And what about Enrique?”
Don Rafael frowned. “That is what I cannot understand. Dr. Krump wanted Pozas to offer the boy money to show them some of the other sites that he and his father had found in their hunting and exploring together. Killing Enrique made no sense.”
“Maybe Enrique wouldn’t tell them what they wanted to know,” Corinne thought aloud. The whole world was going mad and taking her with it. “And what about last night?” Much as she dreaded the answer, she needed to know.
“That is when I knew that Krump would stop at nothing. He ordered Lorenzo Pozas to burn down Hacienda Ortiz and everyone in it. I knew I had to stop him.”
Corinne’s chin quivered. “So why did you wait so long? Why didn’t you send Capitán Nolla after Lorenzo right then?”
Rafael dropped his head. “Because a coward does not run to the fight. I waited until I saw for myself how far Pozas and Krump would go.”
“You waited until the fire?” Diego exclaimed in contempt.
“May God forgive me.”
Diego cupped Corinne’s arm as she struggled to her feet. She couldn’t believe her ears. The man admitted to letting the hacienda burn, possibly with Mark inside, and yet he did nothing until he saw the fire.
“God might forgive you, sir, but that is too formidable a task for me.” At least for now. Maybe someday, Lord, but not today.
She wanted to run away, but there was nowhere to run to escape the pain. A sob tore at her chest, welling to her throat as she stumbled toward the orchard.
“Corina!”
She heard Diego’s footsteps behind her, felt his hand catch her arm as she ran toward the jacaranda tree where Mark had kissed her the night Lorenzo Pozas left the disease-carrying dirt behind. Diego easily caught up and blocked her way.
The dam of her emotions burst with the impact. Mark was gone, and Don Rafael could have prevented it.
“I am so sorry for my father, Corina,” Diego whispered brokenly against the top of her head.
“It … it’s not y-your fault,” she cried against his chest.
“Would that it had been me in the fire, rather than see you in such despair.”
“Toto, wait!”
Dr. Flynn’s exasperated shout drew Corinne from the shelter of her cousin’s arms in time to see the soot-splotched pig race by them toward the orange orchard, a long string of gauze trailing from its hind foot. Approaching the edge of the hacienda yard, a filthy man hobbled toward them, leaning heavily on his shorter, equally filthy companion. Although his clothes looked like something from another century, there was something vaguely familiar about him as he pulled himself upright and planted his hands on his hips.
“That does not look like a cousinly embrace to me, Miss Muffet.”
CHAPTER 29
“Mark!”
Corinne bounded away from Diego Quintana, arms outstretched, skirts flying around her legs. She was more beautiful than ever. And if Mark had any doubts about her feelings toward him, they dissipated as she threw herself into his open arms.
“Oh,” she gasped, clutching him as her momentum carried them backward a few steps.
Mark regained his footing and laughed. “I’m glad to see you, too.”
Rising on tiptoe, Corinne linked her arms behind his neck and kissed him long and hard on the mouth.
Hello, Miss Muffet!
The fatigue that made Mark’s legs ache on the downward climb from the mountain faded in a surge of pleasure and relief. Could a man die of joy overload? He held her tight against him and returned the affection, just as he’d promised himself, once he realized that he wasn’t dead and in some cold, black hell. Except the devil didn’t look like the shaggy kid from the late nineteenth century holding an oil lamp over his face.
“I love you, Muffet,” he moaned as she backed a breath away. If a woman could fill a man’s mind, making him want to linger in a smoke-filled inferno rather than go on to that bright spot people talked about, then she had to be the one.
Her kiss-dazed expression exploded with renewed vigor. “Ohhh.”
Once again her lips sought his, her fingers raking at his temples, giving new meaning to the adage love hurts. The invasion of raw pain forced Mark away.
“Ow, ow, ow …”
“What? Oh, Mark,” she fretted, seizing a section of her full skirt and dabbing at the fresh blood from the barely sealed wound at
his pounding temple. “I’m so sorry.” Flustered, she turned away, shouting for Dr. Flynn.
Mark caught her at the waist before she got too far. “It’s just a little sore,” he lied, not wanting to let her go. She and her stubborn faith had given him a lifeline in his darkest hour.
“Still, it would be wise for the doctor to examine you,” Diego Quintana suggested. “And by the look of him, your companion also.” Mark shot him an accusatory look. “No thanks to you and your father’s cohorts.”
At that moment, recognition registered on Don Rafael’s face.
“Enrique!” The man staggered backward, looking at the youth as if he’d seen a ghost. “But it is not possible. Pozas said that the boy was dead.”
“Perhaps my uncle lied to you because he feared what Dr. Krump would do if he learned that I escaped,” the disheveled boy suggested. “Papá and I were the only ones who knew exactly where the caracoles were. Not even Tío Lorenzo had been into the mines.” Scuffing his bare feet in the dirt, he added, “I should not have left the orphanage.”
“You see what your Don Juan and his friends are capable of?” Mark told Corinne in triumph. “Terrorizing kids for profit, not to mention murder.”
Ignoring him, she stared, incredulous, at Enrique’s long hair, filthy outdated clothing, and face smeared with black coal dust and soot. “Enrique!” She rushed to the boy and enveloped him in her arms. “We thought you were dead.”
Mark cut her off. “You had quite a little game going here, you and your father, didn’t you, Quintana?”
“But Diego knew nothing of the caracoles,” Don Rafael spoke up, directing the disclaimer not only to Mark but to a number of official-looking men that Mark hadn’t paid much attention to until now. “If you must cast blame,” Rafael said to one of them, “then cast it on me.”
Were the suits and Federales Blaine’s cavalry? Mark wondered.
“Don Rafael called the authorities and told them everything,” Corinne told Mark, stepping into the circle of his arm with Enrique in tow. “Dr. Krump and Lorenzo Pozas are in jail already.”
That explained all the cars and uniforms, but whose side were they on? Rafael wasn’t in cuffs, which suggested that more pieces of this puzzle were missing.
A tall, broad-chested man in a linen suit stepped forward, offering Mark his hand. “I am Carlos Aquino, your brother’s associate.”
One for the good guys. Keeping Corinne close—if he had his way, he’d never let her go—Mark accepted it, much relieved. “Glad to see you arrived with the troops.”
“I called my cousin Vincente.” Aquino nodded toward another man of much the same build, but in blue tailored linen. “Vincente works for the Mineral Resources Council, so naturally he was interested in your suspicions regarding the possibility of fossils in the area. However, Don Rafael had already notified the state authorities by the time we arrived with the Federales to check out your strange story.”
“Strange isn’t the half of it,” Mark quipped.
“When we saw the smoking ruins,” Vincente Aquino spoke up, “we thought that we were too late to help you.”
“Everyone thought you were inside,” Capitán Nolla told Mark.
Frankly, Mark suspected Nolla, too, but decided to keep quiet until he heard more of what had happened on this side of the Twilight Zone. It couldn’t be any more outlandish than what he’d seen in the last twelve hours.
A network of mines riddled the mountain under Hacienda Ortiz, connected to the house by a tunnel from its underground chamber. That was where Mark had found a treasure trove of Ortiz memorabilia, including the turn-of-the-previous-century duds.
“Well, thanks to Enrique”—Mark motioned the timid boy forward—“ I’m fine.”
“But how—?” Corinne started.
Mark put a finger to her lips. “We’ll tell you everything, but right now, we both are exhausted and starved.”
“We’ll go to my grandmother’s.” Corinne framed Mark’s jaw in gentle hands. “She is going to be almost as happy as I am.” She unleashed the love that sparkled in her eyes in a soulful kiss that ended in a sigh. “Almost.”
The patio of Doña Violeta Quintana de la Vega was populated with well-wishers coming and going, as the news of Señor del Cerdito’s homecoming spread through the small town. Soledad was as tearful with joy as she’d been with grief the night before.
After Mark retired to the guest room to shower and change, the housekeeper bustled about with full intentions of helping Gaspar and her sister put together a buffet of deli meats from the market and food that came in from all parts of the village for the impromptu celebration. But at the slightest snag, she broke down in a fresh torrent of emotion.
“Soledad,” Corinne said, giving her a gentle hug. “You must try to celebrate God’s goodness, not focus on the bad that could have happened.”
With a loud sniff that sent her digging into the pocket of her bright yellow apron for a tissue, the emotional housekeeper agreed. “Pues …” She withdrew an embroidered handkerchief and blew her nose loud enough to put the church bells to shame. “I will make the struggle.”
“Go check on Toto, wash your face and hands, and then see what you can do,” Corinne ordered gently.
Front legs bandaged and nose smeared with aloe from the damage that his foraging for Mark in the ruins had done, Toto had been relegated to Doña Violeta’s pantry. That was as much leeway as Corinne’s grandmother would allow the animal in her elegant villa, despite his exemplary dedication to the search.
Later Dr. Flynn checked out Enrique, amazed that the boy had survived so well in the maze of mine shafts. After a bath and a joyful reunion with Antonio, he proudly regaled them all with tales of hunting, trapping, and roasting his kill over an open flame kindled with matches he’d found in the storage rooms hidden behind the hacienda fireplace.
“Tío Lorenzo, he looked for me, but I know how to walk like a ghost and hide in the darkness.”
Antonio took in his brother’s every word with nothing less than sheer adoration. “How I wish I could have been there too.”
At this, Enrique’s bright gaze sobered. “I am glad that you were not, ’Tonio. It is fun to hunt, but not so fun to be hunted.”
Corinne’s heart felt squeezed as she imagined what the boy must have gone through emotionally. Granted, Enrique had survived like a man, but he was still a child, with all a child’s fears and insecurities. She hoped the authorities put Lorenzo Pozas behind bars forever.
Since Enrique was so wired with excitement, Vincente Aquino opted to take Mark’s statement while the boys ate their fill in Doña Violeta’s kitchen under Soledad’s doting eye. Freshly showered, shaved, and dressed in clothes borrowed from Diego, Mark sat very much alive and warm next to Corinne on the sofa in the salon and shared what he knew regarding the burning of Hacienda Ortiz.
“Lorenzo Pozas and some guy named Sergio, whose elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top, knocked me up the side of the head, hogtied me in a chair, soaked the hacienda in gasoline, lit a match, and left through a hidden opening in the fireplace. The last thing I remember before blacking out was falling over in an attempt to break the chair.”
“And that is when the boy found you?” Vincente Aquino inquired.
Prayer availeth much, Corinne paraphrased, overwhelmed that she’d received more than she’d asked for. Not only had God delivered Mark, but Enrique as well.
Enrique told Mark how his uncle had imprisoned him in the mine shaft without food and forced him to show Lorenzo where other fossils had been discovered. But Enrique escaped, relying on the hunting and survival skills that his father had taught him and on the items that he found in a chamber beneath Hacienda Ortiz. It sounded like an underground museum filled with mementos from the past.
“Just in time,” Mark told him. “I’d run out of the Twenty-third Psalm.”
He squeezed Corinne’s hand, and her heart swelled with even more thanksgiving for the spiritual connection they now s
hared.
“It is incredible that a child of nine could survive in the mines,” Vincente marveled. “But the Indios know the ways of the land.”
“As Enrique said, he and his father spent a lot of time hunting and trapping,” Corinne reminded him. “But whose body is buried in the boy’s place? We went to the funeral.”
“The government will exhume the body,” Vincente informed her, “although I feel certain that Pozas will tell us, once we are through interrogating him. Don Rafael really thought Enrique was dead.”
“I was lucky that Enrique followed his uncle and Sergio into the tunnel last night and saw what they were up to, or I’d have been a goner.” Mark turned to Corinne. “I want to do something for him … get him a mountain bike, something.”
“That would be up to his new parents,” she pointed out.
Father Menasco had promised to call the London couple as soon as he heard the news about Enrique and Mark, and they were overjoyed to be able to bring Enrique home too.
“And now that Pozas is going to jail, the adoption should go through without a hitch.”
“Can you tell me more about what is in this underground chamber you and the boy talk about?” Carlos Aquinos asked. He glanced at his cousin. “That is, if your official interview is over.”
Vincente eased against the high back of one of the matching chairs across from the sofa. “With Señor Madison’s testimony and that of the boy, we have enough to send them all to prison.”
“Even Don Rafael?” Corinne asked. “He didn’t try to kill anyone … and he called the authorities on his own.”
“But he covered for the ones who did try to kill me,” Mark reminded her.
“But—”
“As I assured your grandmother, great consideration will be given in the matter,” Vincente said, helping himself to a bowl of chili-spiced crackers and nuts.
“Don Diego Ortiz’s secret chamber—you say it was connected to the Hacienda Ortiz by a secret passage,” Carlos Aquino intervened to bring the conversation back to his original question. “But neither I nor the previous owners ever found it. How was it built into the fireplace?”
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