Toward the Light

by Bonnar Spring

  “Coffee?” Richard prompted.

  “Oh.” She had to get him away from the apartment. Idea: Walk toward the market. “This way,” she said, linking her arm through his as she’d done a million times.

  “Is something wrong, Luz?”

  “No, just tired.” So tired she couldn’t remember when she’d last slept. But Luz had to pull herself together and figure out how to get rid of Richard.

  The long night’s work had exacerbated her cuts and bruises. The dark purple welt that stained her rib cage had spread, and her stomach throbbed. Fear and hatred, suppressed while doctoring Toño, returned with a vengeance. She simply could not return to the Benavides’ today as though nothing had happened. Nor should she leave Toño alone. If the night nurse could do it, well, so could she. Luz was going to take a sick day.

  “You seem more than tired. Are your health problems getting worse?”

  “No, no, I’m fine.” Luz laughed at the obvious exaggeration, and Richard joined in.

  “Could’ve fooled me,” he said.

  “Really,” she said, “most of the time I feel all right; it’s just that I hardly got any sleep last night.”

  After that, Richard retreated to small talk while they meandered—was Luz enjoying her return to her native country? Was the apartment satisfactory?

  The streets filled with pedestrians when they neared the market. Luz waved to the old melon ladies on their blanket and the Indian bird-seller who sat on the stone wall next to the entrance.

  “Do you have shopping this morning?” asked Richard, looking at the bustle on the other side of the street.

  “Only a couple of things. I’ll head over there later.”

  “What’s on your grocery list?”

  “Fruit and eggs,” she said, making it up as she spoke. She only needed Juana. Remembering her excuse, she added, “Oh, and coffee. The man I bought it from last time overcharged me, so I’m going to look around.” Luz chattered to keep the conversation flowing on safe topics. “I only went to him because he’d given me such a great deal on sugar. I had to buy a new supply after the ants got into it.”

  Luz led Richard to a café on the corner near one entrance to the market. Whether or not it was a good place for coffee, she didn’t know, but it was the best place for her hastily assembled ruse. She waited until they were seated at a little table under an awning and Richard had ordered dos cafés con leche.

  “Oh, I should’ve used the bathroom before I left,” she said. “Excuse me for a minute.”

  Luz dashed into the café—betting Richard wouldn’t follow her to the ladies room—and ran out the side door. She sprinted across the street. Not making the slightest pretense of shopping, she went straight to Juana’s stall and shook her hand. Although Juana seemed confused by Luz’s formality, she reciprocated. Luz deposited her note with an extra squeeze as she released Juana’s hand. “Just wanted to say hello. I’ll be back in a little while to shop,” called Luz over her shoulder.

  And she was back in the café. Panting.

  “Whew, much better,” she said, sliding onto the little wrought-iron chair.

  The waiter materialized at Luz’s elbow and served their coffees. She dropped a sugar cube into her cup, pretending to be absorbed as she stirred to dissolve it in the warm liquid. Then another, and another. She’d done it. Now if only her galloping pulse would get back to normal.

  When she looked up, Richard was smiling. “Still taking coffee syrup for breakfast, I see. What were you saying earlier about an infestation of ants? They got into the sugar?”

  “Ugh, it was a mess. I finally dumped the whole bag and replaced it with fresh. Which I now keep in the freezer.”

  But Luz didn’t want Richard’s attention on her apartment. Better get down to business. She cleared her throat, a preliminary. Richard cleared his in unison.

  They laughed.

  “Yes, we’re still on the same wavelength,” said Richard. “So. Let’s talk.” Coffee in hand, he tilted his chair onto its back legs, balancing precariously against a pillar. “How’s it going?”

  “Smoothly. So far.” Luz smiled back before taking a sip. She’d tell the truth, all that she could, and try not to lie to her oldest friend. “The work is easy. Cesar’s no problem at all. But encountering Martin was intense—the first time he showed up in Cesar’s room, it came as such a surprise. I thought I was going into shock.”

  “I’m sorry.” Richard blew so hard on his steaming cup of coffee that choppy waves scudded across the cup. “I wish there’d been a way to cushion the blow.”

  “I suppose there wasn’t.” How she’d jumped Evan’s bones as an antidote would remain her secret. Toño, a huge secret. Bobby’s assault—yet another secret, and one she’d fight hard to keep. Years ago, she’d asked Richard what to do about a boy at school who was harassing her—nothing physical, just the sexually suggestive comments of a cocky high-school kid. Richard had totally overreacted. No avuncular advice that time; he found out where the boy lived and confronted him. And his lawyer father. Returning to Luz, Richard had promised her it would never happen again. It hadn’t.

  Luz couldn’t imagine what Richard would do to Bobby if he knew Bobby had forced himself on her, had come so close to actually raping her. And while the thought of Richard as a knight errant riding once more to the rescue was comforting, Bobby had attacked her. This was her fight. If Richard pulled her off the job now, she’d never get her revenge.

  What could she say? “Seeing Dominga wasn’t as disturbing, but it was definitely weirder.”

  “Weird? How so?”

  “She used to be so elegant.” A nervous laugh. “To see her legs swollen and the old-fashioned black dress and little bun in a hairnet—I couldn’t believe it was the same woman.”

  “People do get old,” said Richard absently, “and they change.”

  I won’t get old, but maybe I’m changing.

  Richard’s chair crashed onto all-fours, and coffee sloshed onto his cuff. That crack about aging was a gaffe she wouldn’t have expected Richard to make.

  Perhaps he was distracted enough for her to prod him into revealing more about the plan. Although here was a totally unexpected opportunity to find out for Toño who Richard’s group was talking to in the FPL, yesterday’s brutal encounter had thrust something else into first place. “Now that I know the players better,” said Luz, “I’m curious.”

  Richard reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “That’s my Luz,” he said, his expression hovering at the intersection of apologetic and affectionate. “I can’t remember a time when you didn’t have a million questions for me. Go ahead. I’ll tell you anything I can.”

  “It’s about …” She chose her next words carefully. Destroying Bobby had superseded killing Martin as a priority. “About your choice of target.”

  Down at table level, Richard patted the air with his hand a few times and mouthed, “Watch what you say.”

  Luz looked around. They had the outdoor seating area to themselves, and the waiter had retreated into the café where a TV broadcast football from Madrid, but Richard was always cautious. She nodded, spoke quietly. “I understand about the father, but wouldn’t it be better to take care of the son as well? He seems to be in charge.”

  Richard squinted and pursed his lips the way he did when organizing his thoughts. “Two parts to that answer, Luz.” He raised an index finger. “First, the old man’s been too slippery. His hand is all over the operation, but his actual fingerprints nowhere. The man has decades of enemies, and I’ve contacted every one I could. I’ve talked to people I shouldn’t be seen with. No luck. No one can—or will—provide enough information to convict him. Our way is the only way.

  “Second part.” Richard lifted his other hand and extended its index finger. “The son doesn’t command the fear or respect of his father. While he will, no doubt, rush in to fill the void, he’s not nearly as wily. We’re going to string Bobby along—with him not knowing we’ve infiltr
ated their organization—and we’ll use the information you’re going to retrieve to see how many others we can implicate before we bag him.”

  So Richard had plans for Bobby. Luz hid her disappointment. She imagined doing the job she’d set out to accomplish, killing Martin and, however the exact circumstances, not surviving. But Bobby still alive, preying on others with impunity, that was not acceptable.

  “Any luck on that front?” Richard asked. “The thumb drive?”

  Luz still needed to look through it before deciding how to proceed. Bobby must pay. “Not yet,” she said, with an apologetic hunch of her shoulders.

  Richard smiled. “With Bobby home for Christmas,” he said, “perhaps you’ll get your opportunity soon. Anything else?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “I’ve got to get into her place.” Richard slapped his palm on the kitchen table.

  Evan bent to retrieve a section of newspaper that fluttered to the floor. “But you can’t—”

  “I explained why this is important, right? And I’m not asking you to do anything illegal.” Richard began to pace. “All you have to do is follow her when she leaves for work and give me the all clear. I’ll do the rest.” He reversed course, back toward Evan, his hands clenching into fists and then releasing, spreading fingers wide. “She was too jumpy, keeping me outside. Nervous. Distracted.”

  Nervous around Richard? When Richard had left to meet Luz, Evan assumed she’d tell him she’d already passed Evan the information. He was resigned to a tongue-lashing. Then Richard had burst into the house—not pissed at him but fuming about Luz.

  “I think she’s seeing someone.” Richard uncharacteristically ran fingers through his hair. “He may have been there this morning. She looked like she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.”

  So it was true. Evan suddenly recalled the lemony shampoo Luz used, her soft encouraging sounds of desire. She had gotten thoroughly under his skin.

  “I want to get in today.” Richard pulled out his chair and straddled it, his elbows thrust out like a wide receiver protecting the football. “But we have to make sure the man’s gone, too—damn!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, here’s the plan. Drive over there now. Park so you can see her gate. Keep track of who’s going in and out.”

  “What are you going to do?” Evan hoped he sounded merely curious.

  “Better you don’t know. I’ll tell you one thing, though—Luz lied about not gaining access to Martin’s suite. I knew it would take time, and I wouldn’t have suspected anything, but she’s seen Dominga, Martin’s wife. Dominga’s an invalid. She can barely walk, and she never ever leaves her rooms. If Luz saw her, she’s been to their side of the house. She ought to have told you.”

  She did tell me. And she didn’t tell you she had. Was Luz really considering his offer?

  “Get over there now.” Richard lobbed Evan’s plaid jacket onto the table. “We can’t be one hundred percent certain the man is gone, but call me the second she leaves for work.”

  It was time to clear things up with Luz. And Richard just handed him the perfect opportunity.

  Toño was awake when Luz returned. Feverish but alert. And thirsty. “Water,” he whispered. Since he was too weak to sit, Luz sat cross-legged next to him and drizzled a spoonful at a time into his mouth. “What?” he began, but gave up after the one syllable.

  Guessing he meant “what happened?” or “what are we going to do?” Luz explained how she had cleaned and bandaged the hole in his side. Then she told him, without mentioning Richard, about passing the note to Juana asking for help. And how, on her return to the market—solo, Richard having miraculously had other business to attend to—Juana, looking shaken and frail, had given Luz a message that someone would come for Toño in the early afternoon. Toño gave the ghost of a smile and wheezed his approval.

  “I don’t know how they plan to get you out,” Luz said, offering another spoonful of water. “I called in sick to work, so I guess we wait.”

  Toño mumbled, “Don’t ’member much … last night.”

  “How did you get in here?”

  “Split up … safer … climbed fence … hiding in the dark …” Toño winced. He touched her arm lightly. “Your place … no one watching … trust you.”

  Trust.

  “Don’t talk any more. You can tell me later.”

  The buzzer to the gate sounded, shrill, an ominous note. “It’s awfully soon,” Luz said, “but I’ll check.”

  She slipped out her back door and approached the gate from the side. Evan was looking up the main path. He didn’t see her.

  Richard must’ve blindsided Evan last night, much as he had her this morning. How quickly she’d lost faith. Unlike Toño, Luz didn’t know who to trust. Since her mother’s death, Richard had been the closest thing to family—until Toño had abducted her and she’d begun this week of upheaval. Life was so much easier when she could turn to Richard for advice and help. Instead, she was hiding things from him. And so was Evan.

  Now Evan was here.

  She ran down the path. Evan stood at attention, not meeting her gaze.

  “Richard is staying at my place,” he began.

  “I thought so. When he showed up here—”

  “You don’t have to explain. You don’t owe me anything. But Richard knows you’ve been in to see Martin and Dominga. He’s coming here today after you leave for work. He has keys. I’m supposed to be watching to make sure”—Evan’s face contorted—“the man leaves, too. Richard’s in a hurry to get into your apartment.”

  The man leaves. The bottom fell out of Luz’s stomach. He’d seen. Or guessed. Richard was no fool. She was beyond stupid to test her wits against him.

  “How does he know someone’s here?” she asked finally.

  “So there is someone?”

  The raw pain in Evan’s voice gave Luz pause. Had Richard’s version of the situation prompted Evan not to trust her?

  “Evan, what did he tell you?”

  “Richard said you wouldn’t let him in this morning because you’d had company overnight,” he muttered in a quick monotone, speaking to the pavement.

  Light dawned. So what if Evan hadn’t told her about his girlfriend; She hadn’t told him she was dying. And she’d lied to him, too—about where she’d gone, about having another man. But now … maybe it was time for a fresh start.

  Luz sighed, releasing the bolt holding the gate shut. Trust. She had to start somewhere. Luz took his arm under hers and led him up the path.

  “Evan,” she said, “it’s time you met my cousin.”

  They whispered in the living room to keep from disturbing Toño.

  “Anyhow, that’s where I was last weekend,” said Luz.

  Only last weekend, thought Evan. “Why didn’t you tell me where you’d been?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to be running off to guerrilla territory. Richard and his colleagues—they quizzed me about my connections to the Frente Popular, if I knew how to get in touch with my relatives who were still here.” Luz ducked her chin. “I said no, even though my mother told me all I had to do was get to know the orange sellers, flash my mother’s wedding ring—it was a family heirloom—until one of them said her name.”

  Luz explained about the ashes and how the abduction had gone haywire. “And when Toño told me he wasn’t aware of the U.S. plans to destabilize the Benavides, I promised to wait before going ahead with the bomb.”

  “If you were going to wait, why’d you insist I tell Richard you were ready?”

  “I thought Toño would find a simple explanation,” she said. “Richard had probably cut a deal with a rival commander—something he wouldn’t have bothered telling me about since I’d denied any ongoing interest in the guerillas. Just having Toño know about their agreement would remedy the situation. Also, Dominga first sent for me that day. Regular access to their living quarters was the biggest piece of the puzzle. Back then I assumed—” Luz stopped abruptly and wrapped her arms arou
nd her waist. “But now some other things have happened that we have to talk about.”

  We. Evan smiled for the first time all day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The buzzer at the gate sounded again. Luz and Evan turned toward the closed bedroom door. It had been a blessing that Toño, who last week had insisted she get rid of Evan, had dozed off before they came back inside.

  “You can’t be here,” she said to Evan after the buzzer finished reverberating.

  “I’ll hide in the bathroom.” Evan got to his feet.

  Luz restrained him with a hand on his arm. “But what if it’s Richard?”

  “He won’t show up until he hears from me.”

  Luz nodded, but just in case, she used the back door and side path again.

  Two men stood at the gate. One held a clipboard; the other spoke into a cellphone. The lettering on the panel truck behind them read “Limpiatec Guatemala—expert carpet cleaning.” False alarm.

  Luz hurried to the gate.

  “Buenas tardes, señora,” said the clipboard man. “We’ve come to replace your rug.”

  “Oh, you’ve rung the wrong apartment. I don’t have rugs. Which number do you want?”

  The man thrust the clipboard through the bars. “You’ll find the work order right there,” he said.

  A neat computer-generated form identified Luz by name—and listed the business proprietors as Emilio and Josefina Concepcion. Her parents.

  “Oh.” This was it. “Yes, of course.” Luz’s hands fumbled with the gate latch. “Come in.”

  The men drove their truck inside. They removed a rolled-up rug from the back of the truck and trundled it into her apartment. Ten minutes later, the men were gone.

  And Luz was alone with Evan. He’d crouched behind the shower curtain while the men shifted Toño onto a skinny stretcher concealed in the tube of carpeting. When she returned after seeing them off, Evan sat sprawled on the couch, head back and feet on her coffee table. Luz busied herself, gathering sheets and blankets.