One Grave Less

by Beverly Connor

  After Liam had him restrained, he took the knife that had bounced off Pendleton’s Kevlar vest.

  “What are you going to do?” said Chanell.

  “Are you still there?” asked Frank.

  “I’m sorry, I was watching Liam restrain the guy. He’s been shot two or three times and Liam still had to sedate him. It’s like taking care of a velociraptor.”

  “I think staying at the museum this evening is a good idea,” said Frank. “I’m going to take a couple of days off and help you solve this.”

  “Frank, I’ve been thinking . . .”

  “Don’t make any decisions without me,” he said. “We’ll talk when I get over there.”

  Liam was cutting off the man’s clothes when Diane hung up. Everyone watched in fascination. Diane wasn’t sure if it was because Liam was doing it or the shock of the musculature on the guy.

  “The clothes will be easier to search now. I can help if you like,” said Liam.

  “You need to check to see if he has a weapon up his ass,” said Gracey.

  Diane was sure all of them had a retort for Gracey, but they all kept their mouths shut. Liam helped the paramedics tend the wounds and then truss the guy to the stretcher with the normal belts, but Liam added duct tape. The guy was out by now, snoring away.

  “Officer Pendleton,” said Liam. “He really needs to wake up in a prison hospital. Can you arrange that?”

  “I’ll give it a try. You know how bureaucrats are,” he said.

  “You have backup outside?” asked Liam.

  “The place is surrounded by police cars,” said Chanell.

  “Tell them to be on the lookout for a van painted flat black. There will be several of his heavily armed buddies in it, and they will want to get him back,” said Diane.

  Pendleton was looking pale. Diane was glad to finally watch them go out the door to the hospital.

  She turned to Liam. She really wanted to know why he thought she could kill with such precision and ease.

  Chapter 54

  Maria knocked again. Panic was sending electric waves of pain through her body. She felt weak and sick. Please, no. “Ro-Rosetta, honey, are you there?”

  She heard a sound on the other side of the door. A tip-toe on wood floor. Maria was afraid to feel relief.

  “Rosetta, sweetie,” she said.

  The door opened and Maria could see one eye surrounded by dark hair peeking at her. The door opened wide and Rosetta ran into her arms. Maria hurried inside and closed the door, locking it.

  “Rosetta, baby, what’s the matter?”

  “That bad woman grabbed me. She tried to take me,” said Rosetta, crying into Maria’s chest.

  Maria sat down on the bed and pulled Rosetta into her lap. She waited, letting her cry. When the tears subsided, Maria asked her what woman had tried to grab her.

  “The one that asked you all those questions at the restaurant, Gabina,” said Rosetta.

  “Did she say why?” asked Maria.

  “She wanted to talk to me without you. She said I was afraid of you. I don’t know why she would say that,” said Rosetta. “I told her she was a liar and pulled away, but she held my arm. I bit her and she let go and I ran and locked myself in the room and got under the bed.”

  Maria thought she knew what happened. Gabina believed that Maria had indeed kidnapped Rosetta. She wanted to speak with the child alone, in case Rosetta was afraid of talking in front of Maria. But Gabina had handled it all wrong.

  Maria rocked back and forth with Rosetta until she hiccupped herself to sleep. She tucked the child into bed and set about securing the door. The chair seemed inadequate, but there was nothing else.

  Damn that woman, she thought. She hoped her bite got infected. She went back to Rosetta and sat on the bed with her. Rosetta opened her eyes.

  “The bad man knows who I am,” said Rosetta. “He knows my name.”

  “What did he say?” said Maria.

  “He said I am a pretty little mermaid. You know, The Little Mermaid—her name is Ariel. Then he said my name. Then he whistled my song—‘Hall of the Mountain King.’ I played it on my CD player that Mama got for me.”

  That was very cruel, thought Maria, but a man who could carry out a massacre was the essence of cruel.

  “But you didn’t even miss a beat,” said Maria. “You were great.”

  “I’ve been pretending I couldn’t understand English for years. He was nothing.”

  Maria smiled. “You’re great.”

  She sat on the bed until Rosetta drifted off to sleep, listening to the rise and fall of her breathing, wondering how they were going to get to the docks tomorrow. Did Michaels believe her? She thought not. Did he have friends here? Probably.

  The room was darkening and she turned on a lamp and set it on the floor as a nightlight for Rosetta.

  Michaels couldn’t let them leave the country. He was one of the architects of the massacre and Ariel could identify him. Was that why they had some kind of trip wire set for Diane Fallon? Maria remembered that Julio, the man who took her, was talking with someone on his satellite phone about having the forensic anthropologist from Georgia who was asking about feathers and bones. What the hell was that about?

  Something clicked in her mind. What was it? What did the Yawanawa woman say to her after they tranquilized Kyle Manning? She talked about men who came and stole the birds from the trees. Damn, they were trafficking in endangered species, a multimillion dollar industry. So then, did they think Diane would come back to South America to . . . to what? Trace feathers back to their origin? Was she involved in catching animal traffickers? That didn’t seem to jibe with what she knew about Diane. But she didn’t really know her, other than having met her once or twice at forensic anthropology conferences—and the rumors she’d heard about her tragic time in South America.

  Feathers and bones? What about the bones? Animal bones? Human bones? More endangered species, or more mass graves? She didn’t know.

  And then there were the children. The men who carried out the massacre clearly were taking the children and sending them off somewhere for some reason—most likely slavery of some form. Were they afraid Diane Fallon would one day discover her daughter wasn’t dead and come looking for her? Ariel could identify the engineers of the crimes. They had lost track of Ariel until now. They were afraid of Ariel.

  Now they had let a third party in on their secret—her. There was no way they were going to let the two of them get away. So close—just across the Amazon River—and so far. Damn it, she would swim it with Rosetta on her back if she had to.

  Maria was startled by a knock at the door. Rosetta jerked awake and started to cry.

  “Brave heart, Ariel,” Maria whispered in her ear. “We will get to your mother, I promise you.”

  Rosetta grabbed her hand and squeezed.

  There was another knock at the door.

  “Maria?” came a loud whisper. “It is Hanna.”

  Maria went to the door.

  “Hanna, what do you want?”

  “We need to speak with you,” she said.

  “We?” said Maria.

  “Me, Patrik, and Gabina,” said Hanna.

  “Gabina tried to take my daughter. She scared her to death. Rosetta cried herself to sleep after hiding under the bed for an hour.”

  “Gabina told us what she did,” said Hanna.

  Maria opened the door and slipped out into the hall. Patrik was there, and so was Gabina.

  “We are really sorry. When Gabina told us what she did we were horrified and came to see if Rosetta is all right,” said Hanna.

  “She is not. She’s been traumatized. After what we’ve been through, and we finally get a call through to her father, and now this.” Maria eyed Gabina. If looks could sear off flesh, Gabina would be standing there wearing nothing but raw muscle.

  “The paper tacked to the pole, then the man from Interpol. He was convincing,” Gabina said. “I was worried about the little girl
. Americans are known to kidnap children from other countries.”

  Maria raised her eyebrows and nailed her with another stare. She noticed the bandage around her hand and the dark spots staining up to the surface. Good for Rosetta. She drew blood.

  “You don’t grab a child the way you did,” Maria said to her. “We were grabbed and just barely got away. And then you do it. Do you have any idea the harm you’ve caused?”

  “I am really sorry. Hanna and Patrik said I was wrong and that the woman didn’t look like you.”

  She unfolded the paper and gave it to Maria. Fortunately the creases across the face distorted the drawing.

  “It looks like a woman of mixed race,” said Patrik. “The hair is in that . . .” He looked at Hanna.

  “Dreads,” she said. Hanna made gestures with her fingers down the side of her head as if dreadlocks were sausage curls.

  Maria was thankful they hadn’t noticed her hair when they came across her in the jungle. She had tied it up under a scarf, basically trying not to look like she’d dipped her head in the mud. Her dreads were from her hair getting wet and muddy, but in the drawing it did look like that was her style.

  “Rosetta is a common name,” said Maria. “I explained that to Michaels when he spoke with me and, quite frankly, I found him more than a little creepy.” She fished his card out of her jeans pocket. “Why the heck is Interpol’s representative to the UN interested in some woman serial killer rampaging through the jungle? I think he is stalking me.”

  “We were afraid of that too,” said Patrik.

  “After dinner we visited friends. They had an Internet connection, and Gabina wanted to look up your name. That’s when she told us what she did.”

  “And?” said Maria.

  “We found your husband’s company Web site. He does a lot of large projects,” said Patrik.

  “Yes, he does.” Maria was starting to feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t on John’s company Web site but there might be a hyperlink to her—and her name.

  “We looked for family,” said Gabina.

  “John doesn’t believe in putting kids on the Internet, certainly not his family,” said Maria. “And I agree with that.”

  “We did find this,” said Hanna, grinning. She showed Maria a picture from a powwow.

  Maria smiled. It showed John in costume in the foreground of the photograph looking very striking. The picture showed her in the background also in Cherokee costume. Only John was named, thank God.

  “This is from a powwow last year—a Native American cultural festival.”

  “It looks like fun,” said Hanna.

  “It is,” said Maria.

  “We were thinking that when they tried to kidnap you and your daughter, it was for ransom. That is not uncommon here,” said Patrik.

  “My thoughts too,” said Maria. “I think that Mr. UN-Interpol Michaels may be involved.”

  “What can we do to help?” said Hanna.

  “I suspect he will be following me,” said Maria, “and I need to get across the Amazon River. If I could do it tonight, I might be able to evade him. Do you know anyone with a boat?”

  “They have night cruises,” said Hanna. “You could take a cruise boat. That would be fun.”

  “Are you ready to travel?” said Patrik.

  “We are always ready to travel,” said Maria.

  Chapter 55

  Maria asked Patrik and Hanna to meet her in front of the building in five minutes, giving her time to wake up Rosetta and collect their things. She cast a final glance at Gabina before going back into her hotel room. Maria hoped the glance conveyed the sentiment that she would rip her heart out if Gabina interfered.

  “We are going to cross to Tabatinga tonight,” said Maria.

  The little girl looked happy and excited. “Tonight, really?”

  “Yes. Hanna and Patrik are taking us to the dock and you and I are going to take a ride on a tour boat,” she said.

  “Do you trust them?” asked Rosetta, swinging her legs around and jumping down from the bed.

  “To a point.”

  It had crossed Maria’s mind that they had seen John’s construction company and all the big projects he had built and might harbor kidnapping ideas of their own.

  “We are going to meet them out front. But first we’ll go out the back way and get our gun.”

  Rosetta nodded her approval.

  “When we are on the tour boat there will be other people on it, a crowd. That will be good. We have to be alert to danger during the ride in the car to the dock. Are you up for this? We could walk to the dock. It’s only a quarter of a mile.”

  “What about the bad guy?” asked Rosetta.

  “I don’t know where he is, or if he is watching the hotel. I thought it would be better if we ride in a car, but if you don’t feel safe, we won’t.”

  “Do you feel safe?” asked Rosetta.

  “At the moment I don’t even remember what safe feels like,” she said. “I have a gun and I’ll use it if anyone tries to harm us.”

  Maria collected their backpack and tote bag. She put money and a pocketknife in her jeans and extra money in her bra. She turned the air conditioner on so there would be noise in the room and it would sound like it was still occupied if Michaels came around. The two of them tiptoed down the stairs and out the back door.

  It wasn’t hard to find the place where Maria hid the gun. She hoped it was still there. Michaels could have been watching when she hid it. Or anyone could have been watching. She was wishing she’d just kept it with her.

  She moved the broken piece of block and stuck her hand in the space. It was there, wrapped in cloth, heavy. She retrieved it and took it from the cloth. She wondered where people who carried a concealed weapon put it. Of course they probably had a holster. She put the gun in her tote bag and hung the bag on her shoulder. They walked around the building looking for the car.

  Hanna waved to them. Maria felt guilt for thinking she might have to shoot them. What had she become? Gabina wasn’t with them. She had stayed at the hotel. Maria was glad about that but was also worried whether Gabina would alert Michaels.

  Patrik was driving. Maria told them Rosetta was a little sick to her stomach and she didn’t want to aggravate it by riding in the back, especially since they were just about to take a boat ride. So Hanna rode in the backseat and Maria rode in front with Rosetta in her lap. She rolled down the window and Rosetta leaned her head near the breeze to add to the illusion.

  The truth was, Maria was afraid to sit in the back—afraid of child locks that wouldn’t release, afraid of being taken prisoner.

  Hanna sat on the edge of the backseat and rested her arms on the back of the front seat so she could talk to them. She and Patrik seemed to be having fun. Maria wished she could remember what fun felt like.

  They started out toward the docks, weaving between motorcycles, other cars, and pedestrians along the way. Who knew there was a nightlife in Benjamin Constant? What looked like a well-worn city in the daytime was a glittering jewel of lights at night filled with people having fun.

  It wouldn’t take long to arrive at the docks, even at the slow pace they had to travel. Hanna and Patrik talked non-stop. They were fascinated with powwows. Maria told them to come visit in the United States and they could go to a few. They liked the idea of dressing up in Indian costumes, of Hanna braiding her blond hair.

  “Can one ride horses there?” said Patrik.

  “Oh yes,” said Maria. “Do you ride?”

  Patrik grinned. “Yes.”

  “He loves it,” said Hanna. “Me, not so much. You are on a huge wild animal and are supposed to be able to control it. It always feels a little dangerous to me. Do you ride?”

  This time Maria grinned and she remembered fun. “Yes. I have an Arabian stallion named Mandrake.”

  “Stallion? You ride a stallion? Is that not dangerous?” said Patrik, though he sounded envious.

  “Can be. He’s a well-schooled hors
e that I trust. My mother bred and trained him for me. She breeds Arabians. I’ve ridden all my life.”

  “Really?” said Hanna. “We will have to come see you. Patrik would love that, wouldn’t you, Patrik?” Hanna dug around in her purse and came out with a card. “Here is my e-mail address. Write when you get back. We would like to know you and Rosetta are safe.”

  Maria took the card, wondering what they would think about her when they discovered she was such an accomplished liar and Rosetta really wasn’t her daughter and her name wasn’t Maria.

  Patrik parked the car in the first space he found at the waterfront and they walked the rest of the way to the docks.

  The Amazon was alive at night. Tour boats glided up and down the river, twinkling like multicolored sparklers. Maria was glad to be out of the car. Every moment they were in it she worried that Hanna might pull a gun, though neither Patrik nor Hanna had done anything to suggest she would. The two of them gave Maria and Rosetta a hug at the dock where a smallish single-deck tour boat was taking on passengers for a long night ride down the Amazon toward Tabatinga.

  Maria picked up Rosetta and carried her on her hip, not trusting simply holding her hand. Rosetta put her arms around Maria’s neck and they boarded the boat, paying at the gangplank. Maria asked if she could get off at the airport. The steward nodded and Maria found a seat near the exit. She was less interested in sightseeing than she was in a quick getaway should the need arise, as it seemed to with regularity.

  It took about thirty minutes for the boat to finally get started, each moment agonizing as Maria waited for a boarding party of thugs . . . or police. But she didn’t feel relief when the boat pulled away.

  The distance to the airport where she was headed was only eleven miles. But the boat was going slow. It was, after all, a tour boat. There was music and dancing on board. Maria sat with Rosetta on her lap, barely hearing the music.

  She noticed several others who had not joined in the merriment. It alarmed her, thinking these might be the thugs she was waiting for, disguised as ordinary people. Until she realized they were probably workers going to some night shift somewhere in the city. It wasn’t only a tour boat, but a ferry, a waterway bus line.