She told him about the kidnapping, the whorehouse, the drugs, the convent, Father Miguel, and then her determination about retrieving what was rightfully hers. In particular, she wanted to take back the love of her daughters.
Julio told her about working with the DEA and being a part of the Guatemalan militia, along with their plan to wipe out drug dealers. He told her about his involvement with Father Miguel.
Lydia smiled at him knowingly. Although she'd never alluded to it during all the years she'd been with Antonio, she knew all about his business operations. She also knew that anything could be done for a price, including getting drugs into neighboring countries. She felt sure that Julio was part of that corruption in his own way, but it didn't really matter to her. What mattered was that she was lying next to this man whom she felt comfortable with, and he loved her.
“What do you want from me?” she asked. “You're not in my bed only for love.”
“Maybe not, but you do know that I love you, Lydia.”
“Yes.” She sighed.
He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. She smiled sadly at him. “But this here, what we have between us isn't solely about love, is it?”
He shook his head. “Maybe you can or can't help me. Maybe you know or could tell me something about Antonio or his crew that I haven't heard. What do you have to lose? They think you're dead.”
Hearing this from him upset her and reinforced her anger. The thought of her children thinking she was dead infuriated her. “I can't believe he went to such lengths to get rid of me. Why not simply ask me for a divorce if he hated me so much?”
“Not his style, but neither is what he's done to you. It seems far too cruel to even be the work of Antonio. His family is very important to him. He's ruthless, but…” Julio paused. “Do you know anyone else involved who might have wanted you gone?”
She considered the question seriously for the first time. Although she hated the thought, one name came to her: “Emilio.”
“Emilio? His brother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“The baby.”
“Baby?”
Lydia had left that one detail out of her story. She'd never told anyone this story — not the nuns, not Father Miguel, no one. But here she was, pouring out the last eleven years of her life to a near stranger, who had taken over her life with passion and a sense of renewal. The relief that engulfed her after she told him the story about the affair with Emilio and then her pregnancy and what had happened afterwards made her positively euphoric. She'd released it, and together they held each other, as she cried tears of freedom.
After that night, Julio and Lydia joined ranks. Julio taught her the ways of his world, how to spy, tap phone lines, and investigate potential informants. She learned quickly, like a child greedy for knowledge.
On the days when he was out, he asked her to keep a low profile. “You're too close to your old home,” he told her one evening. “I know that you ventured out this afternoon to spy on your daughters out shopping. I was watching.”
“I am sorry. They didn't spot me. I know how to disguise myself well now. I really want to see my girls.”
“In time, love. Keep patient.”
She abided by his rules for a couple of weeks, until she could no longer wait. She found a spot near her old home where she could park the small car Julio allowed her to use and then she'd follow whichever daughter would leave first, if only to get a glimpse.
Felicia had a certain pattern: she liked to shop. She bought a lot of makeup, clothes, and lingerie. Lydia smiled as she watched her bounce along the streets of stores, still every bit the mischievous girl with the flirty eyes. She was captivating. It was impossible not to notice all the men leering at her. It made Lydia want to slap their faces, but Felicia smiled back at her admirers, unfazed by their blatant stares. In fact, she seemed to welcome them. This troubled Lydia, who prayed that her youngest daughter was not too promiscuous, even though she suspected that Felicia was.
Rosa had a very different routine. Each day, she would go to the park or the library, where she studied art or worked on one project or another. Lydia could never get close enough to catch a glimpse of exactly what it was her daughter was working on, but she still felt enormously proud of her, seeing her working so hard. They always had a bodyguard in tow.
After spying on them for a few weeks, Lydia decided to back off once she'd investigated one more avenue. She'd witnessed Rosa going into a doctor's office each week. It was the only time that a bodyguard didn't shadow her daughter. The next time she followed Rosa closer than she ever had before, she passed by a door that read Dr. Martinez, Psychiatrist.
Lydia was bothered about why her oldest daughter needed to see a psychiatrist. She decided to put her new skills to the test. She knew that what she was about to do was wrong, but she had to. She had to find out what was troubling her daughter.
*****
ROSA HAD MADE A CONSCIOUS DECISION TO GET WELL. The nightmares and broken sleep, the binge eating she did in those hours that she couldn't sleep, and the fantasies she had about torturing and killing her uncle plagued her and came through in her art. Although, her violent pieces of artwork had interested a dealer and agent, she longed to paint serene pieces. Painting was her life, and although she loved it, each time she sat down with a brush and paints she relived the traumas of the past, and she wanted it to stop. She needed to get well for her own sanity. She'd started seeing Dr. Martinez a month earlier, and last week had begun telling him about her uncle.
As she sat across from the middle-aged doctor who spoke in hushed tones, she became comfortable enough with him to tell him what her uncle had put her through. The therapist listened intently. It felt so good to tell someone at last, and have that person tell her that none of it was her fault. Her relief was great and the hour passed quickly. As she left his office, she barely noticed the woman seated in his waiting room, reading a magazine. The woman wore dark glasses and kept her head down. Another one of the shamed, Rosa thought as the door closed behind her.
*****
ROSA HAD BEEN SO CLOSE FOR A MOMENT. LYDIA WANTED to touch her, talk to her, embrace her. But the time was not right, and she'd had to clasp her hands together hard when her oldest daughter walked by, just so she wouldn't touch her. She'd had to bite the inside of her mouth, afraid that if she said anything, that it would all escape her. She hadn't, though, and after a few more moments in the waiting room, Lydia stepped inside Dr. Martinez's office, having fabricated a story of an abusive, alcoholic husband to justify her being there.
Her recent relationship with Julio had taught her many things in a short amount of time. Bugging offices was fairly easy, and that's what she'd done the night before. She didn't necessarily need to make this appointment with the doctor, but she'd already taken enough of a risk the night before by breaking and entering, then planting the bug inside his office. She knew that she could easily reach under the chair she sat on and retrieve the small device when the doctor wasn't looking. Her opportunity came within fifteen minutes of the start of their session when the doctor was paged on his beeper.
“One moment please,” he told her as he held up a hand. “I hate to do this, but I really need to return this call. I have a patient I'm very concerned about.”
“No problem,” Lydia replied. The doctor closed the door behind him when he went into a separate office to make the phone call.
Lydia quickly retrieved the bug, quietly got up, and left the doctor's office without leaving any explanation.
Within a few hours, she knew exactly why Rosa was seeing a doctor. The words she heard her daughter speak horrified her. The truth hit Lydia with the force of a hurricane and she hated Emilio for what he'd done to her daughter. His name had come to mind, but she'd never believed he would have done this to her or her child. She had always thought that Emilio loved her. Maybe it had been a woman's intuition that had made her utter his name the other night in bed w
ith Julio, but to accept it as truth and then to hear further that he'd raped her child after she was gone, made her physically ill.
When she was finished vomiting, she pieced it all together. Emilio had been the one who had her kidnapped. As she listened to her daughter's sweet voice and heard her tears of shame, Lydia realized further that it had been Emilio all along who'd set her up. He'd gotten rid of her because she had stopped fitting into his plans. Her anger was now focused on the right man.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
THE SMALL AIRCRAFT CIRCLED THE LANDING STRIP IN THE middle of the overgrown jungle. Emilio glanced over at Hector, asleep on the seat across the aisle, smiling through his drug-induced bliss. Emilio slapped him across the face. “Wake up, pendejo. We're here.”
Hector sat up straight and rubbed the side of his face like a scolded puppy. “That hurt, man.”
“Shut up.”
The pilot brought the small plane down. It rolled roughly across the dirt strip, bouncing and jostling the load of drugs it carried, as well as the plane's three occupants.
Once the plane came to a stop, Emilio looked around, but didn't see anyone. “Hold on,” he said to the pilot and stepped out of the plane. He heard his name being called, and looked across the strip towards an old metal shack, where he could see Julio and another guy waiting. Emilio waved. He went back to the plane. “We're all clear.”
The pilot and Hector got out. “Do you want us to start unloading?” Hector asked him.
“Let me take care of business first.” Emilio waved a hand at him as he went to meet Julio, who was walking towards them. He had a good feeling that business with this Julio would prove to be fruitful. At first, Emilio had been on the alert about Julio, since they'd met one another at a bar in Mexico City a couple of months back, while Emilio had been there doing some business transactions for Antonio. More grunt work, but not for long. Emilio had gotten to talking with Julio. He liked the guy, and Julio seemed to know the right people. More importantly, he had the right amount of dollar bills.
Their last meeting was shortly after Emilio staged the hit on Miguel and the setup of Alejandro. He and Julio met in Mexico City at a strip joint. After a few drinks, a sample of the cocaine Emilio was pushing on his new business partner, and some talk of big money and large amounts of drugs, the talk turned toward the murdered priest.
“This Alejandro kid, he worked for you didn't he?” Julio asked.
“We had some ties, but he was a bit of a problem.”
“What do you mean?” Julio ordered another round of drinks.
“You know, a trust thing, really. He has a thing for the governor of Jalisco's daughter — Javier Rodriguez.”
“The priest was her stepbrother? No?”
“Oh, yes. They were close, those two, ever since they were little kids.” The combination of cocaine and tequila fueled Emilio's arrogance.
“Then why would this man murder the priest like that?”
Emilio glanced around the bar, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “He didn't.”
“What do you mean he didn't kill the priest?”
“Nothing, man. Let's finish up our business. I have somewhere else I need to be.” Emilio realized that divulging what they'd done to Alex and Miguel might not be such a good idea, even if this man was on his side. Secrets got out and he was regretting that he'd said anything. Thankfully, Julio didn't pursue it.
“I like you, Julio. You're going to be a big part of my business.”
Julio smiled in agreement. They finished their drinks, sealed the deal and went their separate ways, with the plan to meet in Guatemala and make their trades.
It hadn't taken long for them to set up this big shipment. Apparently, Julio was making inroads with the Gambino family. And Emilio, unlike his brother, had nothing against the Cosa Nostra, as long as they could make a mutually profitable deal.
Emilio liked to think of himself as being much smarter than Antonio for not going against the tide, but flowing with it. Everyone with any brains in organized crime knew you needed the Italians as partners in order to really get anywhere. And Emilio was banking on Julio to guide him in their direction.
They shook hands. “Do you have the money?” Emilio asked.
“Back there,” Julio replied, pointing to the shack. “And you?”
“It's all there.”
“Can I take a look?”
“Be my guest. But my guys aren't going to unload until I see the color of your money.”
“No problem.”
They walked over to the plane together. Julio looked inside, tore open one of the clear plastic bags, and tasted the coke. “Mhhmm. This is good yao. Exactly like the sample.”
“I told you that it would be. Emilio Espinoza is as good as his word.”
“Okay, amigos, I believe we're ready to make a deal. Come with me.” He motioned for Emilio to follow him.
Emilio looked back at Hector and the pilot, nodding his head.
Another plane was moved out of a hangar. Emilio could see that the pilot looked American. He knew that this was the transfer plane. Julio motioned for him to pull it up next to Emilio's plane. Emilio looked quizzically at Julio.
“Don't look so worried. The faster we get this stuff out of here and into Miami, the better off we'll all be.”
Emilio relaxed a little, but he knew he wouldn't feel completely safe until he was back on Colombian soil. He entered the metal shack behind Julio. Before the door could close, he was grabbed from behind and kicked in the back of his knees. A knife was placed at his throat and he was bound and gagged with duct tape by four husky thugs. Julio put a hand on his shoulders and seated him in a rickety old chair with a spotlight shining directly in his eyes.
“Now, pendejo, we have some business to deal with,” Julio said.
Emilio struggled in his seat, his eyes wild and dilated, his fear obvious to everyone in the room. All he could make out were shadows of people. No faces, only shadows surrounding him. He heard a loud boom and realized it was a gunshot. A few seconds later, Hector was seated next to him, bound and gagged as well. They'd killed the pilot.
“Now,” Julio began, “we have some things to settle. See, you said something the other day that has me curious about the murder of Father Diaz.” Julio pulled the gag from Emilio's mouth.
“What? I don't understand,” Emilio replied, sweat slipping down his back.
“I think you do. Who killed Father Diaz?”
“Alejandro Peña. What is going on here? I thought…”
“Wrong answer,” Julio yelled his voice high and shrill, his eyes wild. He looked back into the wall of shadows where one muscular hoodlum came forward out of the dark abyss, a machete in his hand. Julio nodded his head and the sharp instrument was brought down abruptly against Emilio's thumb. He screamed in agony as blood shot from the missing appendage. Julio placed the tape back over Emilio's mouth.
Julio walked to where Hector was sitting and pulled the tape off his mouth. Hector shook visibly. Tears formed in Hector's eyes as he realized that his chances of getting out of here alive were not too good.
“You don't look like a liar to me. I'm having a real hard time believing that Alejandro Peña murdered the priest. Why don't you tell me who did it?” Julio said. “Weren't you Alejandro's good friend? How quickly loyalties change. Maybe it is time for you to remember your friend.”
Hector couldn't look over at Emilio, but knew that if he had a prayer of getting out alive, he'd have to squeal.
“Emilio Espinoza and Pedro Torres killed him.”
“Good boy. You may now die a painless death.” The shadow appeared again, this time with a revolver and placed it at Hector's right temple. Hector said a frantic prayer. Shortly after that, blood and brains were scattered all over both the floor and Emilio.
“Why would you do that? Why murder the priest?” Julio tore the tape from Emilio's mouth.
He screamed out. “My thumb! My fucking thumb! Why the fuck did you do this?
Why?” His eyes darted to his dead compadre.
“I'm asking the questions and you have choices here; you can answer them and possibly see the light of day, or you can die a very excruciating death via a Colombian necktie.”
“What? Come on now!” Emilio tried to make out the others in the room, his eyes sly and cagey, his mind in a state of confusion. The pain from his missing thumb, putting him in a stunned state.
“Fuck you,” Emilio spat.
Julio motioned for one of the shadows in the dark to come forward. A large man with a machete approached Emilio. The man threw Emilio to the ground and turned him around so that he was face up. Julio nodded his head and the man placed the machete under Emilio's pecker.
“Maybe you want to think a little harder about that? You ready to answer some questions for me?”
Emilio closed his eyes. He nodded.
“Excellent.”
Julio took out a tape recorder and pressed “record.” He knelt down next to Emilio.
“Did Alejandro murder the priest? And don't tell me he did, because I've been fortunate enough to find the priest's former bodyguard. After you slipped in our conversation the other day, I went looking for answers. It was a good thing I did, because I had already made plans to have Alejandro killed, but you saved the kid, and so did the big mouthed bodyguard who showed up after Father Miguel's murder in a whorehouse, all liquored up and ready to talk about how he'd made so much money. What happened, Emilio?”
“We set him up.”
“Who did?”
“Me and another hombre in our operation, Pedro Torres.”
“Why?”
Emilio groaned in pain and fear. He didn't respond right away.
“Why?” Julio screamed.
“Because Pedro has this obsession with the girl,” Emilio cried out.
“Who? The governor's daughter?
“Yes — Isabella. I don't understand why, but I don't really care,” he whimpered.
“If you didn't care, then why do it?”
“Pedro wanted Alex gone and so did I.”
Chills & Thrills: Three Novel Box Set Page 41