“Yeah.” They had reached the parking lot, and Patricia fished keys out of her jacket pocket and deactivated the alarm. “Aren’t you at all curious about how the caseworker got her information?” she asked, pulling the door open but not climbing in.
“I hadn’t been,” Dell retorted. “I assume there are ways. I’m an interpreter and a negotiator, not a detective.” She smiled. “But since you want me to ask — what strings did you pull, amiguita?”
“Me?” The judge’s dark eyebrows rose in mock consternation. “Dear friend or not, I did nothing. No, the information was well-documented and delivered just in time.”
Curiosity stirred. “So?” she prodded, and Patricia gave a half shrug and lowered herself into the car. “An investigator — federal, I guess. Some guy named Brock Hampton.” The judge’s lips twitched. “But the word is, it wasn’t his idea to provide the caseworker with the goods on Becky’s mother.” She paused for dramatic effect. “If you want to thank Jovani Treviño,” she said, “his mother’s address is in the phonebook. Aurora Treviño, on Davis Street.” She waved a hand and pulled the door shut.
Dell just stared after the car until it had merged with the late-morning traffic on the busy street. Eventually, she made herself walk over to her own vehicle, unlock the door, and climb in.
• • •
The house on Davis was like many of Laredo’s older homes — a small wooden structure set back from the street behind a chain-link fence. Roses bloomed in spite of the recent bad weather, and bright yellow trumpet vines climbed over the fence on one side.
Dell glanced around. There were no signs advising her of a vicious dog, and Jovani’s pickup wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She hesitated, trying to decide whether to rattle the gate, call out a greeting, or go up the short walk and just knock on the door.
“Pase, pase,” a voice called suddenly in Spanish, inviting her in, and so she lifted the latch and went in.
An elderly woman in a faded housedress opened the door, urging her into the room with a gnarled hand. Many of Laredo’s long-time residents seemed unaware of the city’s rapid growth and the danger of inviting a stranger into their homes so freely, Dell thought regretfully. How sad that this trusting woman could unwittingly endanger herself.
“Hello, Mrs. Treviño,” she introduced herself, “I’m Dell Rosales.”
“Yes, yes,” the woman replied, beaming. “I know. You’re Jovi’s friend.”
Dell managed not to show her surprise, but the woman’s reaction caught her off guard. Jovi had come back to Laredo — maybe — to be with his mother. So she supposed it was logical that he had visited her frequently, even though she had seldom noticed his absence at the ranch. Yet why — how — had he discussed her with his mother?
The woman ushered her insistently to what Dell guessed was the place of honor on the comfortably worn sofa, smiling and talking contentedly, her voice still holding a huskiness that spoke of congestion and illness.
“Jovi’s not here. But he won’t be long. I’ll just bring you something to eat. I have some sopa — ah, y un guisado de pollo.”
Dell protested feebly — she really didn’t want lunch, although the smell of chicken simmering in a spicy sauce was appetizing. Still, she knew feeding guests was part of the culture she and Mrs. Treviño shared, and she couldn’t bring herself to actually refuse the woman’s hospitality.
Within moments she had been moved again, seated at the small dining table with a plate full of food in front of her.
“You’re way too thin,” Jovi’s mother clucked, placing a basket of steaming tortillas near her and then setting a glass of freshly made lemonade on the table. “Jovi never noticed, of course. He thinks you’re perfect.” She brought a small dish to the table. “I usually don’t eat this early,” she confided. “But I’ll keep you company. Go ahead, eat! ¡Con confianza!”
Dell obediently took a spoonful of food, but she wasn’t sure how much at home she felt. Any minute she expected to hear the sound of Jovi’s truck outside and to hear him come through the door. Well, she scolded herself, you came here to talk to him. To thank him. Still, she was nervous. Surprisingly so — confrontation didn’t bother her much these days.
She blew on a spoonful of food too hot to eat and glanced at the wall. Pictures of Jovi as a baby, as a laughing toddler, punctuated the worn paneling. His graduation picture, pictures of him in his uniform — pictures of a child growing up loved.
Always loved. She forced herself to swallow the guisado and set her spoon aside.
“I was sorry when I heard Jovani wasn’t working for you anymore,” Mrs. Treviño was saying, her expressive face drawing itself into a perplexed frown. “But he said — I don’t know. Something about you not really needing him.” The thin shoulders shrugged. “La economia — ”
Dell considered the woman thoughtfully. Did she know what Jovi was? Who he was? Even if she did, he was probably still just her son. Would the older woman understand why what he had done had been so wrong? How hurtful his deceit had been? She herself didn’t know yet if his suspicions had been allayed. Jovani’s apparent role in proving Becky’s mother unfit erased Dell’s doubts, at least as far as his work with law agencies went. Obviously, he had access to information that one of Lionel De Cordova’s watchdogs wouldn’t. But even though he hadn’t been her grandfather’s pawn, he clearly wasn’t someone she could trust. Someone she should love.
Jovi’s mother paused, peering across the table, her forehead pinched with worry and her eyes full of questions. Dell swallowed another spoonful of food. What could she possibly say? She wasn’t really sure she knew what she’d come here to say to Jovi. After a moment, she put her spoon down.
“I really should go,” she said. “I’ll come by another time, or call.”
“No! Don’t go!” Mrs. Treviño stood up and reached for the dishes. “He’ll be here any minute. I’d hate you not to see him.” She cocked her head, listening, and then smiled broadly. “See? I hear his truck coming now.”
Dell didn’t hear anything, but she still tagged after the woman into the living room. Sure enough, Jovi’s tall frame was arriving on the porch just as his mother pulled the door open.
“Hola, mamá,” he said, bending to kiss her. “Hello,” he said to Dell, coolly and in English.
Dell nodded. “Hi.” Then she just stood and returned his stare, unable to say any of the million things she had come to say.
“Why don’t you two sit down?” Jovani’s mother suggested, beaming. She obviously was delighted to see them together under any circumstances. “I can bring you some tea, or limonada — ”
“No, thanks,” Jovi said immediately. He reached out to caress his mother’s cheek. “You should be resting. And I owe Dell dinner.”
He held up a hand, smiling faintly, when both women started to protest.
“Yes, I know you have undoubtedly fed Dell. And the food smells delicious. But I have to meet a friend for some business, and I think Dell would like to go.” He patted the pocket of the shirt he was wearing. “But I need to pick up my address book … ”
“Let me get it,” Mrs. Treviño said immediately, and bustled out of the room, leaving them alone.
“We can’t talk here,” Jovi said quietly. “She doesn’t know … anything. I don’t want her to.”
Dell shrugged imperceptibly. “Fine. Where? I’ll meet you.”
“No. We’ll go together. I’ll bring you back for your car. You’re safe with me, Dell. And my mother wouldn’t understand otherwise.” His tone softened. “She worries too much about me already. Please.”
Biting back a sigh, Dell nodded. “All right.”
Jovi’s mother reappeared, her face knitted in a frown. “I couldn’t find it,” she told him breathlessly.
“You know, I bet I left it in the truck. I’m sorry.”
She clucked and shook her head at him. “You’re hopeless,” she scolded, but her scowl was pretend, and their love for each other was obvious. For a tiny second, Dell thought of her own mother — cold, uncaring Erika De Cordova. This was what a mother should be, she thought with a faint twinge of envy. She smiled at the older woman.
“Thank you, Mrs. Treviño. It was a pleasure to meet you.” She offered her hand, but the older woman hugged her warmly.
“You come again,” she offered, sincerely, “to see me if you don’t want to see this chiflado.”
“You’re too hard on me,” Jovi complained. “I’m not the least bit spoiled!” Smiling at his mother a final time, he opened the door for Dell.
“We won’t be too long,” he assured her. “Lock the door after us — you can’t be too careful.”
They walked the short distance to the drive, and Jovi opened the gate and then the door of his truck for her. She cast a regretful glance at her own vehicle. No way to escape him this way. Annoyed, she frowned as he settled in the seat beside her.
“I would have preferred to drive myself,” she noted curtly. “Just where are we going?”
“Do you like water?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Water? To drink?”
He shook his head impatiently, pulling out. “No. Mom probably stuffed you. Let’s drive out to the lake.” He didn’t talk again as they drove, and she was quiet too, watching the busy commercial buildings on Saunders flash by as they headed for the popular recreational site. He concentrated on the traffic, swerving to avoid frequent potholes and slowing when lines of orange barrels signaled yet another highway project.
“Your mother seems very loving,” she ventured finally, unable to bear the silence separating them.
“Hmmm.” His noncommittal response was followed by a muttered expletive as a car pulled out in front of them, forcing him to brake hard and swerve to avoid a collision.
“Sometimes I forget I’m back in Laredo,” he gritted, and she smiled.
“You sound like someone’s who been away for a while,” she noted. “I remember having to readjust when I came back.”
Although neither spoke again, the silence wasn’t as heavy or strained as it had been, and Dell did a quick review of the things she wanted to say. Thank you, first and foremost. Why? And finally, painfully, goodbye. She licked her lips and breathed deeply. Inalcanzable, she told herself sternly. Unreachable. Untouchable.
Beyond pain. Being a Rosales had taught her how to suffer silently, she thought grimly, if nothing else. And perhaps it was the De Cordova coldness that kept her spine so straight and unbending, but it was the Rosales ability to love that she had to deny now.
Jovi followed the road that skirted the lake until he came to an isolated spot with a picnic table huddled under a protective awning. Nearby, flat, dark rocks jutted out into the man-made lake, providing a natural perch for fishers or sunbathers. He turned off the truck, stretching, then climbed out. Dell unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door before he could come around and do it. She didn’t need to step down into a virtual embrace from Jovani Treviño. Aimlessly, she walked down the graveled slope toward the water. He followed her, his boots crunching on the small rocks.
She stopped at the water’s edge. Far off, someone in a small boat braved the midday heat to fish. A Jet Ski churned past, turning noisy circles and darting back and forth from the shore where a group of young people were partying, oblivious to Jovi and her. Girding herself, she finally turned, looking up at Jovani.
“You probably know I want to thank you,” she said quietly. “For Becky. I don’t know how I would manage without her.” At the thought of how barren her life could have been without the child, a single tear traced down her cheek.
He shrugged. “I did what I thought was best for Becky,” he answered. “She needs you.”
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s right — applying for adoption.” Dell dug a sandaled toe into the moist, sandy soil at the water’s edge, indifferent to the dark stain that colored her hose as a result. “Taking a child away from her mother — forever.”
Jovi shook his head. “If you’d seen children in the circumstances I have, you wouldn’t wonder at all. Becky’s mother will be lucky if she does go back to prison. Her situation is … ” He stopped, grasping for words. “Hopeless,” he finished finally. “Believe me, the woman had chances, and she blew them all.” He hesitated. “You must know as well as anyone that not everyone can be a mother. Not everyone should have that right.”
“I suppose so. And I do love Becky. I didn’t want to give her up. So again — thank you.” She fell silent for a moment, marshalling her thoughts. Remembering the carefully planned list of questions, of scathing accusations. Somehow, the need to say them had paled in his presence. In the knowledge Becky likely would be hers forever. Because of this man. Still, he had deceived her. Lied to her.
She moistened her lips. “But I have to ask myself … were you sure about me? Convinced I’m not involved in drugs?”
He sighed and looked out across the lake before facing her. “Yes. I’m not sure I ever really suspected you were, and that worried me. Trusting a suspect can be deadly, Dell. I didn’t want to overlook something obvious because of how I felt about you.” He stopped again, glancing around. “Let’s walk over to the rocks,” he suggested, and after a moment she nodded without answering.
They climbed up onto the rocks. He turned once, reaching out a hand to steady her when one of her sandals slipped on the smooth, weathered surface. The brief touch of his fingers on her wrist was electric. Briefly, their gazes locked. Then he released her and turned back toward the lake. “Making myself doubt you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,” he said eventually.
“I don’t understand why you had to,” Dell argued, her voice tinged with hurt. “Where did this come from? I don’t understand any of it. Why would anyone have thought … ” She shook her head. “There was no reason to doubt me,” she said again.
“Maybe not.” He turned finally, looking down into her face. “I hate hurting you, Dell. But the investigation grew out of suspicions over your father.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I agreed to help the agency — to see what I could find out about you — because I was coming to Laredo anyway. Because I’ve seen what drugs are doing to people in every part of this country. It sickens me.” His fingers tilted her chin up gently. “But I never would have done this, never would have agreed to be part of the operation if I’d known you — before it was too late.” He was silent a moment, then sighed. “Before I couldn’t say no, because men I’d worked with were putting their lives on the line.”
“Lives on the line — ” She jerked away from him as if his fingers burned.
He kicked idly at the rock under them. “They always do, Dell. You might not see it, but you hear the news. There are bastards cutting heads off over drug money, for God’s sake. I couldn’t walk out once I started.”
“I still don’t understand any of this! My father died years ago. I made a good living in the lobbying business, in imports. Even after taking some time off, I stepped back in without any problem at all. I’m perfectly capable of making money honestly and on my own. So why the suspicion? This just doesn’t make sense, Jovi.” She stared up at him, agitated. “How did an investigation even begin?”
He shrugged. “I really don’t know. I’ve been away from the field for years. I got tired of the chase, I guess. The ugliness. Death, especially of young people with no chance to live. When I was asked to initiate contact with you, I apparently wasn’t filled in very completely. I didn’t know about the girls, and Becky.” He stopped, and drew a deep, steadying breath. “The best I can guess is that someone was told to look at you. But I don’t know who or why.”
“But my father?” she prodded, her voice little more than a whisper. “I don’t belie
ve — ”
“Dell, you can’t be that naïve.” Jovi’s words stung, but his tone was gentle, his expression concerned. “How do you think a man who offended Lionel De Cordova came up with over a quarter million dollars? You can’t believe he was that shrewd a businessman.”
Dell didn’t answer for a long time. She turned away, letting the slight breeze drifting in from the lake slap at her, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the harsh sun glare.
“I thought maybe it was a payoff,” she admitted finally, her voice barely audible. “But not for drugs. See, they never said as much, but I think Erika — my mother — was already pregnant when they married. My father was very devout — he’d never have let her do anything. And my grandfather wouldn’t have wanted my mother to have an abortion — not if people would find out about it, anyway. I doubt he’d care about a baby’s life otherwise. But my dad would have. He probably insisted they get married and threatened a scandal otherwise. I’m sure my grandfather never wanted my mother to keep me. I’m surprised she waited as long as she did to divorce my father. But I guess I always told myself the money was for me. Sort of a way to make it up to my father and me for ruining his life.” Tears trickled down her cheeks, cooler than the searing summer air. “You’re right. It sounds pretty naïve,” she added, wiping the wetness away angrily. “But I just never let myself see that until now.”
“I’m sorry, Dell. Like I said, this was never about hurting you. If it helps, both Hampton and I made it clear there’s no reason to continue the investigation. Not at this end, at any rate. Not of you.” He rubbed a hand across his face then stroked his mustache into place. “They’ve got some pretty strong evidence pointing to some of your cousins in Monterrey, though.” He held up a hand, silencing her. “I know. You probably don’t even know them. But they’re going after De Cordova, Dell.” He paused, searching for an explanation. “Whether or not he’s actively involved, family members definitely are. And the obvious conclusion is that he at least knows, and he’s probably done some money laundering. At the very least.” He frowned. “Your grandfather’s something else, though. He’s very rich and very smart. I’m not sure Hampton and the others can nail him. But they’re trying.”
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