by Kathy Macias
The stench of sweat and various other odors she couldn’t identify made her stomach roil, but she knew she didn’t dare allow herself to vomit with the gag on. She tried to focus on breathing slowly and lying very still, though everything in her wanted to kick and scream and loose herself from her bonds.
Her nose began to itch, and she moved her head so she could scratch her nose against her shoulder. Suddenly she realized she could see a sliver of light below the blindfold. Excited, she began to rub her head against her shoulder until the blindfold had moved high enough to allow her to see with one eye.
She looked around and confirmed that she was indeed lying on the backseat of an old enclosed vehicle—no doubt the one she had heard chugging along behind her as she walked home from town. Why hadn’t she paid more attention? More important, why hadn’t she heeded the many warnings not to leave the compound by herself?
Tears stung her eyes then, wetting the blindfold. Had her parents and children been right? Should she have stayed home with them, as they’d begged her to do? Worse yet, how would they feel when they heard she’d disappeared? Would her body ever be found? Oh, how foolish she had been to take this ill-advised outing today!
Noises of street activity caught her attention, and she realized they must be passing through San Juan Chamula, possibly near the marketplace where she’d shopped earlier. Oh, if only she could cry out! Would anyone hear her? And if they did, would they bother to try and help?
In that moment she knew she had to try. She summoned every ounce of her strength and pushed herself to a sitting position, careful not to make any noise and alert the driver, whose dark hair was all she could see. She was directly behind him, on the driver’s side. She kept her head down below his seat level, praying he wouldn’t see her in the rearview mirror. Then she peered out the window just as they passed the tamale vendor where she’d bought her morning meal. No one seemed to notice the passing vehicle, and she despaired of drawing anyone’s attention—until she spotted the little girl with the old lady. Was it Itzel? Could it be?
The child looked up as they drove past, and her dark eyes registered surprise and what Julia prayed was recognition. Yes, Itzel had seen her! Did she recognize her with the blindfold and gag on? Oh, please, Itzel, please, realize it’s me and get help!
As the vehicle jounced past the still-staring girl, Julia could no longer hold back her tears. A sob escaped her aching throat, and she began to weep, her head leaning against the window. A string of curses erupted from the front seat, and the man slammed on his brakes, knocking Julia into the back of the seat.
The meanest face Julia had ever seen—one that might have been attractive if not so hateful—glared at her. Leaning over the console and grabbing her by the hair, her captor yanked her close.
“Do you want to die now, señora, right here in the middle of the road? Because if you do, I will be happy to make that happen.” He laughed. “And if you think anyone out there will stop me, you do not know these people well at all.” With his spare hand he flashed a knife in front of her face. “I do not want to use this on you, señora—at least, not yet—but I will if I have to.” With a thrust that sent her backward against the seat, he loosed her hair and growled, “Now lie down on the seat, and don’t move again. Comprende?”
Trembling, Julia nodded and lay down, drawing her knees up to her chest as she continued to weep.
ITZEL THOUGHT HER LEGS had turned to stone. One minute she’d been walking with her abuela, just about to enter the marketplace, and the next she could no longer move. Her eyes felt as if they would pop from her head. She wanted to scream, wanted to say something, but she could not. She couldn’t run, she couldn’t talk, she could only stand, staring after the big, white car she’d seen the day before, the one with the mean man driving it. But this time her teacher was in the car too. How could that be?
True, she hadn’t been able to see the señora’s entire face, but her red curls could belong to no one else. And what little she had seen of the woman’s face looked more scared than Itzel herself had ever been, even after one of her worst nightmares.
Why was the señora in the car, and where was that mean man taking her? Questions swirled through her head, even as her abuela grabbed her arm and shook her back from her thoughts.
“What are you doing, Itzel? Stop standing in the road staring. We must finish our shopping and go back home.” The woman tugged firmly on Itzel’s arm. “Come, Itzel. Now.”
Itzel could no longer see the big, white car as she gazed down the road, but some of the dust it had kicked up still remained in the air. She looked up at her grandmother and opened her mouth to speak. But what? What would she say?
She closed her mouth and swallowed, then hung her head and put one foot in front of the other, trudging after her abuela as she wrestled with the fear in her heart and the thoughts in her head that made no sense.
CHAPTER 19
HERNANDO REMINDED HIMSELF NOT TO SPEED. He needed to look like anyone else on the road, coming and going without any care or urgency. But he couldn’t wait to get back to San Cristobal de las Casas, back to the ugly casita where his three compadres and one bad-tempered dog waited for him. He had told no one where he was going or what he hoped to accomplish, but he had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. At best he’d hoped to locate one or both of the Americanas from the compound and maybe learn enough about them to figure out the best way to get them alone and grab them. He smirked as he continued down the road toward home. The stupid gringa had made his job so easy he could hardly believe it.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, which he had now adjusted so he could keep an eye on her. It was obvious she was shaking and crying, but at least she was no longer trying to summon help through the window—as if that would have worked. People around here kept to themselves, especially when it came to strangers who weren’t welcome in the first place.
Hernando took one last look at her red curls before returning his eyes to the road. He’d always been attracted to redheaded women, and even though this one was nearly old enough to be his mother, she was well preserved—not like some of the old hags who lived around here and looked ancient before they were forty. Yes, he would enjoy this one before concluding the financial business concerning her. And if her family couldn’t or wouldn’t come up with the ransom, he would make sure he recouped his losses through personal pleasures before slitting her throat and leaving her body to rot on the jungle floor.
He shook his head and grinned, thinking of how stunned he had been to spot her leaving the marketplace and heading in the direction of the compound. He hadn’t realized how close the compound was and thought he’d lost his chance to grab her when he rounded that last bend and saw that she had almost reached her destination. Then she’d veered off into the rain forest, no doubt to admire the colorful plants and flowers. He laughed again. She had practically sent him an invitation—and he had gladly accepted.
Wait until his compadres saw the prize he had brought home! His grin faded, though, when he realized he might have competition for the woman’s favors.
No way. I found her, and I took her. Until her family pays the ransom, she’s mine. Nobody touches her but me! I will personally guard her, and even sleep out there with her. No one gets to her except over my dead body.
The thought gave him serious pause, for he knew none of his compadres would think twice about killing him if he had something they wanted badly enough. He would therefore have to be especially careful to make sure that didn’t happen.
MARIE HAD ALTERNATED BETWEEN PRAYING and crying for most of the day, though she did her best to hide her distress in front of her husband and grandchildren. Brittney had returned midafternoon from her Black Friday shopping, declaring that she was never going to get sucked into such a crazy practice again. Marie imagined the girl’s resolve would last until this time next year.
Together they had oohed and aahed over what Brittney considered her “killer” purchases, and then they
had worked together in the kitchen to heat up leftovers for the four of them. Marie finally managed to snag the men from in front of the television and plunk them down at the dining room table long enough for dinner.
She watched them eat and told herself how blessed they all were to be together, despite the fact that Julia wasn’t here with them. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as they loaded their plates with second helpings, while Marie struggled to get down just a few bites of the tiny portions she had taken for herself.
I just wish I knew what was going on with Julia. I hate that their phone service is so spotty down there, but I’m going to try and give them a call after dinner anyway. Even if I can’t get through to Julia on her cell, I can at least try to reach Carolyn and Frank on their landline. At least that seems to work most of the time.
With that resolution to tide her over, Marie managed to get through dinner. When John and Tyler returned to the family room to watch more football and Brittney offered to clean up the kitchen, Marie didn’t argue. She immediately went to her room and closed the door behind her.
Three tries to Julia’s cell phone went straight to voice mail. Julia had told her that most of the time she didn’t even have it on, so Marie wasn’t too surprised. She thumbed through her address book, found the Barneses’ number, picked up her own landline, and dialed.
The first call didn’t go through, but after her second try rang several times, a hesitant male voice answered. Marie recognized the voice as belonging to Frank Barnes, but he didn’t sound like his usual welcoming self. The alarm that had been buzzing in the background of Marie’s mind most of the day suddenly grew louder.
“Frank? Is that you? This is Marie Lawson.”
The pause lasted so long Marie was beginning to think she’d lost her connection. At last Frank answered.
“Marie, yes, it’s me. Frank. I . . .” His voice trailed off, and she thought she heard him take a deep breath before he continued. “Carolyn and I were just thinking we should call you, but we were waiting, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary.”
This time the silence of his pause slammed into her ears in a way that buckled her knees. She sat down on the rocker beside her bed. Whatever Frank was about to tell her was something she did not want to hear.
“Marie, I . . . I don’t know how to tell you this. There just isn’t any easy way to do it. It . . . it’s about Julia. She’s . . . missing.”
THE FIRST THING Hernando noticed when he pulled up in front of the rundown house he and his compadres now called home was how ludicrous the sleek, black Mercedes appeared. It sat in the driveway like it owned the place, and the bolt of fear that shot up Hernando’s spine confirmed that its owner very well might.
He swallowed, wondering how best to handle the situation. If he were alone, he’d just walk in and see what happened. But he had a woman with him—bound, gagged, and crying. He knew the visitor had been sent by his boss, and obtaining ransom money was what they’d been pushing for, so if he handled things right, this could go well for him. If he didn’t . . . well, that wasn’t an option. He would do what he had to do, but what about the woman? She would certainly be easier to handle if she were quiet. Did he dare threaten her and hope she’d cooperate? Even gagged, the woman could become hysterical and create a scene.
He cursed the timing. What he really wanted to do was pull into the driveway, past the house and into the backyard where he could take her straight to the back shed where they’d kept their previous captives. Once he had her tied up there, she would be no problem. The last thing he needed to do was risk being seen bringing her into the house through the front door. Even if no one spotted them, their visitor wouldn’t take kindly to his taking such a chance.
There was only one solution. He would have to tie her more securely, with her arms and legs trussed up behind her so she couldn’t possibly cause any problems. He’d reinforce her gag and blindfold and then go inside and deal with the situation before removing his hostage from the vehicle.
This was going to make his resolution to keep the woman to himself a bit harder to enforce, but he was determined to find a way. He wasn’t about to alter his plans for the attractive redhead in the backseat.
CHAPTER 20
EL TORO WAS ONLY two steps below El Jefe himself. Hernando had met him before and understood why he was called “the bull.” Well over six feet tall, his massive frame filled a doorway, and his arm muscles bulged under his loose-fitting white cotton shirt. To call him intimidating was an understatement; and though Hernando would use wisdom in conversing with him, he wasn’t about to back down.
“El Toro,” he said as he stepped into the kitchen and spotted the visitor sitting at the table with Raul and their other two roommates. El Toro’s two nameless assistants, who accompanied him everywhere, stood silently behind their boss. “It is good to see you again, amigo.”
The man’s lids lowered over his dark eyes, as he glared at Hernando. “Amigo? Who said we were friends? I am not here on a social visit. El Jefe has sent me to check on you.”
Hernando felt his sweat glands kick into overdrive, as rivulets of perspiration began to drip down his back and under his arms. “Lo siento, El Toro. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you are here on a social visit. I understand the reason for your visit, and I welcome it. I have good news for you.”
The beefy man lifted his heavy eyebrows. “Sí? And what would that good news be?”
Hernando resisted the impulse to swallow. He knew how important it was to mask his discomfort. El Toro was better at sniffing out fear than Bruno, and nearly as fast at responding to it. Forcing himself to speak in a clear, steady voice, he said, “I have just returned from San Juan Chamula, where I located an Americana who lives in the La Paz Compound. It is easy to see she is from a family with money and that she has good breeding.”
The man’s eyebrows lifted higher. “So where is this American woman of good breeding? How soon can you take her and begin the ransom proceedings?”
Despite his efforts at appearing confident and unafraid, Hernando felt his face flush. He had hoped to move the woman straight from the Blazer to the back room before announcing her presence to the others. Obviously that was no longer an option.
“I . . . I have already taken her. She is in the back of my Blazer right now, tied up and gagged and blindfolded.”
Surprise registered on El Toro’s face, but only for a brief moment. His eyebrows lowered and drew into a frown. “And why have you left her out there? Why have you not moved her inside?”
“I had intended to do that,” Hernando answered, trying to ignore the thumping tattoo of his heart against his ribs. “But I need to drive past the house to the back, where I can transfer her to the shed without risk of being seen.”
El Toro’s head scarcely moved, but Hernando was certain he had nodded. “And you need me to move my car so you can do that.”
“Sí, El Toro.”
Hernando waited, continuing to perspire but managing to hold himself still and his gaze steady.
The bear of a man stood to his feet, nearly knocking over the flimsy chair in the process. He reached into his pants pocket and produced a set of keys, which he handed to one of his assistants, even as his eyes remained fixed on Hernando. “Move my car,” he ordered. “After Hernando has pulled the Blazer into the yard, move my car back. I do not want it left on the street. There is not one scratch on it now, and I intend to keep it that way.”
Wordlessly the assistant took the keys and immediately went outside, with Hernando following close behind.
MARIE COULD SCARCELY HEAR her own thoughts above the buzzing in her ears. The sound had started when Frank told her Julia was missing, and it had elevated throughout their brief conversation. Frank had tried to reassure her and had eventually put Carolyn on the phone to try to help calm Marie’s fears, but it hadn’t worked. Marie had done enough research on the area to know that the compound was located on the outskirts of San Juan Chamula, a primarily M
ayan community that did not welcome strangers and did not allow the Mexican military or police to intervene in what they considered their own private affairs. Anything that took place within the greater San Juan Chamula area qualified, meaning that no one was going to help the Barneses locate Julia.
Carolyn had reassured her that she, Frank, and Padre Ramon were going back out to search for Julia in a matter of moments. They’d come back to the compound to retrieve jackets and flashlights, but they’d already located Julia’s shopping bag on the fringe of the rain forest, so they had a good idea where to look.
“She’ll probably turn up any minute,” Carolyn said, “even if we don’t find her. I imagine she just lost track of the time.”
Marie didn’t believe her, but she thanked her anyway and made her promise to let them know the minute they found her. Alive, please, Lord! she’d prayed silently as she hung up the phone.
As she made her way down the stairs from her room, she asked herself how she would possibly deliver this news to her husband and grandchildren. And yet she knew she must. Not only did they have a right to know, but she and John needed to pray together. Maybe Tyler and Brittney would even join in.
She made a mental note to call the prayer chain at church, and then took a deep breath and went to the kitchen to retrieve Brittney, who was finishing her cleanup work.
“Hey, Grandma, I’m just about done here.” Her welcoming smile faded when their eyes met. “What’s wrong? Are you OK? You look pale.”
Marie stepped up to her granddaughter and took her hand. “Come into the family room with me. I need to tell you all something.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “It’s Mom, isn’t it? Something happened to Mom.”
“Please, honey. I’ll tell you when we’re all together.”