by Kathy Macias
El Toro nodded. “Sí. I know that. I also know you look at the woman with lust.” He shrugged. “It is no matter to me what you do with her—rape her, beat her, kill her if you must. But not until you have retrieved the money and sent it to El Jefe. Comprende?”
Hernando swallowed the retort that had nearly burst forth from his lips. Raul and the others had joined them outside and were watching him. Hernando knew that keeping cool was the key here. Just play along and get rid of the man; he could do what he wanted once El Toro was gone.
“I understand,” he answered, keeping his voice steady. “I would not dream of jeopardizing this payoff.”
“See that you don’t,” El Toro warned. Then he turned and took in the entire group withone dark look. “But just in case you forget, I am going to leave these instructions for all of you.” He returned his attention to Hernando. “Until that money is in El Jefe’s hands, I don’t want any of you alone with that woman—never. Not for a moment. At least two of you are to be with her at all times, day or night.” He leaned down slightly, nearly touching Hernando’s face. “You will all pay the price if I find out you disobeyed—and I will find out. But you, amigo, will pay it first. Comprende?”
Hernando had seen more than once what El Toro could do to someone who crossed him. It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t something he wanted to experience personally. He nodded, forbidding himself to tremble. “Sí, El Toro. I understand.”
The big man nodded and straightened up. “Bueno.” Without another word, he walked to his car, where one of his companions already stood beside the open back door and the other started up the engine.
ABUELA HAD BEEN ESPECIALLY QUIET ALL MORNING, and Itzel wondered when they would finally talk about what she had seen the day before. Even after her abuela had gone back to bed and ordered Itzel to go to sleep, it had been hours before the girl finally drifted off. Her eyes were heavy this morning, but her heart was heavier.
Her breakfast of boiled vegetables had stuck in her throat, and now she forced herself to complete her chores of feeding the chickens and gathering eggs. Her abuela had let her sleep longer than usual, and she imagined the birds were annoyed with her, as they clucked louder and flew at her more often.
But at last she was done, and she returned to the house to see if her abuela was ready to talk. The old woman sat at the rough table where they shared their meals, her hands folded in front of her and a serious look on her face. Itzel sat down across from her and waited.
“You must tell me the truth,” Abuela said at last, her dark eyes boring into her only grandchild. “Was it all just a bad dream, or did you really see a mean man taking your teacher away in his car?”
Itzel swallowed, clutching and reclutching her hands in her lap. It was important that she convince her abuela that her story was true. And more and more, Itzel was convinced it was. She knew without a doubt that she had seen the mean man’s car go by and that she had seen the face of a woman with red curls through the back window. Much of that face had been covered with a blindfold and gag, but one eye had been partially visible. In that eye, Itzel recognized two things: her teacher’s identity and her fear.
“It was not a dream,” she said, desperately trying to convey her sincerity with her eyes. “I saw it. My teacher was in the back, and she was scared.”
Abuela watched her in silence for a moment and then asked, “What did the car look like?”
“It was . . . different. Not a car, really, and not a truck.”
Abuela frowned, and Itzel tried to explain. “It was bigger than a car, but not open in the back like a truck.”
Itzel waited until she saw a light of understanding in her grandmother’s eyes. The old woman nodded, and Itzel continued.
“It was white—and dirty. It had dents and rust. I saw it the day before when we were at the marketplace. The man who drives it said bad words, and he looked very mean. That’s why I remember him.”
The old woman nodded again, and Itzel noticed that she had an odd expression on her face.
CHAPTER 24
JULIA WAS TERRIFIED. The last thing the man named Hernando had said to her was, “It won’t be long now, cara. Soon your protector will be gone, and I will have you all to myself.” She had no idea who her protector was supposed to be, but whoever he was, she wished he’d stick around.
On the plus side, when Hernando walked outside the room where she was being held prisoner, he took the dog with him. She’d heard him call the dog Bruno, and though she had yet to see the beast, she’d heard him bark and growl. It was obvious he was no fuzzy little ankle biter.
What is going to happen to me, God? she asked, probably for the hundredth time. I need You to help me. There is no one else. And yet the silence continued.
She shifted in the hard seat, trying to get comfortable, but it was no use. She’d been here for hours and had been out of the chair only once. The shame of that memory made her cheeks flame. To think that this horrible man had stripped her and then watched her clean herself was enough to bring on another round of tears, though she fought them with what little strength she had. She’d already nearly choked while sobbing into her gag, and the fear that she might actually suffocate if she gave full vent to her grief enabled her to stop weeping.
Breathing slowly through her nose, she leaned back against the chair, her bound muscles screaming for relief. Never in her life had she experienced such a complete and utter sense of hopelessness. She had made a stupid mistake, a dangerous choice, and now she would no doubt pay for it with her life. Worse yet was the knowledge of what this would do to her aging parents and vulnerable children. What she wouldn’t give to be home with them now at this very moment! But deep inside she doubted she would ever see them again.
She heard the door open then, and the man named Hernando greeted her.
“Hello, Señora Julia. How is my preciosa today? Are you hungry? I will bring you something to eat soon, but first you must need to relieve yourself, no?” He approached her then and leaned down to speak into her ear. “Unless you have already soiled yourself again and you wish me to clean you this time.”
Julia jerked her head away as Hernando laughed. She desperately needed to use the restroom, but she had determined to hold it as long as necessary.
She heard Bruno growl as Hernando untied her, and she was careful not to make any sudden moves. At last Hernando lifted her to her feet, but her knees nearly buckled beneath her.
“Ah, I see the señora needs me to hold her up.” He slid an arm around her waist. “I am happy to help, cara. Now come. You can lean on me.”
Another voice interrupted her thoughts then, one of the male voices she’d heard earlier. “Do you need my help, Hernando?”
“No. I can handle this by myself.”
So she and Hernando were not alone. Who was the other man? The protector Hernando had mentioned? She certainly hoped so.
As much as she hated to do it, she leaned on Hernando then as she shuffled a few steps ahead. Then he stopped and turned her around. “Let me have your blanket,” he said. “Then I will guide you as you sit down.”
Horrified, Julia realized there was no separate bathroom. The best she could hope for was that she would be sitting down on an actual toilet.
Reluctantly she removed the blanket and held it out to him, humiliated to think she was stark naked and had to relieve herself in front of two men and a dog. With an audible smirk Hernando took the blanket, put it somewhere, and then placed both hands on her bare arms as he lowered her to the cold rim, which seemed to be nothing more than the edges of a large bucket.
“Sorry there is no privacy, señora, but we are not accustomed to having such a fine visitor in our humble little shed.” He laughed then, as did the other man, and once again Julia blinked back tears.
At last they were through with this part of her ordeal, and Hernando walked her back to her chair. This time, though, he dressed her in a shirt and a pair of pants that reeked of sweat and were far too
large for her. But she didn’t care. She had fully expected one or both of the men to rape her while she was naked and vulnerable. Instead Hernando had dressed her and was now tying her up once again. It was the first time she had realized how really grateful she could be for something that would otherwise seem like a curse. But at the moment, being dressed in smelly old clothes and tied to a chair was quite a bit better than what she had anticipated.
She breathed a sigh of relief. Thank You, Lord, she prayed silently, surprised at her gratitude in the midst of such danger.
HERNANDO WAS FURIOUS, but he wasn’t about to let anyone else see it. As he and Raul went to the house to get some food for the woman, he fumed silently at the unfairness of it all. Hadn’t he found the woman on his own? Hadn’t he been the one to grab her and bring her there and get her family’s contact information? And now he was being told he could not spend time alone with her. And there was no doubt that his compadres wouldn’t cross El Toro and allow Hernando to follow through with his plans for the señora.
At least not now, he thought, warming a tortilla before filling it with beans. But once that money is delivered, she’s mine. Nobody touches her but me.
The thought occurred to him then that the money might very well not come through, but all that meant was that the woman had to be disposed of—one way or the other. And he would certainly take full advantage of the situation before that happened.
With a plate full of three large burritos, he made his way back to the shed, with Raul following close behind carrying a couple of cervezas. There was nothing like a cold beer to wash down a warm burrito, he thought, though he doubted he could get the woman to share his drink with him.
I will try, though. El Toro didn’t say I couldn’t have a little fun with her while we wait. He just said I couldn’t be alone with her, and I’m sure not going to take her while Raul or one of the others is there. They’ll just want in on the action. So for now, I will toy with her but nothing more. And I will make sure no one else tries anything either. She’s mine. I will wait for now, but I will not share her.
He opened the shed door and went inside, with Raul following close behind. Bruno sniffed the air and quickly came to Hernando’s side, whining.
“I will share my burrito with you, perro, but I will share nothing else—with you or anyone.”
“PASTOR MARTIN IS ON HIS WAY OVER,” John said as he hung up the phone, eyeing his wife with concern. She’d seemed on the edge of a meltdown since their late-night call. “Several others are coming too.”
Marie nodded. “That’s good,” she said, her voice hushed. “I’ll make coffee. I still have leftover pie from Thanksgiving. I’ll set that out.”
John went to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “They aren’t coming here to eat, sweetheart. They’re coming to pray. And they’re all powerful prayer warriors, you know that.” He kissed the top of her head. “God will hear us, Marie. He knows where Julia is, and He can keep her safe.”
“But the million dollars,” Marie protested without looking up. “So much money! John, we can’t possibly come up with it.”
John’s heart squeezed. “I know,” he said. “And God knows that too. I don’t have any easy answers for you, honey, but I can promise you that Julia is safe in our Father’s hands.”
Marie lifted her head then, and her gray eyes brimmed with tears. “Being safe with the Father could mean He takes her home.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t bear that, John. I just couldn’t.”
John swallowed a sob. He had to stay strong. “God will take care of Julia, and He will take care of us too—whatever happens. We have to trust Him, Marie. We have to.” He shook his head, and his voice cracked. “What other choice do we have?”
He saw the doubt in her eyes, and then she broke away. “I’m going to go make that coffee now. And I’m setting the pie out, whether they want it or not. I need to do something. And besides, even if they don’t eat it, Tyler or Brittney might.”
John sighed. He’d been through some hard times in his life, but this was the toughest thing he’d been up against, ever. It would be slightly easier if his grandchildren were dedicated believers, but then their father hadn’t been and their mother really wasn’t either, so what could he expect? He did hope this situation would help bring them all around, though. And hadn’t he seen a little turn in Brittney’s attitude lately?
His thoughts returned to Julia then. His father’s heart cried out to rescue her, but it was impossible. He could only pray that God would be merciful and rescue her, though the circumstances seemed impossible. “There is nothing too hard for You, Lord,” he whispered. “Nothing. You could send an angel to rescue her if that was Your purpose. But I know, ultimately, Your desire—and mine—is to see Julia turn back to You with all her heart. And if that’s all that comes out of this, I will praise You for it, Father.” His voice broke again. “But oh, Lord, please, rescue my baby! Bring her home to us safe, please, Father!”
The doorbell rang then, and John took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. This was no time to fall apart. He must join together with his wife and pastor and friends to pray for the rescue and return of his daughter. More than that, he must find the strength to release his precious Julia into God’s hands—whatever happened. But finding the strength for such a full surrender could never come from his own resources. He needed the support of other believers to help him get to that place of grabbing hold of God’s strength and mercy, and then hanging on by his fingernails to the very end.
CHAPTER 25
THE OLD WOMAN’S FEET felt like lead as she trudged toward the compound that Saturday afternoon, Itzel at her side. The last thing she wanted was to go and talk to these people she did not know or understand, even though they helped Itzel learn about the marks inside of the books she brought home. But she had come to believe that her granddaughter might be telling the truth, particularly since she’d checked around with those who knew such things and had the girl’s story confirmed. She’d even received additional information that the man’s vehicle was something called a Blazer and that he was from San Cristobal. If any of this was true, she needed to let the people at the compound know, whether she wanted to go there or not. If she found out it was not true, she would ignore her sources and deal with Itzel when they got home.
Abuela frowned when they arrived at the compound and found the gate closed and locked. Usually it stood open when she came to bring Itzel to school or to pick her up. How were they to get in?
Itzel pointed to a large bell that hung from the fence beside the gate, and the old woman nodded. She yanked it and then pulled back at the loud jangle that resounded.
Within minutes the gate was cracked open, and a man the old woman recognized as Señor Barnes peered out. When his pale-blue eyes registered recognition, he nodded and pulled the gate open, motioning them inside.
“Greetings, señora . . . and Itzel,” he said, his voice subdued and his smile more forced than usual. Abuela began to suspect that something truly was wrong here and her news might be important after all.
“How are you, señora?” Señor Barnes asked, his brows drawing together in a frown. “Though I am pleased to see you, as always, I am surprised that you came today because there is no school. Is something wrong?”
The old woman wished yet again that she could be anywhere other than where she was at this moment, but she sensed it was important that she tell this man what she’d heard from Itzel and the others. She nodded. “Sí,” she answered, her voice so low that he stepped closer to hear. “I believe I have news for you about Itzel’s teacher.”
The man’s eyes grew wide. After a moment he nodded and invited them to come to his home. Reluctantly the old woman followed. As many times as she’d come to La Paz because of Itzel’s school, she had never gone inside any of the buildings and was not comfortable doing so now. But she pressed her lips together, took Itzel by the hand, and stepped into the man’s house.
The
size of it was even bigger than she’d expected. She imagined there must be at least three rooms, but it was difficult for her to visualize. Instead she focused on Señora Barnes, who met them at the door and escorted them to the kitchen, where they all sat down around a square wooden table.
“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked.
Abuela was about to decline when she realized it would be rude. As anxious as she was to get out of there, she must now sit long enough to drink one cup of the hot, herbal liquid.
She nodded her thanks and waited until the four of them were all seated around the table, steaming cups in front of them. She wished someone would start the conversation. At last Señor Barnes did so.
“Señora, you said you have news about Julia Bennington.”
The old woman frowned. She was not aware of the teacher’s name, nor did she care to know, but it wasn’t important. All that mattered was to deliver her news, true or not, drink her tea, and get out of there.
She raised her head and found both Señor and Señora Barnes studying her, no doubt waiting for her to tell them what she knew. “Yesterday, at the marketplace, Itzel saw . . . something.” She flicked a gaze at her granddaughter, who sat silently, head bowed, beside her. “She said it was a big, white car—or truck—driving by. There was a woman with red hair in the back of the truck, trying to look out the window.”
Señor Barnes laid his hand over his wife’s, as they both leaned forward. “Trying to look out?” Señor Barnes asked. “What do you mean?”
Abuela glanced again at Itzel, who hadn’t moved. Then she continued. “Itzel says she had something over her eyes so she couldn’t see, but one eye peeked out underneath. She . . . also had something in her mouth so she couldn’t speak.”
She heard Señora Barnes gasp and saw her husband squeeze her hand.