by P J Parrish
Ana felt Frank’s hand slip from her own. She looked back at Edmundo. He was still sitting at the table, his back to them. He had not moved or said a word.
“Edmundo?” Ana asked.
Edmundo turned. He looked older than his sixty-two years, and his creased face was sunken with despair. His eyes were red as he looked first at Ana, then up at Frank.
“Francisco has been gone for many years,” he said. “But that doesn’t make him less of a brother or a son to us. He has done nothing wrong.”
He looked at Tomas. “You are the one who must go, Tomas. You should go to these men and take responsibility for what you did. Then maybe they will leave the rest of us alone.”
“You’re crazy!” Tomas said, hefting his rifle to both hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Ana started to rise, but a noise drew all their eyes to the door. Rafael came in, gasping for breath. He was dirty, his shirt soaked with sweat, his right shoulder bloody.
“She’s gone,” he panted. “Angel’s gone!”
“What about the baby?” Tomas asked.
“The baby’s gone, too. They’ve taken them.”
Tomas looked back at Edmundo. “That’s it. They won’t leave us alone now. Angel will tell them everything.”
“He’s right,” Carlos said.
Pedro nodded. “We need to find them now before they get back to the dock.”
Ana’s eyes went to Orlando, but it was clear that he would side with his son. Edmundo was just sitting there, shaking his head.
Ana pushed herself out of the chair with her thin arms. “God forgive me,” she whispered.
“No, Mama,” Frank said.
She looked back at the men. “All right. Go, and be quick with it.”
The five younger men hurried out. Edmundo didn’t move from the table. Ana sank back down in the chair and Frank knelt in front of her, taking her hands.
“This is wrong,” he said.
“There’s no other way,” she said.
Frank looked toward Edmundo. His brother looked back at him with welling eyes. “You’ve been gone too long, Francisco,” he said. “If you want to stay now, you must do what is necessary, not what is right.”
Frank rose slowly. He looked around the room and then walked to an old wooden cabinet near the fireplace. He opened the doors, stared at the rifles, then took one down. From a drawer, he pulled out a handful of bullets. He cracked open the rifle and loaded it. He snapped it shut and with a final look at Edmundo, he left the room.
CHAPTER 43
Louis stayed crouched beneath the window and watched as five of the del Bosque men came out the front door. They stood in a knot, talking for a moment then dispersed. A moment later, Frank emerged from the house.
Christ...he was carrying a rifle.
Frank paused for a moment, looking around the compound, then disappeared down a path. Louis crept back to the place where he had left Landeta. He heard the small cries of the baby before he saw Landeta.
“Can’t you keep it quiet?” he hissed.
“What the fuck you want me to do?” Landeta said.
Louis inhaled deeply. “They aren’t going to let us leave here alive. They’re going to hunt us down and kill us.”
He could hear Landeta breathing hard. The baby let out a cry.
“Louis —-”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m thinking.” Louis looked back at the compound. No one else had come out of the house.
“All right,” Louis said. “I think the old guy is staying in there with the old lady. Everyone else is out looking for us, including Frank. I say we find a place here to hide. Stay here, and keep that baby quiet.”
Louis crept toward the back of the nearest cabin. Its screened windows were dark. There was no sound coming from inside. He pulled the pocket knife from his jeans, sliced the screen, and slipped inside.
He stood for a second, trying to get a sense of his surroundings in the dark. The room was small, furnished with a bed, a dresser, and something that looked like a desk in the corner. The room smelled of old cigar smoke and gunpowder. He moved to the short hall, pushing open a door with his hand. He peered into the dark and saw the outline of a smaller bed and dresser. He moved on.
On his right was a living area with just enough room for a sofa, a wooden chair, and a coral fireplace. A lantern was on the table, but there was no phone or television, no sign that there was even electricity.
He heard a faint humming sound and turned. A dark, narrow kitchen with a wood table, a sink, and an ancient refrigerator.
Milk for the baby? Something, anything to keep it quiet?
He retraced his steps and slid back outside. As he neared the brush, he could hear a muffled cry. When he reached Landeta, he saw Landeta’s hand over the baby’s mouth.
“Jesus, don’t smother it,” Louis whispered.
“I had to do something,” Landeta said. “You think you can do better then you take it, damn it.”
“Never mind. Follow me,” Louis said.
Louis took them back to the cabin, taking the baby while Landeta crawled in through the sliced screen. Once they were all inside, Louis left Landeta and the baby in the larger bedroom and went to the kitchen.
He hesitated in front of the refrigerator. Damn, there was no way around it. He opened it a crack and light split the darkness. He spotted the button and held it down. In the dark again, he scanned the shelves.
A milk carton. He grabbed it, shut the refrigerator, and went back to the bedroom.
“Here,” he said, thrusting it at Landeta.
Landeta took the carton. “What do you want me to do with this?”
“Give it to the baby.”
“With what, goddamn it?”
“Can’t you figure out some kind of nipple or something?”
“The only nipples I got won’t work.”
The baby’s cries grew louder. Louis walked a tight quick circle then went back to the kitchen. No way was he going to chance opening the refrigerator again. He quickly searched the cabinets, but saw nothing they could use.
He suddenly realized the baby was quiet and he hurried back to the bedroom. He let out a breath when he saw the baby squirming in Landeta’s arms. Landeta had the milk carton wedged between his knees, its top ripped open. Louis watched as Landeta dipped his finger into the carton and then gently put it up to the baby’s mouth. The baby was sucking eagerly.
Landeta looked up. “Don’t say it,” he said quietly. “Don’t even think it.”
Louis’s anger broke into a low laugh.
Landeta adjusted the baby in his arm. “I heard that,” he said. “I heard you laugh. So I guess this means you’re not pissed at me anymore?”
Louis had been pissed. At Landeta’s need to come here, to somehow prove he was still the cop he used to be? At his clumsiness, his neediness, shit...his blindness?
No. He was mad at himself. For getting sucked into this in the first place. For not thinking this through. For not knowing about the tides, babies, and...
He turned and walked out of the room. He went to the kitchen, turned on the faucet, and splashed his face. It stung the cuts and bites but helped him clear his head. He saw a towel, grabbed it and soaked it with water.
He went back to the bedroom and held the wet towel out to Landeta. “I’m not pissed at you,” he said. “I’m pissed at myself.”
“You made a decision when you got in that boat tonight,” Landeta said. “Just like Rafael did when he turned out that lantern.”
“You know you winged him,” Louis said.
Landeta took the towel and wiped his face. “But he’s alive?”
“Yeah, I just saw him. He was with the others.”
“How many men do you think there are?”
“There are seven cabins. I’m guessing only the seven men I saw.”
“Any ideas?” Landeta asked.
“I don’t know. There is no phone in here and I’m not taking any chances on getting caught i
nside that house.”
Landeta threw up a hand, silencing him. He pointed to the doorway. Louis drew his gun and slid up behind the door.
The floorboards creaked. A small figure stopped in the doorway.
Louis lowered the gun to his side. “How long have you been there, Roberto?”
The boy looked back at Louis. “I was asleep,” he said softly. He was looking at Louis’s gun.
“I remember you,” Roberto said. “You came here for lunch yesterday.”
Roberto looked at Landeta and the baby. He went slowly over to them and peered down. “Is that a baby?” he asked.
“Yes,” Louis said.
The boy was quiet, staring at the baby. Landeta pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped the baby in it. He was looking at Roberto, who was still staring down at the baby.
“Louis?”
When Louis looked up, Landeta nodded toward the boy. “Hostage?” he asked quietly.
Louis ran a sleeve over his sweaty face and let out a tired breath.
“We don’t have much choice,” Landeta said. “We give him up as soon as we get a boat. And no one gets hurt.”
Louis stared at the boy. It was dangerous and illegal. But hell, they had crossed that line hours ago. And Landeta was right -- they were out of options.
“All right,” Louis said quietly. “Now we just have to get to the restaurant.”
“I know how to get there,” Roberto said. “There’s a path from here to there. But I know a secret way.”
Louis glanced at Landeta then turned to face Roberto. “A secret way?”
“Yeah, I take the secret way when I’m late and don’t want my father to see me sneaking in.”
“Your father doesn’t know your secret way?” Louis asked.
Roberto shook his head, still staring at the baby. “No one knows it but me.”
“Roberto, can you show us your secret way?”
He looked up at Louis. “I don’t know. If I take you that way you can’t tell, okay?”
“Scout’s honor,” Louis said, crossing his chest.
“Scout’s what?” Roberto asked.
“Nothing.” Louis paused. “Roberto, do you know how to play hide-and-seek?”
The boy shook his head.
Louis placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “It’s a game and I’m going to teach you.”
CHAPTER 44
The game, Louis told Roberto, was to get to the restaurant without anyone seeing them. The boy seemed excited and eager to play.
They exited through the slit screen in the back of the cabin, and Roberto led them into the brush. Louis followed the boy, with Landeta close behind carrying the baby. The moon was gone now and Louis was tempted to use his flashlight, but Roberto was weaving among the low-hanging trees and downed branches like a squirrel, so Louis trusted him to lead the way.
Roberto stopped suddenly.
“What’s the matter?” Louis whispered.
“We have to go around,” Roberto said.
Louis moved ahead and saw they had come out on the edge of the cemetery. “Let’s just go across this way and —-”
The boy shook his head. “I’m not allowed.”
“Roberto, we have to —- ”
“They told me I can’t. I can go in the other one, but not this one.”
“There’s another cemetery?” Louis asked. “Where?”
“Way over on the other side of the island,” the boy said, waving a hand. “It’s a long ways from here. It’s where my mother is buried.”
Louis pointed to the coral markers. “Then who is buried here, Roberto?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know I can’t go in.”
Louis looked back at Landeta, who just shook his head.
“All right, you go around,” he told Roberto. “We will meet you over there where the path picks up, okay?”
The boy looked troubled. But finally he nodded and scampered into the brush. Louis and Landeta crossed the graveyard. Roberto was waiting for them on the other side.
He led them back into the brush again. Louis could hear water now, a steady soft gurgle on their right. This new path seemed to parallel the one they had come in on, but it was so narrow and overgrown that Louis could barely stand upright.
But Roberto seemed to know every twist and turn. He was getting into the game now, hiding behind trees, waiting for them to come up, jumping out silently but with a big smile. It was clear the boy was at home in the woods, unafraid of anything. He felt as safe under the night sky of stars as a boy in a bunk bed under a glow-in-the-dark ceiling cosmos.
Louis glanced back. Landeta was falling behind. Louis grabbed Roberto and gestured for him to stop. They waited until Landeta caught up. He was breathing heavily, the baby clutched to his chest. The blanket had come undone and the baby’s legs were dangling free.
“Mel, let me take it,” Louis said.
“No, I’m okay, I’m okay.” Landeta wiped a hand over his face. “I just have to rest for a minute.”
Before Louis could say anything, Landeta eased himself down to the dirt.
Louis turned to Roberto, who was staring at Landeta and the baby. “Roberto, how far is the restaurant?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s a long ways yet.”
Louis looked around at the brush then turned back to Roberto. “Okay, it’s time to hide now,” Louis said. “Do you know where we could go?”
“Sure, I know a good place. Nobody ever goes there but me.”
Louis looked back at Landeta, but he was just sitting there, his eyes closed. The baby was starting to fuss again. Louis knew he had no choice. He had to trust the boy.
Roberto saw Louis hesitating and tugged at his shirt. “It’s real close. Come on, I’ll show you. The only thing that’s there is some old bones.”
CHAPTER 45
The baby felt strange in his arms. When Landeta had handed the bundle to him, Louis was surprised at how light it was. He thought of Jay Strickland in that moment, and what the young cop had said about babies.
You're life and death to them, man. You're everything.
“The mosquitoes,” Landeta whispered. “Keep its face covered.”
Louis wrapped the blanket over the baby and clutched it to his chest with his left hand. Using his right hand, he pushed his way through the brush, keeping his eyes on Roberto as the boy led them in a new direction back inland.
Louis was gasping by the time they broke free into a new clearing. Landeta followed a few moments later, and they both just stood there, pulling in deep breaths while Roberto watched them. Finally, Louis looked around.
The moon was out again and he could see that they were back at the Indian shell mound. But they had emerged out on the inland side of the mound. Louis could see now that there were many mounds, others that had been hidden by the trees and not visible from the first path below.
“This way,” Roberto whispered, waving to them to follow.
They walked slowly through the mounds. There were maybe a dozen of them, some just a few feet high, others towering to six feet or more, ten feet across. All were bare, no trees or grass on top, just millions and millions of shells. In the moonlight, the shell mounds had a soft glow, like old ivory.
Roberto led them to the highest mound, nestled back in the trees. Louis waited while Roberto pulled away some brush to reveal an opening. Roberto went in and Louis followed. The mound was unlike the others, U-shaped, like a cave without a top.
“This is my secret place,” Roberto said as Landeta followed them in.
“Roberto, do you know what this is?” Louis asked.
“Papa says Indians are buried in here. He says they should be left alone.” He hesitated. “You won’t tell, will you?”
“No,” Louis said quietly.
Landeta sank down to the dirt, head in his hands. Louis could tell he was exhausted. So was he. Tired, thirsty, hot, bitten up, cut up, filthy, and afraid. Afraid they weren’t going to get off this damn
island alive.
The baby was quiet. But it was suddenly heavy in his arms. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to sit. Even if it was just for a few minutes. Just sit, think, and try to find a way out of this.
He carefully eased down to the dirt, leaning his head back against the wall of shells, the baby against his chest. There were shards of pottery littering the dirt floor —- and bones. Louis saw a jawbone and what looked like a leg bone. He looked up to see Roberto, sitting cross-legged in the dirt, watching him.
“Louis,” Landeta whispered, “we have to get a plan. We have to figure out what we’ll be up against at the restaurant. Ask the boy.”
Louis nodded. “Roberto,” he whispered, “how many men live here?”
The boy was quiet for a moment. “Eight. No, wait. That was before Uncle Emilio drowned. So there’s seven. But it’s eight if you count me.”
So he had been right. Seven cottages, seven men. Louis had a sudden thought. “Roberto, your uncle Frank, does he look like your uncle Emilio?”
“They were twins. Twins look exactly the same.”
“So that’s poor old Uncle Emilio lying in the Fort Myers morgue, wearing his brother’s toe tag,” Landeta said. “Romulus and Remus. Christ, why don’t you ask him about wolves while you’re at it?”
“Wolves are beautiful,” Roberto said softly. “I saw a picture of one once. Abuela Ana told me a story about two little boys who were left in a river and saved by a mother wolf.”
They all fell silent. Louis closed his eyes. But his ears were alert, trying to pick out any odd sound. But he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t like the boy, who knew every note of his island’s night music. He wasn’t like Landeta, who had learned to trust more than his eyes. He could only see what was there.
What had he seen exactly? A graveyard without names, a strange table, Angela being marched at gunpoint, an old woman arguing with a young man, and seven men desperately trying to protect something.
But what he hadn’t seen were other women. Or other children, for that matter.