Kitabı oku: «Sounds Of Silence», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

Isabel looked up at Eli, noting with interest that his ears had turned scarlet. She had no idea what she’d done to make him bolt to his feet, but she knew she was glad he’d vacated Rico’s chair. Trying to analyze her feelings, she decided she wasn’t exactly angry. Maybe just…uncomfortable.

Aware.

A good-looking single man sitting in Rico’s place seemed disloyal somehow. Because for a split second, when she’d opened her front door and found Eli standing there, she’d felt a dizzy sort of elation that he’d come by.

Danilo wrapped both arms around Isabel’s neck, nearly strangling her. “Come on, horsie, back to the ranch,” he said, bouncing against her back.

Isabel met Eli’s blue eyes and again experienced that disconcerting feeling of falling down an elevator shaft. “I’m sorry,” she stammered, “can you stay a minute? I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.”

Isabel tucked Danilo in with his favorite plastic action figure, then crossed the hall to the guest room. Mercedes had climbed into bed, but the overhead light was still on. Isabel had discovered that her little guest didn’t much like the dark.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Isabel turned on the night-light and kissed Mercedes’s brow. “Good night, angel,” she whispered, smiling as Mercedes released a contented sigh and closed her eyes. What would it be like to have no reference of sound for the normal activities of everyday life?

Isabel flipped the wall switch off and left the door ajar so that the hall light would filter into the room, then returned to the den. She found Eli still on his feet, examining a family photo on the bookshelf beside the kitchen door.

“The obligatory Alamo picture,” he commented, setting the frame back in its spot.

Isabel came to look, though of course she’d seen the photo hundreds of times. It had been taken during a visit with her parents, on a typical hot, muggy San Antonio day. Isabel had stood in front of Rico, with two-year-old Danilo perched on his dad’s shoulders and pointing at the pigeons scavenging for popcorn on the sidewalk.

Isabel sighed. “I love the place, but it seemed to give Rico the creeps. I had to make him go through it with me.”

Eli chuckled. “He wasn’t much for history, was he?”

She looked at him in surprise. “No, he wasn’t. I didn’t know you knew him that well.”

“We worked together off and on over the years whenever Torres had something else going on.” Eli shrugged. “I’m sort of a history buff, especially World War Two.”

“Really?” Isabel smiled. “I’m more into the Colonial and American Revolution eras. I was a history major until I had Danilo.”

“How about that?” Eli turned to scan the bookcase. “You have any Stephen Ambrose stuff?”

“I have the Eisenhower biography.” Isabel found the book and handed it to Eli. “Would you like to borrow it?”

“Sure, if you don’t—” He looked at her, stricken. He’d flipped open the front cover, where Rico had inscribed “To Isabel, my one and only love. Happy Birthday.”

“Eli, I don’t mind.” She bit her lip. “I’ve already read it.”

He hesitated, but closed the book and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll be careful with it.”

“I know you will.” She’d trust Eli with anything, though she had the sense to keep that information to herself. Enough emotional minefields had been crossed for one night. She stepped back. “So have you made any progress in locating Bryan Hatcher’s killer?”

Eli blinked at the change of subject. “Not much. The Mexican police aren’t as efficient as we’d like. I was hoping Mercedes would tell you how she got hold of that knife.”

Isabel shook her head. “We’ve had all we can do, just taking care of the basics. She’s so fragile….”

Eli released a breath. “Isabel, I don’t mean to sound harsh, but that little girl is a lot tougher than most kids her age. Sooner or later we’ve got to push her for information.”

As the widow of a border cop, Isabel knew better than most how critical time was in an investigation. Still, the idea of interrogating a traumatized seven-year-old made her sick.

“Let me show you something, Eli.” Isabel led the way into the kitchen, then almost wished she’d had him wait in the den. Even standing in the doorway, Eli’s tall, rangy frame seemed to fill up the little room. Putting the breakfast bar between them, she picked up a sheet of first-grade tablet paper that had been lying on the counter. “After supper, Danilo and I were working on his penmanship, and I wondered how much education Mercedes has had. I wrote her name, and she copied it beautifully.”

“Let’s see.” Eli held out a hand.

Isabel gave him the paper and waited for his reaction.

After a moment he whistled between his teeth and looked up at Isabel. “This is unbelievable.”

Using nothing but the contents of a sixteen-count Crayola box, Mercedes had turned the tails and loops of the letters of her name into a garden of exotic flowers—some of which were familiar to Isabel, and some which she suspected came from Mercedes’s imagination. Subtle depth of shade gave perspective and light to the drawing, far beyond the usual ability of a seven-year-old.

Isabel spread her hands. “This little girl is something special.”

Eli gave her a cautious look. “Maybe so, but—”

“There’s another one.” Isabel opened the drawer under the bar and extracted a second paper. She’d put it away because she didn’t want Danilo to see it. She slid it across the counter toward Eli, then crossed her arms over her stomach, which suddenly hurt.

During ten years of patrolling the border, Eli had no doubt seen it all. Still, he stared speechless at the drawing for a moment. “I think we’ve found our witness,” he finally said.

“I didn’t want to believe she saw something like that.”

“Did you talk to her about it?” Isabel couldn’t interpret Eli’s expression. He folded the piece of tablet paper and slipped it into his wallet.

“I tried. I pointed to the body and tried to say who—but she just looked at me like she didn’t understand.”

“Okay.” Eli leaned over the counter and grabbed Isabel’s hands. “Look, don’t worry about it for now. I’ll have a police artist look at it and see what they can figure out. You can keep gently questioning her, and if you see anything else…” He shrugged. “Just keep your eyes open, okay?”

Isabel didn’t want to see anything else. She wanted to go back to her normal, regular life. She sighed. “All right. Eli, thanks for checking on us, but it’s late and I’m tired.”

He straightened, dropping her hands. “I’m sorry. I’ve got an early day tomorrow, too. I’ll call you with any news.”

At first Eli couldn’t tell what had woken him up. He lifted his head and stared, bleary-eyed, at the green monster-eyes of the digital clock on the dresser. 2:00 a.m. He knew he hadn’t set the alarm, because he didn’t go on duty until seven.

Who was in his room playing the Mission Impossible theme?

Cell phone. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

Please, Lord, not Isabel. He lunged for the phone. “Hello?” he croaked.

“Eli, it’s Benny,” said a husky feminine voice he barely recognized through a surge of static. Not Isabel. He relaxed a fraction. “I need you to come down here,” she continued, her voice wobbling. “Something terrible’s happened.”

His hair stood on end. Bernadette Malone was the least melodramatic woman Eli had ever met.

“What’s the matter?” He reached for his jeans.

She started to cry so hard he could hardly understand her. “I just found one of the children—somebody broke in—Oh, Eli she’s dead—”

“Benny, whoa. Which child?”

“Dulce Garcia. I got up to check on the twins—they’ve both been running fever—” Benny gulped. “Anyway, I had the bathroom light on so I could read the thermometer, and I noticed Dulce was lying on her back. She always sleeps on her stomach, curled up in a knot. I put my hand on her forehead out of habit, and she was cold, I don’t know how long she’d been—” Benny’s voice disintegrated into sobs.

“Benny, listen.” Eli felt like throwing up. He had his jeans on, and he dug a T-shirt out of a drawer. “Had she been sick?”

“Eli, the window screen over her bed is cut. The air conditioner’s been out, and we haven’t had the money to fix it—”

“You’ve called an ambulance? The police?”

“No, I wanted you to come first. I don’t trust them, they were out here asking questions a couple of days ago—”

“Questions? About what?”

“About Mercedes. When I realized they didn’t know you’d taken her, I played dumb.”

“Good girl. I’m working with one guy that I trust over there. Nobody else is in the loop.” Gathering his thoughts, Eli started to holster his gun, then remembered he couldn’t take it across the border. “Listen, I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Where would I go?” Benny asked. “Hurry, Eli.”

The connection ended.

Praying for direction, Eli clipped the phone to his belt and headed for his Jeep. As he drove across the international bridge that led to the Border Patrol checkpoint station, he reviewed what he knew.

A child murdered in her sleep in a Mexican orphanage. A child bearing a close resemblance to a mysterious little girl who had appeared there two days ago. A little girl gifted with extraordinary artistic talent, and who happened to be carrying a murder weapon.

And two years ago, Eli had decided to get involved in his church’s mission outreach to that orphanage. Nothing was accidental. In the same way he’d sensed the connection with Mercedes, Eli knew God had chosen him uniquely for this task.

If he’d learned anything from his father’s fall from grace, it was that everyone had the capacity for good or evil. And sometimes small choices led a man toward one or the other.

Because of DEA connections through Border Patrol, he had personal experience with the dark underpinnings of the drug smuggling and prostitution rings on both sides of the border. As much as he wanted to deny it, instinct told him that there was a connection between Mercedes and that darkness.

Her drawing, which he still had in his wallet, made him almost sure of it. He’d studied it carefully when he came home from Isabel’s house. Eli was no child psychologist, but there had to be significance to the sinister red-and-black hues, the bloody slashes across a grotesquely human form in the center of the picture.

The most curious component of the drawing, in Eli’s mind, was an element like water drops in the foreground. Did it represent tears? Rain? He tried to remember if it had been storming the night Bryan Hatcher died. He didn’t think so.

Making up his mind to interview Mercedes as soon as possible, he pulled into the small parking lot reserved for Border Patrol agents at the checkpoint. Better connect with his supervisor before heading over to Mexico.

“Carmichael, you’re not on until seven. Where’s your uniform?” Agent Dean looked up from his usual mountain of paperwork.

“I’ll be back later in uniform. Just wanted you to know I’m headed over to the orphanage in St. Teresa Colony. A child was killed under suspicious circumstances, and the house mother is a friend, so I’m on my way to check it out.” Eli hesitated over how much to tell his boss. “It may have something to do with the little deaf girl we brought over a couple days ago.”

Dean’s language disintegrated into curses. “I still don’t think that was a good idea. I know you’re working with Del Rio homicide on the Hatcher case, but if we keep interfering in every Mexican investigation, trouble’s bound to escalate.”

Eli buttoned up a disrespectful retort. Less than a month ago, Dean had been promoted from a desk job in Dallas. The man had yet to figure out how to connect events in Acuña and Del Rio.

Eli shrugged. “Benny Malone is American, and I promised I’d help her sort the situation out. I’ll be back in uniform as quick as I can.”

Dean stared Eli down before reluctantly nodding. “We’re two men short on your shift as it is, Carmichael. Don’t mess around and get yourself written up.”

Eli’s rare temper flared. Everybody in the agency knew what his father had done, but so far he’d never heard a word of blame attached to either himself or his brother, Owen. Maybe he was reading too much into Dean’s words, but there was something needle-sharp buried in the admonition.

Not trusting himself to answer, Eli gave a jerky nod, turned on his heel, and left the building.

When the phone rang, Isabel was in the attic, knee-deep in dust, spiderwebs and memories. Naturally, she had forgotten to bring the handset up.

She leaned over to poke her head through the opening into the hallway. “Danilo! Will you answer the phone for Mommy?”

“Sure!” he caroled. Isabel could hear his bare feet pattering across the hardwood floor in the living room, and a distinct skid when he reached the kitchen tile. “Valenzuela residence.” They’d practiced answering the phone off and on for the past month or so. He was actually getting pretty good at it.

Danilo came back down the hall. “She can’t come to the phone right now. She’s up in the attic, bowling.”

“Danilo! Bring me that phone right now!”

Her son blinked up at her with the handset clutched to the side of his face. “But you said to stay off the ladder.”

“That’s right. I did.” Frustrated, Isabel swiped a dusty hank of hair behind her ear. “Stay right there. I’m coming down.”

“Never mind,” Danilo said into the phone. “Here she comes.” He paused and listened. “No, I’m through with school for today. I’m playing with—” He gulped as Isabel held out a hand for the phone. “Uh-oh, here’s Mom. ’Bye, Eli.”

“Eli!” Isabel’s breath came quickly, both from her precipitate trip down the ladder and from the sound of the low chuckle rumbling in her ear. “What are you doing?”

“I might ask you the same thing. Bowling in the attic?”

“I wasn’t bowling. I just needed to get some stuff ready for a yard sale.”

Truthfully, she had no intention of selling Rico’s bowling ball, not now. She’d opened the leather bag and rotated the ball until she could stick her fingers in the holes. The sensation of holding hands with her husband had nearly undone her.

Isabel sniffed and swallowed a fresh wad of tears.

Eli must have heard the tremor in her voice. He was quiet for a moment, then said gently, “I’ll come over this afternoon and help you with the heavy stuff. I have to talk to you about something anyway.”

Anxiety clutched her stomach. “What’s the matter?”

He answered her question with one of his own. “Where’s your houseguest?”

“She and Danilo are playing dolls.” Isabel caught her son’s outraged look and grinned. “Well, she’s playing dolls. He’s actually saving the planet.”

“Good. Keep them both indoors until I get there.”

“Eli, what’s going—”

The dial tone buzzed in her ear. She pushed the “cancel” button and gave Danilo a distracted frown. What on earth had happened now?

Isabel barely had time to brush the cobwebs out of her hair and wash her hands before Eli arrived. In uniform and as usual neat as a pin, he removed his hat as he stepped into the foyer. The sober line of his mouth sent the butterflies in Isabel’s stomach chasing one another.

“Let’s go in the kitchen so we can talk,” she suggested, looking around to make sure Danilo was out of earshot.

Eli followed her into the kitchen. “What have you been doing today?”

Isabel pulled out a chair for Eli, then seated herself across from him. “I’ve been sewing all morning, then once Danilo got home…Eli, what’s the matter?”

He laid his hat carefully on the table, avoiding her eyes as if he didn’t know how to start. “We’re going to have to be a lot more careful with Mercedes.”

Isabel took a sharp breath. “If you don’t tell me right now what’s going on, I’m going to have to hurt you.”

A smile cracked Eli’s grim expression, then instantly disappeared. “Benny Malone called me in the middle of the night to tell me somebody broke into the orphanage and smothered Dulce Garcia with a pillow.”

Isabel clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle a shriek.

Eli leaned across the table to grab her other hand. “Hold on. Yeah, it’s bad. And I’m afraid it means somebody knows Mercedes saw something dangerous.”

Isabel fought to get her breath back. “Why do you say that?”

“Benny said the Mexican police were back asking more questions about her. Word has gotten out that she was there.” Eli’s big shoulders shifted uncomfortably. “And we can’t overlook the fact that Dulce was the same age and size as Mercedes.”

“I just—I can’t believe it.” Isabel crushed Eli’s hand. She wanted to get up and grab the little girl into her arms. She wanted to take her son away from this violent place.

Eli gazed at Isabel with bloodshot blue eyes underscored by dark shadows. “I spent the wee hours of the morning with the Acuña police. The officer who questioned Benny wasn’t on the force. The guy’s disappeared.” His jaw shifted. “I’m sure glad Mercedes is with you.”

Isabel closed her eyes to shut out his obvious meaning. “So am I, but—”

Old fears clamored for space in her brain. The night Rico died replayed in glaring detail: Border Patrol personnel banging on the door, waking her from a profound sleep. Danilo crying out at the noise, clinging to her. The hideous ride to the hospital in a patrol car. Rico’s partner, covered in bloodstains, trying to hold her.

The sight of her husband’s still face and broken body.

Isabel shuddered. If she continued to harbor this little girl, her son could be in danger.

Dear Father, please don’t put me through this again.

“Isabel.” Eli’s voice drew her back from the darkness. She opened her eyes to his compassionate gaze. “I’ll watch over you. We’ll catch this guy.”

Isabel snatched her hand away from Eli. Every instinct of self-preservation told her to send Mercedes away and follow through with her plans to leave Del Rio. In her circumstances, nobody would blame her. Eli might be disappointed in her, but he’d figure something out. It was his job.

But just then she felt a small hand on her forearm and looked around to see button-bright dark eyes sparkling behind her shoulder. Mercedes stood there dressed in a pair of Danilo’s shorts and a top Isabel had pieced together out of scraps from somebody’s yellow bridesmaid dress. The little girl gave Isabel a shy smile and thrust a fistful of dandelion blossoms under her chin.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Isabel breathed, “how beautiful. Thank you.” She signed the words and kissed Mercedes’s cheek. How could she possibly turn this child away? Drawing Mercedes into her lap and snuggling her close, Isabel ruefully met Eli’s eyes. “What exactly do you want us to do?”

“Have any of your neighbors seen Mercedes? Made comments about her?”

She shook her head. “I have a niece about her age, and we’re sticking close to the house.”

“Good. Then Mercedes should be safe, because we’re letting it out that she was the victim last night.” Eli took a deep breath. “The sad fact is that nobody will miss one little Mexican street kid. We’ll just bury Dulce quietly and keep watch.”

All kinds of objections came to Isabel’s mind. “How much longer do you think it will take? Danilo won’t be out of school for another two weeks. So far he understands we’re playing the ‘keep a secret’ game—but sooner or later he’s bound to slip.”

Eli frowned. “I think you’d better pull him out of school.”

“But that would cause even more comment!”

“He’s only in kindergarten, right? Two weeks won’t hurt anything. You can say he’s sick.”

“But that would be a lie!”

“Isabel. We’re talking about this child’s life. I’ve already l-lost one—”

The slight crack in Eli’s voice wrecked Isabel’s tenuous grip on her composure. She stared at him, tears pouring down her cheeks and dripping onto the top of Mercedes’s head. “I’ll do whatever I have to do, you know I will. But Eli, I’m so scared. This is way over my head.”

Eli’s boyish face hardened. “I’d give anything to change what’s happened. But I can’t. I don’t know why God’s allowed this, but I told you I’m not leaving you alone. When I’m not on duty I’ll be here, and when I’m working I’ll have somebody watching you.”

Isabel found herself drawing strength from those steady eyes. “Can I call my friend Pam and ask her to pray for me?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Not a good idea. But we could pray together right now, if you want to.”

The idea was somehow startling, but Isabel didn’t have the heart to refuse. When she nodded, Eli came around the table and knelt beside Isabel’s chair. He clasped both his big warm hands around hers, smiled at Mercedes, and bowed his head.

“Father, Isabel and I come to You and bring You our worry and fear. I pray You’ll work in this bad situation for Your glory. Please help me and the other guys find Bryan’s killer, and protect Mercedes until we do. Give Isabel the wisdom she needs to communicate with Mercedes and keep out of sight. You know what’s best, and You can meet our needs. We love You and thank You in Jesus’s name. Amen.”

Isabel had no words to pray, so she just whispered “Amen.”

No turning back now.

Mercedes could tell Isabel was upset without looking at her face. The dandelions had been crushed in her hands, releasing a bitter smell into the room, and the soft arms around her were tight and almost uncomfortable. Eli’s blue eyes were focused on Isabel, but Mercedes could tell he was worried about something.

He had mentioned Mercedes’s name twice as he prayed, though she couldn’t understand much of the rest of it. By now she and Danilo understood each other pretty well, but the adults tended to use big words she didn’t know.

She knew both Isabel and Eli wanted to know about the knife. She still wasn’t sure why she’d taken it. Knowing Pablo wanted it back terrified her, and she’d nearly flung it into a pile of garbage on the way to the mission.

But giving it to Eli had been the right thing to do. Something had whispered it would be all right when he’d held out his hand for it and smiled at her with those kind eyes.

Mercedes looked up at Isabel and flinched at the sight of her tears. She should never had drawn that picture. It made Isabel worry more than she already did.

And there was no way she was going to say anything more about it. Pablo would squash her like a bug if she ever did. Look what he’d done to Lupe.