A Blossom of Bright Light (27 page)

Chapter 35

V
ega and Greco left Greco's car in the parking lot of the ME's office and drove north to Lake Holly. It was just after four thirty p.m. Claudia's bodega normally closed around five on Saturdays. Vega wanted to catch her while she was still at the store. The sun had set, and the sky went from bleached to the color of faded denim. Already the hillsides had gone inky as if blotting up the night and holding it in abeyance until the heavens could gather the will to do the same.

“Assuming Schulman's Teflon,” said Greco, “which I think he is—is Adele gonna follow him to D.C.?”

“Looks like it,” said Vega, keeping his eyes on the road.

“You can still see her though, right?”

Vega shrugged. “It's like you said—she's been slumming. She'll have better pickings down there.”

“She say that?”

“No—”

“So why the hell are you listening to me?”

“ 'Cause I don't want to end up as collateral damage.”

Greco shook his head. “Pride fucks every man better than any woman ever could.”

Vega didn't answer. Greco stared out a side window and chuckled.

“What?”

“I never told anybody this, okay?” said Greco. “But when I was a teenager, I really liked this girl: Angelica Mariano. Spent my whole teens mooning over her. But I never asked her out. You wanna know why?”

“Okay.”

“Because I figured she was too good for me. So I moved on with my life, met my wife. And—I'm not saying anything against Joanna; we've had a pretty good run, all in all—but I never stopped thinking about Angelica. So anyways, I go back to my thirtieth high school reunion a few years ago. Angelica's happily married with some grown kids, same as me. But guess what? She tells me she was
waiting
for me all those years ago to ask her out. I lost my chance with the girl of my dreams because I was afraid of getting rejected. I picked the
worst
outcome and turned it into the
only
outcome when all I had to do was let things happen.”

“So you're saying I should just see what happens?”

“Why not? Look, Adele and I haven't seen eye to eye on a lot of things over the years. But I get that she's a really smart, attractive, and ambitious woman. She's not some little parakeet you can lock in a cage. She's like a peregrine falcon. She's gotta fly at her own altitude. Doesn't mean she won't fly back to you. Stop making this so difficult. If I'd listened to my own advice, who knows what would have happened between me and Angelica Mariano?”

They pulled up across the street from Claudia's. The lights were on. It was still open.

“Thanks, Grec.”

“Do me a favor? Next time you plan some hot and heavy night with Adele? Do it in D.C. Any crap that happens will be the D.C. cops' problem then, not mine.”

When they walked into Claudia's, there were a couple of men in mud-stained jeans and baseball caps buying small handfuls of items for dinner. A woman in a black felt coat was pinching every guava for the ripest one. Claudia was behind the counter, her white apron spotted with bits of grease, her bun of wire-brush hair coming loose at the edges. Inés was washing down the deli case and wrapping the luncheon meats to put in the refrigerator for the night. When she saw Vega and Greco, she stopped in her tracks and focused her attention on Greco.

“Romeo's been released?”

“He's out. We've got no beef with him.” Greco spread his hands in a way that made it seem like he'd personally worked an all-nighter to free the man. “Me and Detective Vega here just want to ask you and your mom some questions when you get a chance.”

“About Romeo?”

Greco shrugged. “And other things.”

Vega and Greco wandered the aisles until all the customers were gone and Claudia could officially close up the store for the evening. Inés flipped the sign across the glass panel on the front door. The streetlights beyond gave the darkness a sickly glow. Vega had already decided that their strategy would be to divide and conquer. Greco gave the excuse that he wanted to talk to Inés privately in back when in reality it was Vega who wanted to talk to Claudia alone.

Vega waited until Greco and Inés had gone into the stockroom. Then he casually walked over to a shelf of herbs and squinted at some of their labels. He picked up a brown glass vial with an eyedropper on its lid and held it up to the light.

“I'm curious,” said Vega, speaking to Claudia in Spanish. “What do people use”—he read the label—“chaparral for?”

“It's a kind of cactus,” said Claudia. “It's used to make a poultice for arthritis pain. It can also be stirred into tea for cramps.”

“You know a lot about herbs, Doña Claudia.” He called her doña, not señora, to keep the conversation as personal as possible.

Claudia shrugged. “I know some things.”

Vega returned the vial to the shelf. “So you're a
curandera?
”

Claudia nodded. “I come from a long line of traditional healers. I like to help people.”

“I can see that.” Vega looked at her squarely. He wasn't used to standing next to her without a counter between them. Her skin was creased like old waxed paper. The harsh fluorescents picked up every ridge and valley.

“And those people—do they include mothers in labor?”

Claudia's eyes grew dark as crude oil. “I don't know what you mean, Detective.”

“I'm asking, Doña Claudia, if they include people like Dominga Flores?”

Claudia grabbed a rag from a pocket in her grease-stained apron and began wiping down a shelf. She kept her back to Vega. “The boy came out fine and healthy. I could not help her situation beyond that.”

Claudia obviously thought Vega just wanted to question why she hadn't reported Dominga's abusive employer to the police. Good. He'd play on that.

“I understand completely, Doña Claudia. Sometimes, there is nothing you can do when you're at the mercy of a rich and powerful man.”

Claudia wiped down the shelves in silence. Vega heard only the scrape of cans and jars punctuated by the intermittent hum of the refrigerated ice-cream chest. During the day, the place was so busy, Vega never heard any of these noises.

“Neto's delivery,” he said softly. “That must have been very hard on you.” Dominga had mentioned that her midwife delivered babies in her own family. Vega was gambling that Neto was one of them.

Claudia's hand paused on her rag. The silence grew like a stretched rubber band between them. Vega pushed a little harder.

“I understand that Inés was only fifteen.”

“Why does that matter?” the old woman asked sharply.

“I know you've had a hard life, Doña Claudia. I know you've had to make some hard choices. Really, what could you do?” Vega was making it up as he went along, hoping that each silence would confirm he was on the right track. “How could you know that Neto would have complications?”

The old woman dabbed a corner of her apron to her eyes. “Every day I ask God to forgive me for not taking Inés to the hospital.” Her voice was thick and nasal. “They could have performed a cesarean. They could have unwrapped the umbilical cord from around Neto's neck, But then they would have asked about her age. They would have asked about the baby's father. Who would have believed us against the word of—of—”

“Of Charlie Gonzalez.” Vega watched Gonzalez's name work its way across the muscles of Claudia's face. Her jaw shrank inward. Her lips grew pinched and tight. “So you made a deal with him in return for keeping his secret.”

“You think I could have gotten justice?” Claudia snapped. “This store—” Claudia lifted her hands and gestured to the roof above where plantains on ropes shared space with flypaper strips. “—This is my justice. It's not perfect. But it's the best justice a poor woman like me was ever going to get.”

“And how about the dead girl I showed you a picture of the other day?” asked Vega. “Where's
her
justice?”

“No.” Claudia shook her head. “I can't go there. I can't.”

“Who was she, Doña Claudia?”

Silence.

“Neto said her name was Mia.”

“I don't know how Neto knew that,” said Claudia. “Maybe Don Charlie took the girl to the car-wash office and Neto saw them. I don't know. In any case, I never asked the girl's name, and Esme never said.”

“You delivered her baby—”

“No! The girl was already in labor when Esme called me in a panic and said she was bleeding a lot. When I got there, I knew right away I couldn't help her. I told Esme to call 911. She wouldn't listen. She threw me out.”

“Why didn't
you
call 911?”

“Esme told me if I ever said a word, the señor would cut me off financially. My business would go under. That girl? She was nobody, Detective. I have my own family to worry about!”

In one breath, Claudia Aguilar had gone from innocent to witness to accomplice. Claudia seemed to realize it too.

“I want a lawyer,” she told Vega.

The backroom door opened, and Inés and Greco came out. Inés's eyes were swollen. Greco must have been trying to corroborate their theory. She looked at her mother. “Did you know, Mami?”

Claudia stiffened. She looked from her daughter to Vega. “Inés has nothing to do with any of this.”

“Mrs. Aguilar?” said Greco. “We'd like you to come down to the station for a statement.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“We'd prefer you come down voluntarily.” Greco and Vega had already decided that Claudia's prime value might be as a witness. Arresting her too early might shut her up. The longer they held off charging her, the more bargaining power they'd have to induce her to testify against the Gonzalezes.

“And if I refuse?” asked Claudia.

“Doña Claudia,” said Vega. “The Serrano children are still in that house. We're concerned about their welfare, particularly fifteen-year-old Luna. We know they go to your church and you care about them too. If you stop talking to us except through a lawyer, that girl remains at risk.”

Claudia's shoulders sagged. All the fight left her. “I tried to tell Manuel that his children might be better off with his cousins. But he thought Luna would have more opportunities if she stayed in Lake Holly. He wanted her to go to college. I thought perhaps—there were three of them. Safety in numbers, yes? I thought—maybe things would be different with Luna.”

“But Mami,” said Inés, “don't you see? No girl is safe with him. It's only a matter of time before he does this to Luna. We have to come forward. This has to stop!”

Claudia sighed. “I understand.”

Vega turned to Greco. “Call in one of your patrol cars to take you and Mrs. Aguilar to the station and get her statement. Start drawing up search warrants and arrest warrants.” Vega headed for the door. “I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the Gonzalez house.”

“We can get child services to go up there,” said Greco.

“After five p.m.? On a Saturday? Nothing doing,” said Vega. “I want those kids now. Not an hour from now.
Now.”

Chapter 36

D
oña Esme didn't talk in the car. She looked grim-faced and determined as she gripped the steering wheel. Luna heard the steady rhythm of the highway seams hitting their tires. She watched the sky ahead of them turn pink and the hilly landscape turn flat and black. Oncoming headlamps flashed at intervals across Doña Esme's face. Light and dark, light and dark. That's what Luna's life felt like right now. There were periods when everything seemed almost normal. And then suddenly, it didn't.

It was a straight ride west from Lake Holly, New York, to Lords Valley, Pennsylvania. They were traveling toward the Newburgh Beacon Bridge that spanned the Hudson River. From there, they would drive a little longer in New York, then head into Pennsylvania and the Pocono Mountains. There wasn't much traffic. Luna thought they'd make it in under two hours.

They were only in the car about fifteen minutes, not even over the bridge yet, when Doña Esme took a turnoff and began heading north.

“I need to stop at one of our car washes,” she said. “I need some cash.”

It was four-thirty p.m. and already dark on the side roads. She turned again and again until Luna had no idea what direction they were headed in. The land was mostly wooded. It looked rural, but not in the pleasing way of Wickford. This area was decidedly shabbier. Most of the houses along this stretch had been turned into businesses. A hairdresser. A mechanic's garage. A day-care center. They passed a billboard advertising a bail bond agency and another for credit counseling. They passed a gas station selling no-name-brand gas.

Luna looked in the rearview mirror. Behind her, the light had slipped from the sky. The darkness hemmed in the landscape, narrowed that sense of possibility. Her fate had felt like her own when they'd started this journey. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Doña Esme's voice pricked the silence between them. “You love your papi, yes?”

“Yes,” said Luna softly.

“You're lucky. My father was a terrible man.” Doña Esme kept her eyes on the road. “My mother died when I was twelve, and as soon as she passed, my father started raping me. He said her duties had to fall to me.”

“I'm sorry.” Luna was shocked by her confession. She didn't know what to say.

“My other relatives—they knew what he was doing. They didn't care—until I got pregnant at fourteen.
Then
they cared. They took my baby daughter away from me and sent me to a Catholic convent where the nuns beat me every day. I vowed that if I could escape that life, I would do anything it took not to have to live like that again.”

Luna's saliva felt like glue. She couldn't swallow. It was cold in the car, but she started to sweat. Doña Esme didn't seem to notice. She was lost in her own life story.

“When I was seventeen,” she continued, “the señor came to my town in Chiapas—the same town he'd left sixteen years before. He was thirty-two. An ugly little man. But rich. And American. A citizen by then. He wanted a young virgin. I made him believe I was. And he married me. I knew about his obsession with virgins, Luna. I knew. But he treated me okay, so I accepted things the way they were.”

A strand of hair fell out of Doña Esme's ponytail. It cut like a slash of charcoal pencil across her face. She tucked it behind one ear as she caught Luna's eye in the windshield. Was Doña Esme trying to tell Luna that she'd protect her?

“Men are wild animals,” she continued. “You can corral a wild animal, but you cannot tame it. There were young girls before I knew him. There were young girls after. But nobody got hurt.
Nobody
.”

Luna wondered what Doña Esme meant by “hurt.” If the señor was forcing himself on young girls, wouldn't that qualify as “hurt?” But maybe to a girl who had known such brutality from her own father, it didn't.

“And then . . .” Doña Esme's voice drifted. It had been soft and trancelike until now, but there was a sudden sharpness when she shot Luna a sideways glance.

“Let's not pretend you don't know about the girl in the flyer, chica,” she hissed at Luna.

Luna studied her hands. She folded them together to keep them from shaking.

“It was a terrible mistake.” Doña Esme's voice was soft and pleading again. “I told my relatives to keep her in Mexico. I knew what he'd do to her. She'd just be another
campesina
to him, some farm girl of no consequence. I tried to stop it. But how could I, without confessing the lie that made him marry me in the first place?”

Her words swam across Luna's brain. Luna was afraid to understand their meaning.

“I tried to get her out,” said Doña Esme. “And then she got pregnant. In a way, it was a blessing. He never touches a girl once she's pregnant. I figured I would hide her until she had the baby and then send them both back home. She would get money to stay quiet. Lots of money. He would pay. He always paid. But the birth—it was terrible. Things went wrong. Doña Claudia wanted to call 911, but how could I? I would have had to tell them the truth. They would have arrested the señor—arrested
me.
Can you imagine the gossip at Our Lady of Sorrows? At La Casa? At Claudia's? Everything would have been ruined. Everything.”

Why is she telling me this?
Panic rose in Luna's chest like a soda she'd gulped down too fast. Doña Esme made a right onto another winding two-lane, and Luna started to realize for the first time that this was not some motherly advice designed to guide or comfort her. This was a confession. And whom do you confess to? A priest. Someone who could never tell anyone what you've uttered. Ever.

Luna was not a priest.

What if she just opened the door and jumped out? True, they were traveling at easily thirty miles per hour. But she'd probably survive. She could run into the woods perhaps.
And then what?
Dulce and Mateo were still in that house. Her father was still in that jail and likely to be sent back to Mexico on Monday. His future rested in the señor's hands. Anything she did put her entire family at risk.

Doña Esme plunged ahead. Luna wasn't sure she even realized the effect her words were having. “I wanted this to be different,” she choked out. At first Luna thought Doña Esme was referring to their relationship. But then she realized she was talking about the dead girl.

“I wanted to get back all those years.” Her voice was thick and nasal. She palmed her eyes. “I couldn't tell Mia that, mind you. She could never know. No one could. But I think she knew there was some sort of connection.”

Doña Esme turned to Luna and blinked back tears. “Do you understand what I'm telling you, chica? Do you understand who she was?”

“I think so.” Luna could barely get the words out because of the question that kept buzzing inside of her brain: